by Bella Knight
Don's face froze, then opened. "So that's why he went there?" Don said. "I wondered about that. Shooting his mom, I get. She was a horrible woman, and thought herself to be just the opposite. But why shoot up the coffee shop?"
"To kill us," said Xenia. "Our cars were right there in the side lot. He had to have known we were in there." She thought for a moment. "The only reason why we were in a booth and not at the counter is because I'm pregnant, and wanted to sit in a booth and not on a bar stool."
"Eight people dead," said Don.
"Nine," said Xenia. "Thomas was only three. He died last night." Don put his head in his hands, and wept as if he would never stop.
Francine was waiting in the lobby. "He gonna be okay?" she asked, as Bob saw Don out the door.
"His son murdered about ten people yesterday. Would you be?" said Bob. "Come on back. Coffee or soda?"
"Lemon-lime soda if you have it," said Francine.
Bob led her back to his office, took a soda out of his tiny refrigerator, and handed it to her. She popped the top, and drank. Bob sipped his coffee, and Xenia smiled benignly at both of them.
"I'm here to thank ya'll. You saved my ass. Both of you."
"Had to," said Xenia. "Best pie in the county."
Francine barked out a laugh. "Omar makes the best damn pies." She smiled sadly. "Omar says that's it. No more coffee shop."
"What will you do with it, once the insurance kicks in?" asked Bob.
"Take off," said Francine.
"Why don't you have a lottery?" asked Xenia. "These people need a coffee shop, and there is someone out there willing to pay some money to join a contest. Get your money, award the coffee shop, get out of there. Leave your recipes," said Xenia.
"Can put the recipes together while we're waiting," said Francine. "And packing. And selling our stuff."
"Leave the furniture," suggested Xenia. "You live over the coffee shop. It's a restaurant and a place to live in one. Even with what happened yesterday, after the cleanup you should get people ready to snap it up."
Francine smiled sadly. "Omar wants to go back to Lebanon," she said.
"Financial capital of the Middle East," said Xenia. "They have great universities there."
"A university," said Francine. "Good place to have a..."
"Pie shop," said Xenia. "Introduce them to American cuisine."
Francine stood. She wobbled a bit, then righted herself. "I've got to talk to Omar," she said. "And thanks for the soda, and for saving my life and all."
"No problem," said Bob. They both stood and hugged her, and Francine walked out with a spring in her step.
The next visitor was the fire chief, Theo Barnes, to give his report. "Thank the Valkyries for me," he said, hat in hand. "They got to victims quickly. We had a brush fire on the side of the highway when it happened. We would have twice as many dead if it weren't for them. And the coffee and snacks."
"Least we could do," said Xenia. "People tend to give food, water, and blankets to victims, forgetting the long hours cops, firefighters, and the like put in."
Theo nodded. "I've gotta go. Got a shit-ton of paperwork to do.”
"I feel your pain," said Bob.
"Got my own to type up. Bye, Theo," said Xenia.
The Red Cross came by, gave their little report, and headed off for a new crisis to manage. The Ladies' Auxiliary did the same thing.
Jean Benton was sniffling. "I can't get it out of my head," she said. "The blood and glass. And poor Mrs. Avery! Shot to death by her own son! She was one of us, you know."
I doubt genuinely helping others was on her agenda, thought Bob. Prestige, power, doing what looked good. But actual compassion wasn't high on her list.
"We're putting together a memorial wall," said Jean.
"I think what we need the most," said Xenia, "is support for the families. People to cook and clean, and take dogs for walks, and clean out litterboxes, and get the kids to school… and to doctor's appointments. To keep the tissues coming. To listen without judging. Grief means you won't eat, sleep, or be able to function. People need to function for them, sometimes for weeks."
Bob pulled up a list of victims for Jean, and printed it on his tiny desktop printer. "Go set up a schedule and help these peoples' families," he said.
"I…" said Joan, and scanned the list. "I... yes, a schedule." She straightened her spine. "We're on it, Sheriff. Sheriffs." Bob and Xenia nodded at her and she left.
Bob looked at his wife with admiration. "Damn you're good," he said.
"My awesomeness knows no bounds," she said. "Now, go get me a chocolate chunk muffin," she said. "Baby is hungry."
"Yes, Ma'am," he said.
She fielded his calls, taking messages, talking to the coroner and her overworked staff. And having his officers call him on his cell. She told reporters, “No comment,” made a plan for a news conference, and typed up the details. She gave Bob the printout of the news conference when he arrived, and she attacked her muffin. She popped a soda, and answered email after email, fielding calls on her cell phone.
A steady stream of panicked people came in. The mayor, Rick Skiar, was intensely worried about liability. "Sit down," said Bob, as Rick paced. The tone made Rick sit. "I'm absolutely sure Amber explained this to you, because I explained it to her." Amber was the city attorney. "We didn't give Ex-Officer Avery psychological testing. An outside firm did. I noted everything I did with Avery in damn near triplicate. All that came out in court in the lawsuit. I recorded many of our training sessions, with Avery's verbal and, at times, signed consent. I followed every procedure I was supposed to when I fired him. He was on administrative leave for shooting an elderly family dog that was no threat to him, or anyone else. He did it while going to arrest a woman on a bench warrant, at night, alone, armed to the gills in gear we don't supply. Again, public record, in open court. He pulled a gun on a civilian in a hospital hallway with operating rooms on both sides. Again, public record. We. Have. No. Liability." Bob smiled a tight smile, and leaned forward. "Rick, shouldn't you be comforting Reese Gilles? She lost both her husband and her child."
Rick reddened. "I..."
"How is riding my ass supposed to help? Make you feel better?" asked Bob, his disgust obvious. "I was shot at, too. So was My. Pregnant. Wife. Or did you forget that?"
Rick turned pale. "I'll see what the victims need," he said, and stood.
"You do that," said Bob. Rick hurried out of the room.
Xenia looked up from her typing. "That'll blow back on you, someday."
"No," said Bob, grimly, "it won't. Not if Rick has an ounce of political sense." He held up his hand at his wife's snort. "If his wife has political sense."
"Tamlyn would run this city much better than Rick the Dick does," said Xenia. "And I expect she'll give him an earful when she finds out why he really came over here."
Tamlyn did show up later. The mayor's wife was on the city council. She had cafe au lait skin, a shock of black hair that was braided loosely at the nape of her neck, and intelligent brown eyes. She wore a black dress, low black heels, stockings, and understated silver jewelry.
"I'm here for two purposes. One, to apologize for my insensitive oaf of a husband."
Xenia looked at her. "Off the record," she said. Tamlyn waved a hand, "why don't you divorce him?"
"Two years," said Tamlyn. "Then both Roberta and Quinnie's college costs will be paid. Don't want to saddle my girls with twenty thousand dollars each of debt, do I?"
"Does Rick know this?" asked Xenia. "And don't mayoral campaigns cost money?"
"His father," said Tamlyn, waving a manicured hand, "won't pay a dime for his granddaughters to go to university, but will pay through the nose for his son's political ambitions."
"Idiot," said Xenia, sweetly. Both women laughed.
Bob cringed a little at the female verbal stilettos. He said, "Your second reason for coming, Tamlyn?"
Tamlyn smiled. "My second reason for coming is to thank you."
Both Bob and Xenia sat up straight in their chairs. "For what?" asked Xenia. "I shot at someone shooting at me. I knew he was wearing body armor, and I was sighting through a plate glass window that was in the process of being shredded, so I went for the metal. The big-assed gun. Hear I hit it. And his shoulder."
Bob sighed. "I didn't get a shot off. Skuld, with the platinum hair and vicious kickboxing skills got him. I was walking through a door, and didn't see exactly how she did it."
"You should see the tape," said Tamlyn. "Security cameras. She grabbed the gun, drew it to her, and hit him with the butt of the gun. While it was still strapped to his body, I might add. He hit his head on a parking meter, and died instantly."
"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," said Bob. "Off the record."
"Off the record," said Tamlyn, "I agree. I want to give her some sort of reward. A medal?"
"Send your daughters to school," said Xenia. "She has a daughter herself."
"The one handing out water, coffee, snacks, and food," said Tamlyn. "I met her. Extraordinary girl."
"Better than extraordinary," said Xenia. "She did that after riding up from Vegas. After volunteering on the coffee line, she went to our friends' bike shop, where she got an order out. Stayed until three in the morning. She fell asleep with grease under her fingernails."
"Well," said Tamlyn, "we can reward her daughter."
"Nope," said Bob. "Take it from me. The Valkyries don't want any rewards, kudos, any of it. They don't need it."
"Too late," said Tamlyn, handing Bob the morning paper.
The aftermath of the shooting was on the front page, with a sidebar about the volunteers. The Ladies Auxiliary on one side, and the Valkyries on the other. Ajai was giving a water bottle in the photo to a firefighter, and rested a hand on his arm. The firefighter's arm was covered in shards of glass, and he looked ready to collapse, with pain on his face.
"That girl is extraordinary," said Tamlyn.
"Skuld is going to have a cow," said Xenia, taking the paper in her hands. "Way off the record, but this girl was rescued from a human trafficking ring. They think they got them all, but someone may still be floating around who will recognize her."
"I doubt it," said Bob. "She's a Valkyrie. She looks nothing like what she did before, I'll wager."
Tamlyn looked horrified. "I had no idea!"
Xenia called Skuld. "We've seen it," said Skuld. "We will dye her hair crimson. But, she has lost her baby fat and her eyes are fierce and strong. She can also fight with our best. No one will look at her and see a victim."
"Is she sleeping?" asked Xenia.
"No, she went back to see the clients pick up the bike. She says Ghost is right, that giving the bike to its owner has no words, and no better feeling. Rota is with her."
Xenia nodded. "I understand. But, take her home when you can."
"This afternoon," said Skuld. "I already bought the hair dye." She rustled a bag. "I bought blue for myself, but perhaps we will trade."
"Streaks," said Xenia. Skuld laughed, and hung up. "They're good," said Xenia to Bob and Tamlyn. "They're leaving town today."
Bob nodded. "The Valkyries will protect her."
Xenia snorted. "Like I protected the people at the diner?"
Tamlyn glared at her. "You shot the bad guy. Twice."
"I'm the one that didn't get a shot off, love," said Bob. "And, methinks you're hungry."
"No more of Omar's pie," said Xenia sadly.
"They're leaving?" asked Tamlyn. "Of course they are." She rubbed her eyes.
"Going to Lebanon," said Xenia. "To make pie."
"Of course they are," said Tamlyn. "Let's go get fed, somewhere we won't be mobbed. In N’ Out?"
"Sonic," said Xenia. "I'm craving cheese sticks."
"Thank all the gods it isn't gummy worms and blueberry yogurt," said Bob.
"What?" said Xenia, as she folded down the laptop, unplugged the power cord, and slipped it all into her computer bag.
"Something Francine said," Bob noted. "Right before Avery started firing."
"This is a before-and-after thing," said Tamlyn. "Isn't it? And we're all going to remember what we were doing when it happened."
"Pivotal events are like that," said Bob, opening the door for the ladies.
Nighthawk Owl Pack
Henry stood, and ran into the kitchen. David poured lavender tea into thick mugs, then added a bit of mesquite honey. "I got it!" said Henry, holding his tablet over his head as if he'd scored a touchdown with it.
David put one of the mugs in front of Henry. Henry danced around in a victory pow-wow dance, making David laugh. "What did you get?"
"The beds!" he said.
They had been holding off on ordering hospital beds, state-of-the-art monitoring equipment, and hospital supplies, while waiting for permission to have two, hospital-style beds in the home.
"Now we get to order everything, and hire a nurse!"
"Three," said David. "Two shifts, plus weekends."
"On it!" said Henry. He kissed David, then carried his tablet and tea into the other room.
David laughed, and went upstairs to tell the Owl Pack. The Owl Pack were rescued from a nursing home. Two First Nation women were still not on a reservation, surrounded by their people, because of the lack of hospital-style care for them. The situation was even more heartbreaking because they were very conscious of what was going on around them, their minds intact --and nothing to do but watch terrible television from a hospital bed.
David took the pot of tea with his own mug, and six mugs and spoons, and the honey pot to where the house seniors liked to hang out; the conservatory turned craft room. The Owl Pack was engaged in heavy activity on this winter morning. Carl was beading, Vu was reading a comic Coyote story to everyone, Jake was preparing a Paiute lesson for the Nighthawks kids. Maia was carding wool, and Beth the day nurse, was winding yarn for Maia.
David put the tea down, and prepared it for each one with just the right amount of honey, or no honey in Vu's case. He took his mug, sat down, and listened to the race between Coyote and a cloud. When she finished, he said the plan to move the two women into the "medicine room" was afoot.
Vu was delighted. "I'll get each one of them an e-reader and load them with books in Paiute and English."
"And Netflix," said Jake.
"Of course," said Vu.
"My first afghan is almost finished. I will complete the other one more quickly," said Maia.
"I'll help install the medical equipment when it arrives," said Jake. "I've been in so many hospitals, I think I could do a better job than many of the doctors out there!"
David smiled, and listened to them making plans. He wondered if he should tell Mishina and Billie. The women were in a facility in Arizona. Henry already had power of attorney to treat them medically. Mishina was a diabetic who was able to control her sugar with medication, and Billie had successfully fought cancer. Both women had mobility issues. The room was just off the solarium, and the Owl Pack was very ready to have them move in. David and Henry had already built some ramps, and there was even a little breakroom for the nurses.
He held up a hand as they wound down and said, "You might want to wait until the medical equipment is installed," he said.
"Great! When will it get here?" asked Vu.
David pulled out his phone and sent a text. “Owl Pack is overjoyed. ETA on medical equipment?”
“Two to five days. The order was already assembled, just waiting to ship. The locked medical supply cabinet will get in at the end of the week. Bed comes in tomorrow!” texted Henry.
David smiled at Henry's enthusiasm. "Bed comes tomorrow, everything total by end of the week."
Vu made a happy dance in her chair. “Can we bring them here by next week?" she asked.
"Don't see why not," said David.
"We need a pool," said Jake. "It's the best exercise for our old bones."
"You gonna pay for it?" asked Carl. Both men lau
ghed.
"Actually," said David, "that's a great idea. But, like you've said, expensive." He thought a minute. "I've heard of using a shipping container for that. I even heard they use dumpsters for that. Line them, then install a water filtration system."
Vu, the ex-librarian, was delighted. She pulled it up. "About two thousand for the container, double that for digging a hole and plopping it in, moving it, and filling it with water. And we need to keep it inside, unless we want to have the water evaporate all summer long, and not be able to swim in winter."
"We can add on to this room," said Jake. "And, yeah, our sales are actually pretty good. We really can build it ourselves, without dipping into farm money."
"Don't forget our horse investments," said Vu. The Owl Pack paid for some of the care, feeding, and vet costs of the rescues, in exchange for a percentage of the profit when a fully trained, healthy horse or pony was sold. Plus, most of us get paid for making the eBooks."
"So, do it," said David. He grinned. "It will be good medicine for this house." He stood, and said, "I will bring more tea."
"Make it a strong one," said Jake. "Not this frou-frou stuff."
David smiled. "I've got Korean wedding tea that will curl your toes. Tastes nice, but the caffeine level will keep you awake for hours."
"Sounds great!" said Jake. "Let's do this!"
David made the tea, dropped it off, and found Henry in front of the fire, typing madly. "The Owl Pack is having a dumpster or shipping container pool built next to their solarium, and enclosing it."
"Excellent!" Henry said. He stopped typing, stared off into space. "They'll technically own part of the house. We must discount their room and board."
"Five percent?" asked David.
"Seven," said Henry.
"I'll tell them," said David. "Would you like some more tea?"
"Nope," said Henry. "Thank you, love." He smiled beatifically, then started typing madly again.
David went back to the solarium. He waited politely until Jake was finished writing costs on the whiteboard. "Henry says you get seven percent off room and board, once you build the pool and enclosure. You'll own part of the house." They all paid into the room and board fund; none wanted to be a burden to society.