California Schemin' - Kate George [24]
“I take it you didn’t recognize any of the passengers as your assailants.”
Beau jerked his head up, a furrow forming between his brows.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Fogel told me your accident probably wasn’t.”
“Damn him! Blasted busybody Sheriff. I was going to deal with those guys once and for all. Instead you show up, knowing far too much, and escort me home like I’m an invalid or a child.” He sat with his arms crossed, the frown deepening.
“We were worried about you. Anyway, Tom’s kids miss you, and there’s stuff at your Vermont house that needs to be taken care of. And Beans. Don’t forget Beans. He’s having an identity crisis.”
A smile crept on his face at the mention of Beans, and the muscles in his jaw relaxed.
“Yeah, okay. I can see how you’d think Beans would be missing me. I’ll stay until I can walk again. How’s that?”
“It’s a deal.”
Beau shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His cast and the limited space between our seats and the bulkhead weren’t really compatible. I’d tried to shift so that he could angle his leg into my foot space, but the elderly woman who’d dropped into the seat beside me kept giving me dirty looks.
“Do you want to switch?” I asked him. “You could sit kind of sideways and rest your foot in the corner?”
“Would you kindly keep your voice down,” the old woman snapped at me. “I’m trying to get my rest. I really don’t understand people who expect everything to go their own way.” She shut her eyes again, and I had to restrain myself. I wanted nothing more than to smack her, the old witch.
The flight attendant must have read my thoughts because she appeared in the aisle and leaned down to whisper in the woman’s ear.
“There’s an open row down a few seats,” she said. “I can move you, and you’ll be able to rest quietly by yourself.”
I thought that was stretching it. There were people talking up and down the plane, and it wasn’t exactly quiet.
“I don’t want to sit at the back of the plane.” Her eyes narrowed at the attendant. “Why don’t you make these two sit back there? I’m sure he can move as well as I can.” She pointed a bony old finger at Beau.
“Mr. Maverick is injured and needs to sit where he is.”
“I don’t want to move.” The old biddy was sulking now.
“I heard you complain about the noise up here. It really would be quieter a few rows back.”
I caught the attendant’s glance, and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“It’s all right,” I said. “We’ll try to be more quiet.”
“Should have made her move,” Beau whispered. “We’ve got to put up with her for another four and a half hours.” He closed his eyes and turned his face away from me.
“You could still change seats with me,” I said.
“I’m not sitting next to that bitch.”
His voice was quiet, but I was sure she could hear him. I didn’t dare turn to look at her. She might take my head off. Sure enough, she snorted through her nose, but she didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, was my guess.
The mousy, red-haired woman I’d noticed earlier slid into the bathroom at the front of the plane. My mind automatically started flipping through the places I might have seen her in the past, but no bells went off. It bothered me that I couldn’t place her.
I told myself not to be an idiot and closed my eyes, but the ball of unease sat in my stomach all the same.
The next morning Beau was settled in at home, and I was back at Meg's. Tom was pulling a double shift, and Meg figured we could have the entire ceiling down and the mess cleared up before he got home. Being Meg’s best friend had perks; it wasn’t every day I got invited to a demolition party. A bunch of tools were piled on the porch outside the back door.
“What’s the sledge hammer for?” I asked as I walked in. She had cleared