"I found him when I was a sophomore in college. He was so tiny and skinny then, not larger than one of his legs is now. The vet thinks he's about seven or eight years old now. Once Grubster trained me with a can opener, he never stopped eating."
Sherlock made more coffee. I lit the logs in the fireplace. The room was soon warm and cozy. Sherlock said unexpectedly, "It was probably a good thing you saw Laura use a gun. She was forced to tell you everything. I hate to go into situations blind."
"My wife," Savich said, patting her thigh, "can find a silver lining in a ditch. But you know, it's probably better that the shooters got away. If you'd taken them in, the shit would have hit the fan and you'd be sitting here watching yourself on national news. The agency directors would be arguing about who should be in charge, and the criminals would probably disappear while all the bureaucratic chaos was going on.
You and Laura would be separated and sent to different sides of the country for endless debriefings that would ultimately lead nowhere. So Sherlock's right, as usual."
He stood up and picked cat hairs off his jeans. "I do have an announcement to make. Laura is nuts about you, Mac, so there's one good thing in all this mess. Now, let's get this show on the road."
I heard a car coming down the dirt road. I reached automatically to my belt. "Where did you park your car, Savich?"
"Behind the cottage."
"Good," I said. "Everyone stay put." I pulled out my SIG, eased open the front door, and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind me.
Chapter Seventeen
Cal's light blue BMW Roadster convertible roared toward me. The earth was still damp from the rain, so the car didn't kick up any dust though she'd jammed on the brakes to do just that. I remembered our own party at her parents' house and winced.
I quickly tucked my SIG into the back of my pants, called out, and waved to her. Cal got out of the little car and looked at me, but didn't wave or say anything, just waited for me to come to her. She was wearing baggy jeans and a huge sweater that came nearly to her knees. Her glasses were firmly on her nose. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail.
When I was nearly to the car, she jumped me, just as she had the night of the party. Her legs went around my waist, her arms around my neck. She started kissing me enthusiastically all over my face.
I gave her a hug and peeled her off me. "Hi, Cal, what's cooking?"
"What's wrong, Mac? Don't you want to make love?
How about over on the edge of the cliff. It's warm enough, or I'll get you warm soon enough. How about it?"
"I've got company, Cal."
"Oh yes, Mom told me you were here at Seagull Cottage with Laura Scott, that you were playing FBI agent and protecting her. That right?"
"Yeah, that's right. It's early, Cal. What can I do for you?"
"I just came around to see if there was anything I could do to help. Where's this Laura Scott you're protecting?"
"I'm right here."
Sure enough, Laura was standing on the single step that led to the front door. "Hi," she said. "I'm Laura Scott."
"I'm Cal Tarcher. No one can figure out why anybody wants to kill you."
"Easy enough," Laura said. "I'm a DEA agent. I was undercover until just last week, when my cover broke down. See, I was getting too close to something. Would you like to come inside? I think there's some breakfast left. You and Mac seem to be great friends."
"You're a DEA agent? Does that mean you're a drug cop?"
"That's exactly what I am."
"What are you doing here, with Mac?"
"That's a very long story. Would you like to go on in?"
I said in Laura's ear after Cal passed us both and went inside the cottage, "You didn't have to invite her in, dammit."
"Why not? You two sure do seem on very good terms. I'd be almost tempted to say intimate terms.
Sherlock and Savich are holed up in the bedroom. Can we expect any more of your conquests to show up, Mac?"
"Cut it out, Laura. It's not what you think. Besides, I'd barely met you when Cal nailed me."
"She nailed you? Usually it's said the other way around. Poor Mac, all these women after your body."
"You're the last so you'd better not put too many holes in me."
She lightly patted my cheek and followed Cal into the cottage.
Laura had removed all signs of Sherlock and Savich. I wondered why they hadn't wanted to stay out here. "How about some bacon and toast, Cal?"
"Thanks, Mac. Hey, who's this?"
"That's my cat, Grubster."
Cal immediately broke a piece of bacon in half and fed it to Grubster. "He's a pig." Having said that, Cal took a big bite of toast. She leaned down and gave Grubster the other half of the bacon.
"He'll kill for you now."
"He's beautiful. Who's that?"
"Squawk."
"That's my mynah bird, Nolan. Would you like some coffee, Cal?"
She nodded and Laura soon returned with the coffeepot and poured, then went back into the kitchen.
Cal took a drink, then sat forward on her chair and whispered in a very loud stage voice, "I know you have to protect her, Mac, but just maybe we can get rid of her for a while? She seems nice, she'll probably want to take a walk on the cliffs. She won't have to stay out long. I figure I can have you out of those pants in under three seconds."
Stones were piled on top of my tongue. "It might be nice to have a bed this time instead of the floor.
What do you think?"
"Cal," I said, "this isn't the time, really. Laura can't be alone. This isn't a game-someone's trying to kill her."
"Oh, I don't know, Mac," Laura said, grinning, not six feet away, "I think I'd like a walk on the cliffs. You two can just go tangle up the sheets. Would you like me to make the bed before I leave?"
I knew it. I just knew it. There was no justice, no fairness in the world. What there was, was Laura standing two feet away from Cal, no expression at all on her face, and I knew that was a bad sign.
"You see, Mac?" Cal said. "Laura doesn't mind. You'd really make up the bed for us?"
"It's not all that messed up," said the woman I'd made love to the previous night, the woman who Savich said was nuts about me. "We both slept like logs, little movement. Hey, I could just spread the covers and you two could tussle on top. How about that?"
Cal was suddenly very quiet. "You two slept together last night?"
"Yes," I said, standing. "We did. Now, Cal, we've got lots of stuff to do. Was there anything specific you wanted?"
"No, just you, Mac." Cal slid off the bar stool. She took the last bite of her toast. She wiped her hands on her jeans' leg. "I thought this was just a cop assignment for you, Mac," she said slowly.
"It's a lot of things, Cal. Is there any word on Jilly?"
Cal shook her head. "Surely Maggie would call you first if she found out anything." She looked over at Laura, for a very long time. "Do you know what, Laura?"
"No, what?"
"I sure would like to paint you. Your face isn't all that interesting, but your clothes are so tight I can tell you've got a great body. How about it?" I pictured Cal jumping Laura after she'd sketched her body.
Laura was staring at Cal like she was two boards shy of a floor. Then, slowly, she turned to me. "What do you think, Mac?"
"Cal's a good artist," I said.
"No, do you think I've got a great body?"
"Yes, and Cal's still a good artist."
"Okay," Cal said, rubbing her hands together. "We can set up a time for next week. About us, Mac, we can talk about it another time, since you say you're so busy. Oh yeah, I got some of those French condoms, you know, the ones that are real slippery and ribbed?"