Page 50 of The Bad Weather Friend

Before the headmaster’s wife or one of the remaining gunmen might look up from the drooling carcass of the monster and discover they had witnesses, the three boys dropped flat and squirmed forward and burrowed into the lush foliage of the mountain pieris. Huddled in that leafy sanctuary, they strove to stop shaking, fearing that their tremors might raise enough noise from the shrubbery to draw unwanted attention. Mengistu dared to murmur, “We’re not out of the woods yet.” The irony of that cliché caused Benny to titter, and Jurgen clamped a hand over his mouth.

GASSED UP

Leaving the estate of Oliver Lambert, having squeezed from the attorney the identity of his superior in the let’s-destroy-Benny conspiracy—F. Upton Theron—the destiny buddies were unable to predict how many sinister individuals in addition to Theron they might have to visit before Benny’s life was put back on track. Therefore, Spike determined that they needed to fill the vehicle’s fuel tank. Benny gave him directions to a service station, and Harper suggested another route.

Attired once more in his less formal garments, Spike preferred to follow the advice of the navigation system. “She sounds like a nice lady. I don’t want her to feel like we don’t value her input.”

Although he hesitated, Benny then said, “You do know that’s just a kind of recording, not a live person making recommendations and talking you real time through the route.”

“Who doesn’t know that? Nevertheless, whoever gave the system her voice was a real person. We should honor her contribution.”

“You think so, huh? Really? Okay then.”

Frowning, Spike said, “Harper?”

“Right here.”

“Don’t you think she sounds like a nice lady?”

“She sounds very nice. I don’t know what Benny’s problem is.”

“What is your problem?” Spike asked Benny.

“I don’t have a problem. Not with a recording, anyway.”

Harper said, “Maybe something about her voice reminds him of Jill Swift.”

“She doesn’t sound anything like Jill,” Benny objected.

Harper said, “He came back a little too hard on that, don’t you think? Like it touched a nerve.”

“It didn’t touch a nerve,” Benny said.

“Even if she reminds you of your faithless fiancée,” Spike said, “that’s no reason to take it out on our guide lady.”

“Okay, yes, you’re absolutely right,” Benny said. He leaned toward the dashboard computer. “I’m sorry. I’m grateful for your contribution.”

Spike was pleased. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Not hard at all,” Benny agreed.

Harper said, “I like a man who can admit his mistakes and rectify them.”

Holding the steering wheel with his left hand, Spike nudged Benny with his right elbow and winked theatrically, as if to say,She likes you.

“‘Admit mistakes and rectify them,’” Benny said. “I am reminded of my chair.”

“Chair? What chair?” Spike asked.

“The sleek, Swedish, bleached-sycamore chair that used to be in my living room.”

“Ah, yes. That ugly, uncomfortable chair was another mistake.”

“From my point of view, the mistake was destroying another person’s furniture.”

“If you sat too long in that chair, it would deform your spine. Why would I encourage you to deform your spine?”

“You’re going to be with me the rest of my life, right? That is the deal as I understand it.”

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