Summer of the Redeemers (48 page)

Driskell lifted his chin. “It’s a matter of honor. I prefer not to say.”

Bo nodded. “One night in the Biloxi lockup and you’ll be squealing like the proverbial pig.”

“Deliverance.
1972. Best role Burt Reynolds ever had. The turning point for Ned Beatty’s career.” Iris put her hand over her mouth.

“I reiterate, there’s no need to call the cops.” Driskell rubbed his skull. “Call your sister. If she agrees to tell you, then I’m sure we can straighten this mess out. Otherwise, I’m not at liberty to speak of this matter further. I’ll have to go to jail. I can’t betray your sister, no matter what the cost.”

Bo’s eyebrows lifted, an arch of surprise that was nearly duplicated by his wife’s. They shared a long glance filled with wonder and potential. “Iris, maybe you’d better cancel that call to the cops. I think old Dracula and I should have a talk.”

“Driskell.” The intruder sat up a little straighter.

Iris punched the phone and cancelled the emergency call. Replacing the receiver, she turned to face the man. “So tell us, LaMont, did Lucille put you up to climbing around the shop? Is this another one of her harebrained, no offense baby, schemes involving one of the plots of her romances?”

Driskell LaMont focused on the middle distance. “You can’t torture another word out of me. I’m a man of principle.”

“And I’m Barney Fife.” Bo looked up at the skylight. “Well, as a man of principle, we’re looking at about three hundred dollars to repair that skylight. Give or take a few bucks. I’m sure you’ll make good on it.”

“If I may stand?” Without waiting for approval, LaMont rose to his feet in a long, fluid motion. Standing, he was even taller than he appeared. And thinner. Beneath the cape he wore a smartly cut black suit. Reaching into the jacket pocket, he produced a slender black billfold. With a quick flip he opened it and extracted three one hundred dollar bills so new they were stuck together.

“Counterfeit,” Iris predicted, but she reached out and took the bills. “Nice work.”

“Hardly counterfeit, Mrs. Hare. I assure you, the money is as good as my explanation. If you’ll only call Lucille and get her to release me from my promise of secrecy.”

“Where did you meet my sister?” Bo asked.

“At the bank. She’s the cashier in the window.” LaMont studied his handsome hands before he looked directly into Bo’s gaze. “Your sister is nothing less than extraordinary, a talent boxed in the narrow confines of that dehumanizing plexiglass window.”

“A talent?” Bo nearly stuttered.

“She read one of her poems to me over the speaker system.” Driskell brushed more glass out of his clothes. He looked toward the front of the shop and his dark eyes picked up the reflection from one of the televisions. The Energizer bunny marched madly in duplicate in the depths of his pupils. “She captured my emotions with her moving words–and then she asked me for my help.”

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Copyright © 1994 by Carolyn Haines
All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

eISBN 10: 1-4405-3900-6
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-3900-8