The Monkey Jungle (The Bennt, Montana Series) Page 2

  Henry and Alison remained silent. Henry looked guilty, absorbed in tightening the blanket around Alison. As Henry Kathryn led the shaken girl to the couch, Garth grabbed his jeans, curious and more than intrigued by the woman who had pulled a gun and seemed to know how to use it.

  “Is she a police officer?” Garth asked Henry. “A state trooper?”

  “She’s a quilter.” Henry knelt in front of Alison, taking her shaking hands in his.

  “A quilter?” Garth blinked. “But—quilting seems to be such a gentle art.” He couldn’t fathom the connection between quilting and guns. He reiterated his confusion, “A quilter?!”

  Henry nodded, embarrassed. “A gun toting quilter. They’re everywhere.” He was obviously disgruntled with his mother. His voice rose plaintively, “Or so she claims.”

  A gun toting quilter? Nothing made sense. On the other hand—Garth stared suspiciously at Henry. Why had they neglected to tell Henry’s mother he was coming? Such an oversight wasn’t going to be explained away with a lame, I forgot. Garth’s attention went to the open door where he could see Mary Kathryn being towered over by a large uniformed male officer, a silent female officer relaxed by his side.

  “I explained what happened.” Mary Kathryn’s annoyed voice floated into the living room. “Don’t you look at me like that, Wilson Ulrich. I made out with you once under the high school bleachers. I haven’t forgotten, Wilson. You were under the bleachers and I was sitting on them. If I’d’ve had a gun then, why things would be different for you now, let me assure you.”

  “Mary Kathryn, don’t change the subject.” The sheriff’s deputy took in the scene in the living room. His authoritative voice resonated with exasperation. “Mrs. Kathryn, have you been drinking this evening?”

  “What does drinking tonight have to do with your tendency to creep around under bleachers copping feels, Wilson? Practicing for your future career?”

  “She going to end up in jail.” Henry groaned, his bony shoulders sagged. “She will push and push and he’ll get fed up and haul her off to jail.”

  “At least we can bail her out.” Alison glanced helplessly at her father, who only shrugged. There was nothing Garth could do except explain the incident and hope the officers didn’t do more than cite Henry’s mother. He was more concerned about the concealed weapon she carried.

  “Mary Denise Kathryn, don’t try and change the subject.” The officer’s tone told Garth they knew each other well, which, Garth decided, could be good or bad. “And don’t bother telling me again you thought Mr. Morley was a perverted cat burglar with an OCD that compelled him to steal stuff while in his underwear because it aroused him to play with your things!”

  Garth almost laughed out loud, and would have, except Henry Kathryn groaned with increased embarrassment. Henry Kathryn looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.

  “The poor man was dressed for bed,” the deputy was saying. “I can see clearly over your head. I watched him put his pants on. Alison has a blanket from his bedding around her shoulders.” The peace officer’s expression became stern. “Various offenses have been committed here tonight, young lady.”

  “Disrupting your neighborhood,” continued the deputy as Garth listened. “Which is disturbing the peace. Discharging a firearm within fifty feet of a residence—which obviously includes inside a residence. I’ve told you more than once, Mary Kathryn, don’t bring your firearm out unless you are at the weapons range, or in mortal danger. A man in his underwear isn’t necessarily mortal danger. This is not Texas—this is Montana! It’s ask first, then shoot.” The stern voice rose a notch.

  “Mary Kathryn—” the man’s shoulders squared. “Did you go to Margarita Monday? Was this one of those Berry Derry pistol Margarita incidences? Don’t go all innocent on me. I know you named that pistol of yours. No,” he held up a hand. “Don’t lie to me. I can always tell when you’re about to lie. I can see you’re thinking about it.” The deputy said to his partner: “Harper, the fellow she shot at appears fine. Check and see if Henry needs a medic for the shock his mother has given the poor kid. I know I feel the need for medical attention.”

  Deputy Beth Harper stuck her head in the door. She looked around the interior of the living room, smiling at the red-faced Henry, then Garth. The deputy stared at the Garth overly-long, her expression bland as she took in the blue jeans and bare chest, then his face, which made her smile widen. “You alright, sir?” she finally asked. “Do you want us to pursue this to the fullest extent of the law?”

  “No. I did surprise her.”

  The deputy nodded her approval, turning her attention back to Henry’s mother and the protests Mary Kathryn was making in her own defense.

  “Give me your pistol, Mary Kathryn.” Deputy Wilson Ulrich held out his hand.

  “But, Wilson—” Mary Kathryn wailed, “I’ve got a permit. I feel much safer with Berry Derry! Mr. Morley came up like a ghost—I thought he was a present. I swear I looked for a big red ribbon. I looked him over and didn’t see one taped anywhere. He was armed, though, and all he was wearing were boxer briefs—green, Wilson—the fitted ones. Wilson, you should get yourself a few pair, different colors. Heather would be drooling. Beth,” Mary Kathryn said earnestly to the female deputy, “you know the ones I’m talking about—fitted, with legs? They’re much better than regular tidy whities.”

  Her arm waved back toward the living room occupants. “Imagine it, Beth, a big hunk with a tiny little baseball bat just standing there, all silent and, well, he never said a word—it was quite a sight. Wilson, I even considered looking around for a tip jar. I always hoped someone might send a dancing two-legged gag gift or something like him to me. But, honestly, Wilson, I was too busy looking for bows and balloons and didn’t notice if he had a tip jar or not. And he never said a word. What was I supposed to think? I swear, I thought he was going to attack me—and I didn’t have a clue where Henry and Alison were, for all I knew, they could have been decapitated in the boot room...”

  Garth could clearly see a grin growing on the female deputy’s face. Deputy Wilson, however, remained grim faced. The male deputy frowned when his fellow officer commiserated with Mary Kathryn.

  “Wilson,” Garth heard the woman tell her partner, “Mary Kathryn has a point. I’d have protected myself, too. And, like she said, Wilson, he didn’t have a tip jar. At least, I didn’t see one. Mary Kathryn was surprised...in fear for her life. And justifiably disappointed he wasn’t a gag gift, as I would’ve been.”

  “See, Wilson,” cajoled Mary Kathryn as the male deputy glared at his partner. “It was a justifiable shooting. Even the victim understands. What could be more forgivable? All I did was kill some fiber and raise dust motes—create a little ruckus. There’s no reason to take my gun away.”

  “You’re a menace, Mary Kathryn. Give me the pistol,” Deputy Ulrich extended his hand further. “For my peace of mind. You’re lucky I’m not encouraging Mr. Morley to file attempted assault charges.” “He was in my house!” Mary Kathryn protested. “Wearing only his skivvies, carrying a baseball bat! Wilson, he scared the daylights out of me. There are laws against taking my pistol, Wilson Ulrich. And what about my peace of mind? Don’t try pilfering my feeling of security. It just wouldn’t be right!”

  Garth watched Mary Kathryn fidget, the sheriff’s expression telling he didn’t believe she’d been frightened. Garth didn’t believe it either. She hadn’t been scared. She’d seemed piqued, which intrigued him.

  Mary Kathryn, realizing she was losing, appealed to the woman. “Beth, isn’t Wilson being a little drastic here? I have rights. I’ve a permit, you’ve both seen it—when I shot that snake in The Corner Market.”

  “Wilson’s right, Mary Kathryn, you know he is. Everything you did tonight was against the law. But, like I said,” Beth soothed Mary Kathryn’s ruffled dismay. “I would have shot too, if he’d have been holding a weapon in my house wearing nothing but green skivvies and rising up like a horny wraith from the floor.
Wilson, imagine her all helpless.”

  Garth hid a smile from Henry and Alison as Wilson scowled openly at his co-worker.

  “Wilson, listen to Beth,” said Mary Kathryn sweetly. “She understands a woman can’t be to careful. And, Wilson, I wasn’t actually shooting at Mr. Morley. I shot the floor in front of him. A warning shot—so he wouldn’t attack me. Like I told you, or maybe I didn’t—I asked him to assume the execution position, but only to protect myself and the kids until you arrived.”

  “Execution position?!” Wilson Ulrich’s gaze snapped over her head to Garth in the living room, who had to nod, confirming the truth of her words. The deputy glared down at Mary Kathryn. “Give me your gun, Mary Kathryn!”

  “But what if I run into another testy rattlesnake?” Despite her protest Mary Kathryn reached behind her back and reluctantly handed over her pistol.

  “You sew,” Wilson remained a stoic wall she couldn’t crack. “Make boots.”

  “You can always get a taser, Mary Kathryn.” Deputy Beth Harper earned herself an outraged exclamation from her partner. “Check on the Internet.”

  “Really?” Mary Kathryn sounded thoroughly intrigued. “A taser—isn’t that like a stun gun? Isn’t that a little up close and personal?”

  “She’s not getting a taser!” Wilson practically bellowed at the two women, startling them both. “Don’t encourage her, Beth,” he snarled at his partner. “Just keep your trap shut.”

  “Criminey’s, Wilson, calm down!” Mary Kathryn stuck her head around him and glanced about the quiet neighborhood. “Don’t be so loud. You probably woke everyone up with your sirens—and by the way, was that necessary?”

  “Mary Kathryn—” it was clearly an exasperated friend who uttered those words. “You woke up the neighborhood. We had three calls of a gun shot. You woke everybody up. You’re lucky the National Guard isn’t here.”

  Mary Kathryn patted his arm. “Calm down, Wilson. Since you’ve got my gun I’ll shoot off a nice letter to the sheriff telling him how fast you arrived, and how efficiently you took care of the unfortunate incident to everyone’s satisfaction. And maybe offer a small donation to the auxiliary fund to show my appreciation for you being prompt—if you promise not to arrest me for attempted bribery. I won’t even complain very much that you took Berry Derry away from me—illegally...”

  Garth heard the sheriff’s deputy literally growl as Mary Kathryn turned to Beth. “Where would I look on the Internet for a taser, Beth? I found pepper spray and snake shot at the sporting good store in town. Wouldn’t it be easier to try and order a taser through them?”

  A furious low discussion took place for a few minutes on the porch. Garth wasn’t surprised when Henry’s mother gave the female deputy a hug before kissing the cheek of the male deputy who’d confiscated her pistol. As they went down the porch steps Mary Kathryn turned and re-entered the living room, making a point to lock the door behind her.

  “Henry,” she was cheerfully bright as she approached them. “Beth just told me this subdivision is going to be annexed into the city limit the first of next year. Do you know what that means?”

  “No,” Henry appeared resigned. “But I know you’re going to tell me.”

  “It means I’ll have to schmooze up with the town cops. Or save more money for bail,” Mary Kathryn speculated, unconcerned at the varying expressions her sunny words earned. “Bail would probably be easier. But it wouldn’t hurt to get to know a few of the Townies better than I do—do some schmoozing with the Chief of Police. Henry,” She made her way toward the stairs. “Wilson says I can’t have a taser unless I’m willing to get tased. I told him in no uncertain terms I wasn’t getting hit with one of those things—not unless he did it first. Apparently poor Wilson’s been tased. He shuddered, so it must have hurt terribly. There was no faking that. Then again, Wilson doesn’t know about my other pistol, Cherry Derry.” Mary Kathryn went up the stairs, speaking over her shoulder to no one in particular. “I’ll just keep her out of sight and petition Sheriff McMillan for my other pistol back. Wilson will never be the wiser. Nice job cleaning the house, kids. Goodnight everyone.” She disappeared up the stairs, leaving her audience in utter silence.

  It was Henry’s miffed, “By petition, she means visit with the sheriff until she wheedles her gun from him,” that broke the awkward moment.

  “She’s, uh, very pretty, don’t you think, Dad?” Alison wrung her hands, avoiding her father’s penetrating gaze.

  Garth exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Pretty? Who could really tell anymore. Mary Kathryn was more than just a word. She was. . . She was a tornado. Energetic and vibrant. A feminine freight train of amusing random thoughts and machinations had just rumbled through the room and left them standing by the tracks wondering what had happened. The room felt bare, empty without her.

  Henry apologized to him, “I love my mother, sir. But she’s, uh—rather eccentric, more so lately. I think it comes from living alone while I’ve been in college. A few years ago she started acting strangely. Secretive and odd. Not like her at all. I think she might be ill—you saw what just happened. I’m really worried. And now that I’ve graduated from college I can keep an eye on her. That’s why we’ve come home. To take care of her, or, at least find out what’s going on.”

  Garth remained silent, digesting Henry’s words. Mary Kathryn had a disarming, inane way about her, which she had used to charm her way out of a possible citation. But ill? He wasn’t buying Henry’s concerns; and Henry’s eyes kept avoiding his... what was Henry concealing?

  Alison hugged her father one last time before she gave him back his blanket. “Do you need another pillow, Dad?”

  “No thanks, honey. I’ll see you two in the morning.” He cast his daughter a significant glance. “We’ll sort this out then.”

  Alison appeared relieved. She too, guiltily avoided her father’s eyes. “Goodnight then.”

  “Goodnight.” Garth watched them go up the stairs, his thoughts dwelling on Mary Kathryn.

  His hostess had looked at him, assessed him, liked what she had seen, felt threatened and that was that; she’d drawn the gun. Mary Kathryn was a dynamo. She was fascinating, this gun toting quilter who had another pistol stashed somewhere—obviously she’d never used it from its name. And green was her favorite color... He fell asleep thinking about crystalline blue eyes.

  Chapter Two

  “GOOD MORNING, GARTH.”

  Garth woke up to the object of one of his more interesting nights in years sailing across his view with a cheerful smile.

  “I heard you stirring,” said Mary Kathryn. “The shower is upstairs, second door to the left. I’ve put extra towels in the bathroom. Do you want some coffee? And if so, how do you take it? And do you eat breakfast?” Mary Kathryn straightened magazines and re-stacked pocket books on an end table.

  “Coffee would be great,” he said. “Black, thank you. And hot or cold breakfast, whatever doesn’t disturb your routine will be fine.” He cast a quick glance her way from his prone position on the couch. “I certainly don’t expect you to wait on me. I expect Alison and Henry to, as their punishment.” His statement caused her to smile, as if the idea had already occurred to her.

  “Great minds think alike.” She plopped down in the easy chair as he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and sat up. “Sorry about last night,” she said. “You didn’t seem too rattled. I assume you had no nightmares I’d be interested in.”

  “No nightmares.” Garth’s lips twitched as he used the blanket to cover his bare legs. “Would you please pass me my pants?”

  She followed his gaze to the back of the chair where she sat, tossing them to him, watching disinterestedly as he remained with the blanket over his lap and began to pull the pant legs up over his feet, skillfully managing to stay covered.

  “How long were you planning to stay?” Mary Kathryn concealed her amusement. Whose modesty was he protecting? They both knew she’d seen about all she poss
ibly could have. And he was just as good looking as she remembered. His face perfect, if there were such a thing. Perfectly balanced bones with something more that couldn’t be defined—but it might have been his rich green eyes with long dark lashes, or his mouth, which was mobile and firm, or his chin and jaw, or maybe his nose—but then, his chest was broad, and had enough hair to be masculine. His bare arms were thick with muscle. He was man cake—made for a woman. All his frosting was perfect. It hadn’t been the margaritas last night. Her memory was just fine.

  “I had originally intended staying a week.” He glanced at Mary Kathryn and found her silently drumming the pads of her fingers on the arm of the chair. “The kids talked me into a month. But that was before I knew you were oblivious to my arrival.” He conveyed he would leave as soon as possible if that was what she wanted.

  “A month?” her tone was neutral, her smile enigmatic. “Enough time to catch up with Alison and get to know Henry on his home turf. We’ll be a bit crowded, but I’m sure we’ll make do.”

  Unwilling to ponder why he felt relieved he was staying, Garth stood and pulled up his jeans. His hands fell to his side as his hostess rose and approached him. She didn’t hesitate, picking up his left hand to study it, an odd expression on her face. A heated current, an awareness passed from her fingers into his. His eyes flew to her face.

  “Not married?” There was no satisfaction evident on her face, no reaction at all as she observed his bare fingers.

  Garth shook his head, wondering if she had felt that frisson of energy. Her expression remained pleasantly bland.

  “You’re here for a month, so probably no girlfriends.” Mary Kathryn dropped his hand.

  Once again he gave a confirming nod.

  “Are you heterosexual?” She seemed only mildly curious.

  His eyes met hers then deliberately traveled downward to stare openly at her cleavage, admiring the fullness under her sweater, the creamy white flesh revealed in the shadowed valley. Mary Kathryn was built nicely. The ‘V’ shaped neckline of her lightweight purple sweater allowed him a good view because he was a full head taller than she. Her hand waved in his nose, her voice nonchalant. “I was hoping you were gay.”