Dialogue from a private mailbox between “Vicki” and “Pat,” one minute later:
PATRIOT: What’s going on? R-U OK?
VICTORY: I saw A. Cooper’s lawyer in the parking lot when I got mail ? hour ago. I’m certain it was her. It was almost like she was looking for me.
PATRIOT: Where are U now? Did she follow U?
VICTORY: I’m home. If she was following me, I didn’t see.
PATRIOT: OK, Vicki…thanx for reporting…This confirms Ray D. thinking he saw her at Flappin Jacks yesterday…I’ll let Hal know.
VICTORY: Have U heard any more about Lyle? So worried…
PATRIOT: I’m sure Lyle OK…Maybe Hal has news…stay home til U hear back from me…God Bless.
It always threw Tom for a loop whenever that newfangled little phone of Hal’s rang. They were in the car, diving back to the city after target practice and lunch at a seafood place. Hal sat at the wheel. He didn’t flinch at all when the phone went off. He fished the gizmo from the pocket of his fancy jogging suit, then unfolded the thing. “Yeah, Hal here.”
Eyes on the road, he frowned. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “Call Vicki back. I need a full description of what Cooper’s legal whore is wearing and the type of car she’s driving. I want her under surveillance within the hour. But no one is to touch her….”
Pressed against the passenger door, Tom watched him. Hal’s jaw seemed to clench at the news he was hearing. “So you’re telling me that both Avery Cooper and his lawyer are there?” he asked hotly. “What is this? First Dayle Sutton’s private detective, and now these two….”
Hal listened for a moment. “We have Cooper in custody? Who’s with him?” He grimaced. “Taggert? Shit. Taggert’s a loose cannon, he’s worse than Lyle Bender. Tell him I don’t want anything happening to Cooper until we’ve come up with a plan. No rough stuff. Have someone relieve Taggert of the prisoner ASAP. We need Cooper alive—for now. I don’t trust the stupid, trigger-happy son of a bitch. Only reason Taggert’s on the payroll is because he’s a cop….” Hal listened for a moment. “I don’t care how far away he is. Send somebody out there to take over. And I want this lady lawyer tracked down. I’ll expect your call within an hour. All right?”
Hal smiled. “Good boy,” he said. “Over and out.”
He managed to keep steering while he folded up the little phone and slipped it back into his pocket. The car started to gain speed. He grinned at Tom, very confident, almost smug. “Interesting developments at home,” he said. “And on the eve of your eliminating Dayle Sutton. Huh, we just might end up with
Sean watched the two-story, tan brick house across the street. The place had brown shutters and THE BENDERS wood-burnt on a plaque hanging over the front door. The lawn was littered with a dozen soggy boxes that must have been part of a kids’ game a while ago. With the sun starting to set, Sean felt the late autumn chill creep inside the parked car. She’d been staking out the house for close to three hours.
She wondered if Avery was waiting for her in the post office parking lot, or if he’d gone on to the hotel.
“I don’t want any fighting!” Mrs. Bender announced from her front door as she let the two children out. The boy ran to one of the boxes and kicked it, while the little girl shrieked. Sean rolled down her car window. Mrs. Bender was yelling: “I have important calls to make, and better not have to come out here for the next hour!” She ducked inside and shut the door.
After a few minutes, the kids calmed down. The boy started building a fort out of the boxes.
Sean watched an Oldsmobile crawl up the tree-lined street, then stop in front of the Benders’ house. An old woman stepped out of the car, but left the motor running. “Scotty Bender!” she called angrily. “I saw you in my backyard this morning! That’s private property, and not your personal shortcut to school. The same goes for your older brother. I’m sick and tired of it! You tell your mother I said so.”
The kid shouted something back at her. Sean didn’t catch what he said, but the tone wasn’t particularly apologetic.
“Well!” the indignant old woman replied. “Next time I see any of you Bender children in my yard, I’m calling the police. I don’t care if your father’s friends with them or not!” She jumped back into her car and continued down the road.
Sean watched the Oldsmobile pull into the driveway of a modest white stucco. The garden in front had been covered with plastic tarp to fight frost. Here was a woman who knew the Benders and clearly had some issues with them. And right now, she was in a mood to vent.
Sean hunted through her purse, and found some old business cards rubber-banded together. She plucked one out: JOAN KINSELLA, ATTORNEY, MUNICIPALITY OF EUGENE, OREGON.
The Bender girl let out another shriek, then attacked one of the boxes as if it were a punching bag.
Sean climbed out of the car and started toward the white stucco house, where the old woman was hoisting a sack of groceries from the passenger side of her Oldsmobile. The overloaded bag ripped along the side, and several items spilled onto her driveway.
“Can I help?” Sean called. The woman barely had time to respond before Sean was on her hands and knees, retrieving a Campbell’s soup can that had rolled under the car. “I hate it when they overpack those bags,” she said, handing her the soup can.
Bracing the torn bag on the hood of her car, the woman nodded and gave Sean a wary smile. She had close- cropped brown hair that looked like a wig, wire glasses, and lipstick that had been applied with a shaky hand. She wore a wool coat, blue pants, and an ugly floral top.
“I’m from out of town,” Sean explained. “Um, could you recommend a good, clean, family-type of hotel in the area?”
The woman shrugged. “There’s Debbie’s Paradise View off of Main Street. That’s nice.” Sean could tell she still had her guard up.
“Thanks very much.” She nodded politely and started to walk away—for a few seconds. Then she stopped and turned around. “By the way, you don’t happen to know the Bender family down the block, do you?”
Frowning, the old woman sighed. “Only too well, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, really?” Sean pulled Joan’s card out of her purse. “I’m Joan Kinsella, and I’m an attorney from Eugene. I’m conducting an investigation here on behalf of Mrs. Bender’s aunt, who…” Sean trailed off and quickly shook her head. “Oh, you’re too busy. I shouldn’t bother you right now.”
“It’s no bother,” the woman piped up. “What are you investigating?”
“Well, it has to do with the children and a discipline problem.”
She nodded. “I happen to have had a few ‘problems’ with the Bender children myself, believe you me. They’re wild little hooligans! The mother can’t control them. And Lyle—Mr. Bender—he’s never around, always out of town or on one of his hunting trips with the men’s club….”
“Men’s club,” Sean repeated. She glanced back at the children in the yard. “Um, I don’t want to impose,” she said, turning to the old woman again. “But if you have a few minutes, I’d like to ask you some questions about Lyle and Mrs. Bender—and the children, all in confidence, of course.”
“Oh, don’t get me started on those kids,” the old woman said. “Could you carry in the milk and orange juice for me, dear?” She handed the items to Sean, then hoisted up the torn bag and led the way to her door.
Tom watched Hal’s Corsica pull away from the curb. Hal hadn’t asked for a photo to use on his passport tomorrow. Passports, vaccinations, converting money—these were basic necessities for international travel, and Hal hadn’t addressed them at all.
Tom swallowed hard and glanced at the front entrance of his apartment building. Stepping inside, he checked
