How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws.
— Lewis Carroll
At seven that night, Annie stood in front of the mirror over the old mahogany dresser, inspecting the way the collar lay on her navy blue blouse. No better than the last one, actually, and as she’d already tried on three, she was going to stick with this one. It didn’t matter what she wore; the bandage Dr. Sandborn had taped to her neck couldn’t be hidden. She’d seen less gauze on a mummy. She put her hands on her hips, then quickly rethought the move, as both hips were sore. Sore, and black, and blue, and even a rather lovely magenta in spots. Still, she couldn’t complain, because the seat belt had saved her. That, and the air bag. She closed her eyes, imagined once again what would have happened if she hadn’t been wearing the seat belt—an image that had a lot to do with her soaring through the air like one of the Flying Wallendas until she bashed into a tree, headfirst. “You are one lucky girl, girl,” she told herself, reaching for her perfume bottle before she remembered that Maisie had “borrowed” it. Maisie also had “borrowed” her purse, her brand-new blush, and her gold chain, but who was counting? She’d gotten the woman out of the room, hadn’t she? Now all she had to do was convince Grady, when he showed up, that she was fit to go, ready to rock, hot to track down the driver of the Suburban. She probably shouldn’t wince every two seconds if she wanted to convince him. “Right, Deuce?” she asked the stuffed animal sitting in the middle of her bed. “Yeah, right. And don’t think we’re going to make a habit out of sharing my bed, okay? It’s never good to spoil the children that way. I read that somewhere.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”Annie jumped, winced, then turned to watch as Grady came into the room without knocking, his expression a mix of anger and concern and drop-dead gorgeous.
She smiled, put up her hands. “You can’t hit me; I’m injured, remember?”
“I remember,” he said, looking her up and down, his gaze lingering on the bandage at her throat. “Do you?”
“I’ll take that as a rhetorical question, considering it’s my body,” she said, reaching over to snag one last green grape from the dinner tray Dickens had brought up earlier. Personally. He’d even stiffly inquired as to how she felt before excusing himself as she sniffed at the bloodred rose he’d stuck into a crystal bud vase. The man was just soppy over her. “Have you eaten? All they gave me was broth and fruit.”
“Roast beef, red potatoes, and two helpings of Mitzi telling everyone she’s been elected president of the local woman’s club for the third year in a row,” Grady told her absently, sitting down on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress. “What would it take to get you back in here?”
She grinned at him. “I don’t know. Candy? Flowers? You down on one knee, declaring your undying devotion?”
That, she saw, got rid of the “concern” part of his facial expression. He was all anger now. “That’s not what I meant, damn it,” he said, standing up once more.
“I know,” she told him, holding on to one of the bedposts as she tried to slip into her shoes without jarring herself too badly. How she hated this! They couldn’t even seem to joke anymore. “It was just my small attempt at levity. There goes the career in stand-up, huh? So? Are you ready?”
He shook his head. “Ready for what? You’re staying right here.”
“Actually, no, I’m not. Archie sent for me a little while ago. He says he’s got it all figured out, and all he needs is a little help from you and me, and we’ll have this whole thing wrapped up by tomorrow, Wednesday at the latest. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No, he didn’t tell me,” Grady said, and now his face wasn’t only angry-looking, it was pretty close to livid. Poor baby. “He was supposed to cut a check for you, so you’d leave. The balance of the fifty thousand you’d agreed to. That was our bargain.”
Annie tipped her head to one side for a moment, looked at a spot in the far comer of the room, slowly counting to ten. Nope, wouldn’t work. She could count to a million, and it still wouldn’t work. She was mad. She was mad as hell.
“Your bargain? You and Archie made a bargain. So Archie didn’t come up with the idea on his own? I should have known that the minute I saw the check when Dickens brought it to me earlier. How enterprising of you, Mr. Sullivan. You made the decision for me. Just who the hell do you think you are, anyway?”
He stepped closer, close enough for her to smell his aftershave, close enough that she could remember how it felt when he came even closer. “Annie, let’s not argue. Somebody tried to kill you today.”
“Maybe. I think the Suburban was trying to avoid me, there at the end. I was just supposed to be scared, not dead.”
“Really? Figured that out all by yourself, did you? Well, I checked, Annie. There were no skid marks anywhere on that road. Not yours, because you were gunning it, trying to get off the road. And none from the Chevy. Whoever was driving that thing knew who’d come off worst in a head-on collision. Tell me, Annie, can you say accordion-pleated?”
“I don’t care, I’m not leaving. Would you? If someone tried to kill you, would you leave?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Yes, it is. I’m hurting here, Grady. Battered, bruised, you name it. But mostly, I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!”
“Network. Saw it,” Grady said, raking a hand through his hair. He took that last step, the one that put him close enough to touch her, close enough to run a hand down her cheek. Close enough to kiss. “We could fight about this for the next hour, but it isn’t going to change anything, right? You’re going to drive me crazy, aren’t you? You’re not going to rest until you drive me stark, staring mad.”
“Archie needs me,” she said weakly, watching Grady’s mouth, almost able to taste it.
“Archie can go to hell,” Grady told her, cupping her face with both hands. “You will tell me someday, won’t you?”
Annie tried to breathe, not with much success. “Tell you what?” she asked, her hands spread against his chest.
“The truth,” he whispered, then gently touched his mouth to hers. He kissed her gently, as if she might break. He held her loosely, careful not to inadvertently collide with her bruises. His lips clung, then released slowly, so that she moved forward blindly, trying to maintain the contact. “The truth,” he said, kissing her again and again, lightly biting her bottom lip, slanting his mouth first one way, then the other, “... the whole truth... and nothing but... the truth. Deal?”
“You... you’re very persuasive,” Annie said on a sigh, then damned her bruises to hell or wherever they wanted to go as long as they didn’t bother her, and pulled Grady’s head down, holding it there as she kissed him back.
Everything else, she’d think about later. How she’d tell him. How he’d react. For now, for just this once, she’d concentrate on the moment, and the devil with the future, and the past....
* * *
Archie was dressed. Grady had never seen the old man dressed, but recognized the style. It wasn’t that Grady was all that clothes-conscious, but it was pretty hard not to remember Nehru jackets.
“You’re looking dapper this evening, Archie,” he said, helping Annie into one of the wing chairs in front of the fireplace. She was being very brave, but he knew she was hurting. Which meant he was caught between admiring her and wanting to pick her up, take her back down the hall, and tuck her into bed.
Unfortunately, alone. He knew he was being selfish, but he hoped she was a quick healer.
“I also think you look very dapper,” Annie said, smiling at the old man. “Are you double-dating with Maisie and Dr. Sandborn? Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Anyone who can run faster than him,” Grady said, sitting down in the other chair. “Okay, Archie, what’s up? I thought we had a deal.”
“She turned it down,” Archie told him, standing still so that Dickens could wield a small whisk broom over his shoulders. “Flat. Didn’t you, Annie?”
“He already knows that, Archie,” Annie told him, shifting slightly in the chair. “What he really wants to know is why. Don’t you, Grady?”
“Are you going to tell him?” Archie asked. “I’d sure like to hear the reason myself. Not that I’m not grateful, because my idea won’t work without you.”
“Mr. Peevers is feeling brilliant this evening,” Dickens said, opening a drawer and replacing the whisk broom. “Indeed, he is so very pleased with himself that he is contemplating an appearance downstairs. That notion will go nowhere. It never does,” Dickens ended, rolling his eyes as he retreated to the far side of the room, crossed his arms over his chest, and awaited further orders.
“Smart-ass,” Archie said, glaring at the butler, before turning back to Annie and Grady, rubbing his palms together. “All right, all right, so you’re wondering about my idea. Okay, here it is. Dickens—get the sack.”
“Yes, sir,” Dickens said, rolling his eyes yet again. He walked over to the closet, stiff-backed, and opened the door, disappearing inside for a moment before stepping back out again, a large brown-burlap sack in one hand He carried it away from his body, as if it were nuclear waste, or alive.
“Bring it here, bring it here,” Archie said, clapping his hands now. “Open it, and dump it on the floor. Hurry! Hurry!”
Grady shifted his weight, slipped a hand under his jacket, and closed that hand around the butt of his pistol. It was a reflex action, definitely, but with Archie, who could be too careful?
Dickens untied the thin rope holding the sack shut, then turned the thing upside down even as he stepped back.
Out slid a snake. A very large, ugly snake. With a bunch of rattles at the tail.
Before Annie could do more than open her mouth to scream, Grady had his weapon out, ready to fire. “Wait a minute,” he said, raising the barrel toward the ceiling, slowly uncocking the pistol. “It’s not moving.”
“Good eye,” Archie said, bending down to pick up die snake, shaking it so that the tail rattled. “It’s a fake. But a good one. Well, good enough, as I doubt anyone’s going to want to look inside the bag.”
“Grady?”
He looked at Annie, saw that her face was white, that her breathing had become labored. “Are you all right?”
“Harrison... Harrison Ford,” she mumbled, shivering.
Grady shook his head. “Raiders of the Lost Ark, right? Indiana Jones? You hate snakes? Well, why the hell didn’t you just say so?” He put a hand on the back of her head, forcing her head down between her knees. “Okay. Just take some slow, deep breaths, okay?”
“O—okay,” she said, holding on to his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Can’t... can’t say...”
“Snakes. You can’t even say snakes. Got it. Now shut up and breathe.” Grady glared at Archie. “You are one sick son of a bitch, do you know that? What the hell is this snake all about?”
Dickens held out the sack, and Archie slid the snake back inside. “The snake, sonny, is the murder weapon. Or, should I say, the attempted murder weapon.” He looked at the mantel clock. “Ah, Sandy should be bursting in here in a few minutes, to administer the antidote and save me. But that’s only secondary, you see, because it’s Annie here who really saved me, throwing a chair at the snake so she could pull me to safety after that first terrible bite. Didn’t you, darling granddaughter?”
Annie lifted her head and glared at him. “What?”
“Don’t ask questions, little girl. Just scream, all right. I thought you’d do that right away, but you didn’t. Are you up to trying it now? Sullivan can throw the chair. Or Dickens, it makes no never mind. Then, after a few moments, sonny, go open that window over there and take a shot at one of the trees, will you? That ought to bring everyone on the run.”
“Grady?” Annie asked, finally able to breathe again. “What’s he talking about?”
“I think,” Grady answered, stroking her hair, “Archie is going to have you save him from another attempt on his life.”
“But it’s not a real... a real... you know.”
“No, and it’s not a real attempt. Not like the arrow. But I think I can see where Archie’s going with it.” Grady looked at Dickens, who was looking mildly disgusted. “You, too, Dickens?”
“Yes, sir. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Annie pushed herself to her feet, took hold of Grady’s forearm, gave it a shake. “Wouldn’t listen to what? What’s going on here?”
“Archie’s going to let you save his life, and then he’ll announce to everyone that he’s making you his sole heir.”
“No,” Annie said, squeezing Grady’s arm tighter. “No! That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, it’s more than ridiculous, Annie,” Grady said, patting her hand. “It’s also setting you up for the kill, and I won’t allow it. For God’s sake, Archie, there’s already been one attempt on her life today.”
“And it didn’t work, did it?” Archie pointed out. “So maybe the next one is going to be on me. Or do you still think I shot that arrow at myself, huh? You want out of here, Sullivan, and you want her out of here. Fine. That’s just dandy, because you’ve already managed to screw up most of my plan. But first you’re both going to earn your money. I’m just making it easy for you. Because I’ll be damned if you’re going to let her get away and then leave yourself after a month, having solved nothing, if you’re going to keep being as useless as you’ve been so far. Not now, not now that you stupidly tipped off Banning and I had to let those two idiot boys know I’m onto their scam. Not now that I know somebody really does want me dead.”
“Someone, Archie? Hell, it’s more like take a number, get in line. Now Banning can be added to the list. But no snake. Definitely no snake. And no telling anyone you’re putting Annie in the will. Not unless you want the police here in the next hour. I’ve got a lot to say to them.”
Archie climbed into his bed, leaned back against the pillows. “But it was such a good idea,” he said, his bottom lip starting to tremble. “I thought we could flush whoever it is out into the open.”
“Yeah, well, flush that idea right down the drain, okay? I’m getting close, Archie. Even closer, thanks to your little hobby of eavesdropping. Let Annie leave, and I promise you, I’ll have this solved in a couple of days. A week at the outside. Believe me, nobody wants out of here more than I do.”
Archie raised one hand, waved it languidly. “All right, all right. The check’s on that desk over there, where Dickens put it after Annie refused it. Dickens, fetch.”
“Yes, sir.”
“No,” Annie said, backing up, shaking her head. “I’m not leaving. How many times must I say it? Maybe you want me to embroider it on a pillow: I’m not leaving.”
Archie lifted his head, his smile hopeful. “Then you’ll play along? Save me from the snake?”
“Not on your life,” Annie said, her laugh hollow.
At that, before Annie could do more than look at Grady, who was scowling in that “she’s driving me nuts” way again, the door burst open and Milton Sandborn charged in.
“Where is he? Where’s my patient? I’ve got the antidote right here! Hang on, Archie—I’ll save you!”
He stopped halfway into the room, looked around, then shrugged his barn-door-wide shoulders. “What? Did I miss my cue?”
“You sure did, honey,” Maisie said, entering behind him, dressed all in electric blue and smelling like she’d bathed in Chanel, obviously more than ready for her big date. “I’m supposed to be the antidote to what ails you, remember?”
Annie sat down, hugging herself against the pain of her aching muscles as she laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks.
* * *
It was midnight, and Annie and Grady were sitting in the kitchen in the mansion, dipping Oreos into milk.
“It still just kills me to remember the look on Dr. Sandborn’s face when he figured out he’d made his big entrance for nothing. I thought we’d never get that sorted out,” she said, carefully opening an Oreo, then scraping off the white icing with her top teeth.
“Don’t do that,” Grady told her, trying not to watch.
“Do what? Eat the icing first? Why not?”
“Because you’re driving me crazy, and you’re too banged up for me to do anything about it, that’s why. Besides, I’m still mad as hell at you.”
“Grady, we’ve been around the block about this a million times. I’m not leaving. First it was a job. Now I’m mad. Somebody boiled my bunny, wrecked my car. I’m not going to walk away from that.”
“So it wasn’t just the money, like you said it was?”
She pressed the two sides of the cookie together again, sans icing, and dunked the small chocolate sandwich into the cup of milk. “You know it wasn’t.”
“Not right away, I didn’t,” Grady admitted, reaching into the bag for another Oreo. “And, much as I understand that you’re mad, I don’t think that’s the real reason you’re staying, either. Quinn called me tonight, before Archie’s little show. He had some information for me.”
Annie concentrated on twisting another Oreo until it separated. “Really. What about? Me?”
“In a way. You don’t exist, Annie. That’s what Quinn found out, and he’s one of the best at finding stuff like that out. You do not exist. No address, no credit record, no driver’s license. No social security card, so don’t count on collecting when you reach sixty-five. If the Peeverses let you live that long.”
“Yeah, well, them’s the breaks,” Annie said, shrugging. “Still, I thought you said you wouldn’t go digging around in my past anymore. But we’ve got the bottom line now, don’t we? I don’t exist, and you’re a liar.”
“So we’re even,” Grady said, then cursed under his breath as half his soggy Oreo slowly broke off into his cup of milk. “I never could do this right,” he said, fishing in the milk with a teaspoon.
“You dunk too long. It’s an art,” Annie told him. “Anyway, you had your partner check me out through some foster-care systems, didn’t you? Come on, you can tell me. It’s the only real clue you had after Maisie struck out, right? I’m not mad. Not anymore. You were just being you, and I’m too tired to be mad at you anymore. Besides, we slept together. You probably figured you had the right to know who I am.”
“I’m glad we’re being so civilized,” Grady told her, giving up on rescuing the Oreo and pulling a fresh one from the bag, not bothering to dunk it before taking a bite. He’d just use the milk as a chaser. “Are you sure you’re not mad?”
“Positive. Are you mad?”
“That you won’t tell me your real name?” He shook his head. “Not angry, Annie. Just curious. I don’t like mysteries.”
“Which means you’re going to keep trying,” she said, picking up her cup and heading for the sink. “Well, good for you. I would, too. Lots of luck.”
“I’m still keeping Maisie out of it,” Grady said, placing his own cup in the sink, watching as Annie ran water in both cups. “Quinn’s out of it now, too. But I will find out, Annie. I’d rather you told me, but I will find out.”
Annie dried her hands on a dish towel, then leaned back against the edge of the sink, looked up at him. “It’s that important to you?”
“You’re that important to me, Annie,” he said honestly. He reached out, stroked her cheek. “I’m afraid for you, afraid you might be in trouble. Might have bitten off more than you can chew somewhere along the line, before answering that ad and coming here. Please, Annie, trust me. Let me help you. I have connections, from my years on the force. I can help you.”
Annie’s eyes grew wide. “Wait a minute. You think I’m some sort of criminal? That’s it? Is that your great conclusion so far?”
“I didn’t say that,” Grady told her, as she buried her head in her hands. “But you’ve got no paper trail. None. You need money, and have been up-front about that all along. You won’t leave, even when Archie hands you the money, because maybe you want to stay out of the public eye for a while. So, yes, I think you might be in some kind of trouble. I don’t like saying this, but it makes sense. Sort of.”
He bent his knees slightly, so that he could be face-to-face with her. Put his hands on her shoulders. “Annie? Annie, sweetheart, are you crying?”
Slowly she dropped her hands, so that he could see her face. Hear her low, throaty giggle.
She was laughing? Damn her, she was laughing! Then she stood on tiptoe, kissed him on the mouth, and left him standing there in the kitchen like the world’s biggest doofus.
He could really learn to hate her.
If he didn’t love her so damn much.