He stopped himself in time. She ended the sentence for him. “His backside to the wall?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you keep looking at your watch?”
“Timing is everything,” he said. “My appointment with Gary Carson is at twelve-thirty.”
“You made an appointment?”
“Sure.”
“Did you tell him what you wanted to see him about?”
“And ruin the surprise? Of course I didn’t tell him the truth. I told his secretary I wanted to do some business with the mill.”
“Turn left at the next corner,” she instructed. “And follow this road for a couple of miles. The mill’s out in the country,” she added. “So Carson thinks he’s getting a new account.”
“That’s right.”
“Wallbash will probably call him and tell him about your visit.”
“He’ll call him at exactly one o’clock and not a minute before, or I’ll have auditors tearing that bank apart before he can blink. He’ll wait.”
“Would you really do that?”
He didn’t answer her. She studied his profile for several minutes and then said, “When you want something, you don’t let anything get in your way, do you?”
“That’s right, I don’t. You might want to keep that in mind.”
“You always win?”
He looked at her. “What do you think?”
It was subtle, the way he had changed the subject. They both knew they were talking about getting his way with her now. Then she remembered what he had said to her before he’d even unpacked the night before. He wouldn’t have to go to her bed. She would come to him. When hell freezes over, she thought. She turned to look out her window. Then another thought occurred to her, and she said, “What about payroll? If you froze their accounts, how will the men get paid?”
“The court will appoint someone to write the checks.”
“What if the brothers shut down the mill out of spite?”
“They’re making too much money to shut down, and besides, I’m not going to let them.”
“You can do that?”
“Sure I can. If they don’t cooperate, when I’m finished with them, the employees will own the company.”
Theo could see the mill in the distance. There were smokestacks jutting out of round silos nestled in between two huge concrete-block buildings. All were connected.
The closer he got, the bleaker the place looked. It had a dirty gray façade and dirty windows, but it didn’t look as if it was in bad shape. He parked in the gravel lot, got out, and looked around.
“Mr. Buchanan?”
He turned at the sound of the voice. “Connelly?”
A tall, thin man wearing a business suit approached the car. “Yes, sir.”
“Everything in order?”
Connelly lifted his briefcase. “Yes, sir, it is. I just got word. He’s filed.”
Theo leaned into the open car door and said to Michelle, “Do you mind waiting here?”
“Okay,” she answered, “but if I hear gunshots, I’m going to come running.”
He turned to Connelly, introduced him to Michelle, and then said, “When I come out, you go in. I want you to wait outside the door.”
Theo left the motor running. Removing her seat belt, Michelle pushed the seat back and turned on the radio. Willie Nelson was singing. She took it as a good omen. Maybe Theo wouldn’t run into any trouble after all.
Three songs and nine commercials later, Theo came outside. He was smiling as Connelly passed him on his way inside. Theo double-timed it to the car, slid into the seat, and put the car in drive before he shut his door. She barely had time to click her seat belt closed before he was speeding down the drive.
“Are we making a fast getaway?”
“I’m hungry.”
“But you’re watching the rearview mirror,” she remarked as she turned in her seat to look out the back window.
“Just being cautious. Never know who might have a shotgun under his desk.”
“It went that well?”
“Actually, it did go well. Gary Carson’s a real nice guy. Couldn’t have been more understanding and pleasant. Wants to do the right thing. I can’t tell you how many times he said that. Of course, he qualified it with the veiled threat that he’d have to close the mill because, and I quote, ‘We’re just scraping by.’”
“And how did you respond?”
He flashed her a grin. “I laughed.”
“So you were tactful.”
He laughed. “Sure.”
“You’re really getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?”
He seemed surprised by the question and then said, “Yes, I am. It feels good helping Daryl. Feels real good.”
“Because you can see the difference you’re making.”
“Yes. Of course, this case is easy. I should have it settled before the weekend.”
“You really think you can get the problem fixed in a couple of days?”
“Yes, I do. Unless the brothers have some cash stashed away I don’t know about and think they can hold out. But even then, it won’t matter. They’ve broken so many laws, I could put both of them behind bars. OSHA would have a field day in that plant.”
“Did the hothead go for your throat?”
“No,” he said.
She grinned. “You sound disappointed.”
“I am,” he admitted. “I wanted to see their routine. Jim Carson’s in New Orleans for the day, but he’s supposed to be back in Bowen around six. Gary mentioned he was going to wait to tell his brother face-to-face instead of calling him on his cell phone, probably so he can get him foaming at the mouth before he sics him on me. My guess is that I’ll be hearing from Jim about five minutes after Gary imparts the news.”
“Did you happen to tell Gary where you were going to be tonight?”
He grinned. “I might have mentioned that I’d be at The Swan.”
She sighed. “You may get to shoot someone after all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The new high school football stadium was impressive. The football team, on the other hand, was anything but. They were, in Theo’s estimation, unbelievably bad.
The boys wanted to show off for him. They did have talent; they just didn’t know what to do with it. Conrad Freeland had to scream at the top of his lungs to be heard over the boys’ shouting matches. He used his whistle so often the kids pretty much ignored the sound. Practice was chaotic and deafening.
Conrad finally got the first string to cooperate long enough to line up. They then began running back and forth across the beautifully manicured field like chickens with their heads cut off.
Theo and Michelle stood next to the music teacher on the fifty-yard line watching. Beaming with pride, Conrad turned to Theo and asked, “What do you think of your boys?”
Theo ignored the “your boys” reference — he wasn’t about to claim ownership of this motley crew — and said, “Why don’t you run some plays, and Michelle and I will sit in the stands and watch. It’s been a few years,” he warned, “but maybe I can give you some suggestions.”
Conrad looked confused. Nodding toward the field, he said, “That was the play.”
“Excuse me?”
“You just saw the play.”
“The play? You only have one . . .” He was trying not to smile, because he didn’t want Conrad to think he wasn’t taking practice seriously.
The music teacher nervously tugged on his collar. He was dressed for a music recital in an immaculately pressed long-sleeve white dress shirt, pin-striped tie, and a navy blazer. The clouds were heavy with rain, and it was so sticky and hot that Theo thought Conrad had to be suffocating.
Michelle nudged him. “It’s a nice play, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer. Then Conrad said, “We’ve only perfected that one play you just saw. We call it the stinger.”
“I see,” he remarked for lack of anything better to say that wasn’t a blatant lie.
“Good, isn’t it?”
Michelle nudged Theo again. He ignored her and turned to Conrad. He didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings. It was obvious he had worked hard to get the undisciplined boys to cooperate, but Theo wasn’t going to start lying to him either, and so he simply said, “Interesting.”
“You’ve got to understand my position and the background of the team,” Conrad said, his voice earnest now. “Last year was our first year with a football team, and the coach . . . well, he just up and left in the middle of the season. Of course, he didn’t win any games. The boys don’t know what to do out there. I don’t know what I’m doing either,” he admitted. “Give me a flute, and I’ll teach you how to play it, but this,” he added with a wave of his hand, “is beyond me. It’s why we desperately need playbooks. I really have tried to do a good job.”
“I’m sure you have,” Theo agreed, trying to think of something positive to say.
“I even went searching on the computer. I can give you the history of football, but I can’t tell you how to play the game. I couldn’t make head nor tail out of all the drawings I found on the Internet. Lots of circles and arrows that didn’t make any sense to me.”
He removed the whistle from around his neck and offered it to Theo. “See what you can do, Coach.”
“I’m not . . .” Conrad had already jogged toward the watercooler. “. . . the coach,” Theo ended.
Michelle leaned into his side. “They’re really awful, aren’t they?” she whispered.
“Oh, yes,” he agreed.
She smiled. “I’ll go sit in the bleachers until you’re finished.”
Okay, he thought. One practice. He’d talk to the boys, tell them he’d send Freeland some playbooks and maybe a couple of films they could watch too, and that’s it. Then he was out of here. Yeah, that was his game plan.
Putting two fingers into his mouth, he whistled to get the boys’ attention and then motioned them over to him.
They ran like lumbering overweight foals. One kid fell down, got up, ran a couple more yards, and tripped over his own feet again. Theo hoped he wasn’t going out for the position of running back. They squeezed in around him as they pressed him with questions. Theo didn’t say a word. He simply held up one hand and waited. The noise finally died down.
In a low voice, he told them to remove their helmets and sit down on the grass in front of him. They actually obeyed. When they dropped to the ground, Theo swore he felt the earth move underneath him. Then Elliott Waterson shouted, “Where’s your gun, Coach?” And the noise started all over again.
Theo didn’t say a word. He simply stood there with his arms folded across his chest, waiting for them to catch on. It didn’t take long. Within a minute it was quiet again.
In a near whisper, he said, “Elliott, my gun is in a safe place, but I swear, the next kid who interrupts me while I’m talking is going to get clobbered. Understood?” He was forcing the boys to sit still and strain to hear what he had to say. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do.”
Michelle sat on the hard bleachers watching the transformation. She was astonished at how easily Theo had taken control of the boys. The team sat with their legs folded underneath them, their helmets in their laps. Every eye was on Theo, and the boys seemed to be hanging on his every word. Conrad looked impressed. He had walked back to Theo’s side and was nodding every now and then.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
Michelle turned at the sound of the voice and saw a tall, slightly overweight, dark-haired man standing just outside the tunnel that led to the locker rooms. He looked vaguely familiar to her.
“Yes?”
He walked forward. The stranger was dressed in khaki shorts and a matching short-sleeve khaki shirt with the word “Speedy” sewn above the breast pocket. There was a name tag dangling from the clip below the pocket. He carried a Speedy Messenger package — she recognized the label — but he was too far away for her to read his name.
“I’m looking for a Dr. Michelle Renard. Would you happen to know where I can find her?”
“I’m Dr. Renard.”
The messenger beamed. “Thank heavens. I’ve been all over this town searching for you.”
He tucked the package under his arm and hurried up the metal stairs.
“Do you have something for me?”
“No, Doctor. What I’ve got is a problem, but I’m hoping you’ll help me solve it before Eddie gets himself canned.”
“Excuse me?”
The messenger smiled. “Eddie’s the new guy with our company, and he screwed up big time,” he said. “My name’s Frank, by the way.” He extended his hand to shake hers. His palm was damp, his grip weak.
“How did your friend screw up?” she asked.
“He delivered the right packages to the wrong people,” he said. “But he really needs the job because his wife is expecting, and if Eddie gets fired for messing up, he’ll lose his insurance. Eddie’s only nineteen,” he added. “And I feel responsible because I’m the man who trained him, so I’m using my day off to try to fix this before the boss finds out about it.”
“That’s very nice of you,” she said. “How can I help?”
“You see, Eddie picked up a package from a law firm in New Orleans on Monday, and he should have filled out the label and put it on the package right then and there at the receptionist’s desk, but Eddie didn’t do that. He took it back to the company van. Now, he’d already picked up another package from Belzer Labs, and he hadn’t put the label on that package either. He figured he’d sit in the air-conditioned van and fill out both labels, but he stuck them on the wrong packages. The only way I found out about the screwup was when a secretary from another law firm called to say she had gotten the wrong package. When she opened hers, she found a bunch of literature about a new drug the company was going to be selling. Fortunately for Eddie, I was the one who happened to answer the phone. If that secretary had talked to the boss, I hate to think what would have happened. Speedy Messenger Service prides itself on being fast and reliable, and I swear that this is the first mix-up we’ve had in over three years. Anyway,” he added as he shifted from foot to foot, “I was hoping you could give me the package you got by mistake, and I’ll deliver it to the law firm today.”
