“Cody?” I said and flipped on the light.
He had a gun trained on us. I’m not expert on weapons but it was ugly looking. What on earth was he thinking?
“You two are a nuisance.” That solved the question of what he was thinking.
I backed into Jake. “What are you doing with a gun? That’s a rather unfriendly gesture.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I’d never had someone hold a gun on me before. It was an itchy, raw feeling.
Cody sighed. “Come out of there.”
“Sure thing,” I said.
Jake said nothing but pushed his hand against my back and steered me from the weapons room.
Holding the gun on us, Cody closed the door and locked it.
“Too bad, Aunt Opal brought you into this.”
“Right,” Jake said. “I’d like to ask what this is about but the less I know the better.”
“Smart man,” Cody said.
“I’m rather curious,” I said, demonstrating once again a lack of common sense. “You can tell me.”
Cody smiled. “I like you, Fiona. You’ve got spunk. Unfortunately, I’ve got to figure out what to do with you. I haven’t killed anyone yet.”
“Let’s not start,” I said. “What are rifles doing in there?” I was hoping they were legitimate.
“Like Jake said the less you know the better. I got a lot on my mind right now. I got an aunt causing problems with her fantastic stories, an uncle that died and left me with the arms business, and a bunch of relatives that want his money, just like I do.”
“I see. Jake and I really aren’t much interested in the family. We’ve both resigned our jobs, so you can let us go. We promise never to say a word to anyone.”
“You were interested enough to start snooping. That’s where you went wrong. If you had just walked out of the wine cellar and left, you never would have stumbled across my stash.”
“You mean, your uncle didn’t know about this?”
“Of course, he did. He helped finance, arrange for the weapons, and make the sale.”
“Who are the buyers?”
Jake interrupted. “Fiona, I don’t think we want to know.”
Cody’s smile got tighter.
“Cody,” I said, undeterred, “I promise, we won’t say a word to anyone.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“What about Hudson?” I asked.
“What about him?”
“How does he figure into this?”
Cody’s eyes shifted a few degrees to the right and back. “Hudson is a superb butler who doesn’t ask questions and keeps his opinions to himself.”
“Why don’t we discuss this over breakfast?” I said, trying to be helpful. I needed a strong cup of coffee, at least.
“All right, move. Up the stairs and, Jake, don’t try anything. I know you won’t, Fiona.”
Why would he say that? I must have looked innocuous, but I was ready for a rumble. Jake looked like he wanted to be any place but here.
It was getting light outside, I was pleased to discover. The kitchen was clean, coffee made. A tray of sweet rolls and muffins sat by the coffee maker. Hudson had neatly arranged mugs on the counter. I wished I could afford a butler.
I poured coffee for three, and we each took a mug to the table. I set the tray of pastries on the table nearest my seat. Cody sat across from us at the table with the gun pointed in our direction. He acted like he knew how to use it, too. I had a feeling I might be having my last meal. Why-oh-why had I insisted in sleuthing around the underground? For comfort I selected the largest cherry cheese Danish on the plate and started in, sipping coffee between bites.
The silence was awkward. I wondered where Hudson had disappeared to. No wonder he wanted to return to England as soon as possible. He must have known about this from those overheard conversations. And he could have known about the spy woman from overhead conversations though my mind might be running away with me. Maybe Cody knew about her, although I hesitated to ask. He might not be in the right mood.
Cody sipped his coffee and looked back and forth between us, making me nervous. I had another Danish. Sugar always calmed my nerves.
Finally he said, “Tell you what, if you help me, I’ll see you go free when this is over.”
Jake said, “When what is over?”
“When the last of the goods are delivered. I could use your help. You help me, I let you go.”
I heard jail sentence at the end of that statement.
I said, “I need some questions answered. Aren’t you afraid some of the other relatives are going to walk in and see you with that gun? Does everyone know about what’s in the basement?”
“They never get up before ten. Gives me plenty of time to work.”
I glanced at the clock. Seven.
“Who killed Albert?” I said.
He shrugged. “Maybe some folks who didn’t like us meddling in what they considered their arms business. I can’t be sure. That’s the least of my worries.”
“This is a dangerous business, Cody. I thought you were a rancher?”
“I am, most of the year. We do this trade once a year. It’s very lucrative.”
“Did Albert suck you into this?”
“No. I asked if he needed help.”
“How did you find out?”
“I spent a lot of time with Uncle Al. I was the closest he had to a son.”
“So,” I said, “you must know about his affair with the woman he worked with.” I thought I’d throw it in, see what happened.
“Who?” he said.
“The woman Opal says creatively murdered him.”
“Wow, she said that?” Cody looked sincerely interested now. “Unbelievable.”
“Is she a real person?”
Cody’s eyes went flat when he realized I was fishing, that I didn’t know. He shrugged. “Real as anything can be with Opal right now.”
How was I to find this woman? I don’t think I could just phone up spy central and ask for her. Opal wasn’t even sure about her name.
Jake said, “I guess you wouldn’t consider letting us go on our word. I’m not interested in this line of work. I don’t think Fiona is either, are you?”
I shook my head and helped myself to a third Danish. They were small. “No,” I said, “I’m best at interior design.”
Cody said, “You sure are asking a lot of questions for not being interested.”
Jake tried to rise.
Cody motioned him down with the gun.
“Mind if I refill the coffee?” Jake said.
Cody relented. “Bring the pot over. I want a refill.”
“Me, too,” I said.
This was all so civil.
Jake left his cup on the table and fetched the coffee pot. He poured Cody’s first. Then, as he finished, with a deft flick of his wrist he threw the remaining pot into Cody’s face. Cody’s arms flew up to protect his face, and Jake smashed the coffee pot against the wrist that held the gun. It skittered across the table.
Cody kept screaming son-of-a-bitch while trying to clear his eyes. Jake delivered an impressive chop to Cody’s neck, and the poor cowboy slumped over onto the table.
“Nice work, Jake,” I said.
He yanked me out of the chair. I was still clutching the Danish.
“Which way to the car?” he said.
“Back entrance.”
We high tailed it from the kitchen, leaving another mess for Hudson to clean up.
* * * * *
“Jake, we have to go to the police.”
We were speeding along in a line of lively commuter traffic, going I wasn’t sure where, Jake at the wheel. He glanced in my direction.
“Fiona, this kind of stuff is FBI and ATF people, not a group I want to get involved with. We could get framed by Cody and those goons he’s dealing with. I’m not willing to take that chance. I want out.”