Wally twisted the cap back onto the ointment.
“Better?” Bert asked him.
“Yeah. Thanks. And thanks for this.” He patted the shirt pocket where he’d put the mosquito repellent.
“It was nice meeting you,” Jase said. Then, he stepped over to the muddy ashes of the fire and tossed in his cigarette butt.
“Well,” Bert said, “if we don’t run into you fellows up ahead somewhere, have a real good trip.”
Don’t worry, Rick thought. We’ll run into them again. They’ll see to it.
“Yeah,” Jase said. “So long.”
“Nice meeting you,” Wally said.
“See you around,” said Luke.
“Take it easy, guys,” Bert told them.
“Yeah,” added Rick.
He watched the three turn away and head for the trail. Wally looked back and waved. Jase glanced back a couple of times. Luke didn’t.
“Nice kids,” Bert said.
“That remains to be seen.”
She looked at him. “Did I miss something?”
“Hell, they were drooling all over you.”
“Drooling?”
Rick nodded. For a moment, he couldn’t see the three boys. Then they appeared on the other side of a rock cluster. “Looks like they’re leaving,” he muttered.
“Expect them to circle around and jump us?” She sounded amused.
“It’s a possibility.”
“My protector,” she said, and patted his rump.
Rick was tempted to lift his shirt and show her what was in his belt.
Protector, all right.
He fought the urge. If Bert found out that he had a gun, she would go into shock.
She’ll find out if I have to use it, he thought. Then she’ll be damn glad I was scared and crazy enough to bring it along.
“Want to stand guard while I pee?” Bert asked.
“Why don’t you wait a few minutes?”
The smile left her face. “They’re gone, honey.”
“Maybe.”
Frowning, Bert gently stroked his cheek. “I wish you wouldn’t worry so much.”
“Me too.”
“There’s honestly no need for it. We’re perfectly safe out here. We left all the nutcases behind in LA.”
“I hope so.”
“Anyway, my teeth are floating.”
The trail looked deserted. There was no sign of the boys. “Okay, go ahead. But stay out of sight.”
She turned away and walked toward her pack.
Rick shifted his attention from the trail to Bert until she wandered into the trees with a roll of toilet paper in her hand.
The moment she was gone, he rushed over to his pack. After a quick search, he found a T-shirt. He wrapped it around his revolver and stuffed them in a side pocket of his pack. He zipped the pocket shut, patted it, and felt the hardness of the gun inside.
Now he’d be able to get at it without taking his pack apart.
Still wouldn’t be as fast as he’d like.
He only wished he could wear the gun on his hip.
Chapter Ten
Gillian took photographs of every room in Fredrick Holden’s house for her scrapbooks. When shooting the bedroom, she was especially careful to avoid catching her reflection in the mirrors. In the past, she had sometimes taken pictures of herself, either in mirrors or using the camera’s delayed timing device. Fortunately, she hadn’t done that at the Farnsworth house, where the family returned home early and she left everything behind, camera included. After that, she stopped taking self-portraits.
Once every room of Fredrick Holden’s house had been photographed to her satisfaction, Gillian began to investigate.
She started with the kitchen. The notes on the bulletin board by the phone provided no information about Uncle Fredrick’s trip. There were scribbled names and telephone numbers, nothing of much interest.
The refrigerator was well stocked, but Gillian noticed that it held no milk or cream. A good sign. Fredrick had removed the perishables, not wanting to return home and find his refrigerator stinky. He wouldn’t have tossed such things if he planned to be gone for only a couple of days. If Gillian could just find out the date he left ...
The freezer section was full of goodies: steaks, lamb chops, chicken breasts, bags of onion rings and Golden Crisp Potato Nuggets, two sausage pizzas, chocolate-chip ice-cream, a box of tacquito hors d’oeuvres, and a dozen TV dinners such as veal parmesan, lasagna, fried jumbo shrimp, and lobster Neuberg.
Gillian decided she was hungry.
She turned on the oven, tore open a box of pizza, and slid the frozen slab onto the oven tray. After setting the timer for ten minutes, she took a lamb chop from the freezer and set it aside to defrost for dinner.
The pleasant odors of the pizza stole her concentration as she inspected the drawers and cupboards. When the dinger sounded, she opened the oven door. The heat washed over her. She breathed deeply of the rich, spicy aromas. The tomato sauce and cheese bubbled, but the crust needed to darken some more. Leaving it in the oven, she went into the bar and got herself a bottle of Corona beer.
She checked the pizza again. The rim of its crust was golden brown, nearly black in places, just the way she liked it.
She cut out several large wedges, put them on a plate, and sprinkled them with salt and pepper.
She ate outside, sitting cross-legged on the lounge chair with the plate on her lap. The sun felt uncomfortably hot on her bare skin. The pizza, in spite of its wonderful look and smell, was more of a disappointment than a pleasure.
If I’d wanted the taste of cardboard, Gillian thought, I would’ve eaten the box.
But the beer was cold and tasted terrific.
Her hand was wet from the bottle. She rubbed it over her shoulders, sighing as the cool moisture soothed her hot skin.
I ought to get Jerry to invite me over for a swim, she thought.
Forget it. No fraternizing with the neighbors.
She looked over at Fredrick’s spa. The water in there was probably cool.
Later, she told herself. I have more snooping to do before I can flake out.
The second and third slices of pizza didn’t seem as awful as the first. Gillian supposed that they were no less awful; that they only seemed better because she was growing accustomed to the lousy flavor.
When her plate and bottle were empty, she stood up. She was streaming with sweat and the seat of her bikini pants clung to her buttocks. She plucked the fabric away as she walked over to the fence. On tiptoes, she gazed into Jerry’s yard. No sign of him. His pool looked delicious.
He should be in it, Gillian thought. I should be in it.
Back in the house, she peeled off her bikini, went into the bathroom, and took a brief, cool shower. It felt great. In the bedroom, she put on a lightweight sleeveless shirt that draped her thighs. She buttoned it at the waist, and returned to the kitchen.
She wrapped-the left-over pizza in aluminum foil and put it in the refrigerator. It would make a decent snack, cardboard taste or not, for tonight when she planned to watch movies on the VCR.
With another beer from the refrigerator behind the bar, Gillian sat down at a small desk in one corner of the den. The top of the desk was clear. She searched the drawers.
Fredrick had left behind his checkbook, which seemed a little odd. The balancing was up-to-date. His account had a total of $1,248.60.
The last check had been written on June 20.
Friday.
Jesus!
Gillian grinned.
He was still in town on Friday, day before yesterday. I got here yesterday.
He’d stopped his mail, tossed his milk so it wouldn’t go sour.
I bet I could stay two, three more nights. Maybe longer if I want to push it.
The check dated June 20 had been made out to “cash” in the amount of $2,000.00.