Whack Job by Mike Baron Read Free Book Online Page A

served.”
    Stella and Blaine stepped up to the dining level. The table was covered with a white linen cloth. Three places had been set, each with a side salad and a steaming squab dead center on the big china plates. A bouquet of sunflowers occupied the center of the table between two sterling silver candlesticks with burning tapers.
    Blaine held the chair for Crystal. Crystal and Stella sat at opposite ends with Blaine between them. Stella reached for one of several bottles of salad dressing when Blaine folded his hands and bowed his head. Crystal did likewise. Stella sheepishly complied.
    “Dear Lord,” Blaine said, “for this food we are about to receive we thank you. Amen.”
    “Amen.”
    Stella snagged the hot dish--it was the dread canned green bean and mushroom soup casserole. Stella dished a ceremonial amount onto her plate. Blaine refilled Crystal’s glass from a wine bottle on the cabinet behind him. He got up to refresh his gin and tonic.
    “Freshen your drink?” he said to Stella.
    “No thanks. Alcohol interferes with my sleep. I’ve been on the go since four a.m.”
    “You poor dear,” Crystal said. “You must be exhausted.”
    “I’m going to have to make a short night of it, folks,” Stella said, secretly relieved. Now she wouldn’t have to listen to Crystal’s litany of complaints. Blaine had filled that position for which Stella was grateful.
    The squab was underdone. Stella passed on the Sarah Lee Frozen Cheesecake and excused herself. She pecked Crystal on the cheek and shook Blaine’s hand. Down the hall she went leaving her stepmother and her beau to get on with the serious business of getting sloshed. Stella glanced out the front door. Blaine drove an older 911. She hoped it wouldn’t be repossessed while he was visiting.
    At the end of the hall Stella opened the door to Sam’s home office and went down three steps to the burgundy pile rug. Man cave. Leather furniture, mahogany paneling, the inevitable hero wall bearing photos and testimonials. Sam with Bush the Elder. Sam with Clinton. Sam with Bush the Younger. Rustic/modern woodstove jutting from one corner. Expansive view of the lake. A stunning Jerry Bingham Western landscape. And of course the gun cabinet.
    Certificates of Achievement from Rotary, The Boy Scouts of America, Benevolent Protective Order of Elk, Lions, Colorado Sheriffs’ Association, Larimer County 4H. With the troops in Afghanistan.
    Stella sat in the deep leather chair behind the desk. She loved the smell of leather, just a lingering touch of Sam’s Brut. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her like a Greyhound bus. She had to get some sleep. There was a pamphlet on the desk. She picked it up.
    A Guide to Pawnee Grove .
    ***

CHAPTER TWELVE
    “Samisms”
    Monday night.
    Stella’s Blackberry chirped. It was Gabe.
    “How you doin’, sweetheart? I just got back to LA. We were on location all day.”
    “Hi Winner. I’m in Fort Collins at the family manse.”
“Not too gruesome I hope.”
    “Crystal’s got a new boy toy. Come tomorrow morning I’m outta here. Next week’s Lester’s competency hearing. They’re going to find him crazier than a shit house rat.”
    “Wasn’t he a war hero?”
    “Bronze star. Survived a shot to the head which may have led to his actions.”
    “How much time do you have off? Want to come out here? I’ll send you a ticket, pick you up at John Wayne.”
    “I’d love to, Winner, but I can’t. I’ve only got three days and tomorrow I have to find a crazy man in the mountains and convince him to go back to work for the government.”
    “Otto?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well good luck with that. Maybe you ought to take someone with you.”
    Stella trilled. “Oh Winner. Otto would never hurt me. He’s not psychotic.”
    “Good to know. Maybe you could make some time for me next weekend.”
    “Depends on who’s traveling,” Stella said.
    “A-huh. Well let me see how the week goes. I’m on location through Thursday but you