The Mazda looped the front of the manor house and headed toward me. As it neared, I could see the driver’s head in silhouette. Oddly pear-shaped, its crown barely cleared the wheel.
Definitely not Pete.
Curious and a little wary, I watched the car pull to the same piece of curb occupied by Williams and Randall on Saturday.
The man who got out had a pompadour that brought his height to maybe five-four. Grecian Formula had turned the do a dead-lemur brown.
The man’s clothes looked expensive. Ice-green silk shirt. Tommy Bahama linen pants. Softer-than-a- newborn’s-bum leather loafers. Armani sunglasses perched on a hawklike nose.
“Good evening, Dr. Brennan.” The man proffered a hand sporting a sapphire the size of Birdie’s paw. “J. D. Danner.”
“Do I know you, sir?”
“Word is you know
Ping.
“You were an associate of Cale Lovette. A member of the Patriot Posse.”
“I was commander of the posse, ma’am.”
I adjusted my grip on the groceries.
Danner took a step toward me. “May I help with that?”
“No. Thank you.”
Two palms came up. “Just offering assistance.”
“Do you have information about Cale Lovette or Cindi Gamble?”
“No, ma’am. Nice kids. I hope they found what they were looking for.”
“And what was that?”
“Life. Liberty. Happiness. Isn’t that what we’re all seeking?”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Danner?”
“Get off our backs.”
“Meaning?”
“The Patriot Posse took Cale Lovette under its wing. Provided support. Guidance. A family. When he vanished, we were the first ones in the crosshairs.” Again the insincere smile. “The posse had nothing to do with whatever happened to Lovette and his girlfriend.”
“Why would Lovette need the posse’s support?”
“The kid was floundering. High school dropout. Dead-end job. Estranged father. Loony-tune mother.”
That was the first I’d heard of Lovette’s home life.
“Making him easy prey for your conspiratorial anti-American ideology,” I said.
Danner crossed his arms and spread his feet. Which were small, like the rest of him. An image of Napoleon popped in my brain.
“Back then we were undisciplined, perhaps naive in many ways. But we were far from anti-American.”
“Were?”
“The Patriot Posse disbanded in 2002.”
“What was the group’s purpose?”
“The posse functioned as an unorganized militia.”
Typical right-wing fascist-speak. In federal and state law, the term “unorganized militia” refers to the nominal manpower pool created a century ago when federal law formally abandoned compulsory militia service.
“I prefer the army, navy, air force, and marines,” I said.
“The Patriot Posse was, like other organizations of its kind, equivalent to the statutory militia. It was a legal, constitutional arm of the government. But the posse was not
“You believe the government might become tyrannical?”
“Dr. Brennan, please. You are an intelligent woman.”
“Indeed I am.”
“Recent history speaks for itself. The elections of Bill Clinton and Barack Obama. The Rodney King riots. The North American Free Trade Agreement. The dozens of bills currently under consideration that would rob us of our firearms. The murders at Ruby Ridge and Waco.”
“Murders.”
“Of course.”
