He waited the extra twenty seconds it took for her to fold herself into the car. “Coop, I wouldn't give you a nickel right now for Sean's life or Lottie's.”
“We'll nab them.”
“That's not what I mean. One of them is going to be dead.” He peeled out, spewing stones everywhere.
52
Mrs. Murphy stretched herself. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Pope Rat, scurrying from the direction of the caboose, carrying a bag of popcorn toward the garage. “Hey, Tucker, there's the rat.”
Tucker vaulted off the Volvo, racing toward the large, glossy rat.
“She can move,” Pewter admiringly said.
“Yeah, maybe we'd better provide backup.” The tiger paused. “Here come Rick and Coop.”
“You cover Lottie. I'll cover Sean,” Rick ordered as they raced back to the ball.
“H-m-m, Mom's in there.” Murphy gazed after the dog, who ran after the rat, unwilling to part with the popcorn. Instead, Pope Rat turned and scooted back into the caboose. He had cleverly gnawed an entrance right over the coupling and just to the right of the human-sized door.
Tucker had hit this impasse before, so she ran around and with great effort pulled herself up on the first step and was at the caboose door in the rear, the last thing one sees as the train rides by. But this time it wasn't locked. She pushed it in, surprising the foulmouthed creature who was sitting in front of the wood-burning stove.
Pope Rat bared his fangs. He picked up the popcorn bag, slowly backing away toward his hole.
Tucker stopped for a moment. A gunnysack of money sat in the middle of the floor. Much as she wanted to break Pope Rat's neck she turned and bounced down the steps, running flat-out for the Volvo. “Murphy, Pewter, the play money is in the caboose!”
“We'd better get Mom.” Murphy moved toward the main building, great purpose in her stride. They had noticed cars coming and a few going while lounging in the back of the Volvo but nothing had captured their attention as out of the ordinary. Now all three animals wished they had climbed on the roof of the car to see exactly who was driving in and driving out.
The band played old tunes, new tunes. The dance floor was crowded. Rick and Cooper entered the building a few moments apart. Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker followed Cooper in.
Harry, sitting this one out to drink a cup of tea, saw her three pets. “Oh, no.” She got up but noticed Cooper's face. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Hey, you never told me about the matchbook.”
“Diego told you the truth.” She scanned the room for Lottie, out on the dance floor with the Marine, much to Aunt Tally's disgust.
“I'm so glad.” Harry exhaled in relief. “All right, you varmints, we're going back to the car.”
She walked out, the three following her much too obediently. As she reached the car all three took off toward the caboose.
“Dammit.” Harry felt the cool night air, wishing she had a wrap. She trudged in her high-heeled shoes, those instruments of torture, to the caboose.
Tucker and the cats pushed open the door, driving Pope Rat back into his hole one more time.
“Nipshits,” he taunted.
“Who cares about you?” Tucker's voice carried great self-importance.
Harry slowly climbed the steps, walked into the caboose. Her eyes took a moment to focus, adjusting to the dim light. She then saw the opened sack. Kneeling down, her knees cracked. She winced, reached in, retrieving a neatly bound stack of one-hundred-dollar bills.
Holding them close to her eyes, she whistled. “The fakes? Jesus.”
Slipping one fake bill into her cleavage, she hurried back to the ball. She had sense enough not to burst in. A few people called to her, she smiled and called back. Her entourage followed behind her, Murphy in the lead.
Fair came up. “I've been looking for you.”
“Fair, Cooper is on the dance floor. You can push through that throng better than I can. Will you bring her to me? It's important.” She lifted the hundred-dollar bill from her cleavage.
“I guess it is.” His long strides carried him to the dance floor in a second, although he had to dodge an amorous nymph.
Cynthia Cooper, dancing with the Reverend Herb Jones, kept Lottie in her field of vision. Rick, dancing with his wife, did the same with Sean.
Fair whispered in Coop's ear, she hesitated, he whispered again, she thanked Herb for the dance, disengaged as subtly as possible, then joined Harry, who showed her the money.
Coop tried to catch Rick's eye but he was glued to Sean. “Fair, ask Lottie to dance. Keep her tied up,” Cooper ordered the vet. “Tell Rick I'm going to the caboose.”
“I'll go with you,” Harry happily volunteered.
“You keep Lottie tied up.” Fair didn't want Harry in danger. “Coop, I'd better go with you.”
“I'm not asking her to dance,” Harry stubbornly said as she pushed a none-too-compliant Fair toward the dance floor.
The two women hurried out, the animals again going with them, but before Fair could reach Lottie she had quietly disengaged from the Marine, walked behind the band, and walked out the back door. She saw the animals and humans going to the caboose. Looking over her shoulder, Lottie walked to her car.
“Over here.” Tucker excitedly circled around the gunnysack in the caboose.
“What is this, Grand Central?” the rat complained from his quarters. As he had finished the popcorn his mood was improving considerably. The only reason he was taking the popcorn to the caboose in the first place was that he was tired of the music, of hearing the humans. He had resigned himself to staying in the caboose until the obnoxious pet threesome left him in peace.
Harry, a step behind Coop, knelt down beside her. Neither one had a flashlight but Coop fished a lighter from a small hidden pocket on the side of her dress. She clicked it on and the cheap plastic light shot out a long flame.
“It's our little bag of tricks all right.”
“You think he knows it's fake?” Harry asked.
“I don't know but whoever threw it in here didn't lock the door, either because they knew this money was worthless or because they didn't have the key.”
Moving at a slow trot, Fair came out of the main building. He scoured the parking lot, finding Lottie as she opened the door to her car.
“Lottie.”
“Fair, you getting your exercise?” She smiled.
“I was hoping you'd dance the next dance with me.”
“Of course.” She put a fresh pack of cigarettes in her evening purse, closed the door, and walked back with him.
Back at the ball they started to dance when the band stopped. Jim Sanburne strode up to the raised dais, taking the offered microphone from the lead singer.
Thomas groaned in BoomBoom's ear, “Spare us a long-winded speech. I hear enough of them.”
“As mayor, I will say a few words. I'm never too talky. Now if Little Mim, as vice-mayor, gets the mike we might be here for a while.” He winked at Little Mim as everyone laughed.
“I'm going to slip out for a smoke.” Thomas kissed her on the cheek, stood up, then adroitly moved along the edges of the crowd until he walked out front. He inhaled the cooling night air and reached in his pocket, pulling out an aromatic Portages cigar.
He could hear Jim laud the charity's director, then continue. “I am grateful for so many of you coming to support Building for Life. Those of you who have attended the Wrecker's Ball in the past know that anything is possible . . .”
“Footsteps,” Mrs. Murphy warned.
“Come on.” Tucker nipped Harry's ankle.
Harry opened her mouth to chastise the corgi when she, too, heard the crunch of footsteps on the pea gravel. Putting her finger to her lips she motioned for Cooper to follow her. They quickly opened the door on the coupling side of the caboose, grabbed the long iron handrails, cold now as the temperature continued in its plunge, and swung themselves out, Harry flat against the caboose on the right side, Coop on the left.