She nodded. “Yes, we did. You got it!”
“You played us!” It wasn’t Ronnie who had manipulated me-it was my mother! “Why?”
Georgia Bombay sighed heavily, and I saw for the first time that she was old. “You know, my generation tried to get out of the business before you were born.”
Suddenly I was wide-awake. “You never told me. What happened?”
“Oh…” She waved her hand dismissively. “We were children of the sixties-very antiestablishment. The council represented the Man. We didn’t want to kill. We wanted peace.”
An image of the council members as hippies invaded my brain. I shuddered.
“Unfortunately, as you know, our parents’ generation was much more hard-core. They came from the generation of the Great War between good and evil. Everything was black-and-white to them. They were convinced that carrying on the tradition was their way of saving the world.”
“Damn. I would’ve liked to see you take on the council.” And I wanted to too. That had to be something to see.
“We have it somewhere on film. I think Pete kept a copy. The council recorded everything back then. They were pretty paranoid.”
I took a moment to wrap my mind around this. It was an incredible shock.
“But our folks wouldn’t hear of disbanding the organization. They didn’t want to kill us either, so they agreed to pretend it never happened if we went back to work. Which we did.”
“I can’t believe this.” I really couldn’t. “So you set us up to bring down the company.”
“Yes! And it worked brilliantly too! I’m quite the actress, wouldn’t you say? York wanted to hold out a little longer-you know, add some more drama to make it fun. But Pete couldn’t hold off anymore.”
Make it fun? Okay. I could understand that.
“And it was fun finally giving it all up once and for all. Well, except for when Missi electrocuted us. That sort of sucked, dear.”
I grinned. “I guess it sort of did.” So it was all a ruse. How about that. Who would have thought my mother was capable of such surprises?
“Well, I really should be going, honey. They are all waiting for me.”
“Who is?”
“The rest of the council. We’re heading to Greenland to tell our parents.”
I frowned. “What if they don’t like the idea?”
She smiled. “Well, I guess they will just have to stay at that nursing home then, won’t they?” With a wink, she was gone.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Blue Raja: Your boy’s a limey fork-flinger, Mother. What will the bridge club say?
Blue Raja’s Mother: You need more forks?
– MYSTERY MEN
My cell rang the moment the door closed. The caller ID said, Veronica Gale, 27, grad student at the University of Iowa, a bit anal-retentive about anthropology. I didn’t know how Missi did that.
“Hello.” I didn’t really know what to say. Me! The man who always had something pithy to say.
“Why did you leave?”
“You weren’t speaking.” To me that seemed like a demand to get out of her life forever. But maybe that was just me.
“Where are you now?” She sounded a little frantic. Was she worried I had left the state? That would be nice.
I gave her directions and, to my surprise, she hung up on me. Ten minutes later I was not so surprised when she knocked on my door.
“So this is where you live?” She wandered around, opening cupboards and poking into things. “It’s nice.”
“Thanks.”
“And you look awful. Like you were crying or got punched in the face.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Well, which was it?” she demanded.
“Crying.” I was man enough to admit that. Or was I? I wasn’t really sure what kind of man I was anymore. And that came as a shock.
Veronica plucked Sartre from my bed and sat down holding her. “Why did you say you’d help me?”
“What?” I missed something.
“Why did you say you would help me find Anderson’s killer if you knew it was you?”
That was a fair question. “You were so passionate about it. I wanted to help you.”
“Did you think you would ever tell me the truth?”
“I have no idea.”
“Really?”
“Really. I had no idea where this would lead. I guess I just thought I’d see where the wind took me.”
Veronica thought about that for a moment. “Kind of like your life, huh?”
I nodded. She was right.
“I like your RV. Is this where we will live?”
I sat down out of shock. “What are you saying?”
She shook her head like I was clueless. “It’s either this or my asbestos-infested apartment. That professor is coming back from Paraguay soon.”
“You…you want to live with me?” I actually stuttered. That had to be a first.
“Yes, Coney Bombay. I want to live with you. I want to make an honest man out of you and be a mother to your guinea pig.”
“Wow. That’s a good offer.” I smiled. “Okay. You can live here.”
Ronnie closed the gap between us, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me in a way that made my hair stand on end.
“Okay. I’ll get my stuff. Just one thing.”
I kissed her again. It felt like home. “And what is that?”
She smiled. “I really hate the nickname Ronnie.”
Epilogue
And so it came to pass that the Bombays were out of the assassination business. This was big news, but there was no one we could really tell. Mum’s visit to Greenland with the others went well. The previous council members had had enough of pureed food and the sullen staff. They all retired to Santa Muerta to live out the rest of their days in peace. I think they even liked it.
My cousins were thrilled with their early retirement. No one really had to work ever again, due to our trust funds. But I did hear a rumor about Paris and Dak opening a marketing consulting firm. We all visit our island from time to time, for real vacations now. Missi took down the ropes course in what she called “a ritualistic cleansing with fire.” I’m not sure what that was all about.
Mum and Dad took a trip around the world to celebrate. By the time they came back one year later, Veronica and I presented them with their first grandson, named Theodore. He was the first Bombay without a place-name. My parents bought an RV so they could travel with us wherever we went. This was annoying at first, until we realized how difficult it was to find sitters when you didn’t know where you were.
Sartre appeared to like the new addition to the family. She seemed a bit honored, if guinea pigs could be honored, that we gave the baby her name for his middle name. As for Veronica and me, we decided that we were just going to travel around the country, checking things out here at home. We figured we had five years to find the place we would want to settle down before Theodore had to start school. My mother is rooting for New Mexico, but I kind of like San Francisco. Dad is still trying to convince us to move to Australia, and, according to Veronica, no matter where we go, Iowa is the best place to be.
Who knows where we will end up? I’m not making any plans yet. I am looking forward to settling down with my family…someday. And for a retired carney/assassin with a guinea pig and a Ph.D., the future looks pretty good.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A huge, overdue, and much-deserved “thank you” to Cheryl Smith. This woman dragged me up to meet my future editor at RWA in Atlanta and forced me to pitch this series to her. Without Cheryl, who knows if the Bombays would exist in print?
Thanks, Cheryl!
Leslie Langtry
