Some Like It Hawk by Donna Andrews Read Free Book Online

Randall said. “I’m trying to work through the system, while Mr. Throckmorton has chosen the more difficult and controversial path of civil disobedience.”
    I marveled, not for the first time, at how well Randall had made the transition from the boss of a small, family-run construction company to the highly visible spokesperson for the town of Caerphilly.
    Then again, he had years of experience making temperamental clients happy in spite of the delays and other perils typical of construction projects, to say nothing of keeping the peace among his large and unruly clan. Perhaps, after all that, small town politics was a breeze.
    “Morning, officers,” Randall called out.
    He’d reached the top of the stairs, where the stairway turned into a wide marble veranda with a panoramic view of the town square on one side and a row of white marble pillars on the other. Two of the lender’s security guards, looking stiff and uncomfortably warm in their blue and red uniforms, had emerged from the interior of the courthouse and were lurking at the foot of the pillars. They might have made me just a bit nervous if they hadn’t been accompanied by another figure in an ordinary business suit. I reminded myself to be careful not to call them Flying Monkeys in the reporter’s hearing.
    “Morning, Mr. Fisher,” Randall called out, nodding at the suit.
    “Good morning, Mr. Shiffley.” Fisher strolled forward to join us. “I gather you’re about to make another attempt to remove the trespasser?”
    “I certainly plan to ask Mr. Throckmorton if he thinks his act of civil disobedience has accomplished its purpose,” Randall said. “Can’t promise anything.”
    “And what entertainment does the town plan to offer us this afternoon and this evening?” Fisher asked.
    “Got a clogging demo starting now, followed by the semifinals of the hog-calling competition,” Randall said. “And after that a polka band all the way from Goochland County. And then Professor Waterston’s students are going to do some kind of patriotic play. Tonight’s another open mike comedy night.”
    Fisher couldn’t refrain from wincing slightly at that last bit, which probably meant he’d attended one of the previous open mike comedy nights.
    The two exchanged a few more sentences in polite neutral tones. Fisher was one of a handful of what Randall called “the civil ones”—executives from the Evil Lender who didn’t behave badly to all of us.
    “But you know they’re only playing good cop/bad cop on you,” I’d told him once.
    “Of course,” he’d said. “And if they’re dumb enough to think they’re fooling me, all the better. My goal is to learn just a little more about how their minds work than they learn about mine.”
    So I waited patiently while the two of them chatted and studied each other. They’d played out much the same scene dozens of times before. Randall tried to make a very public visit to Mr. Throckmorton every day or so, and made sure the guards saw them exchanging at least a few private words through the barricades. Not only did this annoy the lender’s minions, it kept them from becoming suspicious of our knowledge of what Mr. Throckmorton was up to, or his knowledge of the outside world.
    “And it also lets me keep an eye on what those clowns are doing there in the courthouse,” Randall had said. “If the guards start ripping up the marble floors so they can dig down to the basement, I should spot signs.”
    I didn’t actually think this idea was all that far-fetched. For some reason, the lender’s attitude toward Mr. Throckmorton had changed in the last few weeks. For almost a year they had seemed to regard the siege as either a nuisance or a joke. The guards from the original security service had made perfunctory patrols through the courthouse and occasionally played pinochle with Mr. Throckmorton through the barricade.
    And while we’d slightly resented the old guards when they were here, everyone in town