Full Tilt

  "I swear, Jamie, you do the strangest things."

  She was losing her patience with him. "Someone tried to kill me, Phillip. Don't you get it? Does it seem so odd to you that I might want to find out who that person is?" She realized she was shouting.

  "That's Lamar's job."

  "I could be dead and buried before Lamar finds anything."

  "I'm going to be your husband. It's up to me to see that you're safe."

  "Then work with me instead of against me."

  He wiped his brow. "This is not a good time for us to talk," he said. "I haven't slept all night, and for all I knew you were dead. I need time to calm down, I guess. I'll call you later." He climbed into his Mercedes and pulled away.

  Jamie watched the car disappear around the bend. When she looked up she found Max standing there. "Looks like you need a ride," he said.

  They climbed into Max's car after agreeing to meet the others back at the house.

  "Good morning, Muffin," Max said as soon as the bars had closed over them. "Did you miss me?"

  "It's about time you got back," she said in a terse voice. "I was so worried I almost rebooted my system. Did you meet Swamp Dog?"

  "Yeah. I'm thinking of fixing you up with him."

  "I'm not in the mood for your jokes, Max. Besides, I'm involved with a laptop at MIT, but every time we get into a really good chat you beep me, and I have to brush him off. Which proves I'm not supposed to have any sort of personal life. Your staff is worried about you. They think I'm not doing my job. That doesn't look good for me."

  "Tell them I'm okay, and there's nothing to worry about."

  "I'm doing so as we speak. I have to tell you, Max, there's too much stress in this job. I should give my notice. I want to work for someone who lives a normal life."

  "Nobody is normal, Muffin. Besides, you'd get bored. What do you have for me?"

  "So it's business as usual," she said.

  "Okay, I'm sorry I caused you to worry."

  She sighed. "From now on I'm keeping my personal feelings to myself. I don't care if you want to roller-skate naked down Mount Everest, you got that? Just don't tell me about it ahead of time."

  "The information, Muffin."

  "Does the name Harlan Rawlins mean anything to you?"

  "Sounds familiar."

  "He's a big-time tent revivalist from Tennessee."

  "I don't attend many tent revivals, but now that I think of it, I've read about him."

  "Harlan was one of several who put in a bid for your television network."

  "My broker handled the sale."

  "Harlan has a huge following, and from what I gather he's a fanatic. Crazy, too."

  "Aren't most fanatics?"

  "Anyway, seems he wasn't happy that you chose to sell the network to someone else. He was counting on using it for his ministry so he could spread the good word."

  "He has that kind of money?"

  "Like I said, he put in a bid, but your broker sold it to an educational company instead so Rawlins lost out. I hear some of his followers are big on grudges."

  "Just how big is this ministry?"

  "We're talking hundreds of thousands of people. He comes off as this small-town minister who's barely making ends meet. He uses fear tactics on his congregation. You know, fire and brimstone and all that. He's got a radio spot three days a week, including Sunday. I listened to one of his so-called sermons yesterday. It would give children nightmares."

  "Other than that, why is he scary?"

  "He's got friends in bad places."

  "How bad?"

  "Mob connections. And that means professional hit men."

  Max was thoughtful. "If that's the case it would explain the type of weapon used at the Gazette, but it doesn't explain Frankie's threats."

  "These guys could be playing mind games. There's another possibility. Maybe they're using Frankie's political aspirations to throw off suspicion."

  Max and Jamie exchanged looks. "Have you found anything out about the missing tax funds?"

  "Max, the people who run this town are shady. It's a good-old-boy system, as we suspected. Before city council approves a contract for a new building or park, they set requirements so that only one or two people can possibly meet their standards."

  "You're saying it doesn't matter if a bid is overpriced because they're going to give the job to someone in the loop."

  "Precisely."

  "Have you been able to find out who's on the take?"

  "I've checked bank accounts. Everything looks normal. I don't know where the money is going, but it's going somewhere."

  "Out of the country probably."

  "Deedee mentioned there are three wrestlers staying with them," Muffin said. "How well do you know them and what are they doing there?"

  "I've known them since I was a kid. I think they are mostly there for emotional support, but I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to offer their own brand of security."

  "We have to consider every possibility," Muffin said.

  "Listen, I need a favor—"

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she grumbled. "What is it this time?"

  "What's wrong with you?"

  "What's wrong with me? Did it ever occur to you to say thank you for what I've done thus far? My job isn't easy, you know. You get to sleep at night, I don't. I have to work double time to keep up with you. I'm tired, Max."

  "Not to mention irritable."

  "You should try sitting in this hot car all day. The least you could do—" She paused and sniffed. "Is park it in the shade."

  Max and Jamie exchanged looks. "Are you crying, for Pete's sake?" he asked.

  "No." Her voice broke.

  "Yes you are."

  "You've upset her, Max," Jamie said.

  "Jamie's right. I need my space, Max. I never have time to myself."

  "Jeez, Muffin, I can't believe what I'm hearing."

  "Believe it. You don't appreciate me. You never ask me how I'm doing or whether I've had a good day. You leave me baking in the hot sun all day, and you make one demand after another. I'm sick of it. Here you are, this big-shot multimillionaire living the good life, Mr. Big Shot Super Genius, and I'm stuck here all day, waiting for my next assignment. Everybody thinks you're brilliant. I never get any credit."

  "She's right, Max," Jamie said. "You could act a little more appreciative."

  Max sat there, obviously stymied. "I created her, Jamie. She has a memory bank so vast that she can be fed up-to-date information around the clock. I made her what she is today."

  "And he never fails to remind me," Muffin said.

  "What do you want, Muf?" he asked.

  "You could turn the air conditioner on high for starters. I'm so hot it feels like all my wires are going to melt."

  "Have you been talking to Deedee?"

  "Yes. I'm the only one who would listen to the poor woman. I'm the only one who'll take the time to research her condition. She's in perimenopause and nobody seems to care. You don't know what that does to a woman's hormones."

  Max shook his head sadly and turned to Jamie. "She's obviously processed everything Deedee said, just as she processes what my staff and I feed into her. She has also adopted some of Deedee's quirks, and now she thinks she's having hot flashes."

  "I am having hot flashes," Muffin said.

  "I'll have to reprogram her," Max whispered to Jamie, "but I don't have time right now."

  "Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Muffin snapped.

  "Tell you what, Muf," he said. "I promise to be more considerate in the future."

  Silence.

  "And I'm sorry, okay? From now on I'll try to park you in the shade."

  She sniffed. "Thank you, Max."

  * * * * *

  The arrived back at the house, and Max was glad to see more security personnel in place. While Jamie talked to Vera and Mike Henderson on the telephone, Max met with Frankie and security chief Tim Duncan.

  "Wanted to let you know
I've hired a few more security people in case you see some new faces," Duncan said.

  Max smiled. "I'm surprised you were able to find additional men considering we've got a small army surrounding this property and several others at the newspaper. I assume you ran a check on everybody."

  "They're clean."

  The butler knocked and stepped inside, wearing his usual overcoat. "Excuse me, Mr. Fontana, but there is, uh, a person here to see Mr. Holt."

  "Who is it?" Max asked.

  "He wouldn't give me his name, and I didn't press. I hesitated inviting him in."

  "I'll be right back," Max said. He understood the butler's reluctance as soon as he opened the front door. Swamp Dog stood on the other side, surrounded by half a dozen security personnel. Max arched both brows high on his forehead. "I'm surprised to see you here."

  Swamp Dog regarded the security guards with a look of contempt. "Get lost," he said.

  Max nodded at the men. "It's okay." He waited until they were gone before speaking. "What can I do for you?"

  "I'm here to talk about your job offer."

  Max led the man into the study and introduced him to Frankie and Duncan. Both men looked stunned. "Swamp Dog will be working with us," Max said.

  "I work alone," Swamp Dog replied. "I come and go as I please, and I don't take orders from no one. Anyone gives me shit, I cut their gizzard out and feed it to 'em."

  "Yes, well, that sounds fair," Frankie said, eyeing Max. "What will you need to get started?" he asked.

  Swamp Dog pulled a .47 Magnum from the waistband of his jeans, and a hunting knife from one boot. The thin blade flashed in the morning light. "This ought to do it. Now, where can I grab some grub? I don't work on an empty stomach."

  Frankie called for the butler who was waiting nearby. "Please take Mister, uh, take our guest into the kitchen and see that the cook feeds him."

  Once they were alone, Duncan turned to Max. "Are you sure this guy is safe? Looks like he wouldn't have trouble putting a hole in his mother's head while she slept."

  "You might keep an eye on him," was all Max said.

  Frankie buried his head in his hands. "I'm going along with you on this one, Max, even though I have my doubts. But we can't let Deedee see him." He'd barely gotten the words out of his mouth before a shriek sounded from the kitchen.

  "Eeeyeuw!" Deedee cried loud enough to shatter glass. "Who are you?"

  Frankie shook his head sadly. "Too late."

  * * * * *

  An hour later, once they'd showered and downed a few cups of coffee, Max and Jamie climbed inside his car and headed for the newspaper office. The perplexed look on Jamie's face told him she'd seen Swamp Dog as well.

  "I don't like it, Max. I don't trust the guy one bit."

  "Relax," he said. "I know what I'm doing."

  Muffin spoke. "Max, turn on the damn air conditioner."

  He did as she asked. "Still having hot flashes?"

  Muffin grunted. "I'm so hot I'm afraid I'm going to cause the engine to overheat."

  "Sorry to hear it, Muffin," Jamie said. "Too bad you can't go on hormone replacement therapy." She looked at Max and shook her head. "I don't believe I said that."

  He smiled. "Muffin, you're just the person I need to talk to."

  "What now?"

  "I want the names of this town's city officials. All of them, including the city manager and the auditor. When you get that, run a complete background check on them."

  "I've already started."

  "Thanks. You got anything on Hodges or that preacher yet?"

  "I'm concentrating on Hodges right now since he seems to be our immediate concern, but you know what it's like to breach military firewalls. I'll get back to you when I have something."

  When Jamie and Max arrived at the newspaper office they found the building under renovation, inside and out. The large window in front had been replaced and men on ladders were filling cracks in the concrete. Inside, it was much the same.

  Vera looked up from her battered computer. She glared at Jamie. "If you weren't a grown woman I would take you over my knee and give you the beating of your life."

  "Good morning, Vera."

  "Don't 'good morning' me. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night after Lamar called me. Have you lost your mind, going off like that to find some lunatic killer in the middle of the swamp?" She looked at Max. "I would have expected something like this from Jamie, what with her being so flighty and irresponsible—"

  "Flighty and irresponsible?" Jamie squeaked.

  "But I would never have expected it from you," Vera told Max.

  "I didn't want to do it," he said, "but Jamie threatened to go alone."

  Jamie's jaw dropped open as she snapped her head his way. Her irritation flared when she noted one corner of his mouth twitch. "Why, you—"

  "Don't even try it," Vera said. "After what you've put me through the last thing I'm going to tolerate is foul language." She snatched up several pink slips. "Would you like your telephone messages before you go traipsing off to Lord-knows-where?"

  Jamie was still tossing dark looks in Max's direction as she took the slips from Vera. "I'll be in my office," she said.

  "You can't go in your office, the painters are working in there."

  "I'll work in the conference room. Alone."

  "They're working in there, as well."

  "Damn. Well, where the heck am I supposed to work?"

  Vera held up the kitty. "Twenty-five cents, please."

  "Allow me," Max said, reaching into his pocket for a coin.

  "No way," Jamie said. "I'll pay out of my own damn pocket. Oh, double damn, I—" She slapped her hand over her mouth.

  "You're up to seventy-five cents now," Vera said. "If I were you I'd consider keeping my mouth shut."

  "This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of," Jamie snapped, digging through her wallet for the money. "I'm a grown woman, and I'll say what I please." She handed Vera a dollar bill. "Don't forget to credit me a quarter."

  Vera stuffed the money through a slit in the plastic top covering a coffee can. "The painters say it'll take a week or so to paint the entire building, what with all the patching and scraping they have to do. They're going to do the interior painting at night so we won't have to close, but we'll probably have to keep all of the windows open. It's going to be hot as Hades around here."

  "Go ahead and purchase as many fans as you like," Max said. He looked at Jamie. "We don't need to hang around anyway. We've got other business to tend to."

  "Like what?" Jamie and Vera echoed.

  "We need to visit city hall."

  "You can't just walk into city hall and start asking for documents," Jamie said.

  "Yes, but your fiance can."

  They climbed into the car a few minutes later.

  "I've got some information for you, Max," Muffin said.

  "Let's hear it."

  "The city mostly uses Beaumont Savings and Loan. Obviously the original loan officer didn't have much faith in how the local government was running things because he charged the city a high rate. Sounds like he thought it was risky. Once a new board of directors were elected, the rate dropped."

  "Who's on the board?"

  "Pretty much the same people who sit on city council. No conflict of interest there, right? And the firm who handles the city's legal contracts is Standish and Moss."

  "Phillip does it pro bono," Jamie said proudly. "The Standishes have always been generous. His mother is on a committee that raises money for charitable causes. She doesn't do it for money. Heck, she doesn't need money."

  "Obviously not," Muffin replied. "She charges an annual salary of one dollar. I'm going to have to check them out, Jamie," she added.

  Jamie stiffened. "How about me? Are you checking me out as well?"

  "Of course not, but I have to look into the people who run things in this town." She paused. "Phillip and his family are among them. As is the city manager who had done time. Fi
ve years for tax fraud."

  "You're not serious," Jamie said. "Why, he's a member of—"

  "Beaumont Baptist Church," Muffin supplied. "Actually, he's a deacon. What people don't know is he received a dishonorable discharge in the service."

  "How did you find out all of this?" Jamie asked.

  "I've searched military and prison files."

  "Isn't that classified information?"

  "Sometimes we have to break a few rules," she said.

  "Only if it's for a good cause," Max added.

  "But surely the government has high security. Otherwise they'd have people tapping into their computers getting anything they wanted. You could go to prison for this."

  "Not likely," Muffin said.

  Max hesitated. "Jamie, I used to be somewhat of a hacker."

  "And a damn good one at that," Muffin added. "There are only a couple of people in the entire world who are capable of breaking through the kind of firewalls we're talking about, and you're looking at one of them."

  "Where are the others?"

  "They're both in federal prison," Muffin said.

  Jamie gaped at Max. "And you're not. Why?"

  He shrugged. "I sort of promised the government I'd stop doing it."

  "But you haven't."

  "It's like this," Muffin said. "A lot of people owe Max favors."

  "I don't think I want to know," Jamie said. "I don't want to go to prison for being an accomplice. Vera has told me what sort of thing goes on behind prison bars, and I don't think I'd last twenty-four hours."

  "Vera needs to stop filling your head with all that nonsense," Max said. "I'm surprised you listen to her."

  Jamie looked hurt. "She's like a mother to me. Who do you think helped me pick out my first, uh, bra? Who do you think told me the facts of life?"

  He grinned. "I thought you learned all that in the backseat at the drive-in."

  "Very funny, Max."

  "I'm teasing. I know you and Vera are close."

  "Besides, I need to know all there is to know about prison life," Jamie said, "because you might just end up in one."

  "The secret of my success is that I employ the best attorneys money can buy. Speaking of attorneys, here we are." Max pulled into the parking lot of Phillip's law office. "I see Prince Charming's car is here."

  "Could you please try to be nice to Phillip?" Jamie asked.