Page 27 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love

As the sun began to sink in the sky, the cops on the dock covered the body with a sheet while Stella let out a sorrowful sigh. “Well, I guess Mrs. Hart can kiss the good times goodbye. No more toga parties for that guy.”

“Stella, there’s no evidence Mrs. Hart and Agent Jarvis were having an affair.”

“Are you kidding? She was banging him for sure. Who wouldn’t? Hell, I’d slide his bread into my pop-up toaster anytime.”

“Stella, he’s dead.”

“I can see that, you big palooka. I’m not saying I’d do himnow. Let the record show I do not have sex with dead guys. Except for that one time Chunky Chuck slipped off to the pearly gates without me even knowing. It wasn’t until I was helping myself to a little tip from his wallet that I realized he wasn’t just sleeping with his eyes open again. Hey, at least he died with a smile on his face.”

Suddenly another round of shouts rose up from the docks.

The winch on the crane strained a moment, then from the depths of the river a black mass emerged. At first it was impossible to tell what it was, and frankly, now that Jarvis’s body had been retrieved, I wasn’t expecting the cops to drag anything else out of the river.

Then it dawned on me—why weren’t the other Feds buzzing about at the crime scene, pulling their badges out and ordering the cops around?

“Oh, Jesus,” I whispered, watching as waterfalls gushed from the window seals and door jams of the flooded black car being craned out of the river.

And there inside, their dead, bloated faces becoming visible as the water cascaded away, were the other FBI agents we had met outside the platform at Grand Central Station.

“Well, it’s official,” Stella said. “Everyone’sorgy days are over now.”

I leaned down and took Stella by the arm. “We need to get outta here. We need to warn Harry. I get the distinct feeling there’s a hit list… and I’m betting we’re on it.”

Stella didn’t have to be told twice to hightail it outta there.

We made it to a deserted corner a block from the docks, when suddenly none other than Harry’s limo pulled to a halt in front of us.

Lois sat in the driver’s seat while Lucy sat in the front passenger seat… or maybe it was the other way around. Through the open passenger window, I could see that the concerned look on their faces meant this was no time for figuring out who was who.

“Lois? Lucy? What’s wrong? Is Harry okay?”

That’s when I saw Lois wasn’t just holding the steering wheel—she was bound to it, ropes tied tight around her wrists.

I yanked open the passenger door to see Lucy with her hands tied behind her back.

“Run!” the twins warned us. “Run as fast as you can!”

I did the opposite, quickly reaching for Lucy. But before I could pull her from the car, a voice with a thick German accent said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Stella and I both turned to see the one-eyed Nazi, Hans Hammer, stepping out of the rear door of the Lincoln. “It’s time we all went for a little ride,” he said, a pistol in one hand, waving it from us to the open door, gesturing in no uncertain terms that he wanted us in the car.

“Where’s Harry?” I demanded.

From inside the rear of the limo I heard Harry shout, “Buck! Don’t get in! Run!”

Hammer cocked his pistol. “I wouldn’t take his advice if I were you, not unless you want a bullet in the back. Now, get in the car.Jetzt!”

“Buck! Don’t do it!” Harry shouted from within.

The fact that he wasn’t getting out of the limo made me suspect he was tied up too.

Out of the corner of my mouth I uttered to Stella, “You run. I’ll make a grab for the gun and save Harry.”

“No way, toots. I ain’t leavin’ you to take on this stupid sap alone. Besides, while you’re busy saving Harry, who do you think’s gonna save those luscious Logan twins?”

“Enough chit-chat!” barked Hammer. “You Americans! Always with the chit-chat! I said get in the car… now!”

He pointed thegun at my feet.

---