Not Exactly Allies

by Kathryn Judson

CHAPTER 46 – GETTING A FEW THINGS SETTLED

  Dr. Orchard wordily and repeatedly and arrogantly pleaded his case, but he made the mistake of seesawing between insisting that the microfiche was government property and saying that it was his private property. Finally, he settled upon saying that it was his personal research material, vital to him in his capacity as a government psychologist, and ought to be handed back to him sight unseen.

  He was more convincing when explaining that he used microfiche because no one could hack into it. No one at the table believing that anything on a computer was truly safe, they agreed that using outdated technology could be a reasonable security measure, especially if it could be kept unconnected to any outside influences. (Or away from probably toxic coffee beans. Who knew if the protective sleeves were enough to protect it?)

  Briggs thought he ought to arrest Dr. Orchard for trespassing, at the very least, or at least that's what he said.

  "I'm not the only one in here without permission," Orchard sniffed. "Do you really want to have more than one top-level government official in your gaol?"

  "You needn't answer that," Richard said to Briggs. "Of course you do. You're only human. All local cops resent national cops. It's a law of human nature."

  "Speaking of nature, I need a loo break," Hastings said. "Sit quiet, now," he begged as he left. "I'll be right back."

  Richard liked the idea of letting Orchard briefly stew in silence. He also liked that Orchard was having to wait for the return of a man he had looked upon merely as some two-legged variety of guard dog. He liked to think it was good for the man, being forced to reconsider his attitude toward a fellow human being.

  Briggs, he found, was surprisingly good at sitting still without the cover of chatter, when there was a point to it. Perhaps it was all that practice at chess he'd heard about? Richard decided he was liking Briggs more and more.

  Orchard, on the other hand, seemed to be trying out stories in his head. Richard decided he liked Orchard less and less. He also wasn't sure, as it was turning out, that he liked letting the man have time to concoct yet more stories.

  Hastings came back.

  "Now then, Dr. Orchard, what makes you think that Leonard Loomis stole this from you?" Richard said, waving the coffee can with its microfiche.

  "Well, it's here, isn't it? What more do you want?"

  "Where did he get it? Your office?"

  "I don't know."

  "Where did you keep it?"

  "I didn't keep 'it' anywhere, if you mean the coffee and coffee can. I'd never put film in with coffee beans. Honestly, what do you take me for?"

  Richard decided that was a question better left unanswered, at least right now. "When was Loomis in your office last?"

  "Probably two or three years ago."

  "This has been missing that long?"

  "No. Don't be stupid."

  "When last seen by you, where was it? The film?"

  "In my office."

  "Any chance Pamela Williams took it?"

  Orchard stared, to all appearances genuinely confused. Then he was furious. "You leave her out of this!"

  "I know Ms. Williams," Briggs said. "Or I know a Pamela Williams who used to come by here."

  Richard pulled out photographs of the agency's Pamela Williams. Briggs looked, and nodded.

  "She's gone missing," Orchard blubbered. "I don't know why she doesn't call. She'd call if she could. I know she would."

  Richard turned to Briggs. "Right before she went missing she went out of her way to plow multiple bullets into the chief of my department."

  "Liar," Orchard said.

  "I wish," Richard said.

  "So you've got her!" Orchard screamed. "Give her back!"

  "We don't have her yet. Emphasis on yet," Richard said.

  He turned to Briggs and Hastings. "Why don't I leave it to you two to decide which of you gets Orchard for the time being, and whose crime lab gets the microfiche? You know how to reach me," he said. With that he left. It seemed better to leave than risk succumbing to the temptation to reach across and strangle Orchard for not asking if Stolemaker was all right or even alive.

  Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, Briggs and Hastings were working well together. They'd likely have better luck than he would in getting anything truly useful out of the slimy fellow, he thought, especially since he and Orchard had, over many long years, trained each other toward a Pavlovian animosity.

  Richard sat in his car in front of Deerfield Cottage to reconsider his "slimy fellow" assessment of Orchard. He didn't like Orchard. The man was obnoxious. Likely he'd slipped into incompetence. And he seemed to have a drinking problem. But, to be fair, the man was coming across as surprisingly human since Williams had been mentioned. The poor wretch likely did think she was in love with him. Men did have a knack for misunderstanding women. On top of that, Williams may have set her sights on getting Orchard to fall in love with her. The thought was despicable, but plausible, Williams not having displayed what a gentleman might call proper self-respect.

  Richard drove back to Hippo's, parking near the kitchen door. The skies let loose with rain of considerable force, which he found grimly amusing since he had groceries he hadn't managed to unload earlier. He grabbed three heavy bags and jogged to the door, letting himself in with as much speed as he could muster given the awkwardness of his load.

  Dennis, startled by the noise and motion, jumped between Janice and the door.

  Richard took in the tableau: Dennis and Janice looking guilty, numerous games lying about in pieces, nobody else in the room. He bit back a smirk. "Awfully sorry to barge in," he said.

  Janice and Dennis fell over themselves assuring him he wasn't barging in on anything.

  "In any case," Richard said, "I didn't get a chance earlier to unload provisions. Some of it has likely been out too long and might be spoilt, but most of it's likely all right. Oh, hello, Westmoreland, glad to see you still up," he said, as Hippo came shuffling sleepily into the room. "I was afraid you might run short with hordes of ravenous juveniles descending from the Continent, so Conan and I took on commissary duties. There's about this much still in the car. I'll go get it." He set his bags down and headed out the door.

  A yawning Hippo looked at the mess still scattered about. Dennis volunteered to pick up all games items, and set fervently to work. Janice helped him. Hippo began rummaging through the groceries, to see what sorts of storage places he needed to find.

  "I erred," Richard said as he came back in. "I forgot the stuff in the boot. Uppington, if you could give me a hand, it should only take one more trip with the both of us. Some of it's fairly light, like shirts and socks and such, but it's too much for one person for one trip."

  After the two of them were out the door, Hippo turned wearily to Janice, "I'd like to apologize for getting short with you earlier," he said.

  "That's all right."

  "I've set Vincent up in your room in Emma's bed."

  "But where will Emma sleep?"

  "With her devoted husband out over the garage, I presume."

  The devoted husband and Dennis came back in, looking faintly ridiculous, carrying a bootload of shopping bags between them, dripping rain from all points.

  "I hope I got halfway useful combinations of things, Westmoreland," Richard said. "I'm not used to buying for armies. I also had Conan sliding things into the pile. He had me thinking he was asking permission to buy each item he wanted, but then I caught him sneaking stuff I didn't want underneath what I'd approved. He's well-behaved for a street kid but, fair warning, he bears watching."

  Hippo chuckled. "Find me a boy who doesn't."

  Richard, surveying his purchases, wondered if he'd managed to be a bit silly, going on a half-mad shopping spree with a kid he'd just met. "I wasn't sure what you and the chief might have worked out for supplies. How is he, by the way? I thought he looked ragged earlier."

  "He's a bit set back. That happens fairly often with this sort of injury. But
it's not alarming yet. As I was just explaining to Ms. Pendergrast, I've modified sleeping arrangements. Vincent's in with her. I've switched spots with Dennis so I can keep an eye on my patient. And Dennis has the ensign's luck of the draw and has my room, with the three older boys scattered about on the floor in there with him. That's if they don't slip out and guard Vincent's door all night. There was some threat of mutiny. You'll likely have to sleep with the door open, Dennis, so they can see down the hall. For that matter, you might be ahead to let Lancelot join Vincent. He's back in chivalry mode. Luckily, you're his new hero. He'll likely march where you say march. At least some of the time." Hippo shifted his attention back to Richard. "I suppose you need to talk to the chief? He's sleeping but I'm under orders to wake him if you want him."

  "Let him sleep. I've put wheels in motion, but I can tell him about it tomorrow. I think we're done with activity next door for tonight. Let's hope so, anyway."

  "Get along with you, then. We're under control here," Hippo said.

  Richard looked at the toys still out, and the supplies that wanted putting away. "It shouldn't take that long if we all pitch in," he said. He set to work.

  Hippo started to protest that Richard needn't help, but gave it up. Knowing Richard as he did, he figured the man would think it was the least he could do after all the guests he'd dumped on the house.

  Not that Hippo especially minded having the guests. The house was too full of echoes and too devoid of conversation when he was there alone. This was not to mention that giving up the chaos and flurry of medical practice had been every bit as hard as giving up the actual practice. Having the chief and Emma around had been a godsend as far as intellectual stimulation and good humor went. Having Dennis and Janice in the house had been a challenge, with its own satisfactions as well as frustrations. The four street kids promised to make life even more interesting, one way or another.

  Dennis and Janice stuck it out until all the messes and dishes were cleaned up. When they went down the hall laden with boys' clothing to see how the new sleeping arrangements were set up, they found that Lancelot had already taken himself to Vincent's side, and was valiantly staying awake to defend his position.

  "Oh, good," Dennis said. "I was hoping you'd be available to move to this room. We shouldn't have trouble, but if we do I didn't like it that Janice and Vincent were alone in here."

  Lancelot wasn't sure whether to be flattered, or disappointed that he hadn't had to defend himself as planned. He fell asleep before he worked it out.

  In Hippo's room (now his for the foreseeable future) Dennis found that 'his' boys had moved the bed so they had room to sleep side by side in sleeping bags on foam pads, with Dennis between them and the window, and them between him and the door. He took it as a challenge. He woke them up. "Nice try, boys," he said. He worked it out so they were all more or less equidistant to the window and the door.

  "This is stupid," Conan said, looking at the new arrangement.

  Mauger looked at the window and the door and the sleeping bags. "Naw. This will work," he pronounced.

  "I was wondering," Dennis said. "How fast can you get out of those sleeping bags if we have trouble? Should we unzip them and use them like blankets, or what?"

  "That sounds good," Conan said.

  "Naw. I thought of that already," Mauger said. "We're fast. We can get out all right."

  "That's right," Conan said. "We're fast. Nobody wants to mess with us, even when we're sleeping. Even in sleeping bags."