The Second Mouse - Archer Mayor [70]
She tossed her notes onto the seat between them and said, “You’re right. Fuck it.”
Willy stared at her. “Huh?”
“It’s a waste of time. You’re right,” she repeated.
He absorbed that for a few seconds, pleased but surprised, his brain in sudden need of an alternative plan.
“Maybe we should hit him again—directly,” Sam suggested, thinking along similar lines.
Willy shook his head. “We don’t have anything to hit him with.” He paused again, looking out at the street. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d pissed off some of his neighbors over the years.”
Sam laughed and turned the key.
“They really let you be a police officer?” she asked, pointing at Willy’s limp arm. “That doesn’t sound very safe.”
Willy either was too stunned to react or was reaching deep for something properly weighted. Sam decided she didn’t want to know which.
“He passed the physical, ma’am. He can definitely do the job, just like he’s been doing for the past two decades.”
“Really?” the woman asked, her face open and smiling. “Well, good for you. Why don’t you both come in? And you, little girl, you’re such a slip of a thing, I’m not sure I see how you can do it, either.”
“I used to be in the military, ma’am. Combat trained.”
“Isn’t that nice? Would you like some tea?”
“I’ll take a Coke,” Willy said, his expression dark.
The old woman paused in the hallway and peered up at him. “You speak? That’s very good. How do you know I have any Coke?”
Once again he was stumped.
“We’re all set,” Sam said, starting to rethink their entire strategy. This was the fourth of Newell Morgan’s neighbors they’d met, and so far, they’d gotten nowhere. This time it looked as if they were headed for an assault on an old lady by a cranky cop.
“Nonsense,” their hostess said, resuming her course. “He wants a Coke; that’s what I’ll get him. I like a man with direction.”
Willy nudged a secretly grateful Sam and waggled his eyebrows as they fell in behind and ended up in the kitchen. Sam ignored him.
“Sit, sit,” the woman ordered, and guided them toward a wooden table set into a windowed nook. As they slid onto the bench seat, Willy pointed out the window. They were overlooking Gage Street and Newell Morgan’s house.
“I’m so sorry,” their hostess said, placing a Coke before Willy, “but I’ve already forgotten your names.”
“I’m Sam. The one with direction is Willy.”
The old lady laughed. “Well, I’m Mary Ann Gagen, and I’m very pleased to meet you both. You sure you don’t want something now that he’s all set?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Sam told her.
Mary Ann Gagen sat at the head of the small table and shook her head. “No wonder you’re so tiny.” She smiled suddenly and leaned forward. “Now, tell me, are you two romantically involved, too?”
Sam’s face went red as Willy muttered, “Jeez.”
Gagen burst out laughing. “I thought so.” She reached out and patted Sam’s hand as it rested on the table. “He must be a tough one to handle. Bossy, right?”
“This is not happening,” Willy said, and began getting up.
But Sam arrested him in mid-motion with “He has his moments, but I’m getting used to him.”
He stared at her incredulously. Their relationship, while not an absolute secret, was known only by a very few. They’d certainly never shared it with a stranger before.
Gagen looked up at him questioningly. “Did you want something else, dear?”
He pressed his lips together angrily and then managed to say, “This is private stuff.”
She repeated her gesture with Sam, reaching up and laying her hand on his arm. “You’re quite right. But you’re cross with me and not her, I hope.”
Slowly he sat back down. “Yeah.”
“Well, that’s all right, then. Drink your Coke.” She then turned to Sam. “What was it you wanted, by the way? I’m sure it wasn’t just to get all worked up by a nosy old woman.”
In a sudden change of tack, Willy took her up on her one-liner, cutting Sam off as she opened her mouth to speak. “A nosy old woman is just what we were looking for.”
Gagen’s eyes came alive. “Really? Who do you want to know about? I practically live at this table.”
Willy tilted