Although the shop had done uncannily well almost from the day they had opened the doors, and although it had actually become profitable in the third week of operation (an unheard-of situation for a new business), Christine was still surprised and delighted every day that the cash register kept ringing. Six and a half years of dependable profitability had still not made her blas6 about success.
The hustle and bustle of Wine & Dine made Monday afternoon pass a lot faster than she had thought possible when, reluctantly, she had left Joey with Charlie Harrison. The crazy old woman was in the back of her mind, of course. Several times she thought of Brandy's decapitated corpse on the back porch, and she felt weak and dry-mouthed for a few minutes. And Henry Rankin was ever-present, helping bag purchases, putting price tags on some new merchandise, assisting them wherever he could, pretending to be an employee, but surreptitiously keeping an eye on the customers, prepared to tackle one of them if Christine appeared to be threatened. Nevertheless, in spite of the bloody images of the dog that haunted her, and in spite of the constant reminder of danger that Henry's presence provoked, the hours flitted past, and it was a relief to be kept busy.
Val Gardner was a help, too. With some misgivings, Christine had told her the situation, although she had expected Val to pester her with questions all day long and drive her half crazy by five o'clock. Val seemed to thrive on the smallest adversity, claiming to be "traumatized" by even such minor setbacks as a leaky bathroom faucet or a run in her stockings. Val found drama and even tragedy in a head cold or a broken fingernail, but she was never really upset or depressed by any of the little twists of fate that brought on her histrionics; she just enjoyed being the heroine of her own soap opera, dramatizing her life, making it more colorful for herself. And if she was temporarily without a trauma to brighten her day, she could make do with the problems of her friends, taking them upon herself as if she were a combination of Dear Abby and Atlas with the world on her shoulders. But she was a well-meaning woman, with a good sense of humor, honest, hardworking. And now, somewhat to Christine's surprise, Val was sensitive enough to avoid dwelling on the crazy woman and the threats on Joey's life; she held her tongue even though she must have been eaten up by a thousand nibbling questions.
At five o'clock, Charlie Harrison showed up with Joey and two guys who looked as if they were on their way to a casting call for a new Hercules movie. They were the bodyguards who would be on duty until another team replaced them at midnight.
The first was Pete Lockburn, who was six-three, with curly blond hair, a solemn face, and watchful eyes. The shoulders of his suit jacket looked as if they were padded out with a couple of railroad ties, but it was only Pete himself under there. The other was Frank Reuther, a black man, every bit as formidable as Lockburn, handsome, with the biggest hands Christine had ever seen. Both Lockburn and Reuther were neatly dressed in suits and ties, and both were soft-spoken and polite, yet you would somehow never mistake them for Baptist ministers or advertising account executives. They looked as if they wrestled grizzly bears and broke full-grown oak trees in half just to keep in shape.
Val stared at them, amazed, and a new look of concern took possession of her face when she turned to Christine." Oh, Chris, baby, listen, I guess maybe it didn't really hit me until your army here showed up. I mean, this is really serious, isn't it?"
"Really serious," Christine agreed.
The two men Grace chose for the mission were Pat O'Hara and Kevin Baumberg. O'Hara was a twenty-four-year-old Irishman, husky, slightly overweight, a convert from Catholicism. Baumberg was a short, stocky man with a thick black beard. He had walked away from a lifetime of Judaism-as well as from a family and a prosperous jewelry store-to help Mother Grace prepare the world for Twilight, the coming of the Antichrist. She selected them for the assassination attempt because they symbolized two important things: the universal appeal of her message, and the brotherhood of all good men, which was the only power that had a chance of delaying or preventing the end of the world.
A few minutes after five o'clock, O'Hara and Baumberg carried a couple of laundry bags out of the church basement in Anaheim. They climbed a set of concrete steps into a macadam parking lot.
The early winter night, sailing across the sky like a vast black armada, had already driven most of the light toward the western horizon. A few threatening clouds had come in from the sea, and the air was cool and damp.
O'Hara and Baumberg put the laundry bags into the trunk of a white Chrysler sedan that belonged to the church. The bags contained two shotguns, two revolvers, and ammunition that had been blessed by Mother Grace.
Tense, frightened, preoccupied with thoughts of mortality, neither man felt like talking. In silence, they drove out of the parking lot and into the street, where a newborn wind suddenly stirred the curbside trees and blew dry leaves along the gutters.
As Tammy dealt with the last customers of the day, Charlie said to Christine, "Any problems? Anybody cause any trouble?"
"No. It was peaceful."
Henry Rankin said, "What did you dig up on The True Word? "
"It'll take too long to tell you," Charlie said." I want to take Christine and Joey home, make sure their house is secure, get them settled in for the night. But I brought your car. It's outside, and on the front seat there's a copy of the file to date. You can read it later and get caught up."
"You need me any more tonight?" Henry asked.
"Nope," Charlie said.
And Joey said, "Mom, come on. Come out to the car. I want to show you something really neat."
"In a second, honey."
Although both Lockburn and Reuther were, at least physically, the kind of men about whom most women fantasized, Val Gardner hardly gave either of them a second glance. She zeroed in on Charlie as soon as he was finished talking to Henry Rankin, and she turned up her charm until it was as hot as a gas flame.
"I've always wanted to meet a detective," Val said breathlessly." It must be such an exciting life."
"Actually, it's usually boring," Charlie said." Most of our work is research or stakeout, hour after gutters.hour of boredom."
"But once in a while. " Val said teasingly.
"Well, sure, now and then there's some fireworks."
"I'll bet those are the moments you live for," Val said.
"No one looks forward to being shot at or punched in the face by the husband in a nasty divorce case."
"You're just being modest," Val said, shaking a finger at him, winking as cute as she knew how.
And she sure knows how, Christine thought. Val was an extremely attractive woman, with auburn hair, luminous green eyes, and a striking figure. Christine envied her lush good looks.
Although a few men had told Christine that she was beautiful, she never really believed those who paid the compliment. She had never been attractive in her mother's eyes; in fact, her mother had referred to her as a "plain" child, and although she knew her mother's standards were absurdly high and that her mother's opinions were not always rational or fair, Christine still had an image of herself as a somewhat pretty woman, in the most modest sense, more suited to being a nun than a siren. Sometimes, when Val was dressed in her finest and being coquettish, Christine felt like a boy beside her.
To Charlie, Val said, "I'll bet you're the kind of man who needs a little danger in his life to spice it up, the kind of man who knows how to deal with danger."
" You're romanticizing me, I'm afraid," Charlie said.
But Christine could see that he enjoyed Val's attentions.
Joey said, "Mom, please, come on. Come out to the car. We got a dog. A real beauty. Come see him."