The Taking of Libbie, SD (Mac McKenzie #7)

They both demanded a detailed explanation, especially Bobby—I had the feeling he was taking notes. Bobby was a commander in St. Paul’s newly minted major crimes division but wasn’t running the investigation into my disappearance because the department had claimed he was too close to the case. We had been friends since the beginning of time. I gave him everything I had told Harry, and then some. When he was satisfied, he said he had to make a few calls and left me on the line with his wife.

“Are you really all right, Rushmore?” she said.

I met Shelby three and a half minutes before her husband did, and often I have wondered what would’ve happened if I had been the one who spilled a drink on her.

“I really am, Shel,” I said. “A bit of a headache, some aches and pains, nothing more. I’m sorry if you were frightened, but it wasn’t my fault.”

“As opposed to all the other times you frightened me when it was your fault.”

“Exactly.”

She sighed deeply. It was the same sigh that Victoria had given me. Like mother, like daughter.

“I’ve given you and your family a few anxious moments over the years,” I said. “I apologize.”

“The good has always outweighed the bad.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“What did Nina have to say about all this?”

“I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

That caused Shelby to pause for a few beats.

“You called me before you called her?” she said.

“No. I mean yes. I mean, I called—I knew Bobby would beworking the case…” This time I sighed. “Yes, I called you first.”

“Dammit, McKenzie.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to call the woman you’re in love with first.”

“Sure.”

She paused again.

“Be safe, Rushmore,” she said. “Hurry home.”

Shelby hung up before I could say anything more.

Nina was not at the jazz club she owned near the cathedral in St. Paul, named Rickie’s after her daughter, Erica. Jenness, her assistant manager, said she had been too anxious to work. When I reached her at home, she shrieked my name so loudly I had to pull the receiver from my ear. After I assured her that I was “fit as a fiddle and ready for love,” she told me that everyone was looking for me, including Harry and the FBI. I told her that I would call them as soon as I was finished talking to her.

“You called me first?”

“You’re the only one that matters,” I said.

I believed it with all my heart when I said it. I admit that on occasion I allow myself to become confused. Yet all I have to do is see Nina or hear her voice and everything becomes perfectly clear to me. I see the world in its entirety, and it is exactly the way it should be.

I told Nina what had happened in detail, even confessed to how frightened I had become, which I had not admitted to anyone else. I told her that I was tempted to help the City of Libbie because I was angry that the Imposter had used my name. I also told her that the idea made me uneasy because I would be cut off from my resources, from Bobby and Harry and from her. Nina told me she would support any decision I made, although she wouldn’t have an untroubled moment until I returned safely to her. She was like that, supporting my crusades, as she called them, without entirely embracing them.

God, I love this woman, I told myself.

Then why did you call Shelby first? my inner voice said.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” I said.

“I’ll be waiting,” Nina told me.

After I shaved and showered, I stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror and fingered the puncture wounds in my shoulder and waist. The Taser marks seemed smaller now, yet they throbbed like first-degree burns. I would have liked some salve to soothe them, but all I had was aspirin tablets that I was starting to pop like M&M’s. They hadn’t done my headache any good at all.

I stared at my reflection.

“Screw Libbie, South Dakota,” I said aloud. “Screw the Imposter. Screw everyone.”

I finished dressing and peeked at my reflection yet again. For some reason I didn’t look like myself. Certainly I didn’t feel like myself.

“Go home, McKenzie,” I said.

The reflection nodded in agreement.

Sharren gave me a wolf whistle from behind the registration desk when I reached the lobby. She spoke in a low, husky voice that sounded as if a lifetime of talking had taken its toll.

“My, oh my, but don’t you clean up nice,” she said.

“Clothes make the man,” I said.

“I don’t know about that, Rush. I kinda liked what you were wearing before.”

“I’d rather you didn’t call me that—Rush. McKenzie is just fine.”

“Buy you a drink, big boy?”

I glanced up at the clock behind Sharren’s left shoulder. Even if I took my time, I would probably be about five minutes early to the café, and I couldn’t have that.

“Yes, you can buy me a drink,” I said. I didn’t mind at all that she called me “big boy.”

The star attraction of the Pioneer Hotel was its cathedral-like dining room with a huge stone fireplace. It was half filled, a good crowd for a Monday night, Sharren said. Heads turned to watch as she led me through the room, and there were whispers.

“News travels fast in a small town,” I said.

“Hmm?”