Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) (21 page)

“I’ll bet it did,” Gus said.

“I’m going to send you the raw chapters as I write, Gladys,” Nick whispered. “You can be privy to the book as it gets written. I’m working on Assassin’s Folly right now.”

Gladys reached across and gripped Nick’s hand in both hers. “God bless you, Nick. Your banter in the books, and humor, make me laugh all the time.”

She released him and stood up. “I’m not taking any more of your time. These kind folks have been waiting too. Thank you.”

Nick hurried around to hug her. “Thanks for coming, Gladys. You don’t have to drive or take public transport do you?”

“Hell no. I have a driving Miss Daisy pal. See you, Nick. Take care of him, Gus. Don’t let him take any unnecessary chances like killing that idiot school teacher predator.”

“I’ll do my best, Ms. Daisy,” Gus answered with a wave.

Her driver arrived for escorting duties while Gladys waved to everyone in line. He was black, a few inches over six feet tall, and wore a huge smile until the assumed professor at the front of the line moved toward her. The smile disappeared, and unadulterated danger radiated from the driver’s face. Nick saw the professor move toward Gladys. He moved with him, but backed away with a smile at sight of Gladys’s driver.

“That’s close enough, Sir,” the driver stated. “Can I help you?”

The professor stepped back as Gladys smiled and gripped her driver’s arm. “Luke handles all my light work. Back up, youngster. You’ve got nothing to say to me. Go take your turn, and quit holding up the line.”

The laughs at his expense sent the professor toward Nick with naked rage in his face. Nick had already sat down in his previous spot, trying with Gus to keep from enjoying Gladys’s comments too much. The professor sat down in front of Nick, slamming Caribbean Contract on the desk. Nick reached to take the novel for signing without comment. The professor slammed his hand down on the book.”

“I want to know why it’s so damn difficult for you to use a pronoun correctly. Your books drive me crazy. It’s like nails scrapped over a chalk-board. I’m not leaving this seat until I get an answer. I have a master’s degree in English. I’m asked many times to edit academic papers of great importance. Please don’t hide behind your publishing editor! Everyone knows they live in fear of you big time money guys.”

“Are you referring to dialogue, Sir?” Nick sat calmly through the professor’s spiel without interrupting.

The calm question caught the professor by surprise. “Yes, and I’m sure you’ll defend it with crap like people don’t talk that way. They should, and novelists have a duty to influence our future students with correctness at all levels.”

Nick gestured at Gus. “Me and Gus disagree.”

His common, but extensively misused use of the pronoun me received loud enjoyment of Nick’s illustration. “Me and you don’t have to argue about this. You and me can be friends without letting grammar get in the way of our friendship. Me and-”

The professor’s chair pitched back as he jerked to his feet. “Stop it! It’s not a joke!”

“Calm down, professor.” Nick went around the desk once again to put a comforting arm around his critique. “Think about it. Maybe in your circles, no one makes a pronoun mistake while speaking everyday dialogue. Such is not true in everyday life. People inadvertently use the wrong past tense or pronoun usage, or God forbid, sneak in the mortal sin of more than one negative in a sentence. We all are guilty of some grammar misuse at one point or another. If you’re reading my novels, you must be reading for entertainment, right?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“No buts about it. If you like the story, why concentrate on the grammar rules while reading. I understand some common dialogue usage can bother purists, but have you ever read any of William Faulkner’s works, such as ‘The Long Hot Summer’? He had an ear for dialogue. So do I. In my works of fiction, I use real life dialogue. People in certain instances use pronouns along with the entire English language wrongly.”

The professor was aghast. “Surely you don’t compare yourself to William Faulkner.”

“Nope. I entertain millions more people than Faulkner ever did. Perhaps the answer here is for you to stop reading my novels. It’s a great solution. You’ll be less pissed off. You won’t be stalking me at book signings, and you can use me as an example for your students. You are a teacher, right?”

“I teach English,” the professor admitted. It was clear Nick’s use of William Faulkner’s works had toned down the outrage. “I’m not the professor from Gilligan’s Island. I’m Matt Sagan. I guess I have been obsessing over this to a rather ridiculous degree.”

“No problem, Matt. I’m glad you enjoyed the stories. Would you still like me to sign your book?”

“Sure… uh… could you sign it to Matt, the grammar Nazi just for fun?”

Nick laughed along with many in line within hearing. “I sure will.”

Nick signed a personal note, handed the book to Matt again, and shook hands with him. “Thanks for coming by, Matt. You’re a good sport. Don’t let the grammar rules overshadow your life, my friend.”

“I’ll try to be a more tolerant grammar Nazi, Nick. Thanks for the dialogue.”

After the English teacher left, the conversations turned to sailing and weapons. Although less humorous, the wide range of questions kept the line entertained, and not feeling as if they were being rushed. The bookstore manager had tagged the end of the line to within fifteen minutes of the allotted time. Nick could see Cassie discussing sales with the manager, while his family and friends were close to eye glazing boredom time.

“I’m looking forward to drinks and food. I’m talked out,” Gus said. “It was an enjoyable day for me. First thing when we return home, I’m taking the ‘Lady’ out on a long sail. Want to come?”

“Sure. We have to empty the freezer in Carmel Valley.” Nick finished putting away his notebook computer, and his notepads.

“Damn… I forgot all about that. Yeah, we need to do some housecleaning there. John can give us a hand. The more I’ve considered your new recruit, the better I like the idea of having him with us. You’ll be able to take another contract in the sand easier with John.”

“Not likely. I’m staying the hell out of the sand. I have to talk with Grace about the Nancy Pettinger deal. We’ve been a bit busy lately. I suppose she’ll be figuring I’m ignoring her, but Pettinger should have been a slam dunk. Here comes Cassie.”

His agent hurried to her stars, giving Nick and Gus jubilant hugs. “The store manager said we set the all-time record for sales on signings. I did two interviews for Charleston papers during the signing, and they plan to do a complete feature on you. I filled them in on your military record, along with current events. Can I work on you doing a couple of signings in the near future out west… say maybe Los Angeles and San Francisco?”

“Sure, Cass. This has been fun, and fit right in with some other personal things we needed to do. Gus and I would love to do some West Coast stops. We’d maybe even sail down there if the ancient mariner here is agreeable.”

“Damn, Nick, that sounds real good,” Gus said, wondering immediately if there was an ulterior motive on Nick’s radar.

Cass grabbed Nick’s hands. “I will set them up right away. Let me get some dates and places for you to consider.”

“No problem. Did you want to have dinner with us tonight? I believe we’re planning on returning again to the Charleston Grill.”

“I wish I could, Nick. I’m taking a late flight back to New York. Your tour has stirred up a hornet’s nest of publicity. There are even calls about a ‘Caribbean Contract’ movie.”

Nick grinned. “I wrote the screenplay for ‘Caribbean Contract’ on my Final Draft software. I convert my novels once in a while if I think they may draw attention. I’ll send you the PDF screenplay when I get back to the hotel. You, of course would be my agent for that also if you’d like.”

“Oh my God! You have it already converted into screenplay form? Jesus… Nick… that’s awesome. Let me get back to New York with the screenplay already written, and I’ll hit that angle full bore with the interested parties.”

“It will be in your inbox tonight, Cass. Have a safe flight home.”

“I will… you bugger. Gus… guard this gold mine with your life,” Cassie ordered while moving to the exit with a wave.

“A movie, huh?” Gus nudged Nick as Cassie streaked out of the bookstore. “We should play ourselves.”

“I don’t think so, Payaso. Let’s gather our crew, who made it through the entire signing without a whine. “I feel a good night’s sipping coming on, brother.”

“Don’t change the subject. I want to play Jed in the movie. Make it happen.”

The two men laughed together, enjoying what they knew could never be.

Chapter Eight

Extenuating Circumstances

“Hi, this is Celia and Ed Dalman,” Mona introduced the pair sharing a large table at the Charleston Grill while waiting for Nick, Gus, Rachel, Tina, and Jean to join them. “Celia’s my daughter, and Ed my son-in-law. It seems silly, but it will make this go quickly to get past the introductions.”

The reunion went well with Jean overjoyed to see her Aunt again. Handshakes and hugs rounded out the initial greetings. Ed Dalman, an affable, red haired six footer carrying only a small paunch at his waist, hugged his wife Celia with affection Nick considered a genuine thankfulness for still having her in his life. Celia, a brown haired beauty in the five and a half foot range carried a few extra pounds with aplomb. Nick smiled with admiration for a couple who even with problems, decided life without each other was not an option.

“I’m glad you and Celia could join us, Ed. My publisher’s handling all expenses, including dinners, so please be our guests here. It’s all paid for,” Nick said. “Gus and I, after a long day acting out our fantasy lives for readers have decided on a few Bushmill’s Irish whiskies to enjoy the day’s end with. Please order anything and everything you two would like.”

“Thanks, Nick,” Ed replied as they all took their seats and the waitress hurried over. “I’m the designated driver tonight, so I’ll have a Diet Pepsi. God knows if I’d had the inkling our drinks and dinner were on the expense sheet, I would have taken a taxi over with Celia.”

“Have whatever you like, Ed. I’ll have a limousine take you and Celia home, and bring you back in the morning to pick up your car,” Nick said as the waitress waited.

“Well… okay then. I’ll have a double Scotch with water back,” Ed stated to much amusement from the group.

After the orders were taken and the waitress on her way to fill the orders, Ed leaned back happily in his seat. “A limo, huh? You must be doing pretty well with the book sales, Nick. That is awesome. Does it ever bother you that people don’t recognize you like they do movie stars?”

“That’s a blessing,” Nick replied. “I have no ambition to be recognized on the street. I like meeting the readers at book signings, but dealing with fans in everyday life would be tricky. Most of the parents at Jean’s school know me and what I do back home. They don’t make a big deal about it. Most of them have never read a Diego novel. Thankfully, writers and movie celebrities are a lot different as far as notoriety goes.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks. Nick proposed an instant toast. “To family and friends.”

After Nick’s toast, conversation drifted to everyday life, occupations, plans, and troubles in Charleston. Nick and Gus kept silent as the recent demise of Mona’s worrisome neighbors was recounted and passed over. Jean explained their vacation details, illustrating with words all the sights they had seen in both New York and Boston. Jean held the other adults’ attention with her passion, and intricate attention to detail.

“You would make a wonderful writer, Jean,” Mona said. “You describe everything in such entertaining detail. You’re a natural. Isn’t she, Nick.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her, Mona. By the time she hits her late teens, she’ll have a bestselling novel.”

“Yep,” Jean agreed. “I need to get real life experiences. I’ve already had a bunch of them, but now I need to be an assassin, a private detective, and a politician so I’ll know the slimiest thing on earth I can be. I need a baseline.”

When the group recovered from Jean’s adlib, Rachel came around to hug her. “You are without a doubt the most perplexing child within my meager knowledge.”

“Does this mean my electronic devices ban is lifted?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I promise to stop baiting you.”

Rachel grabbed Jean’s hair, shaking it slightly. “You do know if you’re putting me on, I will make your life miserable on a 24/7 basis, right?”

Jean hung her head comically. “Yes, Mommy… I know my life is forfeit if I screw with you. I won’t do it… although the effort will curb many of my creative talents.”

Rachel perused her nine year old daughter with adult angst. She knew intimately what Jean had already survived because of her. She felt Nick’s hand clasp hers. “Okay, you brat, but you mess with my head again, and there will be blood.”

“Agreed,” Jean said. “Under protest.”

“One more word, and I melt down every electrical device you have into plastic pulp,” Rachel stated, shaking Jean’s head with attitude.

Jean gave Rachel a thumbs up without speaking to much amusement.