And the questions some of those guys asked. Especially that forensic specialist who’d discovered that the Howard clan had been gunned down with silver bullets. He’d asked if J. J. had any ideas about those. “Hell,” J. J. had said. “Maybe Barlow thought he was the Lone Ranger. The guy was definitely crazy enough.”
As it stood, investigators had connected the Howards to six murders in four states. Three of the victims had been married to Kale. Seemed he’d do the killing, and then his sister would come in a few months later and cash in the chips. She’d been smart enough to keep a low profile, mostly, and that had definitely been her MO in El Pasito. No one in town had even know that Kale had a sister-or a couple of brothers-out there at the house. Hell, that was probably why they kept the front window boarded up.
Anyway, J. J. was glad the deal was wrapping up. Next week he was going back to work. A couple months after that… well, the whole thing would probably be forgotten.
One could hope, anyway.
Lisa was sweeping the patio when J. J. stepped through the door. He was carrying a couple bottles of Pacifico, and he handed her one. She took a sip, and that was an improvement. The beer was good and cold.
“Who was on the phone?” she asked.
“Hang up. Don’t you hate those?”
She nodded. They sat on the back step for awhile. J. J. drank his beer and talked about going back to the cop shop. She listened. After awhile, he said, “I think I’ll drive over to Dos Gatos. Get some of those pork carnitas. We can have a barbeque tonight.”
“Sounds good.”
A few minutes later, he was gone.
Lisa sat there on the step, staring at Tres Manos in the distance. Afternoon clouds drifted in from the east, casting shadows over The Hands. Lisa sipped her beer and watched the clouds hang there. They hung a good long while, until the wind chased them off.
Lisa finished her beer, then got her clippers from the tool shed.
She worked in the herb garden.
She trimmed back the rosemary.
She trimmed it tight.
Ninja Rats on Harleys by Elizabeth A. Vaughan
It was a dark and stormy night.
Well it was, damn it. The cold air slapped me in the face as the glass doors of the ER waiting area slid open. Any warmth my tattered bathrobe held was gone in an instant as the wind wrapped around me. The rain had stopped for now, but the entire parking lot gleamed under the lights, as did the ambulances, their flashing lights reflecting off the puddles and my van.
My bloodstained slippers were soaked as I slapped across the parking lot. I cradled my purse and those damned discharge instructions as I fumbled for my keys. I opened the passenger side door, set the purse carefully on the seat, and then slammed that sucker shut with all my strength.
I was pissed, and who could blame me?
Nothing like being attacked in your own home by a hideous, stinky white possum and his ninja hench-rats at an ungodly hour of the morning. We’d fought them off, Wan and I, with naught but our bare hands and a bottle of toilet cleaner.
Well, okay, Wan had a sword. And he killed most of them. But I’d done my fair share, although it was my own blood on my slippers.
Wan is a mouse. An ancient Chinese mouse, as far as I can figure. He hasn’t been very forthcoming. He’s been good company since he moved in about a month ago. He was teaching me tai chi and I was teaching him football. I had to admit, it was nice to have someone around… to have company. And yes, my social life does suck that bad.
He talks. Did I mention that?
At any rate, a few hours ago, we’d been attacked by people… animals… who also talked and who clearly knew more about Wan than I did. One of the rats had bitten through my finger, hence the visit to the ER.
Slamming the door had not been the best idea, since Itty and Bitty, my poor little white dogs, had been cowering under the seats in the back. They scrabbled up, put their feet on the window and howled for attention.
My cowardly fat white Westies, who tend to fart when under stress. I opened the rear passenger door and petted and cooed over them for a minute, paying attention to the slash on Itty’s nose. The possum had gotten her at one point in the fight, but it was only a slight scratch. I got them calmed back down, shut the door, and headed around to mine.
Wan was standing on my purse when I heaved my weary body into the driver’s seat. He stood at the summit, his sword over his back, his arms crossed over his chest. “We should stay and talk with the learned doctor, Kate.”
The doctor also seemed to know more about what was going on than I did. I sighed, looking at the ambulances. “Wan, he’s going to be busy for quite some time. I want to go home and take a shower.”
“He possesses knowledge that we do not have,” Wan argued. “Why do we leave a potential ally behind us?”
“Because my hand hurts,” I snapped. “Because I’m filthy, and tired, and the dogs are scared.” I struggled with my seat belt using my bandaged hand. “Because that nurse said that the Doctor would be working on those accident victims for hours. Because I’m not drinking that hideous coffee, and because… ” I snapped the belt in place and turned to glare at Mr.-Holier-Than-Thou-Talking-Mouse. “Because I don’t know who is friend or foe until you tell me what the hell is going on!”
Wan glared right back and I promised myself that if he told me to be one with my pain I was going to pitch him right out the window and drive off.
The damn mouse looked away. “You hold the keys, Honorable Lady.”
I jammed them in the ignition and started the van.
What a surprise. There isn’t a lot of traffic on the expressway at four in the morning on a Saturday.
Who’da thunk it?
I pulled out of the hospital grounds, and headed up Monroe Street toward Douglas. I’d take the expressway home. Wan sat silent, which was fine with me. I needed to think.
It had taken me aback when the ER Doctor told me he knew my injury was from a ninja rat bite. Believe me when I say that I hadn’t put that down on any forms. He’d taken pains to make sure the nurse didn’t hear him, too, come to think of it. I narrowed my eyes as I pulled onto Douglas. His steel gray eyes had been sharp, sharp enough that he had probably known about Wan hiding in my purse.
But did that mean that I could trust him?
I turned onto the entrance ramp to the expressway, chewing my lower lip. Well hell, I was trusting a talking mouse, now wasn’t I? And I hadn’t exactly asked him for ID, now had I?
My front window was fogging up, so I reached for the blower dial. Cold air flowed over my feet before I could get it set on defrost. We’d almost be home before it warmed up. I shivered and set the cruise control at sixty-two. The last thing I needed was a ticket.
My hand throbbed as I tilted the rearview mirror to look at the dogs. They were sound asleep on the backseat, exhausted, poor babies. I adjusted the mirror back with a wince. There were lights in the distance behind us. Far enough back not to worry about just yet.
I pulled my injured hand back and rested it on my chest, steering with my left hand.
“We should not return to the house,” Wan stated firmly. “They will be waiting for us.”
I sighed. He had a point, but I didn’t really want to hear it. “All right. I’m too tired to argue. A hotel then, but we will have to smuggle in the dogs.” I sighed, and checked the rearview mirror. If a hotel would let us in. I looked
