Derby Pie, Interrupted
It was dark when he landed. Griff drove the Mustang from the Taos airport at the posted speed limits nearly the entire way without music. Outside, his headlights pierced the night. Inside, he continued the debate which consumed him the entire flight down from Wyoming, trying to decide what to do with the box of journals in the trunk and what to tell Helena about his suspicions.
As he pulled into the long, uphill drive, he noticed Helena’s house was completely dark. He turned off the headlights and slowly crept the Mustang up towards the house, stopping fifty yards from where the drive circled around by the front door so he would not trigger the motion detectors on the lights. He killed the engine. Every window was dark. He watched.
After a full five minutes, he drew his pistol and quickly got out of the car, closing the door quietly with his hip pressing against it, grateful the convertible had no dome light. Griff stepped off the stone drive and into the woods. He moved closer and circled counterclockwise around the house, his eye scouring every corner and shadow for movement or an errant reflection. Around back, the wall of windows offered only a blurry mirrored image of stars and the crescent moon at the top. On the north side, Griff moved further out to avoid the motion detectors by the garage doors, which were closed.
Griff circled back around the house the way he came and silently climbed the wooden steps up to the back deck. He paused at the corner by the Kamado grill and peered into the great room. The only light came from the clock on the microwave and the keypad for the security system. He waited two minutes then moved to the sliding glass door. It was unlocked. He pulled it open and slipped in, backing into the nearest inside corner. The smell of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies hung in the air. On the kitchen island, he could make out the vague shape of a pie in the blue glow from the LED display on the microwave. He methodically scanned from left to right through the sights of his SIG Sauer. Across the room, the door to the master bedroom was an open black hole.
“Marco,” Griff said softly.
He heard Helena’s husky voice answer from inside the master bedroom, “Polo.”
Griff instinctively moved away from the windows to avoid presenting an easy target and crossed to Helena’s bedroom. He stepped inside. In the dim moonlight, he could make out the curves of her naked body lying on the king-sized bed.
“Are you all right?”
“I made you a derby pie.”
“What? What’s going on?”
Helena propped herself up on her elbow and patted the bed.
Griff stepped over and sat down beside her.
She took the pistol from his hand, set it on the nightstand next to her revolver, then pulled Griff towards her and began to kiss him madly on the mouth, holding his head in her hands at first, then moving down to undo the buttons on his shirt. She pulled it down off his shoulders.
Griff kicked off his shoes. He stood up and slipped off his shirt, then his pants.
When he was naked, Helena grabbed his wrist and pulled him down on top of her to make love immediately, without foreplay. When finished, they slid beneath the blankets. Griff sat against the headboard. Helena rested her head on his shoulder and held herself tight to him with her arms around his neck. She clamped her legs to Griff and pressed hard against him.
The animal in him slowly receded. As badly as he wanted to ask what just happened, Griff kept quiet and looked around the room. On the wall opposite the bed was a framed print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night—just like in her childhood bedroom in Bel Aire.
He looked out the wall of windows that continued across the back of the house from the great room with its view of the mountains across the valley and the night sky above. High on the window two stars were especially bright, like the ornament on top of a Christmas tree. He was trying to figure out which constellation they were part of when he noticed the dark hole in the center of each and the spider web-like like sparkles surrounding the darkness. He realized what they were. He turned and looked up over their heads and saw two black dots in the wall above the bed.
Griff put his arms around Helena and held her tight.
She pressed herself harder against him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Griff stared at the bullet holes in the window, figuring Helena would understand his suspicions and trying to decide what to do about them.
***~~~***
Griff woke with a start. Helena, still tight against his body, stirred then nuzzled her head into his chest. He was still naked, except for his watch. It was 1:47 in the morning.
He listened, gently tucking Helena’s blonde hair behind her ear and stroking her cheek. He leaned over, his lips close to her ear, and whispered, “Come on. Let’s go.”
Helena moaned, pressing her face into Griff’s chest. “Go? Go where?”
“We should leave. Now.”
Helena’s eyes opened wide. She clutched at Griff tighter. Now fully awake, she asked, “What is it? What’s wrong.”
“Spidey sense. We should get out of here. Right now. Can you pack without turning on the lights?”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I’m not the one to be afraid of.” Griff slid to the side of the bed and dressed. He tied his shoes, then grabbed his pistol from the nightstand and stared at the bedroom door. “Get some things together. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Helena grabbed his shoulder.
He patted her hand. “We’ll be okay.”
Helena started to get out of bed.
Griff got up and, without a sound, followed the wall around to the bedroom door. He peered out, the SIG held down at his thigh. He heard Helena at the dresser, gently pulling out drawers. He slipped out into the great room.
Griff stalked the perimeter of the room opposite the wall of windows. He stopped at the front door to check outside, then moved through the kitchen and upstairs to clear the loft bedrooms and bath. He sat down on the top stair, studying the window panes on the back wall, looking for more bullet holes. Finding none, he holstered his gun and came down into the kitchen. He cut a wedge of derby pie and ate it with his fingers out of the pan.
Helena’s silhouette appeared in the master bedroom doorway, holding a carry-on suitcase.
Griff walked over, took her hand, and led her to the sliding glass door. They went out the way Griff came in and circled through the woods to the Mustang. He depressed the clutch and let the convertible roll backwards, using the emergency brake to control his speed to avoid the red glare of the brake lights. Once out on the road, he fired up the V-8 and sped down the switchbacks out of the mountain, throwing their bodies violently back and forth in their seats. With ten miles of U.S. 64 put behind them, Griff slowed to eighty, heading west to Taos.
“You’ve got someone to check on your place, right?” Griff asked Helena as he slowed coming down out of the Carson National Forest and into Taos.
“Uh-huh. But…”
“Good. We’ll call them later.”
Helena just nodded as Griff passed through town, obeying every speed limit and traffic light.
“Where’s the Lear?” He asked pulling into the airport.
“Wichita for maintenance,” Helena answered.
Griff parked. He got his go bag and the box of journals out of the trunk.
“What’s that?” Helena asked wheeling her suitcase in trail behind Griff.
“One, twenty-two, eight.” Griff answered.
“Huh?”
“Key code for the gate. One, two, two, eight.”
Helena punched the four numbers into the keypad and pushed the gate open.
Griff passed through and headed to the Cirrus across the dark, deserted tarmac. He loaded their luggage and the box in the plane, then did a quick walk around, undoing the tie downs. Seven minutes later they were rolling down Runway 22. He banked hard to the east and the glow of Taos disappeared under the nose of the plane as Griff clawed for altitude at the best angle of climb. He circled back around the city to gain more altitude to clear the wall of mountain peaks in their flight path. At 13,500 feet, Griff rolled out on a heading of 080 degrees and leveled off.
“Where are we going?” Helena asked
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know. You’re the pilot.”
Griff looked over at Helena and saw her smiling in the glow of the G1000 displays in the instrument panel.
“I expected more.” Helena sighed.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Your place?”
“Maybe not a good idea.”
“Why’s that?”
“Same reason we had to get outta Dodge.”
Helena’s smile melted.
Griff swiped around the EFB sectional charts on his iPad. “Hmmm…how about Oakley, Kansas? Home of the world’s largest prairie dog and a five-legged goat.”
“What? No giant ball of string?”
“Come on, Honey. It’ll be good to get away.”
Helena rubbed the top of Griff’s thigh. “From what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Boy, you sure are full of answers, aren’t you?”
***~~~***