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“What’s with you and the bicycle cop?”
Brody spun around to find U.S. Marshal Ted Onderdonk standing in the middle of the bookstore. He wore a short-sleeve plaid shirt, khaki Dockers, and a pair of brown loafers. The bell had not sounded when he entered.
“How’d you do that?”
“What?”
“Get in here without setting off the bell.”
“It’s a marshal secret.”
“Ekleberry knew how to do it, too.”
“Max was here?”
Brody nodded.
“What did he want?”
“To check on me.”
Onderdonk’s eyes swept the bookstore. “Huh.”
“Yeah. Huh.”
“So, why was the rent-a-cop here? He looked serious.”
“I had a fight.”
The lawman returned his focus to Brody. “A fight? You’re supposed to keep a low profile.”
“It’s hard when the mob’s in town.”
Onderdonk’s eyes slanted. “The mob is here? Where?”
“Couple blocks down. Little Italian joint. It’s a front.”
The marshal moved to the window and pointed. “Down that way?”
“Uh-huh.”
Onderdonk was quiet as he watched the foot traffic on Main Street.
“You going to tell me what happened to Alice Walker?” Brody asked.
The lawman turned slowly to face him. “Alice?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
Onderdonk remained silent as he studied the big man.
“You told me there was a recent opening in one of the businesses that the Marshal Service owned. Remember that?”
“I remember.”
“But there wasn’t any opening, was there? It wasn’t like someone quit or retired. Alice went missing. She’s been so for several weeks.”
Something fell in the back of the store, but Brody ignored it. Onderdonk tilted his head as he listened for further noise.
“Maybe you knew this, maybe you didn’t, but the town folks liked Alice. A lot. They also liked this store. When you plugged me in here, did you know they’d come checking on her?”
The lawman’s face relaxed.
“The town is suspicious of me, Ted. A couple of them wonder if I had something to do with her disappearance.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“How would they know otherwise?”
“You weren’t even around when she disappeared.”
Brody rubbed his naked chin. “Someone saw her talking with you in Manchester a couple of days before she went missing.”
“How do they know it was me?”
“They don’t, but I do. The woman said the man was dressed like me.”
Onderdonk’s eyes took in Brody’s plaid shirt, his khaki pants, and his loafers. “You are a snappy dresser.”
“I look like you, Ted.”
“There’s a lot of guys dressed like this.”
“But only one U.S. Marshal handling a witness in Pleasant Valley. You didn’t pull her out of her cover, did you?”
Onderdonk took a deep breath, then puffed his cheeks as he blew it out. “No, I did not pull her out.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“So, she is missing?”
The lawman nodded, then stepped over to the book spinner and turned it.
“The computer mix-up. You checking into it. All of it was a lie.”
Onderdonk pulled a copy of James Ziskin’s Cast the First Stone from the spinner and flipped it over to the back. “Ever read this?”
“Don’t ignore me.”
The marshal carefully tucked the book back into its resting place. “It was a ruse.”
“A ruse? You’re using me as bait, trying to figure out what happened to her.”
“That was my plan.”
Brody’s face warmed, and he moved near the lawman. “You planned to make me a worm on a hook.”
Onderdonk rolled his eyes. “Now relax, Beau.”
“Beau? Beau! You and Ekleberry killed Beau! There’s only Brody now.”
He grabbed the marshal by the shirt, jerking him closer. Onderdonk’s eyes widened briefly, but he didn’t lift his hands to protect himself.
Brody’s heart rate pounded in his ears. “Better fight back.”
“When you lost your temper,” the marshal said, “I already won.”
“Last chance.” His anger was at full boil. He wanted to hurt the lawman, to take a piece of retribution. “You either fight back, or I’m going to tear your head off.”
“You won’t touch me,” the marshal said, his voice eerily calm.
Brody had had enough of the lawman’s arrogance, but before he could throw a strike, Onderdonk grabbed his hand, which still held the marshal’s shirt. With a quick twist, the lawman stepped backward and flipped the big man to the ground.
The resulting thud brought Travis scrambling from the rear of the store to see what the commotion was. The two men remained in that frozen position—Brody on his back, Onderdonk holding him by the wrist.
“You okay?” the lawman asked.
“No,” Brody rasped.
Onderdonk sighed. “Anything broke?”
“I don’t think so.”
He released Brody’s hand and stepped away. When the big man stood, he brushed himself off, more out of habit than for any dirt he’d collected from the floor of the bookstore. He realized he was doing the same thing Ekleberry had done after his hat was knocked off.
“Hey kitty,” Onderdonk said as Travis rubbed against his leg.
“You know Alice but don’t know the rule about the cat?”
The marshal looked up as he petted the tom. “The name rule? Of course, I do. But I read science fiction, and the rule was for mystery protagonists. Alice was very clear about that. When I tried to name him Deckard, she got all up in arms. She refused to hear my argument that Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? was science fiction crime noir.”
Brody shook his head. “This place,” he muttered and ambled behind the counter while rubbing his wrist.
The marshal followed him. “I hope you fought the other guy better than you fought me.”
“I did.”
“What was the donnybrook about?”
“He’s muscle for the mob front I told you about. He didn’t like that I was down near the lighthouse last night.”
Onderdonk’s eyes slanted. “Something going on down there?”
“I don’t know. It was a nice night, and there aren’t many other things to do here.”
The lawman picked up the knitting needles and yarn from the counter. “I see what you mean.”
“Don’t make fun,” he said. “It keeps my mind off my predicament.”
“Who taught you how to do this?”
“My grandmother.”
“The same one who Ekleberry...?”
Brody nodded. “The same.”
Onderdonk tossed the knitting kit onto the counter. “So, the mob is in Pleasant Valley?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“And Alice didn’t tell you?”
“Nope.”
“Would you have left her here if you knew they were only a few blocks away?”
“Not a chance.”
“Okay, Ted. I think it’s time you tell me about Alice,” Brody said, taking a seat on the stool.