Voice:  Is Deputy Samuel P. Gerard available?

I was mystified.

Jade:  Who’s it for?

Deb:  Sammy.

Jade:  He’s taunting Ryan.  I’ll get him.

After a minute, an extension was raised.

Sam:  Gerard.

Voice:  Hold for the president.

What in hell?  I made insane gestures at Jade.  She joined 
me just as a familiar voice came on the line.

Prez:  Deputy Gerard?

Long pause...

Sam:  Yessir.  It’s an honor, Mr. President.

Jade looked at me, mouthed something.

Jade:  Suck up.

Prez:  No, no, Sam, listen, I understand you know a few things 
about Bill Strannix.

Sam:  Yessir, I do.

Prez:  Well, Sam... forget ‘em.

Bill stepped through the back door just as Jade slid to 
the floor and I slapped a hand over my mouth and doubled over.

Bill:  What in holy hell?

Jade:  shutupshutupshutup...

I held the phone out mutely and he pressed his ear close.

Sam:  I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. President.  Strannix is...

Bill’s face tightened and both Jade and I nudged him before he 
could speak.

Prez:  Sam, how hard can this be?  Hands off Strannix.  That’s 
all.

Bill grinned and began to laugh silently.

Sam:  But, sir...

Prez:  Sam, listen to me carefully.  Point Barrow, Alaska could 
find itself with a highly qualified traffic cop.

There was another excruciating pause.

Prez:  Do I make myself clear, Deputy Gerard?

Sam sighed hugely.

Sam:  As a bell, sir.

The voice became affable again.

Prez:  Now, Sam, your record speaks for itself, boy.  Go catch 
us some guilty people.

Sam:  Yessir, Mr. President.

We heard a dial tone and slammed the receiver down before 
Sam could catch us.  Probably just asv well, too, because Sam 
retreated to his room and declined Jade's invitation to 
accompany us to the Corner to see the new place.

Elmore was the hunk of the year.  Minnesota women responded 
enthusiastically to the Southern gentleman with the body to die 
for.  He was fielding phone numbers tossed across the bar. 
He’d grin and stuff them in his pockets, and then that was where 
they would stay until Jade or I cleaned them out prior to washing 
his jeans.

Deb:  Elmore... this fidelity is silly.  She wouldn’t expect it 
of you.  Call one, go on out...

Elmore:  There’s so many, Ma... they all look alike.  And it 
ain’t a matter of bein’ faithful.  I been stung one too many times.  
I got a place t’live, coulplea fine ladies t’look after me... I want
more’n’at, I know how t’get it.  What the hell else c’n a man ask 
for?

Deb:  Love, companionship... sex, I don’t know, Elmore.  What do 
you want out of life?

Elmore wrapped a big arm around my neck and hugged me.

Elmore:  Right now I wanna... be quiet, is all.  No way a man can 
be quiet when he’s ridin’ herd on a woman.

Bill cruised up.

Bill:  You know it, boy.

Deb:  Who told you to talk?

I found myself passed from a hug to a headlock.

What I found, oftentimes, was Elmore in a quiet corner with 
Jade.  She told me the was reminiscing, telling stories the 
rest of us had heard a half-dozen times.  He said he liked 
talking to her, she was a good listener and he felt better 
when he was done.  As for Jade, she had taken Ryan’s lead and 
had grown very fond of Elmore.  She was happy to let him ramble,
because she sensed he needed it of he was ever to pick a scrap 
out of the countless ones he was handed and call the number on it.

Sam was gone.  We’d heard nothing from him, though he had called 
once and talked to number two.  When asked, the boy had nothing 
to offer except that Sam was phat and  said not to worry.  His 
things remained in the room he had taken.  I found it odd that 
Bill allowed him to stay on until I thought about it more.  
Doubtless it amused the hell out of Strannix to know that
he and Sam actually played on the same team despite anything 
Gerard believed.

Ryan was jumpy, and not because he ‘was’ the ‘ample security’ 
the Corner’s radio ads promised, but for other reasons as well.  
For an Irishman he could be remarkably close.  I guessed it 
had something to do with the happy mother and son duo who had 
so gravely wounded Jade.  She confirmed this in confidence, 
with the proviso that I could tell Bill if he seemed to be 
getting a little flaky.  I already considered him more than 
a little flaky, and I toddled off to tell Bill immediately. 

Bill:  I know, girl.  Got people on it.  Anybody shows, we’ll 
know.

I nodded once, swallowed heavily.  He wouldn’t welcome 
questions, I’d also managed to learn that.  Someday, I 
thought, I might work up the nerve to ask who is ‘people’ 
were but I wasn’t anywhere close to that yet.  Even when 
I did, finally, I expected to be blown off.

Bill:  Seen Cole, baby?

The voice was low, serious.

Deb:  Once.  Have you?

Bill:  All over the damn place.  Where?

Deb:  At the Corner, the night after Hiatt was there.  
He... well, he had Jade kind of...

Bill:  Kind of what?

Deb:  Backed into a corner.  He caught her as she came out 
of the back.  Elmore was all over him and then the Gaelic 
Cavalry came over the hill and all hell nearly broke loose.

Bill:  Where was I?

Deb:  I don’t know, Bill.  There want a whole lot of noise 
except for some vile Irish, and then Ryan ran him out.  He 
went quietly, seemed to think he was pretty funny.

Bill sat back in his chair, put his feet up with great 
deliberation.

Bill:  Where were you during all this?

Deb:  Behind the bar.  Elmore told me to stay put.  I’d have 
looked for you but I wasn’t at all sure where you’d gone.

He regarded me steadily, black eyes quiet.

Deb:  Did I do something wrong?

Bill:  No, you were fine, girl.  ‘Kept next time you see that 
boy I want to know, right away.

Deb:  Is that Annapolis talking?

Bill:  Yes it is, baby.  And you know why.  He has an ax to 
grind and he’s nobody to underestimate.  Right away, understand?

I nodded.  George Cole wasn’t the only one not to be 
underestimated.  Bill rested a big paw on my cheek, not tenderly 
but firmly and possessively.

Bill:  You listen, you’ll be fine.  Not takin’ off by yourself?

Deb:  No, Bill.

Oh, brother.

Bill:   Tell Jade not to be gettin off by herself anymore.

Deb:  Yes, Bill.

Feminists, kill me.  Now.  Please.

Bill:  Now... g’wan, let men work.

Obediently, feeling like some sort of cross between 
Lassie and Donna Reed, I wandered away. It was unusual, 
how time had made me more tractable rather than less, 
but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why 
that was.  I had stumbled over my own refusal to co-operate
so many times, had landed myself in deep weeds so often.  
As usual, with me, the only thing that brought wisdom 
was time and lumps.  Now, when Bill spoke, I knew better 
than to regard it as a challenge.

Deb:  Billy... can you come down here?

I usually only went to Billy anymore when I was scared 
green, and I was.

The voice on the other end of the line was reassuringly crisp.

Bill:  What’s up, girl?

Deb:  Cole’s here, Ryan told me a couple of minutes ago 
on the fly and he’s...

I scanned the bar quickly, looking...

Deb:  ... and he’s at the bar now.

In all his malevolent glory, root-beer-brown shirt and 
matching silk tie, hair gleaming slickly in the dim lighting, 
black eyes riveted on me.

Cole:  Flash!

Big hand came down on the barkeep and I jumped.

Bill:  You let Elmore go early?  You were talkin’ ‘bout it.

Deb:  Yeah, he’s on his way now.  Can you come?  Please?  
Ryan’s across the room and... I guess I’m scared.

Bill:  Good thing.  Beats the hell outta that pigheadedness 
of yours.  You’re scared, you’re cautious.  Get Gaerity, 
keep ‘im close.  I’m on my way.

The phone crashed down in my ear and I hung up.  The man 
was down around the middle of the bar, sandwiched between 
a skinny little accountant type and a busty brunette who didn’t 
seem to be with him but who looked like she wasnted to be. 
I picked up the phone, dialed for the internal page, since 
Ryan’s two way hand’t survived a fight and we hadn’t replaced 
it yet.

Deb: Would the Harrigan, H-A-double-R-I-G-A-N, that’s Harrigan 
party please report to the bar.

Ryan steamed up, gave me a wedgie.  I had paged the party of 
Mother Machree, that of Kevin Barry, and the friends of someone 
who was only giving his name as ‘Danny Boy’ and he was pretty 
tired of the cheap shots.  I was pretty tired of paging him and 
I figured he would be after Bill to replace his radio, so I could 
simply scream ‘Gaerity get the fuck up here now!’ into his
ear like normal.

Ryan:  Lass?  Anymore Irish music ye care t’profane?

Deb:  Wait’ll I pick my underewar outa the crack of my butt... 
and besides, what’s more pathetic than Mother Machree, me 
ignorant broth of a bye?

My absolute lamest ‘Pat O’Brien on serious barbituates’ 
Irish accent.  Ryan loomed over me.

Deb:  Go be menacing over in that direction, ya fartnocker.  
I’ve got an accident waiting for a place to happen right now.

I gave a slight nod in Cole’s direction.  If looks could 
have killed, I’d have been dead twice.

Ryan:  Och, aye.  I’ll be close, lass.  He moves wrong...

Deb:  You’ll kick his fuck out, I know.  I wish he would.  
I’d like to see you take him.

Ryan:  Have ye rung William?

Deb:  Yes, I have, and he’s coming.  Thank God.

Ryan:  Then ye’ve done all ye can, lass.  Go on, serve the
gobshite.  I’ll be here.

Those words were comforting, so much so that I was able to 
approach Cole relatively steadily.

Deb:  What can I do for you tonight, Tonto?

Cole:  Scotch-rocks, Flash.  ‘Bout time, too.

Anyone else, i might have been tempted to pour Cutty Sark 
but for Cole I did worse than the house brand.  It was liquor 
that we kept on hand only because the distributor had included 
it in our opening order.  I assumed he’d intended it for 
cleaning fluid.  It was something out of Japan or Korea, 
called Queen James.

Deb:  Compliments of the house, Tonto.

I moved away quickly, watched him toss the scotch back and 
then grimace as it burned going down.  The big hand crashed 
onto the bar again and I ambled back.

Deb:  Another?

Cole:  Damn right.... and don’t try any funny shit either, Flash.

Deb:  Didn’t like it?  There are other bars...

A hand gathered up most of my blouse.  The busty brunette 
shrank away and the little accountant looked like someone wavering 
between chivalry and survival.  A familiar, most comforting 
bulk materialized at my elbow.

Ryan:  Gently, lad.  Ye’d not want t’get hurt.

Ryan’s low rumble caught Cole’s attention where my angry 
squawks went nowhere.  Cole smiled and settled back, 
as relaxed as when he had first arrived.  His eyes never 
left me, a lazy stare fixed on me.  I shivered inwardly 
and squeezed Ryan’s hand beneath the bar.  

Ryan:  Ye’ll be havin’ a Guinness now, won’t ye.

i barely supressed a smile, even now in this face of danger.

Deb:  Ryan...

Cole:  Bring me another one of those evil scotches, Flash. 

Ryan raised an eyebrow, reached underneath the bar for the 
bottle.

Cole:  ... and don’t be sic’in your damn Setter on me.  I can 
kill faster than I can fuck.  

He leaned forward, as close to me as he dared, considering 
the mass of Irish so close to knocking his block off.  

Cole:  And you know how fast I can fuck, don’cha, Flash?

Deb:  Yeah. I also know what kind you are. A bad one. 
Useless.  I'd do better for myself by myself.

Cole had the look of a coiled cobra, pondering his next 
strike, but before he could respond, Ryan’s hand shot out, 
planted itself in the middle of Cole’s chest just as I made 
out the familiar shape standing behind my tormentor.

Bill:  Might wanna think about leavin’, jackoff, before 
you’re escorted out.

Cole melted back into the shadows again, sipping on his 
cheap liquor.  He looked as boneless as a jellyfish, he was so 
relaxed.  Nothing seemed to phase this man.

Cole:  Just having a quiet drink.  In the company of friends.  
Isn’t that right, Flash?

Deb:  With friends like you, I won’t need that lobotomy I’ve 
been saving up for.

Cole chuckled, took his time finishing his scotch, oblivious 
to the testosterone standing with folded arms, staring at him 
from both sides of the world.  Slowly, deliberately, he rose.

Cole:  Been a pleasure, Flash. Strannix.  Paddy.  

Ryan’s low growl followed Cole out the door.  His mood did 
nothing but degenerate all night. Some fool had put a live Queen 
album in the jukebox, and I, in a mischevous mood (which was 
typical), played the last track, which happened to be Brian May’s 
painful guitar rendition of “God Save the Queen.”  Instead of 
breaking up any nonexistent fights, Ryan started one when one of 
the boys at the bar started to sing along.  The Corner ended up 
several thousand dollars in the hole for the night because of the destruction.   Everyone involved in the mess was exhausted, and we 
simply locked up and went home to crash.  Two hours into blissful 
sleep, I awoke to find Bill pulling on jeans.  

Deb:  Where you headed off to?  

Bill:  Corner.  Can’t sleep, gonna go see what I can do.

Deb:  Want me to come along?  

Bill:  If ya want.  You were conked by the time we got home 
though, and ya don’t look much better.  Might wanna just go 
back t’sleep.

He rested a hand on my cheek, this time gentle.  The 
warmth lulled me back to sleep.  Sleep until the phone woke 
me up.  I waited for Bill to grab it, until I remembered 
that he’d went to the Corner.

Deb:  Hello?

Voice:  Flash.  

My eyes flicked to the Caller ID readout.  It was the 
number for the Corner.  I felt an instant  surge of panic, 
slammed the phone down and scrambled for my jeans.  I 
stumbled over the lamp cord reaching for my moccassins and 
nearly pitched the lamp over, if I hadn’t caught it in time.  
Augustus nearly toppeled me, barking, alerted by the noise.  
Following close behind was a disheveled looking Sam.  He 
noted my appearance and was instantly awake.

Sam:  What’s going on?

Deb:  Cole.  Corner.  Billy.  Cole.  Keys.  Shit!

I couldn’t find my keys.  They weren’t where I’d deposited 
them the night before, on the kitchen table.  I glanced out 
the window and saw that Bill had taken my truck, it having been
parked behind his.  Sam advanced, took hold of me gently but 
firmly.

Sam:  Slow down, girl.  What’s going on?  

Deb:  Cole.  Called from the Corner.  Billy’s down there.  
Or was.  

Sam:  What did he say?

Deb:  Nothing.

Sam:  Lie to your mama, girl, but don't lie to me.

Deb:  Nothing.  Really.

Sam searched my face, sighed.

Sam:  I’ll go down there and check on the place.  
All right?  Cole was just trying to scare the shit out 
of you, and it looks like he succeeded.  Get on back to 
bed.  

Deb:  But Bill...

Sam:  Call his cellphone.  

He released me and started back to his room to collect 
his shirt and boots.  I grabbed the phone and dialed the 
number that was burned into my brain.  Elmore appeared in 
the door to his room, body warm with sleep but his eyes 
sharp.

Elmore:  Ma, where you think you’re goin’?

Sam:  Get your pants on, young man.  She’ll be happy 
assholing off by herself in a minute.

Elmore reached into his room for pants and a shirt and 
shrugged into them while pinning me to the wall with a look.  
Sam appeared in his door in jeans and a muscle shirt which 
I could not remember seeing before but which every 
particle of estrogen inside me deeply appreciated.

Meantime, the phone rang.  And rang.  And rang.  Sam 
watched me, waiting to see for himself the look on my 
face when Bill answered and told me to quit acting like 
an ass.  But Bill always answered his cellphone on the 
first ring.  Second if he was busy.

I sat uneasily in the back of Sam’s Navigator.  I didn’t 
know how Bill did it.  To wander around all day long with 
the cold steel of a gun thrust down the waistband of his 
pants seemed like more trouble than it was worth.  But I 
was doing it myself, concealing a gun that Bill rarely 
carried but always kept cleaned and loaded for contingincies.  
Could I use it?  I doubted it...but I would get it to 
Bill, and I had no doubt whatsoever that he needed it.  
Desperately.

Elmore:  Think we oughta get Ryan?

Sam:  Christ no!  That crazy asshole’s sleeping the sleep 
of the righteous and that’s right where I want him.  
Let’s go.

I fidgeted the entire way in, as much from fear as 
from the gun in my waistband.  Sam drove, fast and well.  
Elmore was riding shotgun and he stared at me with 
silent understanding.

We blew in with zero resistance and I knew it made 
Sam nervous.  He tried to do the cop thing and cover 
Elmore and me while all I wanted to do was get to Bill.  
If the noise I was hearing was any indication, someone 
was getting the snot beat out of him.  

Deb:  Goddamn...

Eight or nine men, most of the faces I recognized from 
the last time I’d seen Cole intimately, were taking 
shots at Bill, who was lying on the floor, grabbing at 
anything that came near.  He looked like a wounded tiger, 
tied down by zookeepers.  The majority of the men had 
recently had their faces rearranged, presumably by the 
bad boy.  Cole was in the process of hauling Bill
to his knees by his dark-stained t-shirt when we appeared. 

Sam pushed me behind him, and barked.

Sam:  Cole!

Cole slammed Bill in the gut and dropped him to the 
floor.  He turned, calm look on his face. Grinned.

Cole:  Marshal.

I darted forward, to go to Bill.  It was all very 
melodramatic and bad movielike, but there was nothing for 
it for me.  Sam tried to catch hold of my t-shirt but I 
was moving too fast.  I ducked between two of Cole’s goons, 
ignored the look of wounded rage on Bill’s fsce, and crouched
beside him.

Deb:  Bill... Billy! 

Cole:  Figured you’d turn up sooner or later, Flash.  
See you brought your pet boy scout and that punch-drunk 
dumbass Pratt along.

Bill:  Get outa here, girl.  I mean it.

Deb:  And let this fucking coward turn his buddies 
loose on you again?  Not likely, Strannix.

Bill:  Goddammit!

Under cover of settling myself around him I slipped his 
arm around my back and rested the heel of his hand against 
the gun laying flat against my skin.  His expression 
never changed.

Sam:  Deb, go call the police.

Deb:  You think these bastards will hang around if I do?  
Come on, Sam!

Besides, I’m not moving now that Bill knows he 
has a gun again.

Cole:  I gotta tell ya, Flash, your devotion is touching.

Deb:  Fuck you, Tonto.

Cole:  For someone who says she doesn’t want it, you 
sure keep askin’ for it.

Something on the gun caught on the skin of my back 
and I had a long red welt there the next day.  Bill 
yanked the weapon free, thumbed off the safety and tried 
to bring it to bear on Cole in the lightning fast, 
silky smooth motions he was used to.  But he was in a 
bad position in the first place, my head was in the way, 
there were too many other people too close.  Cole saw it
coming and landed a kick in Bill’s side that left him 
grey and gasping.  I came over Bill’s shoulder, snarling, 
and was cuffed aside.  As he turned, I lunged after him 
again and this time was brought up sprawling by Bill.  
Sam had a cellphone screwed to his ear but he was
completely outnumbered and could do nothing.  Cole 
and his weasels walked out the back, the way they came in.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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