Moe pulled into a small parking lot and we lucked into a parking space that was both angled and inconvenient to get into and out of.
“This better be the place because the parking is the pits,” grumbled Moe.
I pointed at a plain grey building that I admit didn’t look like it housed a restaurant. “There’s the sign.”
“It says motor sports or something.”
“Under that sign. Hello. Indian restaurant.”
Moe shut off the car and said, “Why did it have to be Indian? We could’ve found some good Italian.”
“Because Hobbes wanted Indian and he’s helping us out.” I got out and practically dragged my elderly bodyguard toward the stairs.
“We’re helping him out,” said Moe. “He had no clue that one of his kids is a criminal.”
“I don’t know that Jake is, but we’re buying lunch.”
“Indian gives me issues.”
“We’ll see,” I said.
“Yes, you will,” said Moe, and he opened the door to what looked a bit like the inside of a small mall. “Wrong place. Just the sports place. Dagnabbit.”
“Alright, Yosemite Sam. See the rickshaw,” I said. “I think we’re on to something.”
We turned to the restaurant entrance and Moe said, “It was Elmer Fudd.”
“Are you sure?”
He muttered under his breath ala Yosemite Sam until we found Hobbes sitting at a table with drinks and a plate with the biggest slab of naan bread I’d ever seen. The counselor jumped up and shook our hands. “Glad you could come. I’m really a face-to-face kind of guy. You just can’t get a read on the phone.”
We sat down and Moe asked, “A read on what?”
“How serious it is? We take the mental health of our students very seriously,” said Hobbes. “I ordered mango lassis for you and you can’t come here and not order naan. It’s practically a law.”
“No complaints here.” I tore off a piece and it should be a law. Best naan ever.
Moe took a sip of the mango lassi. “I hope this doesn’t put me on the toilet for a day and a half.”
“You’re safe,” said Hobbes. “So, Mercy, you said you had more information.”
“I do. Are you ready?” I asked because the counselor was so tense I could see the corded muscles on his forearms through his long sleeve tee. Fats would’ve been impressed.
“You don’t have a name?”
“I have two names.” I told him that Madison and Jake Purcell were our targets and, leaving out exactly how I got the information, I told him why we were completely sure that it was them.
The waiter came with menus and Moe grumbled until I ordered mild butter chicken for him and vowed to find some German Pepto-Bismol if required. The waiter gave me a look and I returned an apologetic smile.
Please don’t spit in my food.
I ordered dal and more naan and then Hobbes ordered something that sounded like it might blow off the top of his head, but he said he liked his food serious. The waiter nodded, unconvinced, and left us alone.
“I think you’re wrong,” said Hobbes.
“Then you’d be wrong,” said Moe. “This cupcake knows her business.”
“What did I say about the cupcake thing?” I asked.
“What did I say about Indian food and my intestines? It seems we both don’t listen.”
I groaned and looked at Hobbes. “Why do you think I’m wrong?”
“Madison and Jake are both mine. I have the Ps. They’re good kids. No problems at all. Good grades. Teachers like them.”
“Did Anton like them?” I asked.
Hobbes twitched and there it was. He knew something. He didn’t want to, but he did.
“Well?”
“I don’t know about Madison. She was in his AP class and did well.”
“She got a 4. I know,” I said. “What about tutoring? Did she do that?”
He frowned. “Probably. The ones that are serious do, but that doesn’t make her special.”
Her.
“So why was Jake special?” I asked and Moe made an approving noise in the back of his throat that sounded a lot like Pickpocket about to get a treat.
“I didn’t say he was,” said Hobbes, avoiding my eyes.
“The kid is suicidal over this, so it stands to reason,” I said.
“I read that stuff you were talking about. It doesn’t mean anything necessarily.”
I sat back and picked up my lassi. Hobbes had sweat on his brow, just a light sheen, but it was definitely there. “Nobody’s blaming you.”
“Me? How could I have known about any of this?”
“You couldn’t, but you did notice something was going on, didn’t you?”
Hobbes beat around about sixteen bushes, but he finally came out with it. Jake Purcell was a good kid, but perhaps not a typical one. He had few friends and rarely spoke. Several teachers had tried reaching out, and his mother had been in several times seeking guidance, but Jake wasn’t interested in help. Hobbes thought that he was probably on the autism spectrum, but Jake had never been tested. Anton had him in his government class and the two had clicked. Jake ate lunch in his room every day, whether he was leading a tutoring session for the AP students or not. They often took walks after school and Anton got him involved with the yearbook staff since he had an eye for design and graphics.
“Do you think…” Hobbes choked up and I got it.
“No, nothing like that,” I said quickly.
“Oh, you think Thooft was a sicko,” said Moe.
Hobbes took a deep breath and asked, “Was he?”
“I’ve seen zero evidence that Anton was anything but a stellar teacher. Put your mind at rest on that score.”
“Can I ask you something?” The wide marine looked oddly uncomfortable.
“Sure,” I said.
“Why do you call Thooft Anton? I mean, after what he did…it seems familiar and almost kind.”
“He was a person and he wasn’t the instigator of this nightmare. I suspect he would’ve avoided it if he thought he could,” I said.
Hobbes nodded. “Remarkably understanding.”
“Oh, I don’t understand,” I said, “and I’m still pretty upset.”
“Sympathy for the devil.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way, but I guess so.”
The waiter brought our food and through the steam, I saw Hobbes relax a little but not completely.
“What else?” I asked.
He scooped up a fiery curry with some naan and said, “Nothing else.”
“Oh, come on. I saw your face when I said Jake’s name. What else?”
Through bites of curry, Hobbes revealed that he’d seen a change in Jake in the time since Anton’s death. He stopped going to yearbook and once he found him standing in the bathroom during lunch. Just standing there. Waiting. He couldn’t be persuaded to come out and as far as Hobbes could tell, he didn’t eat. He was waiting for lunch to be over so he could go back to class. When Hobbes tried to talk to him, Jake flat out refused to say a word.
“I didn’t think he was suicidal,” he said. “I still don’t know that he is.”
“Put it together,” said Moe. “Thooft and the kid were close and it looks like the sister had something to do with Thooft getting killed. I’d be depressed.”
Hobbes dropped his spoon and bowed his head. “I don’t know what to do. You got this information, I assume, illegally, so I’m not supposed to know it. I’ve asked Meredith and some others about worrying signs from our students and they haven’t seen anything.”
“No concerns with Jake Purcell?” I asked.
“He came up with Melissa, his AP Lang teacher.”
“She’s worried?”
“Actually, no, but Jake was the only one she could think of that was particularly close. He’s been withdrawn, but he always is. She was going to talk to him tomorrow and see how he’s doing.”
“That’s a plan.”
“Is it enough?” Hobbes asked. “I wish I could drive over to their house and just knock on the door, but I can’t do that. Mrs. Purcell wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“Why not?” Moe asked. “You’re a school counselor.”
“She’s protective of her kids. Her husband got killed in 2010. Did you know that?”
“I did,” I said. “How protective is she?”
“I suggested having Jake tested and it didn’t go over well. She worries about him fitting in, but she doesn’t want anything to actually be wrong. It’s just the three of them. They are very close. Madison didn’t go back to the States for school because she thought her mom needed her.”
“Did she?”
Hobbes went back to his curry. “I don’t know. She seems okay. I’ve seen a lot of crazy parents. I thought she was one of the good ones. Shows up for conferences. Listens. I just…you really think Madison did this to you?”
“I’m positive she had a hand in it, but I’m starting to think someone else was pulling the strings,” I said.
Hobbes’ spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. “Why do you say that?”
I told him about the burner phone and Madison’s lack of computer skills, the expensive purse and then trying to sell it. The mysterious older boyfriend came up and those trips she supposedly took to Paris and Prague.
“Who told you all that?” Hobbes asked.
“A co-worker.” I wasn’t willing to give out a name. Gareth had been a huge help and while Hobbes was great, I had no illusions about him keeping silent.
“You believe her?” he asked, assuming it was a girl.
“My source is solid. What’s your feeling about Madison?”
“I don’t see it. She was never a flashy girl, very conservative in her clothes. Some girls have to show as much as possible. Not Madison. She had lots of friends and was in student council.”
“Was Anton part of it then?”
“Sure, he was. Kids loved him.” Hobbes swallowed hard. “He spent a lot of time working with them. A lot. I can’t believe Madison Purcell would blackmail him. How would she even have anything to blackmail him with?”
“We haven’t figured that out yet. What about friends or boyfriends?”
“Lots of friends. She hung out with Lily Bruns a lot, but she PCS’d even before graduation so she’s not around. Almost everyone from her class would be gone, with our rotation kids are extremely lucky if they get four years in the same high school, most have two and sometimes three.”
“Nightmare,” I said. “I was in the same school my whole life.”
“The military is a different world.”
“Amen to that,” said Moe as he scraped the bottom of his butter chicken dish. “What about boyfriends?”
“Let me think. I know she had one senior year. There were the usual promposals. I think she got one.” He got out his phone and started checking photos. “We do a kind of collage for prom. I have some pictures in my cloud.”
I finished my dal in the time it took for him to find the pictures from Madison’s senior prom. I had to eat fast because Moe was eyeing it. So much for not liking Indian food.
“Got it,” said Hobbes. “Ethan Elbert. He wasn’t one of mine. Let me call Jackie. She’ll know.”
I paid the bill while Hobbes talked it over with Jackie. He had to reassure her that he wasn’t worried about Ethan Elbert’s mental health before he got back to us.
“Alright. Ethan and Madison went to prom together. Jackie was Ethan’s counselor and she thinks they went out for a while. Six months or so, probably until Ethan went off to school in the States. You’ll like this. The Elberts are still here and Jackie ran into Ethan’s mom at the PX recently. He flew home yesterday for Christmas break.”
I sat up straight. “You think they’d still be in the area? Everyone seems to travel.”
“I’d put money on it. The kid’ll be jet-lagged, but you shouldn’t wait around if you want to talk to him.”
“Don’t worry about that. Do you have a phone number?”
“Jackie sent it. They live in Schönaich. Jackie will call them if you think it will help. She’s down for getting to the bottom of this.”
I asked him to have Jackie call for an introduction and he did. Jackie came back five minutes later and said the family was home and pretty excited to meet me. The mom was a huge DBD fan so that boded well.
We stood up and Hobbes reached out to me. “I’ve been thinking. I will go over to the Purcells. I don’t give a crap about the legal stuff. If you think that Jake might…”
We walked out of the restaurant and I said, “He was gaming earlier and his mother was home. I’m not super concerned at the moment.”
Hobbes didn’t look convinced and there was every chance the big guy might run over there and blow the whole thing before I had a chance to figure out what was going on with Madison. I didn’t want that, but I didn’t want Jake doing anything rash, either.
“Let me call my guy and we’ll see what’s up?”
He grimaced. “You can do that? Just see what the Purcells are doing right now?”
“Well, not see, but we can find out what they’re up to online.” I called Novak real quick and to my surprise he was awake and working. He took a quick look. Mom was still home, looking at houses on a realtor site and Jake was still on the same game. The kid had stamina. I couldn’t have played that stuff for more than an hour.
“He’s fine and his mother is home,” I said.
“That’s no guarantee,” said Hobbes.
“No, it’s not.”
We stopped at our car and the counselor opened my door for me. “If it were you, what would you do?”
“It kinda is me,” I said with a smile. “I’m the one that told you to worry.”
He chuckled. “I’m losing it. It’s been a rough few weeks.”
“Tell me about it.” Hobbes reddened and I quickly said, “I’m fine. I wasn’t trying to point anything out. As for Jake, you were right. You can charge over there and tell his mother. It might do some good or it might trigger him if he knows someone is working on his family. You getting private information would reveal that. He might panic.”
“I didn’t think of that,” he said. “This situation is a nightmare.”
“We’re going to figure it out and get something concrete on Madison and whoever gave her that burner. When we have the information, we can deal with his involvement and hopefully have a better idea of where he’s at. But you’ll have to have patience.”
The big man sighed. “Not my forte.”
Mine either.
The Elbert family lived in a townhouse in the small and not terribly picturesque town of Schönaich. Don’t get me wrong, it was a fine town but no Weil der Stadt. I missed the walls and turrets, but you can’t have everything. Hobbes said they had a great Thai place and that went a long way.
Mrs. Elbert didn’t let any grass grow and was waiting in the cold for us with a huge smile on her face. “I could not believe it when Jackie called. I thought she was pulling my leg. I really did.”
“Thank you for seeing us,” I said.
“I have to give you a hug. I just have to.” She pulled me into a warm embrace and the smell of White Linen and cookies enveloped me. It was like being hugged by Aunt Tenne. Delia Elbert didn’t look anything like my aunt, but she had the same kind spirit and generosity and I felt a little bit of the weight come off my shoulders just by being in her presence.
She released me and hugged Moe as well. He received the affection but kept a beady eye on our surroundings, an empty street with no moving cars.
“I heard you’re a huge DBD fan,” I said.
“I am. I’ve been to fifteen concerts,” she said. “Call me Delia by the way.”
A college-age boy appeared at her shoulders and asked, “Are you going to let them in, Mom, or do they get to freeze to death?”
That could’ve sounded snarky or complaining, but not the way Ethan Elbert said it. He had his mother’s warmth and it was easy to feel, even at a distance.
“Oh, my gosh,” said Delia. “Come in. Come in. Where is my brain?”
“Baking,” said Ethan and an alarm went off.
“The cookies!” Delia rushed off and Ethan shook his head in amusement as he led us into a small but well-decorated living room. There was a fire blazing in the fireplace and a fat beagle curled up on a cushion in front of it, enjoying the heat and snoring.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Ethan asked. “My dad made eggnog.”
Moe got a funny look on his face and blurted out, “Bathroom?”
“Are you okay?” Ethan asked.
“Indian food.”
Ethan directed him to the bathroom and Moe sprinted out. I was totally going to hear about that for a while.
I accepted some eggnog sans alcohol and sat down on the sofa. Ethan sat opposite me and rolled his cup between his palms. “Mrs. Bostick said you wanted to interview me about Mr. Thooft. I don’t think I know anything about what happened.”
“It’s not really about Mr. Thooft directly,” I said. “I understand you know Madison Purcell pretty well. I wanted to ask you about her.”
The rolling stopped but not in a bad way. Ethan’s mouth opened slightly and I could tell his mind was jumping all around trying to figure out why in the hell I was asking about Madison.
Delia hustled in with a red face from the oven and sank into an easy chair with a sigh of relief. “I’ve been baking since six this morning and I am worn out. What are we talking about?”
“Madison,” said Ethan.
Delia had much the same reaction as her son. “Madison Madison?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t even know when you saw her last.”
Ethan thought for a second and said, “Last summer a bunch of us went downtown to party a couple of times.”
“When was that?” I asked. “Early summer?”
“May, I think. I was just back from school.”
“Oh, I remember that,” said Delia. “You went out two weekends and then you started work. You didn’t go out much after that.”
“I work at the commissary during the summers,” said Ethan. “It’s kind of exhausting, but I still do stuff, just not as much.”
“Did you see Madison after those weekends?” I asked.
“No. She kinda fell out.”
“Why was that?”
Ethan glanced at his mother, who frowned in response. “I don’t care, honey. Whatever it is, go ahead and tell her.”
Her son fought the battle all kids fight. Parents say they won’t get mad, but we know the truth. Angry is always on the table.
“Ethan,” I said, “I probably already know. I’m looking for confirmation and I’m thinking your mom can be trusted not to call Madison’s mother and spill it.”
Delia crossed her heart. “I promise I won’t.”
Ethan wasn’t totally convinced, but he spilled it anyway. Rumor had it that Madison had hooked up with an older guy. After those two weekends of partying at clubs down on Theodor-Heuss-Straße, Madison pretty much disappeared from their group. Although she was included in group chats for planning some nights and a trip to Amsterdam, she stopped responding after saying she was dating somebody and was busy. She did tell people things individually when she saw them in person and Ethan described it as bragging and his cheery disposition darkened slightly.
“Oh, honey,” said Delia. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing, Mom. I didn’t want to get back with her or anything. It was just kinda obnoxious. Like that guy was so much better than us or something.”
“What did she say to you?” I asked.
“Nothing direct. She’d hint that he was super important and rich, but she wouldn’t say what his job was, like it was a big secret.”
Interesting.
Delia’s frown grew deeper. “Do you think he was married?”
“Probably,” said Ethan. “We didn’t get to meet him or anything. She called him Mr. Big. I don’t even know his real name. It was so freaking lame.”
“Mr. Big like in Sex in the City?” Delia asked.
Ethan shrugged. “Beats me. She was so weird we took her off the group chat.”
“Did you see her with anyone outside of your group at those clubs?” I asked.
He took a sip of eggnog, leaving a tiny milk mustache and said, “There was a guy at the clubs. He was talking to Madison.”
“What did he look like?”
“Old, like thirty.”
Delia laughed. “Thirty isn’t old.”
“It is when you’re nineteen, Mom. Would you want Ava to go out with some thirty-year-old that wears suits to clubs like an asshole?”
“Ethan!”
“Sorry, Mom. But that’s what he looked like. He had a freaking tie on at two in the morning. Who does that?”
“A good suit?” I asked. “Tailored well?”
“Dude, I have no idea. My dad wears a uniform. He doesn’t even have a regular suit.”
“Did he seem rich?” I asked. “What’s your first thought on that? The very first one.”
“No,” said Ethan and he looked surprised at his own answer.
“Why?” Delia asked. “He had that suit.”
“I don’t know. It was just weird to dress like that.”
Moe came back in with much dignity like nothing had happened and said, “He was trying to impress. A suit when no one’s wearing a suit.”
“But he had the suit,” said Delia. “Lots of people don’t.”
“If you’ve got money, you don’t have to prove it like that,” said Moe. “You might have an expensive watch on or high-dollar shoes, but you’d fit the situation.”
Ethan nodded. “I guess that’s it. He didn’t fit.”
“Did you see him more than once?” I asked.
“Yeah, he was there both weekends. I think Madison arranged it, but seriously I never got near the guy. She would go off and then we’d see her with him. We could tell she didn’t want us around. Not cool.”
“Did he have the suit on the second time?”
“He did. I guess the idiot didn’t notice how weird it was the first time,” said Ethan.
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“Oh, man. It was a club all dark and flashing lights. He was just a guy in a suit.”
“Taller than Madison?”
“Definitely.” Ethan described a man with a conservative haircut, dark hair, and white. Madison was five eight and never wore heels because she thought she was too tall and the guy was looking down at her. Delia was five eight, too, and using her and Ethan’s comparative heights, we guessed Madison’s guy at six one.
“You know, I totally forgot, but Alexis asked Madison about that guy at the club,” said Ethan.
“Alexis Jackson?” Delia asked.
“Yeah, she was curious if he was the boyfriend because you know, he was weird, but she said no. I’m sorry. I should’ve remembered that before.”
“Do you think she’d lie?” I asked.
“Maybe. Alexis thought he was old.”
“Alexis is pretty harsh sometimes,” said Delia. “If you look fat you better be prepared to hear that you are.”
I laughed. “So a straight shooter.”
“Some would say rude.”
“Mom, Alexis isn’t rude. She’s just honest.”
“There’s such a thing as too honest,” said Delia.
“Whatever, Mom,” said Ethan.
I finished my eggnog. I usually wasn’t a fan, but it was really good. “Are you still in touch with Alexis?”
“Sure. She’s cool.”
“Can you call her?”
“I don’t know if she’s back yet, but I can try,” said Ethan and he got up to get his phone.
Delia refilled our cups and offered some fresh-baked Russian teacakes. “How is this helping you with Mr. Thooft?”
“We think the boyfriend might’ve been behind the blackmail that got Anton to attack me,” I said, fudging the truth a little, but I didn’t want Delia riled up. Moms were nothing if not unpredictable. I didn’t think she’d rush off to call people about Madison if she thought she was unwitting. A major part of the scheme was another matter altogether.
“He would have to be some kind of career criminal, wouldn’t he?” Delia asked.
“One would think so,” I said. “But I don’t think they are in contact anymore.”
She sat back and took a breath. “Well, that’s good anyway. Madison was a sweet girl. I can’t imagine she would’ve done anything to hurt Mr. Thooft. She and Ethan were in AP Gov together.” She leaned forward and in a hushed voice said, “I heard that the stuff on his computer was fake. Is that true?”
“It is.”
“Thank God. Everyone I know was asking their kids if he did anything to them. What a mess.”
“What did the kids say?” I asked.
“Nothing. My friends that had kids in his classes had only good things to say. There’s a ton of grief, but they don’t feel like they can grieve.”
“His family feels much the same way.”
“And his sister hired you,” said Delia. “That’s extraordinary.”
“She’s extraordinary,” I said.
“And you’re both doing okay?”
“As well as can be expected. If I can find out who blackmailed Anton, it will go a long way to helping his sister get over it.”
Delia nodded. “I imagine it will help you both. Maybe you don’t want to hear this, considering, but Mr. Thooft was great. I liked him instantly. Whatever they had on him must’ve been absolutely devastating because he was not evil. Nothing can convince me of that.”
“I think you’re right, but they found his currency and used it.”
Ethan walked back in, still on the phone. “I get it. Uh-huh. Later.”
“Is Alexis here?” Delia asked. “She can come over if you want.”
“She’s at the airport, waiting for her luggage. Her plane got delayed in Chicago and she missed her flight in Atlanta, so she’s frigging exhausted. I told her I’d call her back if you needed something else.”
I itched to get on the phone with Alexis, but you can’t have it all and as it turned out Ethan got enough. Alexis confirmed that Madison said her boyfriend was not the guy from the club, but Alexis thought she was lying because she wouldn’t give the names of either of the men.
“Did she give a reason for that?” I asked.
“Alexis said she acted like he was famous.”
“Which one was famous?”
“Both, I guess. It’s total bullshit.”
“Ethan!”
“Jeez, Mom, I know, but it is. Like Madison Purcell met two famous dudes at the same time and they both liked her? Give me a break.”
Delia sighed. “What is going on with that girl? Why not tell the truth? You all have known each other forever.”
Very good question.
“Did Alexis say anything else?” I asked.
Ethan flopped back down in his chair. “Oh, yeah. Get this. Madison stopped talking to Alexis because she said Alexis was jealous and just trying to ruin what she had.”
“That doesn’t sound like Madison,” said Delia.
“I know, but that’s what she said,” said Ethan. “Alexis thinks that Madison totally made him up. She’s not that hot. I mean come on. Alexis is probably right. He doesn’t exist.”
“He exists,” I said.
“Are you sure? Because if you’re going with what Madison’s saying forget it.”
“I’ve got independent information. Tell me about Madison. What was she like before all this happened?”
Ethan and Delia described a sweet girl, eager to please, and very close to her mother and brother. Ethan did think she was lying about the boyfriend as least in some way, but he didn’t think she was a liar before that guy came on the scene. It appeared that those two weekends in May changed Madison Purcell’s life and to some extent her personality but why remained a mystery.
“Was she gullible?” Moe asked after he polished off a glass of eggnog.
“She’s not stupid,” said Ethan, just a bit offended.
“Not stupid,” I said. “Innocent. Trusting.”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely. Madison was super sweet about stuff. You could tell her anything and she’d totally believe you. She’s not stupid though. She just likes people and believes them. It wasn’t even fun to prank her because you know she’d fall for anything.”
“You weren’t pranking Madison, were you?” Delia asked. “That’s not nice.
“God, Mom, I just said we didn’t because she’d fall for it. Everyone knew that.”
Everyone knew.
“How did everyone know that about Madison?” I asked.
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know. You just can tell. She was super sweet.”
“How well do you know her brother?”
That took him back and the confusion set in. “Her little brother?”
“Yes. Jake,” I said.
“I met him, I guess,” said Ethan. “But he’s way younger. We never talked or anything. Madison said he was really shy.”
“Nothing else?”
“Like what?” Delia asked.
“Any information can help,” I said.
“Sorry. I never met him. We took pictures of Ethan and Madison for the prom and at graduation, but I don’t remember seeing her brother.”
“He was there,” said Ethan. “But he just kinda stayed in the background. I think he was really smart and not friendly like Madison. Well, like she used to be anyway.”
I couldn’t think of anything else so I gave Delia my card and took a bunch of pictures after extracting a promise not to post for twenty-four hours because it might get back to Madison and cause a problem for the investigation.
“Alexis knows you were asking about Madison,” said Ethan. “She’s probably going to tell people.”
“Is she going to tell Madison?”
“No way. They aren’t friends anymore. None of us are friends with her anymore.”
Ethan agreed to call Alexis and ask her to keep my interview quiet, but it was going to get out at some point. With Novak and Spidermonkey keeping tabs on Madison, I’d know the minute she knew. Still, later was better.
I thanked them both and wished them a Merry Christmas before going out in the cold again. Moe opened my door and I got in feeling so tense my shoulders were up around my ears.
Moe got in and radiated something that’s hard to define. Not anger but it was in the neighborhood. “You will not tell your grandmother about the Indian food. Understand?”
Because I like to live dangerously, I asked, “Or else what?”
The old sniper turned in his seat and gave me a look that sent an icy lightning bolt down my spine.
“Never mind.”
“Smart girl,” he said.
“I feel a little nauseated now. Thanks.”
“That’s the feeling of knowing where you’re at.”
“Scared shitless of my own bodyguard?”
He started the car and said, “You know who I am. That’s good. Let’s hope our quarry does, too.”
“Doubtful, but okay,” I said.
“Bad news for them. Now you could call the friend from Pizza Hut and see what she knows.”
“No,” I said, swallowing some bile. “They’re too close. MacKenzie will tell Madison immediately.”
“You’ve got to do something. We don’t have much time left and we’ve got to get that cat to a vet.”
I put my head back and closed my eyes. Anton’s cat. I totally forgot.
“I just have to chill for a minute,” I said.
“I’ll put on some music. AFN isn’t bad.”
I got out my phone as we left Schönaich and said, “I’ve got the best band for just smoothing things out.” I connected my phone and chose a song. It went for a couple of minutes.
“Not bad,” said Moe. “Who is it?”
“Rainbow Kitten Surprise.”
“Was there booze in your eggnog?”
“That’s the name of the band.”
“It is not,” he said.
“It is.”
“Damn millennials.”
“What does that mean?”
“Everything has to be ironic.”
“It’s not ironic,” I said.
“That name has man buns and grandpa sweaters written all over it.”
You’re not wrong, but I will never admit it.
“Whatever.”
We drove through Böblingen and merged onto the highway. “Tell me you played this for Fats. I bet you said that name and she punched somebody.”
“She drives and picks the music,” I said.
“So that head-banging rap?”
“The baby likes country.”
“The baby is a grub with no ears,” he said. “Answer your phone.”
“Do I have to?” I asked. “I just want to listen and forget.”
“You can, but you’ll regret it,” said Moe.
Damned if he wasn’t right.