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

“He’ll probably get away with it, too, just like he did all those other times.”

She was staring so intently that I found myself taking a backward step.

“The police can’t help,” she said.

In that instant, I knew exactly what she was doing. Cathy Danne was reminding me of the promise I had made Church in the Café Rossini: If anything happens to anyone in this room or their property, especially the Dannes—I don’t care if they’re struck by lightning’I will come for you. Not the cops. Me.

“I’m not the police,” I said.

“I know.”

“Good luck to you, Mrs. Danne.”

She bobbed her head purposefully. “McKenzie,” she said.

Cathy retreated into her home without a backward glance. The old man was still watching from the sidewalk. I thanked him for his courtesy and turned away from the house. That’s when I saw Church’s pal Paulie. He was sitting on the hood of a car down the street and drinking beer from a longneck bottle. I walked up to him. He smiled.

“Guess someone was careless with matches,” he said. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“Tell Church to meet me at the Tall Moon Tavern tomorrow night at nine,” I said. “Tell him not to keep me waiting.”

“I ain’t your nigger,” he said.

I grabbed both of Paulie’s legs and yanked hard. His entire body slid off the car and fell straight down. His head banged off the bumper, and the rest of him bounced hard against the asphalt. The bottle shattered and splashed him with beer and glass.

I kept walking, not even bothering to look back.

Sharren was behind the registration desk when I entered the Pioneer Hotel. I asked her if she ever went home. She said a fellow employee was on vacation so she was working double shifts.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Why do you stay here?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“In Libbie. Why do you stay here?”

“Where would I go?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere with a future. There’s no future here. It was used up years ago.”

“You’re upset because of the fire.”

“Am I?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Who said it was?”

“Everybody knows what happened at the Café Rossini, McKenzie.”

“What is everybody going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“How many fires has that sonuvabitch set over the years? A dozen? More? Guys like Church get away with their bullshit because the people they hurt insist on following the rules even when the rules work against them, and he’s going to get away with this, too, unless—”

“Unless someone breaks the rules just like Church,” Sharren said.

“Yes.”

“What are you trying to talk yourself into?”

I flashed on the look in Cathy Danne’s eyes.

“Not a thing,” I said.

“I hate to think that you would stoop to Church’s level.”

“There would be a difference.”

“Doing wrong for the right reason, is that the difference?”

“Something like that.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Excuse me?”

“The kitchen’s closed. Everything in town is closed at this hour except for a couple of bars. I bet I could rustle something up for you in the kitchen if you wanted. When was the last time you ate?”

“I had something at the clinic this morning.”

Sharren glanced at her watch and shook her head.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Watch the desk for me. Give a shout if someone comes in or calls.”

I made myself comfortable in an overstuffed chair when she left. No one did come in, and I was starting to doze when Sharren returned with a club sandwich and a tap beer.

“Evan was just closing the bar, but I got him to pour this for you,” she said.

I thanked her profusely for both the sandwich and the beer and dug in. I didn’t know how hungry I was until I started to eat. She sat in the nearest chair and watched me. After a while, she said, “I thought about leaving, only I don’t know where I would go or what I would find there. It frightens me. If I were younger … Could you just up and leave your home?”

“It would be hard,” I admitted.

“What would make it hard?”

“Leaving the people I love.”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it?”

“Is there someone in Libbie you can’t live without?”

Sharren looked up and to her right as if she were remembering something. “Yes,” she said. “Finally, at last, yes, I think there is.”

Her answer surprised me, and I said, “Oh?”

“You’re thinking about Rush,” she said. “You’re thinking about the times I flirted with you.”

“More than flirted,” I said. “You opened the door pretty wide.”

“I suppose I was testing myself, making sure I was making the right decision. Have you ever done anything like that?”

I thought of Nina. I thought of a red-haired beauty named Danielle Mallinger, the police chief of a small town in southwestern Minnesota that I met months later. I thought of how I didn’t fully and truly commit to Nina until after I spent time with Danny.