Some Like It Hawk by Donna Andrews Read Free Book Online Page A

now remembered them fondly. The Flying Monkeys were stiffly uniformed, uniformly humorless, and—to the dismay of our police chief—armed. I tried not to scowl at them, but I couldn’t help thinking that ever since they’d arrived, things had been so much more tense in town.
    I also glanced at the third guard who stood at the other end of the veranda with his left arm held stiffly out for the hawk to sit on. Both he and the hawk scanned the skies around them with similar fierce looks on their faces.
    But the hawk, I reminded myself, was only doing what came naturally. It wasn’t her fault her owner was trying to use her to destroy someone else’s pets.
    I mentally wished the hawk bad luck with her hunting.
    Just then Fisher and Randall burst into laughter.
    “Sorry, but I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Fisher said. “But if you come up with anything we can help you with, just let me know.”
    He strolled back to the guards.
    “It’s okay, Lieutenant Wilt,” he said. “Mayor Shiffley can go on in.”
    “And these other individuals?” Wilt asked, waving at the rest of us. Clearly, from his expression, he was hoping Fisher would shout “Off with their heads!”
    “Reporters, come to witness my attempt at mediation,” Randall said. “And a witness of my own, to make sure I don’t get misquoted by the press.”
    “Mayor Shiffley’s entire party can go on in,” Fisher said. He smiled and shook his head as if inviting us to chuckle with him over the silly behavior of the guards. Randall, who didn’t find the guards any more charming than I did, managed a tight smile and a nod.
    “Permission to enter,” Wilt said. Fisher disappeared back into the building. “Officer Reilly, escort the visitors.”
    “Yes sir!”
    Reilly and his boss saluted each other with exaggerated military precision. The Star-Trib photographer snapped a few pictures of them doing it. Then Wilt walked aside. Reilly stood at attention beside us.
    “Well, let’s get this show on the road,” Randall said.
    “Yes, sir,” Reilly said—still at attention, but minus the salute. He appeared to be waiting for us to lead the way.
    Randall raised an eyebrow, glanced back at the reporters, and shook his head in a gesture of amused regret.
    “Is he talking to himself?” he asked, pointing to Wilt, standing twenty feet away at the far edge of the veranda.
    Reilly stood stiffly at attention, pretending not to have heard. Even with his arms clapped stiffly at his sides, you could see that he had a huge and growing sweat stain under each arm, and the beginnings of a heat rash on the back of his neck. Apparently the new guard company was from someplace farther north and either didn’t know how to equip their staff for the Virginia heat or didn’t care about their comfort.
    The reporter was staring at Officer Wilt and scribbling in her notebook.
    “I think he’s got a microphone in his lapel,” she said.
    “Yes, he’s miked for sound,” I said. “See the coiled wire thingy going up to his ear?”
    “Just like the Secret Service wear,” Kate said.
    “Lordy,” Randall said, shaking his head again. “Well, time’s a-wastin’. Lead on, Mr. Reilly.”
    “That’s Officer Reilly,” the young man said, but he did start toward the door.
    Randall stuck his hands in his pockets and ambled behind our escort in a display of folksy charm that mocked the paramilitary precision of the guards. At least that’s how it looked to me, and from the way the reporter was scribbling as she glanced back and forth between Randall and Officer Wilt, I suspect she was getting the same impression. A little bit ridiculous, those guards.
    And maybe also a little bit scary. I hoped she got that part, too.
    Randall had only taken a few steps when a series of quick reports rang out inside the building.
    Were those gunshots?

 
    Chapter 6
    “Get down!” Randall shouted.
    Reilly didn’t bother glancing around to check on us civilians. He drew his gun