of a bad thing.”
For once, Judith was walking so fast Renie had to hurry to catch up with her. “Where are we going?” she demanded as Judith crossed the High Street and headed for the coast road.
“Hollywood House,” Judith called over her shoulder. “But we need transport. Maybe Barry’s still at Morton’s garage.”
As soon as the cousins reached the auto shop, they saw Barry’s beater parked in front of Archie Morton’s office. Judith suggested that they wait outside.
“Why?” Renie said. “Another rumpus with Archie might be fun.”
“Not for me,” Judith declared. “You’re getting ornerier as you grow older. I refuse to spend my twilight years with you in a nursing home. You’d probably get tossed anyway for outrageous brutality.”
“I’m learning how your mother drives that wheelchair,” Renie said. “She’s got some great moves. She should be licensed to kill.”
“Don’t mention it,” Judith said, and winced. “I shouldn’t have moved so fast. Now I feel wobbly.”
Barry and Archie came out of the office. They seemed to be arguing, but Judith couldn’t hear what they were saying. Barry finally shrugged and stalked back to the car. He didn’t seem surprised to see the cousins.
“Poor tipper?” Renie inquired.
“No tipper at all,” Barry replied, still annoyed. “He says all his expenses at the garage go into the computer and he can’t figure in tips. That’s bosh. I had two pizzas, one for Archie and one for his main mechanic. Rob’s a good lad, always gives me a quid. But Archie wouldn’t let me take Rob’s pizza to the back shop like I do usually. Just mean, that’s Archie Morton.”
“We didn’t have computers when I worked at the Meat & Mingle years ago,” Judith said. “We were lucky to have a cash register. If the help wanted to get paid, they had to roll the drunks when they fell off of the—” She stopped. “Never mind. I just had the strangest thought.”
“What?” Renie asked sharply.
Judith shook her head. “It was silly.” But she was suddenly worried, though she tried to hide her concern from Renie and Barry.
“Last stop,” he announced. “Uh…Do you want a lift?”
“Yes,” Judith said quickly. “That’s why we’re here. After your post office stop, can you take us to Hollywood House?”
Barry considered briefly. “I suppose. No more deliveries just now.”
Judith got in the front seat, grateful that the door had been reattached to the passenger side; Renie again sat with The Bruce in back. “Sleeve’s gone,” she said as the car went forward with a loud
“Maybe,” Barry warned. “Better move. He may toss up the suede.”
“We’ll buy you a replacement jacket,” Judith said, “to thank you.”
“Nae.” Barry chuckled, heading up the High Street. “It’s been jolly. Most of it, anyway.”
“I mean it,” Judith insisted. “You’re a good guy. Lad, that is.”
The post office was two doors down from the confectioner’s. Barry double-parked and zipped inside. Renie tapped Judith’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? I can tell you’re upset. You’re making rash and expensive promises.”
“I’m serious about the jacket,” Judith replied, turning to look at Renie. “We owe Barry. But you’re right. It’s probably a stupid notion, but suddenly I got the feeling that Joe and Bill aren’t safe. In fact, I think I know where they are, and I’m certain they’re in grave danger. The question is, how do we rescue them?”
21
Renie looked dubious. “Now
“No,” Judith said. “But I remembered something after Barry mentioned Archie’s computer. When Joe was telling me about Hugh MacGowan, he—” She stopped as Barry raced out of the post office.
“Big news!” he cried, jumping into the car. “Patrick’s been arrested!”
“For what?” Judith asked.
“Murder,” Barry replied excitedly. “Imagine! Patrick killed Harry!”
“Maybe,” Judith said softly. “Where did they arrest him?”
“Hollywood House, after the press conference,” Barry replied. “Still want to go there?”
Judith’s thought process was hampered by her concern for Joe and Bill. “I don’t know…Maybe we should go to the Hearth and Heath.”
“The inn?” Barry sounded puzzled. “Oh—because that’s where the coppers are staying?”
“Yes,” Judith said as horns honked behind them. “They’d take him there for questioning instead of to Inverness or Elgin. Do you have a jail in St. Fergna?”
A half dozen vehicles now clogged the High Street. Barry started the car, ignoring the honks and shouts of the impatient drivers. “Nae. No need. The nearest jail is only seven kilometers from here.”
The minor traffic jam didn’t abate after they reached the village green and made a right turn. It appeared that the media had followed Patrick and his captors from Hollywood House. Their vans and cars and trucks blocked the narrow road as they tried to find parking places.
