Telegram, maybe even the Times. No, you won’t stay at any motel. You’ll stay here. And you won’t rent a car either. I have a perfectly good car in the garage, you can use it.”
“ Mrs. Lambert,” Jim started to protest.
“ Edna, I said to call me Edna and I insist. You can stay here and you can use my car. I want to help.”
“ I don’t know what to say.”
“ And that’s not all. I have some money.” She shuffled across the room, opened the top drawer of a China cabinet. She withdrew an envelope. “There’s a thousand dollars here. I want you to have it. And something else,” she said as her hand went back into the drawer and came out with a revolver, “you might need this as well. It’s a thirty-eight police special. It’s loaded. And I have extra ammunition.”
She came toward Jim, with her hands out, envelope in one, pistol in the other.
“ Here, take them.”
“ But your money, why?” Jim asked.
“ My son was on that helicopter.”
She didn’t have to say which helicopter. Jim knew and for an instant he was reliving it. He’d been on one of his solo scouting missions, when he’d heard the firefight. A Special Forces squad was pinned down and pretty cut up. They’d called for a chopper, but at the rate things were going, none of them would be alive by the time it set down. Jim’s raging presence, shooting at the VC from their flank, gave the Special Forces guys new life and they managed to drive the VC back, giving the chopper a brief window to land. Jim was helping the last of the wounded onto the plane when the VC charged. Instead of diving into the chopper, he turned and charged the VC, slicing through them like a wraith, giving the chopper the cover it needed to get away. Once airborne the chopper opened up on the VC, mowing them down like new cut grass as Jim disappeared into the jungle. Safe to fight another day, but three hours later he came across that village, that woman, her girl and the two VC rapists. And then the war was over for Jim Monday.
“ You went to a POW camp for all those years and my boy came home to me,” Edna said. “I can never thank you enough.”
Jim saw her genuine smile and the tears welling up in her eyes. He took the envelope and slid it into the inside pocket of Turnbull’s coat. Then he took the pistol from her and opened his arms. Edna fell into his embrace, hugged him like a mother about to lose her son to war.
“ I think I better take the pistol,” Roma said.
“ But why?” Edna released her hold on Jim.
“ Woman’s pistol champion, NRA, State of California, three years in a row, second in the nationals last year. She hits what she aims at,” Jim said.
“ Do you have an old handbag?” Roma asked. “I left mine in the car.”
“ Yes, I do.” Edna scurried from the room, returning seconds later with a small designer purse. “Will this do?”
“ Fine.” Roma took the purse, dropped the pistol into it. “Now a sharp knife, a steak knife will do.”
“ I have my Swiss Army knife.” Edna went back to the top drawer, withdrew a red pocket knife. “I keep it sharp.” She handed it to Roma.
“ Good.” Roma cut a small hole into one side of the leather purse. “Now I can fire the gun while it’s still in the bag, sort of a special surprise in case we run into those big nasties again, because I really don’t like running away.”
The door burst open. Two men filled the opening. Jim pushed Roma aside, snatched the purse from her, shoved his hand in it, grabbed the gun, started pulling the trigger. The pistol shots boomed throughout the living room, sonic booms to his ears, as he emptied the weapon, sticking each man with three shots in the chest.
“ Two dead nasties,” Roma said, shaken. “I’ve never killed anybody before. I thought I could do it, but I couldn’t. How did you know?”
“ Killing isn’t easy,” Jim said. “Most people can’t do it, and the ones who can, usually regret it for the rest of their lives.”
“ But you can do it?”
“ It wasn’t easy at first. Now it’s instinct. I kill to survive. I don’t question it. I just do it.”
“ It seems so cold.”
“ It was the war.”
“ Oh, yeah.” Her voice trailed off and she had a glassy look in her eyes.
“ Roma, listen to me!” Edna said in a stern, motherly voice. “You can’t go into shock now. Do you hear me? Stay with us.”
Jim went to Roma and put an arm around her shoulders.
“ No time for that. Pull the dead man inside,” Edna said. Jim released her and turned to look at the two men lying on the floor. Both were on their backs, eyes open in death, both chest shot. Heart stoppers. One was half in the house, half out. Jim pulled him inside, shut the door.
“ We have to go. The police will be here any second.” Edna took Roma by the hand, led her through the kitchen, the laundry room and out into the backyard. Jim followed.
“ Wait here. I forgot my keys.” Edna rushed back into the house, came back a full minute later, a large purse in one hand, the shotgun in the other. “Sorry I took so long,” she said. “I got those boy’s guns in my purse. Figured we might need them.”
She was smiling as she went to the front of a single car garage. She keyed a padlock, unlocked it and opened the door.
“ Come on, get in,” she said. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it will take you anywhere you want to go.” It was a two door, faded green and rust covered 1972 Dodge Charger.
“ You sure that runs?” Jim said.
“ Time’s wasting,” Edna said. “Let’s get a move on.”
Jim opened the passenger door, helped Roma into the back, before getting in the front. Edna climbed behind the wheel, put in the clutch and started the car.
“ Four on the floor,” she said, as she backed down the drive way. She put it in first and slowly drove to the corner, made a right onto Cherry Avenue, where she had to pull over, because of the sirens of two approaching police cars.
“ Looks like we left in the nick of time,” she said as the cruisers screamed by. Then she eased the car back into traffic and headed toward Signal Hill and the freeway. “Where to now?” she added, holding the wheel with white knuckles.
“ Tampico,” Roma said from the back.
“ Don’t know it,” Edna said.
“ It’s up north,” Roma said, “on the coast, past Eureka.”
“ That’s over five hundred miles,” Jim said. “Why there?”
“ Julia went there with Dr. Kohler. They left first thing this morning. He has a house there. I had the phone number and address in my purse, but I think we can find them. She said it was a big house, on Mountain Sea Road, overlooking the ocean. How hard could it be?”
“ Why?” Jim asked.
“ She wanted to get away.”
“ With him?”
“ Yes, with him.”
“ No offense,” he turned to Edna, “but when you said this car would take me anywhere I wanted to go, you didn’t have five or six hundred miles in mind, did you?”
“ No, I didn’t.” She clutched the wheel.
“ We need another car. Edna, when you get to Spring Street, turn right. We’ll rent a car at the airport.”
It was noon and sprinkling when Edna parked in the overnight parking garage at the Long Beach Airport. They started to get out of the car when she spoke up.
“ You two wait here. I’ll rent the car and come back. We can’t be carrying a shotgun through the terminal, now can we?”
“ You’re right,” he said.
Twenty minutes later she beeped the horn of a new Ford Explorer. She stopped the SUV in front of her
