The Monkey Jungle (The Bennt, Montana Series)

by Taylor Ryan

  “Out!” Garth pointed to the door, refusing to ease her guilt. “And if you break your promise to Mary Kathryn and tell Gilligan she knows what’s going on before she figures out how to talk to him, I’ll stuff you in the trunk of my car and drive you to the closest airport with a one way ticket to some obscure cold island so fast your head will spin.”

  “Gilligan?! Dad—!” Alison cried, aghast. She dashed from the room in a fresh flood of tears.

  The moment the door closed Mary Kathryn turned to Garth and said in the blandest voice possible, but a feral gleam in her eyes. “I can’t believe those two! My own son thinks I am a criminal, a common thief. I can’t believe I wasted all that money on his college education, he obviously didn’t have a brain to start with—the college counselor should have told me! Mexico?” she ranted. “He’s lost his friggin’ mind. And your silly daughter thinks she might be coming with us, so don’t claim my child is the only chimp who escaped the zoo!”

  “Sit down,” she suddenly patted the bed. He eyed her warily, surprised at the quick change but did as she asked.

  “I want to talk to you while I get dressed.” She walked into her closet, talking as she sorted through hangers. “It’s my fault about Henry. I had no idea how far he would take it. It’s hard to imagine my own son thinking I’m some amazing, clever criminal. He obviously knows nothing about how banks operate.”

  Garth eyed the open closet door and saw her bare arm flash. Instantly he wondered if the closet door had a lock. Alison wouldn’t come into Mary Kathryn’s bedroom again, but there was no telling what Henry might do in the throes of his agony. If he burst into another room, Mary Kathryn might shoot at her son just to teach him something about manners, and that would certainly cause a rift between them.

  “I know you’re wondering what to do with yourself.” Mary Kathryn’s voice floated out into the bedroom. “What did you do for higher education in the Air Force?”

  “I was a late bloomer,” Garth said, earning a skeptical snicker. And he knew exactly what to do with himself—and she was right there. He ignored her snicker, knowing now was not the time to take up where they had left off last night. “I took college courses from my twelfth through twentieth years and earned a four-year business degree. I don’t have a clue what I want to do with it.”

  “I didn’t know you guys could do that,” Mary Kathryn called back, sounding genuinely interested.

  “The military offers higher education to anyone in the service who wants it. Or they used too. In my time they did. No matter how old the person is.”

  “How did you find the time with your regular duties?”

  “Students have to have an agreement with their professors,” he told her. “If we get called up, we can continue where we left off when we get back. Sometimes they sent us away with homework. It kept me out of the Monkey Jungle—” He grinned when her disgruntled humph reached his ears. “Everything I did in the Air Force had college credits attached. Even survival classes were accredited toward a degree.”

  “Really?” Her eyes were round as her head popped around the door frame. “What on earth do they count toward?”

  “I can teach management training, human resources, solving personality problems, disciplinary actions. Part of my job was a human resource officer. Mostly mediating.”

  “So you’re a manager of managers.” Mary Kathryn absorbed the information.

  Garth grimaced. “I guess. But now, having moved through ranks, the last thing I want to do is manage people again.”

  Trying to manage Mary Kathryn around would be interesting. He might get his way once in awhile, enough to let her think she was in charge. He grinned at the idea of her manipulating and conniving to get around him, could see her using her wiles to make him think something was his own idea, and then making some wise ass comment if he called her on it. Or he could let her get away with it, watch her smugly sail away, knowing she was going to be making her apologies later as he tried to determine which apology she would employ. Anticipation rose at the notion. Mary Kathryn would never ever, ever bore him. Distract him, exasperate him, engage him fully and charm his socks off the entire time, but she would never bore him.

  “Like you said, you’re going to have to work for yourself!” she stated, pulling a pink sweater over her head as she came into the bedroom. Another color which brought out her eyes. The sapphire of them was so blue, they enthralled him. He would buy her dozens of sweaters in every shade of pink and purple he could find.

  “I know I need to find something to do,” he said, not concealing his admiration for her. “I’m open to suggestions, any ideas are welcome, you being fully aware I probably won’t use any of them.”

  She laughed but nodded, then asked, “What did you love doing?” Her eyes twinkled then she reddened as they both remembered what he’d said the evening before during that fiasco at the park.

  “Besides that,” Garth shoved himself off the bed, striding toward her. “I loved teaching the survival courses. I thrived on it. I spent more time planning their misery than I did anything else.” He gave her a quick kiss and then picked up a handful of her hair and let it slide through his fingers, his expression absorbed. “I was addicted. We were addicted—the crew. Volunteering every chance we could to any legitimate organization. We were nuts. The entire crew would go out for a weekend and teach three or four hundred boy scout troops survival in the woods—the swamps of Florida were an interesting time.” He chuckled with the memory. “Hundreds of kids. It was the best time of my life. That’s what I really want to do. Have three or four hundred boys to play with. To teach them. There’s nothing like it. Well,” he said huskily, “almost nothing.”

  He kissed her again then gently led her toward the door. “You tried to ask me something, to tell me something in the garage a few days ago and I distracted you. What were you going to tell me?”

  She was silent for a full minute finally saying quietly, “I can’t leave Heather and or Wilson as the executors of my will. Henry will whine all over them. And I can’t use my parents, they think the sun rises and sets with him. Henry’s father, Jason, his family, they would somehow justify their spending Henry’s money and rob him blind.”

  “What are you talking about, Mary Kathryn?” Garth felt a trap falling about his head. This was not what he’d expected, far from it. He followed her down the stairs, wondering if she were going to tell him about the money.

  “Since Henry and Alison are apparently going to be married, what I do would effect them both. I want to know if you would be the executor of my will. A money mentor, with mentors already in place to guide you—until he is able to stand on his own or he reaches thirty-five, whichever the executor decides.” Neither of them said what they were thinking. Henry lacked maturity that would only come with the years. If ever.

  “Are you planning on dying soon Mary Kathryn? ” Garth was somewhat taken aback. He halted on the stairs, remembering the one-sided conversation he’d overheard his first night in her house.

  “No,” she vehemently shook her head, waiting for him when she reached the bottom step. “But, well... it’s complicated. You know Henry!” She grimaced and said as if it pained her, “It’s for Alison’s protection also—and any children they might have. I’m a widow. I need a will. I know first hand how fickle fate is.”

  Garth realized instantly she didn’t think Alison and Henry were mature enough to get married. He felt relieved she felt the same as he did. He only hoped for Alison’s sake the romance would die of its own accord as most romances were wont to do. He took the last steps, joining Mary Kathryn.

  “Garth, I realized when they arrived, I hadn’t really considered Alison’s family as an option, which means you, of course.” Mary Kathryn said earnestly, genuine concern in her eyes, “There’s no one else, Garth. Nobody who would have a vested interest to see them do as well as you or I would want if they do get married. You wouldn’t dangle purse strings over their head. I’ve been watching you. You
don’t interfere, even when you want too.” Like me, she didn’t need to say it out loud. He knew.

  “Mary Kathryn,” Garth grimaced, his arm waving to encompass her living room as he tried to get the truth out her. “What are we talking, a small house and the contents, and your measly savings account? Besides, it might upset Henry that his wife’s father holds his inheritance hostage until he’s thirty-five.” Fess up, you beautiful twit.

  “You wouldn’t hold it hostage,” she said confidently, not taking the bait. “But you wouldn’t let him be a wastrel either.”

  “But he doesn’t know that.” Her faith in him pleased Garth immensely. “But why go through so much trouble for such a minuscule estate?” Say it. Say it!

  She slowed, following him toward the kitchen. “As with most trusts, a percentage is paid to trustee. So you’d get paid too. It’s all above board and quite legal, common practice.”

  “It’s a trust, Mary Kathryn,” Garth said nonchalantly. “Use an attorney.” She wouldn’t break.

  “At three hundred dollars plus an hour!” Mary Kathryn exclaimed, scandalized. “Not on your life. And how can I trust a stranger to do the right thing and release funds for appropriate purchases—trusts are abused.”

  “The same could be said for me,” he argued logically.

  “But you wouldn’t abuse it, or the power to use it,” she staunchly defended him.

  He grinned as he teased her. “It depends on how much money is involved.”

  “I haven’t spent much.” she grimaced. “Fixing the house, my Remingtons and the Russells in my bedroom. The Kerr. Henry’s, uh, education. Furniture, carpeting and the kitchen and then the boot room floor drain.” she scowled. “That cost more than my bed. And I’ve a new SUV showing up in a few weeks. I was going to give the Jeep to Henry but he probably won’t accept it, thinking it’s been acquired from a Brinks heist loot or something just as stupidly glamorous.”

  They entered the kitchen, and finding it empty, remained silent for a moment. Mary Kathryn earnest in her need, Garth waiting for her to confess. She handed Garth a cup of coffee then poured herself one, frowning at the dirty skillets on the stove and the puddle of egg yolk on the counter. She snarled when she spied the sink full of dirty dishes and the piece of raw bacon on the floor.

  “Like I told you,” she said, “this isn’t all Henry’s fault. If I hadn’t felt I needed to hide the money. If he hadn’t snooped, we wouldn’t have been caught in the park. If he weren’t so damned immature!” She shoved her hair out of her face. “If I thought he could handle any amount of real money, I’d have told him. I’m so embarrassed by all this I want to gnash my teeth, crawl in a hole and hide with shame. I got caught with my damned pants down!”

  “Please don’t cry, sweetheart, weeping confuses my equilibrium—” Garth’s coffee cup jerked as he realized what she’d said moments before on the stairs. The names she’d recited. Just how much damn money did she have? “Please tell me the Remingtons you mentioned are rifles, Mary Kathryn.” He set his coffee cup on the counter, sending a swift prayer upwards that her money wasn’t some insane amount. “Assure me they’re rifles and not what I suspect. I need to hear it from you.”

  “Rifles?” She was thoroughly bemused. “I only have two pistols—or had!” Her eyes narrowed as she recalled one of her babies was at the sheriff’s department.

  “Those damned bronzes sitting next to that expensive flat plasma screen TV in your bedroom are Remingtons and Russels!” Garth uttered a curse. “And even I know who Charles M. Russell is—the painter! Shit! Henry was right, you knocked over a Brink’s trunk and sweet talked your way out of prison, and they let you keep the money. Our damned justice system needs an overhaul. I’ve friends, maybe they’ll toss you in Leavenworth for me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She looked righteously indignant, then grinned cheekily. “I knocked around Florida a few years ago, and, um, did some, uh, casual gambling.”

  “Coming from you, gambling with ums and uhs sounds ominous.” Garth had a sinking feeling. That ranch hadn’t been cheap; but how much it might have cost had never really occurred to him until now. And those bronze knick knacks upstairs were worth a fortune. He knew he was being ridiculous now, but his mouth ran amok: “Did you drive through the state and rob every bingo hall on your route?”

  “Don’t you take that superior tone with me, Garth Morley. You sound just like Wilson when he pulls me over for driving two miles over the speed limit!”

  “Mary Kathryn, I’m not going to hold Henry’s purse strings unless I know exactly what I’m in for.” Garth backed her against the kitchen stove. “Please go get you bank statements. The ones that sent Henry around the bend.”

  “I beg your pardon?” She dared him to repeat the order. “Did you just really say that?” She edged away nervously, not liking his expression. “What do you want them for? I handle my money just fine even when I don’t want too! It’s Henry handling money that worries me. If he’s silly now, imagine how ridiculous he’ll be when he’s filthy rich. They don’t sell his and her brains in Neiman Marcus, believe me, I checked!”

  “I’m going to say two words, Mary Kathryn,” Garth said. “And you’re going to say the first thing that comes to mind.” He towered over her, his face forbidding as he saw his peaceful retirement blown to smithereens. “I don’t like any of this. How much money do you have?”

  “That was a dozen words—not counting the contraction.” She squeaked when he grabbed her, holding her gently in front of him. “Garth, you have no right to ask me to see my bank statements—don’t forget, you’re a miser. There’s so much paper attached it’ll make you cringe at the waste.”

  “How much money do you have?” he scowled suspiciously, his hands sliding up her shoulders. It must be more than the few hundred K he’d been thinking. That would have been a reasonable win. Not intimidating in the least. But from the looks of things around here... “How much, sweetheart?”

  “Oh no you don’t, Morley. I see you panicking like a cornered redneck with a beer can wind chime that somebody wants to take to recycling. None of your business. None-ya! You haven’t agreed to become executor yet. Besides,” she stared at his mouth, thinking she should kiss him, “such information isn’t divulged until the deceased is buried.”

  “I’m sure there’s a shovel in the garage.” Garth held her at arms length. “It’s going to give me a headache, isn’t it? If it gives you headaches it’s going to irritate the shit out of me. No!” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “I’ve changed my mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I can already see the answer on your face—it would give Henry an orgasm! Close your mouth, I said that to make a point. Don’t move,” he ordered as she leaned up to kiss him. “Really, I’ve changed my mind,” he stepped back. “I don’t want to know how much you have. Please close your rich sweet mouth. We’ll take the high road here, Mary Kathryn. I’ve been trained by the very best. No, you twit, not Old MacDonald! Uncle Sam’s finest. I’ll do what you ask, I’ll be the executor, if you promise never, ever, to tell me anything about your finances.”

  She stiffened, her jaw firming, her chin thrust forward at a stubborn angle. “I can’t do that.”

  He looked thunderous, frustrated. “Damn you, why not?!”

  “Because you’re going to marry me and as my husband you have a right to know.”

  He peered at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “No, I don’t have a right to know,” he growled. She opened her mouth to argue but he was already talking over her argument. “I don’t have the right to know about that amateur looking picture in your upstairs hall that I thought was one Henry did when he was a child but I know now is a Grandma Moses! Wives don’t tell their husbands everything!” His voice rose. “Lots of wives don’t tell their husbands anything. In fact, shit loads of them have secret stashes; clothes, shoes, jewelry, make-up, more shoes, candy bars, cash, Popsicles, more shoes and private bank accounts! We’ll preten
d I’m clueless. If this annoying loot of yours gives you trouble—look what you did to Henry concealing it—it’s sure the hell going to bug me, and I’m retired. Nobody ever has the right to bug me again. Well, maybe you, but I get a decent check from my Uncle Sam every month and your—I’m yelling at you, Mary Kathryn! Why the hell are you smiling like that?”

  “Because you’re going to marry me.”

  “Mary Kathryn,” Garth’s teeth gnashed as he dropped his hands from her upper arms. “If you keep smiling like that I’m going to kiss you—and I’ll be damned if I’m going to marry you until I ask you.” He strode from the room, looking for a door to slam. “Well, shit!” he glowered. “Broken locks and no doors anywhere. No damned door when a man needs one. Mary Kathryn,” he yelled over his shoulder. “You’re buying us a house with doors—and we’re taking your bed and your waffle iron with us. Oh, and the cat.” The front door slammed a few moments later.

  He’d found a door to slam. Mary Kathryn grinned, pleased for him. She began humming, clearing the sink until footsteps sounded. She looked over her shoulder, surprised to see Garth so soon, an odd expression coming on his face when he recognized the tune she ended up singing. Heather entered on Garth’s heels. Mary Kathryn dried her hands and faced her sister, her expression carefully schooled.

  “You left your heart in Sweaty Palms, Mary Kathryn?” Heather laughed. “That’s a new one.”

  “Sinatra fans would have a fit. Your sister caught me at the car and dragged me back.” Garth tossed a thick package onto the table and sat down, his expression amused as Heather pulled out a chair and plopped into it, oblivious to the wary perusal Mary Kathryn gave Garth.

  “What is that?” Mary Kathryn looked at the thick white envelope as she poured Heather a cup of coffee. She raised another cup toward Garth and he nodded.

  “Wilson gave it to me and asked me to deliver it to his boy, here.” Heather explained, beaming gratefully when Mary Kathryn set the coffee mugs on the table. Heather nodded her thanks before she took a sip.