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

I glanced at the customers sitting in the booths and at the tables. “Does anyone want to help Mr. Church?”

No one said a word. No one moved. I nudged Church with the toe of my sneaker.

“This should tell you something about the kind of man you are,” I said, “but I doubt it will.”

Church reached out a hand for the leg of a table as if he wanted to pull himself up. I stomped on it. An older woman sitting in the nearest booth heard the bones crack. She winced, closed her eyes, and clamped a hand over her mouth as if she were afraid she would vomit. Church howled with pain. He brought his hand near his face and stared at it through tear-filled eyes. I had done a lot of damage.

“Oh no, oh no,” he chanted, his voice low and hoarse.

I squatted next to him. I spoke softly. “You’re hurting right now, but soon you’ll be thinking what you can do to get back at me like you have at everyone else who’s stood up to you. Better put the thought out of your head. If anything happens to me or my property, if anything happens to anyone in this room or their property, especially the Dannes—I don’t care if we’re struck by lightning—I will come for you. Not the cops. Me.”

I stood. Everyone in the café was staring. I had a feeling that at that moment they were more afraid of me than they had ever been of Church.

“I cannot abide a bully,” I said.

Probably I was smiling. All the stress and frustration and fear and confusion of the day had drained out of me. My headache had miraculously disappeared. I no longer felt vulnerable. Suddenly I was a manly man accomplishing manly feats in a manly way. It was exhilarating.

“Anyone want to call Chief Gustafson, I’ll be sitting right back here.”

I turned and made my way to the booth. Tracie was standing next to it and watching intently. She wore the same expression of disbelief as all the other customers.

“Oh, my God, McKenzie,” she said. “My God. What you did to him. How could you do that to him?”

“It’s easy if you know how.”

“They’ll arrest you for this. They’ll put you in jail for real.”

“I doubt it,” I said.

I gazed around the café as I slid into the booth. I didn’t see anyone on a cell phone. Not even Paulie. He had managed to regain enough courage to help Church off the floor and ease him out of the front door. Paulie paused only long enough to shout in my direction, “You’re a dead man.”

Like I hadn’t heard that before.

Tracie reluctantly sat across from me.

“McKenzie,” she said. That was all she said, but at least it was better than being called Rush again.

A moment later, Jimmy was at the booth with two fresh drinks. “On the house,” he said. A party of four decided it was as good a time to leave as any. The two women smiled at me. One of the men gave me a nod of approval while the other looked straight ahead, seeing nothing, knowing nothing.

“Word will spread,” I said to no one in particular. “Some stranger took Church down. People will become more confident. They’ll be more willing to stand up to him. If he pushes, they’ll push back.”

Tracie continued to stare. Finally she said, “Well, I guess he had it coming.”

“This town should have dealt with him long ago. Tell me about your ex-husband.”

“He was brave, but he didn’t know how to fight. Not like you. McKenzie?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you do it?”

I had been expecting the question, yet I hadn’t been able to form much of an answer. “I guess I had just seen enough bullying for one day.”

Rick and Cathy Danne paid their tab, rose from the table, and headed for the door. Neither of them looked even remotely pleased. If Church ignored my warning and decided to retaliate, it probably would be against them.

“Do me a favor,” I said. “The Dannes—keep an eye on them if you can. Let me know if anyone bothers them.”

“Let you know—you’re leaving, then.”

“I want a car outside the hotel at six tomorrow morning. A rental. Something I can return in the Twin Cities.”

“I thought—I hoped—I’m disappointed in you, McKenzie.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

CHAPTER FOUR