Page 44 of Hale Yes
“Can you tell me your name then?” I ask.
“You can call me Dirty Harry,” he delivers without a smile, though he narrows his eyes in an uncanny representation of Clint Eastwood.
“Okay, Harry. Can you put the gun down and let me get Nicolette safely inside?”
“How do I know you’re not some crazy person who drugged her and wants to do her harm?” he asks, tilting his head the other way.
“With all due respect, I’m not the one outside in a pink bathrobe with a goose and a gun,” I very reasonably point out. Or so I think.
The man’s eyes narrow to the point that I don’t know how he can see. “Are you judging me for wearing pink? Because light-pink is in my color wheel.” The goose honks so loudly in concurrence, I almost drop the woman in my arms.
I rush to assure him. “No, not at all. It actually looks great with your complexion.” This has got to be one of the strangest conversations I’ve ever had.
Dirty Harry nods as if that was the correct answer. “Thank you. Though I do concede the rest of it may appear a little bizarre.”
Understatement of the century, buddy.
“Stefan, what’s going on?” a voice says a split second before another man toddles quickly from the shadows of the home next door. He’s dressed exactly as Harry—or Stefan, I guess—except his robe is purple and he’s wearing what appears to be a mud mask on his face. “Oh my gawd! Is that Nicolette?”
“Yes, Lukas. This gentleman claims to be Helix Hale, her boss. He said they had dinner and wine together.”
“Oh, you should never give Nicolette wine,” Lukas tells me, shaking his head from side to side. “It makes her extremely sleepy.”
“I’m aware,” I grit out, hitching her sagging body up again. How the hell is she sleeping through all this commotion? “May I please take her inside now?”
“Give us a minute,” Stefan says. “I’m going to have the LBI look into your story.”
Sweat seeps from my back and neck, making my shirt stick to me. “What is the LBI?”
“The Lukas Bureau of Investigation,” he informs me imperiously. “It’s like the FBI but much more efficient.”
Lukas, who’s obviously the head of the LBI, taps on his phone before holding it up for his partner to look. “I Googled Helix Hale. He appears to be telling the truth about that.” The shorter, dark-haired man looks at me. “Where did you have dinner?”
“The Tapas Table,” I say wearily.
Lukas holds up a finger to quiet me as he brings his phone to his ear and turns his back, strolling a few feet away. Two extremely long minutes later, he’s back.
“Vicente confirms Dr. Helix Hale was there tonight with one Dr. Nicolette Bell. They had three carafes of sangria, the gambas al ajillo, calamares fritos, paella, crab empanadas, the fried eggplant, and lamb meatballs. He also vouches for Dr. Hale’s character.”
“They didn’t have the bacon-wrapped figs?” Stefan queries, eyeballing me like I committed a major crime.
“His shipment was late,” I say, my voice tight.
Lukas nods. “That’s exactly what Vicente told me. He said they should have fresh figs by next week.”
“We should make a reservation. I do love his figs.”
“Already done,” Lukas replies, looking smug. “Next Saturday at eight.”
“Look,” I groan, “I’m glad Nicolette has this very insane neighborhood watch thing going on, and I appreciate you caring about her safety, but can we please get this show on the road now that the LBI has cleared me of any wrongdoing?”
“Of course,” Stefan says, finally lowering the .44, his tone shifting to that of a perfect gentleman rather than a psycho vigilante. “Thank you for respecting the process, Dr. Hale.”
The goose honks his approval.
“We’re just going to take Sir PooPoo for a walk so he can… well… poo poo,” Lukas tells me. I’m assuming Sir PooPoo is the goose. At least I hope so.
“But we’ll be keeping an eye on this house, and if you’re in there for more than five minutes, we’re coming in,” Stefan warns, his eyes going all slitty again. He drops the gun into the pocket of his thin robe, making it sag on one side.
