CHAPTER 40 – BACK AT HIPPO'S
Felicity dropped her boy at Hippo's, and headed back to regular duties and routines. Darlene showed up about a quarter hour after that. She likewise deposited her boy and left.
The boys watched carefully – sometimes directly, sometimes out of the corner of an eye – trying to sort out who was who and what was what. The chief was taking a nap in his room, so wasn't in the picture yet, but Hippo and Emma were exuding welcome tinged with a willingness to sit on any kid who misbehaved. The boys were trying very hard not to hang onto them for dear life, that being something a baby would do, in their estimation. Still, they stuck as close as they thought honor would permit and the situation allow.
Dennis and Janice sat off to one side, monitoring the situation.
"Afraid of children, are you?" Hippo asked.
"Me?" said Janice.
"Us?" said Dennis.
Hippo didn't press the point. He cooked hamburgers, fed the boys, and told them to go outside and play. Emma went to keep an inconspicuous eye on them. The littlest boy leaned against the fence and got lost in the wonders of farm life. The older boy selected a tree for use as a guard duty station and sat at its base, intending to be a good soldier. Fatigued from watching out for Felicity, he promptly fell asleep.
Dennis and Janice wandered out to observe matters. Janice disapproved of letting the boy sleep leaning against a tree. Emma told her to let the kid sleep where he felt like it, if it wasn't hurting anybody. Dennis got between the women and more or less herded Janice to the fence, where they could stand beside the littlest boy and join him in gawking at the cows. The boy by now was feeling quite proprietary about the cattle. Dennis let himself be instructed on where to look and what to key in on. Janice stood aloof, compiling mental notes on child behavior.
When the boy at the tree woke up, he made a point of telling his younger friend that hamburgers were made of ground-up dead cows.
"What did he say?" Janice asked, not understanding the French.
Emma told her.
"That's not nice," Janice said.
"He can take it," Emma said. "Boys are tough."
"He doesn't look tough," Janice said. "He looks like he's going to cry."
"You'd cry too, if you'd just found out you'd eaten a relative of your new friends," Emma said. "It takes some getting used to. I went vegetarian two or three times as a youngster myself until I got a handle on it."
"I don't want to talk about it," Janice said. She took the younger boy by the hand and limped over to a swing. She pushed him for a while, and then was surprised when he wanted to push her. She decided to humor him, and got in the swing.
"Can I get in on this?" Dennis asked. He signaled that he wanted to cut in. The boy, seeing it as part of the game, moved over.
Janice wasn't sure whether to scream for this outrage to stop, or try to remain dignified whilst being pushed on a swing by another grownup – a male, colleague-type grownup at that. "I suppose this makes you feel superior," she said, haughtily, opting for 'dignified.'
"I don't know what you mean. I was hoping you'd push me after," Dennis said.
The boy, tired of watching, shoved Dennis aside and took over. The older boy came over and shoved the little boy aside and took a turn.
"How's it feel, having boys fight over you?" Dennis asked.
Janice refused to answer.
After a while, she signaled that she thought it was Dennis's turn to sit in the swing while she pushed. He took this as a good sign, but got flustered after just a few pushes. He covered his embarrassment by bailing out and pronouncing that they shouldn't hog the swing while children were about.
Carterson showed up with Mauger, the oldest boy. Mauger was insufferable, having dined with sports stars of the highest conceivable magnitude. His buddies didn't want to believe him, but Carterson had taken photos.
"Yeah, but you can fake pictures," the middle boy said.
"You're just jealous," Mauger said.
"That doesn't change the truth," the middle boy said.
Carterson confirmed Mauger's version of events, then slipped off to relay to the chief what the boy had said about the Arab boy's murder and other goings-on in his neighborhood, especially the rumors that someone named Jean Blondet had killed his own brother on someone else's say-so. At a guess there were a zillion Blondets in France – so this Jean wasn't necessarily related to Leandre Durand's late boss – but it bore looking into; it wouldn't be the first murder dressed up as suicide. Mauger, whilst chatting with his football heroes, had obviously slipped into hyperbole here and there, trying to look big in front of them. It was hard to tell where his eyewitness accounts ended and his fancy took over, much less where honest hearsay came in. Of course, that was a problem with witnesses of all ages, regardless of circumstances. In this case, though, it seemed advisable to take the testimony with about a tablespoon of salt instead of a grain.
Carterson left as soon as he finished talking with the chief, to pick up the threads of his normal life before anyone not in on the game had reason to get suspicious about his being gone.
Hippo set up a cookout around a campfire just inside the cow pasture. Drizzle made the proceedings a bit difficult, but everyone was persevering, at least after a fashion. Emma had insisted on roasting marshmallows. The boys burned far more marshmallows than not, and it was clear they were sometimes doing it on purpose, for the sheer joy of charring something to a crisp.
The littlest boy, finally identified as Vincent, was doing a wiggling sort of dance off to one side, to music he made up as he went.
Felicity's knight was calling himself Lancelot, but it wasn't determined yet if that was his name, a close approximation of his name, a joke, a grand desire, or a ruse. Having lost Felicity as a damsel in distress, he'd tried to latch onto Janice, but had swung over to Emma as the day progressed. He'd also taken it upon himself to cook Vincent's food as well as his own.
Mauger had taken it upon himself to keep the cattle at what he deemed to be the proper distance. They seemed to think there would be goodies for them to eat, if they could just successfully join the circle. Mauger seemed to have enough sense not to invite kicks, and the cattle didn't seem inclined to stampede or otherwise overreact, so Hippo let the boy have his fun being important and brave in front of his friends. That the boy thought he was being important and brave was rather obvious.
Mauger and Lancelot explained to the cattle, ponderously, that cannibalism was forbidden and therefore they couldn't have any beef hot dogs no matter how much they begged.
Janice made the mistake of asking for a translation, and then taking immediate and obvious offense. It took her a while to realize that the joke was going to continue as long as she complained about it, but she finally tumbled to reality and clamped her mouth shut.
Dennis continuously bit back grins, but manfully put on the best mask of silent, professional reserve that he could manage.
The cookout was nearly done when Richard drove up.
Conan threw himself out of the car before it was quite stopped. He dashed to the gathering. As soon as he saw that Mauger and the other boys were truly all there, and appeared to be all right, he was embarrassed at having been in such a hurry. He covered his chagrin by asking his friends what they thought of his disguise.
"Is that you?" Lancelot asked. He seemed serious, and probably was. This pleased Conan no end.
"Mauger's what they call cats," Vincent told Conan, confusing Mauger with moggie.
"And Raoul is what you can call me. It's my spy name," Conan said, busting with importance.
"Oh, and who did you spy on today?" asked Mauger.
"Not who. What. And I can't tell you," Conan said. "Not yet."
"We had to take the long way round, though. Dodging the enemy, you know," Richard said.
Conan went white. "You don't think they followed us?"
"It isn't likely. But we'll have lookouts patrolling all night, just in case. As long as we stick to the plan, w
e should be all right. Help me unpack, then let's eat."
"What's everyone saying?" Janice asked, the preceding taking place in French. Vincent felt her confusion, and sidled over to give her a hug.
Emma took a text message, and announced, "Low level to moderate trouble in ten to fifteen minutes, maybe. I'll explain inside. We need to get out of sight."
Richard gave appropriate orders in French. Conan attached himself to Richard. The other boys looked to Hippo. Richard handed Conan over to Hippo, who herded all the boys inside. Emma shepherded the chief. Janice was hustled along by Dennis. Richard stayed behind to put out the campfire.
Conan watched Richard from the window, admiring that his hero could work quickly and efficiently without looking the least bit rushed or bothered. "He's the brains, you know," he told Mauger.
"I suppose that's better than my man, who knows football players," Mauger sneered.
"Well, yes. And if you had brains you'd know that," Conan said.
"You're just jealous," Mauger said.
Emma reported to the chief: "Hastings says Dr. Orchard got it into his head to go for a drive in the country, and they're tending this direction. He thinks they're headed for the Loomis place, but he's not sure."
Stolemaker motioned Hippo to one side to confer. When Richard sailed in, they gave him a somewhat conspiratorial look, which he tried to outwardly ignore.
"Orchard's driving about, heading this way," Stolemaker said. "We need to keep out of sight, particularly Uppington and Pendergrast. As for you, Westmoreland here has set up a watchtower in the old servants' quarters out in the garage. Out you and Mrs. Hugh go. You'll be spending the night barring further notice. Check in over here at eleven hundred tomorrow. Move it. We don't want to cut it too close with Orchard if he's really en route."
Richard slung some handy apples and bread rolls into a bag and considered himself good to go. Hippo handed him a small suitcase. "Emma's things. I had a hunch you might be in a hurry this evening," he said.
Remembering that he was presently a gang leader of sorts, Richard turned to address Conan, "We're taking guard tower duties. You answer to Westmoreland while I'm gone." Richard pointed to Hippo, who accepted his new assignment as if he routinely commanded squads of foreign juveniles.
Conan gave Richard a brisk nod and Hippo a solemn salute, proving he was up to speed and ready for action.
Richard and Emma headed out, at a goodly pace that somehow still looked natural.
"Of course the quarters are upstairs. I wouldn't want to miss the chance to lug clothes and such up stairs, now would I?" Richard said, inside the garage, at the base of the stairs.
"All the better to see the surroundings, luv. They did name us to watchtower position," Emma said. She headed up, Richard right behind her, as usual, to catch her if she stumbled.
Emma opened the door at the top of the stairs and froze.
Richard ditched luggage and moved her to the stairs below him.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," Emma said, "I just wasn't expecting what I saw."
Richard moved up to peek into the room. It was set up as a honeymoon suite, with lace and chocolates and fruit baskets and champagne glasses. There was a card propped up on the dresser. "Let the world take care of itself if you can for a while. See you at eleven hundred tomorrow, barring emergencies," it said, in a familiar scrawl.
"Rats," said Emma.
"Rats?"
"He wrote that before the Orchard alert. I can't tell you how much I hate the idea of postponing what they had in mind for us," Emma said, heading to the window to see if there was anything to see.
Richard blushed but stayed dutiful. He retrieved the baggage from the stairs and then did recon, checking on the ways in and out of the building, and the lines of sight afforded by each window.
-
Within minutes a big car with two men inside stopped in front of the Loomis cottage.
Orchard was wearing glasses with a bluish-green tint (the latest color touted by experts). Hastings had on his pink ones. In this neighborhood they stuck out like sore thumbs. Hastings, deciding it wasn't a proper time for such fun and games, pulled off the pink glasses and went to normal ones with brown tint that waxed and waned according to light levels.
"I can't see how it happened," Orchard said, staring at the house and grounds. "I just can't see it."
"Were you talking to me, sir?"
"No."
"Try me anyway," Hastings said. "I'm trained in site studies. What's the issue at this one?"
"Murder," Orchard said.
"Oh, wait. Is this the slasher place? Where the dogs got filleted and then blown up or something?"
"Damn the dogs. Someone who worked for the agency got killed. A mere consultant, but still... I can't help but think it has a connection…"
"Connection to what?"
"Never mind," Orchard said. He got out, and paced back and forth alongside the front fence.
Hastings stayed in the car to make a call. "Got us?" he asked, instead of hello.
"From the garage next door, upstairs. Triple-O Five is with me. At the house we have the chief and everyone else," Emma said.
"Everyone else includes?"
"Westmoreland, Dennis, Janice, four French boys on witness protection."
"Got it. I'm gonna follow the Malus around. Over."
"The local police officer is called Briggs, and is getting territorial. Over."
"Okay, so I'm not over. What are the chances he'll be joining us?"
"Huge. Westmoreland has to report a car and suspicious characters in front of a murder scene, doesn't he? So will other people who happen down the road."
"We'll be here, thanks."
"Bye-bye," Emma said.
"Cheers," Hastings said.
-
"Hippo, call the cops," Stolemaker said, as they stood behind curtains, looking out a window.
"You know who they are? Our visitors?"
"Yes, but you don't. Probably just ghoulish tourists, hoping to see a bit of old blood on the ground. You know the type."
"You're the boss," Hippo said. He called. "H'lo, Charlotte?… Oh, Tina, I didn't know whose shift it was, sorry… I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she feels better soon… Right. Carl Westmoreland again, if you don't know the voice yet. There's a car in front of the Loomis place, and a man got out and is pacing the front fence. Correction, he's going in the front gate, and a second man is getting out of the car and following him… Right, I'll hold…"
The French boys were dying to see what was up and were going in excited circles around the room, grabbing peeks out of windows as they went.
"Sit on them, Uppington," Stolemaker said. "We don't want them being seen if we can help it."
"Right, sir," Dennis said. He didn't sound confident. He appealed to Janice for help.
"Don't look at me. They don't like me," Janice said.
"Deal with it," Stolemaker said, as he shuffled to a chair. "Both of you. Hippo has to keep tabs outside, and if the boys draw attention, you're center stage. I'm not so sure Orchard and company have your best interests at heart. What do you think?"
"Technically, we're part of Orchard & Company, as you put it," Janice said, latching onto something that struck her as not totally accurate.
"I could go my whole life and never meet another psychologist and it would be too soon," Stolemaker said, to no one in particular.
"That's not a healthy attitude," Janice said.
Dennis put Vincent's hand in hers. "At least take the docile one, would you?" he said. He grabbed Conan as the boy did a sideways jig toward a window.
"Everyone except M. Stolemaker – on the floor," Hippo ordered, in French.
"Navy ship getting strafed," Mauger declared, throwing his arms up against imaginary bullets. He threw himself dramatically to the floor. "Ooh, I'm hit," he said. He writhed grotesquely. His mates thought it a great example, and followed suit.
Janice froze, terrified by the writhing. D
ennis tried to help her to the floor. She resisted.
"We have to. Hippo's ordered everyone down," Dennis said.
"He's not getting down. Or Stolemaker," Janice said, latching onto something that struck her as not consistent.
"Westmoreland is a) watching, b) cooperating with the police, and c) lives here and therefore isn't in hiding. There's no reason for him not to be at his own window," Dennis said.
"What's the chief's reason?" Janice asked.
"I'm recovering from bullet damage to both legs. Isn't that enough?" Stolemaker said. Unfortunately, having gotten in the habit of speaking in French for the boys' benefit, he rattled it off in French. That got the boys' attention. He ignored them, and repeated his statement in English, modified this time to be more civil.
"I have a hurt ankle," Janice said, latching onto something besides unknown outside dangers. "Two hurt ankles, actually. It's not fair I have to get down."
Her whining drew Mauger's attention. "She needs kissing," he told Dennis. "If you don't, I will."
"If you ever try to kiss her, I'll take your teeth out," Dennis said. Unfortunately, he was angry enough that he forgot to say it in French. Mauger got the message anyhow, but so did Janice. Dennis avoided looking at her until the boys' giggles got to be too much. He snuck a peek, and was none the wiser, not really. Janice's look was flat incredulous, and frankly unreadable.
The excitement and tension got to be too much for the youngest French boy. He burst into tears and crawled over to Dennis.
"Here, now, buddy, we're all right," Dennis said, drawing Vincent into his lap. He rocked and made soft shhh-ing noises, and Vincent relaxed.
Mauger, the oldest boy, didn't like Vincent going elsewhere for protection, so he shot back by getting Lancelot and Conan to close ranks with him. They sat near each other on the floor, trying to look like they didn't care about anything or anybody. They weren't doing a very good job of it.
Janice reached out to Conan and was snubbed. Lancelot started toward her but was jerked back by Mauger.
"She's all right, you know," Dennis said to them, gently, in French.
Mauger sneered.
Lancelot got rebellious, jerked loose, and went to Janice. He snarled at Mauger, "Here! Just because you think she looks like a woman who would slaughter her own young doesn't mean I have to not like her."
"No, Lance! No! Stop!" Conan cried. He crawled like a whipped animal between his feuding friends. "He didn't mean it Mauger. He didn't mean it," he moaned.
"Sure I did," Lancelot said.
Mauger exploded through Conan's pathetic line of defense and took Lancelot to the ground, slugging him with everything he had.
Dennis had better reflexes than he knew. Before he realized what he was doing, he'd handed Vincent to Janice and hauled Mauger off his victim and pinned him to the floor.
Hippo started away from the window to help, but Stolemaker waved him back. "Uppington's got it under control," he said.
That wasn't entirely true, but it reassured Dennis that he wasn't acting like a fool, though he half felt like one, subduing someone smaller than himself.
Mauger felt Dennis starting to relax, and unleashed. Dennis had a bad go of it, but held his own. The boy's strength flagged. Dennis finally got sustained eye contact, and Mauger gave it up. Dennis let him go.
Mauger went to sit in the precise center of the room, apparently to show that he wasn't the sort to cower against a wall.
Lancelot defiantly sat right next to him. "I'm not afraid of you, you know," he said.
"I can settle this later," Mauger replied.
"I guess I can't expect any better from babies," Stolemaker said, in French.
That got the boys to close ranks again. It also moved Stolemaker up in their eyes. In their world, a timely and truly demeaning insult was worth something. Coming from a man who was recovering from gunshot wounds made it better. Clinching the chief's higher rating was the way he rolled his eyes when he saw Janice gawping at Dennis, her jaw slack and her face seesawing between indignant confusion and puzzled admiration.
The three older boys collapsed in laughter, rolling on the floor with wild glee. Vincent cuddled closer to Janice, begging for her attention. She swept the frightened child into a tight hug.
Not Exactly Allies Page 40