Page 95 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

“Are you involved with Ms. Jones?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Ms. Gardner. All you need to know is that she is my employee, and a very good one at that.”

There was silence at the other end.

“Does this mean Ms. Jones is no longer in trouble?”

“That’s not the only trouble she has,” Ms. Gardner murmured.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing? I’ll make note of your call into my records, Mr. Good. It’s commendable that you would give a hardened criminal a second chance.”

Was that sarcasm he detected?

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Gardner,” he said with an iciness that was the best he could garner in terms of politeness.

“Good for you,” Harry said. “Do you think she’ll suffer for my slip?”

“I don’t know.” At the very least, the fallout would mean the entire town knew of her background. “But don’t blame yourself. I’m on it now.” Merrill was not without powerful friends from long years working for Uncle Sam and higher-ups in government. He wasn’t above calling in some markers, if need be.

He spent an hour with Harry, making a list of business matters and calls that needed to be answered ASAP, in order of priority. At the end of that time, he told Harry, “I need to go out for a while. You go home. I’ll come back later this afternoon to take care of the rest.”

Harry nodded. “You’re going to make things up with Delilah?”

“I hope to.” He grinned then. “Guess you’re going to have to drop me off. Delilah took her bike.”

Harry grinned back at him. Even with a wheelchair, the old man was able to drive. Merrill helped him, though, folding up the wheelchair and putting it in the back of the SUV and then watching as he used a walker to get to the driver’s seat.

When they got close to the diner, Merrill said, “Uh-oh!” and asked Harry to slow down.

“What’s up?”

“See that Caddy over there on the street in front of the diner?”

“The one with the Jersey plate that says ‘GOON’?”

“Yep. I think it might be some loan shark jerk up to no good with the Glam Gram.”

“Sal? Someone followed her here from New Jersey?” Harry was clearly more than interested.

“Might be. As I recall, there was a mention of breaking legs with his cane.”

“Whaat? We can’t let that happen. Let’s go back to the forge and get those rifles.”

“No. No weapons necessary. But I might need your help.”

Harry eased his van onto the parking lot. Everything seemed to be quiet. Merrill’s pickup truck, Delilah’s motorcycle, and the Glam Gram’s tank were there, as well as K-4’s and Adam’s vehicles parked in front of their motel units. But no one was about.

But wait. Merrill thought he heard a noise coming from behind the diner. It was Maggie and she was crying, “Don’t you hurt my Gramma, you poopyhead.”

“Stay here and call Sheriff Henderson. Tell him we have a potential criminal event taking place here.”

“Gotcha.” Harry was already speaking in his phone before Merrill opened his car door and grabbed one of Harry’s crutches from the backseat, saying, “Hey, Bill. Elvis diner. ASAP. Crime in progress.” The sheriff must have said something, and Harry replied, “Yeah, you better bring an ambulance, just in case.”

Merrill walked softly up behind Maggie and lifted her up from behind, putting a hand over her mouth. Into her ear, he whispered, “As soon as I set you down, run to your Mommy. Do you understand?” She looked at him over her shoulder and nodded.

The “goon” was snarling at Grandma. “You stupid bitch. I tol’ you Sharkie wouldn’t let you get away without payin’ off your tab. Now you owe another five thousand, and I got orders to hurt you real bad if you don’t cooperate.”