Trolls in the Hamptons (33 page)

“I'll be leaving town in a day or so,” I told them, “if you don't need me anymore.” I really, really hoped not. Sugar and her daddy were not my kind of people.

“Who'll cook, Curtis?”

Obviously that wasn't one of Vonna's talents. I recommended takeout from the deli, or dinner at Uncle Bernie's. Then I handed her one of my mother's cards, where I'd be staying, and told them to drop me off at the train station past the Amagansett Farmer's Market. I said I could call a friend from here.

I didn't want to listen to the bitching if I made them go down rutted Garland Drive, out of their way. Something about the way Vonna was staring at Mom's card made me not eager to show them where I lived, either. Not that everyone in town didn't know the way, but I was getting spooked by how angry she looked. Just because she'd have to turn on the coffeemaker herself? Or because Parker called me doll? Who wanted to be a rich old man's plaything?

The fresh air felt good, even if no one got out to help me unload my bags from the back. Parker revved the engine, in my face. Sugar did not say good-bye.

I slammed the trunk, walked in front of the Escalade so he couldn't drive off without running me down, and said, “By the way, the passcodes have been changed at Rosehill. Talk to the guys at the guesthouse.”

I thought he'd explode, he turned so red under his fake tan. “I pay a fortune for that place, and what do I get? Uppity help and squatters? I'll call the cops if your friends aren't out of there when I turn the corner.”

I wondered how he thought he'd get in if Colin and Kenneth didn't open the gates and the house for him. All I said was, “They're not my friends. That is, they are now, but they're also Federal agents, with warrants, and weapons. A lot of weapons. I'd be real careful how I spoke to them.”

I stepped back and he peeled away, sending gravel flying in my direction. I shouted after him, “Oh, and your dogs have worms.”

I waited for the black sedan that followed us into the railroad station parking lot to pull up next to me.

“You let that twit drop you here, in a dark, empty parking lot? Are you crazy?”

“I'm happy to see you, too.”

Grant got out of the car and folded me in his arms, after I put Little Red down. The man wasn't stupid. He felt good, too, solid, strong, safe.

“I saw the car at the airport, and I knew Colin or Kenneth wouldn't let me down. I was in more danger in the car with the turkey who thinks he owns the roads just because he's rich.”

“I should have left you to walk home,” Grant said when he let go of me to pick up my baggage. “By the way, which home are we going to?”

I opened the window so Red could clear his lungs of the smoke. “Mom's.”

“Too bad. I was looking forward to that Jacuzzi.”

The smoke must have reached my lungs, too, because suddenly I couldn't breathe. “Mom has a bathtub.”

“Yes, but is it big enough for two of us?”

Who needed to breathe? “If we sit close.”

“Oh, I think we can manage that. I missed you, Willy.”

“Me, too. Did you really meet with all those important people?”

“No, the Vice President wasn't there. And none of them are as important as the big guy you talked to.”

“Parker?”

He chuckled. “The really big guy.”

“Did you tell the VIPs about Fafhrd?”

“Not exactly. I did not want to get you too involved. Who knows how the big shots think? Politicians and military types are known for expediency.”

“Like getting rid of me so no one can use me. I told you that in the beginning.”

He kept his eyes on the road as we made the Devon turn to Paumanok Harbor over the railroad tracks, but I knew he was thinking about me. “No one is going to hurt you. I tried to keep your part minimum because I didn't want anyone thinking I was too involved personally. They might have tried to pull me off the case.”

“Can they do that?”

“No, but it wouldn't have been pretty or polite, or good for foreign diplomacy. I'm staying, Willy. No matter what. Do you believe me?”

I tried to show him how far my trust went by almost drowning in Mom's bathtub.

I was wrong. The tub really wasn't big enough for two people, especially when they were intent on wild, acrobatic, energetic, I-missed-you sex.

After we mopped up the bathroom floor before the kitchen ceiling beneath it started to leak, I led Grant to the bedroom I'd always used. It was pretty much the same as when I was a kid, with its jars of seashells and beach glass, a painting of a sandpiper on driftwood from the craft shows held every summer, a photograph of the beach from one of the art shows. Mom had left everything alone, except she'd changed the old bunk beds to a queen, so I forgave her a lot.

Red didn't like being locked out of the bedroom, but he knew this house and had his favorite chair in the living room. I'd forgotten his crate, damn it, so I'd have to go collect it tomorrow, along with a check, I hoped. I also hoped Parker didn't notice the broken pitcher in the bathroom or the bill for the diving board repairs that would go against his security deposit. He could afford it.

We talked in bed about Borsack for a while, letting the salty breeze from the open window cool us after the bath. Then we discussed plans and precautions for the upcoming time of the new moon.

I wondered how we could make love when the world might end in a couple of days. Grant wondered how we could not. What better way to spend the time than finding our bliss, making each other happy?

Oh, I was happy. Three more times, but who was counting?

T
HIS TIME I FOUND A pink rose on the pillow next to me when I woke up. Okay, it was from my mother's heirloom bush outside the front door, and there was an ant crawling on it, but the man had class.

And company. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, threw on a pair of shorts and a tee, and went down to find Lou, Colin, Kenneth, and Grant all seated at the dining room table, all on computers and other machines that did God knew what that they must have brought over from the guesthouse. Grant handed me a cup of coffee, pointed to a box of pastries, and said he liked my hair. It reminded him of the hedgehogs back home; I'd have to go see them when this was over.

“I hate planes.”

“We'll take a boat,” was all he said, going back to work.

Since I was the one with the most need to know, they let me stay. By now they had pictures of Turley Borsack when he was young, when he was arrested a few times, when he had a passport as Boris Turlinskya, another as an African Tufu Borsa, one in a turban, one as a Hasidic Israeli. There might be more as the central computers searched for face recognition. He was always listed as a chemist. He was always suspected of dealing in designer drugs in high places that paid well and helped him hide his identity. He'd been on Interpol's list for decades, the wily bastard, and on Scotland Yard's since his wife died at the Royce Institute Hospital.

Her death had been declared a drug overdose, unknown compound, unknown source, but now the labs found the same traces in the blood of both of the dead nannies. The survivor had been shot. Unknown gun, unknown shooter.

“And he wants me?” My voice was none too steady. My knees, either.

“He will not hurt you,” Grant swore.

“At least not until you get him what he wants,” Lou added cheerfully.

They had no information whatsoever about Borsack's daughter, Vinnie, likely because he was already wealthy and connected enough to get her identity erased when she was young.

The day was going straight downhill. Especially when two phone messages made no sense, warning about colors and rainbows.

Kenneth looked up from his notes. “We're getting that from our own precogs, too. It's like static coming over a radio. Maybe a psi-blocker.”

“Borsack can do that?”

Kenneth shrugged. “Who knows what he's picked up in his travels?”

My dad didn't help any, either. He called from the hospital to tell me not to drink coffee. It was bad for me.

I set my cup down. “I think I'll just go back to bed, pull the covers over my head, and let you guys work this out.”

I would have, too, but the phone rang again. At Colin's headshake I let the answering machine pick up, to hear Vonna Ormand, from Rosehill. I answered out of curiosity, and because I really needed to get Red's crate back.

First, she apologized for any unintended—hah!—rudeness last night. She and Curtis had been tired and upset. Second, she asked if I'd come show her how to give the worm medicine to the poodles. And third, the clincher, she said that she and Curtis had looked up my books on Amazon last night, and one of them sounded like it might make a great animated movie. Could I bring a copy over?

Talk about offers too good to refuse.

Still pulling information out of the computer, Grant said I was good to go. The day was cloudy, with no rainbows likely. The full moon wasn't scheduled until Thursday night. And I should take the Lexus; it was safer.

“Safer, how?” I wanted to know.

So Lou walked me out to the car, showed me the reinforced panels, the bulletproof glass, the infrared sensors, and a hundred defensive tricks built into the car, besides its tracking system.

“I'll never remember all that.”

“You don't need to. Just do not push the red eject button unless you absolutely must.”

I grabbed one of my books from Mom's shelf, a baseball hat from the peg in the hall so I didn't have to hear any more comments about my hair, and Red. I took him before he got tempted by all the big feet in the house—or got stepped on—and so he could see his friends again.

I was glad I went. Mr. Parker was playing with the poodles on the front lawn, throwing tennis balls for them. He couldn't be all bad, I figured, if he'd touch slobbery balls to keep his dogs happy. I waved and drove around back, not because I considered myself a servant, but so I wouldn't have to tote Red's crate through the house.

Maybe I was wrong about Vonna Ormond, too. She was still skinny, but a lot nicer. She tossed Red a biscuit from the paw print cookie jar on the counter, and offered me coffee.

I refused, remembering my father's warning.

Vonna seemed disappointed. Maybe she needed a

friend. So I accepted an iced tea while I found the doggy med pockets for her. They were soft, sausage-smelling hollow treats that you could stick a pill in. Most dogs would gobble the thing whole, unaware of the trick stuffing.

Vonna smiled, well, not enough to cause wrinkles, but she looked happier. She brought out a plate of Oreo cookies—ones I'd forgotten to pack.

“No thanks,” I said, “I already had a muffin for breakfast.” And I already had love handles. Grant said he liked them, but a man in his condition—turned on and tuned in—was not about to tell a woman in my position—nestled between his thighs—that she was fat.

Vonna looked at the cookies longingly. “I'll have one if you do.”

One cookie was most likely her fat content for the week, but I didn't need much convincing. I ate two, while she separated the halves, and ate the plain side, slowly, savoring every tiny bite. Then she licked the cream inside off the second chocolate wafer.

I never wanted to be so neurotic about my weight. So I had another cookie and washed them down with the iced tea. I was surprised she'd bothered to put a sprig of mint in it.

“Does it need more sugar? Curtis likes his sweet.”

“No, I—” I couldn't finish the sentence. Or move my legs. “Wha—?”

“Don't worry,” she said, all efficiency as she took my glass away to the sink. Her mouth had the hard lines of last night. “It'll wear off. Not that it matters where you're going.”

I tried to say I wasn't going anywhere, but my mouth wasn't working. Maybe because my head had fallen forward into the plate of cookies. Drugged cookies, unless she'd doctored the iced tea with the minty taste to cover whatever she'd done. And here I'd been telling her how to hide a dog pill. Why not? You said coffee, Dad!

She yelled for Parker, saying she had to get me to a doctor. There was no time for the paramedics. “Help me get her into the car.”

He really thought they should call 911, thank his flabby heart, but she took a gun out from under a dish towel on the counter.

I think I found Borsack's daughter. The dogs barked, Red snarled, I whimpered.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Parker shouted. “She needs an ambulance.”

“What the fuck does it look like, old man? I am taking her with me. You are helping.”