Return of the Dixie Deb (9 page)

Chapter Seven

The mound of blankets in front of the fireplace was making noise. She stared at it through narrowed eyes.

Sound and movement, the pile was rising and falling as if alive. It reminded her of something. She closed her eyes to block out the sun pouring through an eastern window and tried to think.

While it wasn’t as loud as the drumbeat in her head, the noise was persistent. It was hard to concentrate with what was going on between her temples. It sounded like…like a hibernating bear from one of those PBS nature shows she used to watch with her dad.

The sound changed. It was different now. A long rumble, like an inhale and exhale and something moving.

She opened her eyes. The mound had shifted revealing her partner in crime. Mac was dressed in the gray sweatpants and T-shirt he usually wore at night. He was lying now in a heap of pillows and a coverlet. It looked like he had stripped the cushions from the loveseat and armchairs to make a bed on the floor. He inhaled audibly, rubbed his face, and pulled the blanket up around him.

Great, so he couldn’t tough out one more night with her as a bedmate. The floor must have been more appealing than a double bed with her. Another man fleeing her bed. So much for her ego, not to mention any daydreams she’d had about him.

She drew a breath. The effort set her fragile temples vibrating. Would there be aspirin or something in the bathroom? She didn’t remember bringing any along. She edged a foot out toward the floor.

Taking tiny steps, she made her way around the makeshift bed on the floor. Mac was lying on his back now, dead to the world. Her bare feet made no noise as she shuffled past.

She closed the bathroom door and braced herself against the sink, raising her head to look at the mirror. She was still wearing her yellow dress from the night before. She’d grabbed it out of her closet in Cartersville when she had gone back to pack for their trip. It had been part of her anticipated honeymoon trousseau, another expense still on her credit card. The bright color hurt her eyes. Sleeping in it hadn’t done anything for it.

How tired had she been last night? It wasn’t like they’d done all that much. She remembered sitting by the pool in the afternoon, kicking Mac with water as he sat under the patio umbrella with a book on local history. Afterwards, they’d gone upstairs to the room to change. Then everything got hazy.

She opened her eyes again. Her mouth tasted like medicine. Maybe she was coming down with the flu.
Great timing
. They had something or other scheduled for today. Something important if she could just recall what it was.

Mac’s travel kit was on the back of the toilet. He wouldn’t mind her borrowing something considering she felt like she was dying. Or wished she’d just be put out of her misery. She gritted her teeth at the noise of the zipper and opened it. There was a personal size bottle of mouthwash. She shivered at the smell, steeled herself, and tipped it on end.

Sixty seconds, was that was they recommended? She shut her eyes and counted.

Spitting it out, she grabbed the hand towel to scrub the fuzz on her teeth. Now for painkillers. She dug in the bag finding dental floss, shampoo, razor, razor blades, but no pills.
Dang
. She opened the side compartment.

Yes, a foil package of pain medication. She tore an opening with her teeth, extracted two tablets, and cupped her hand under the faucet.

She swallowed. Good enough. She’d buy more for him when she had the chance. This was a medical emergency. It wouldn’t have been easy explaining an unconscious body in the Rosebud Room to Miss Lily.

She picked up the travel kit to close it. A square white corner protruded from a side compartment. Straightening up, she pulled it out.

It was a snapshot of Mac and a girl. She squinted her eyes and studied it. They stood together, his hand on her shoulder, her head tilted toward him. He looked tense as if smiling were an effort. Things not going well? She had the look of a model—tall, super thin, dark eyes, high cheekbones—standing with a turban around her hair and a smile of open delight. In the background…well, she didn’t need a degree in art history to recognize Michelangelo’s David. So this girl was Mac’s reason for abandoning his career and running off to Europe. Then having to pay for it by being a part of Operation Dixie Deb. Had she been worth it? Were they still together?

What had Derossiers called her? Emelle? It sounded French.

She slipped the photo back where it had been and finished up.

Mac had turned on his side when she returned. Cradling an unshaven cheek on his outstretched arm, he looked peaceful.

Dreaming about Europe?

****

She was leaning against the car, her eyes closed as he finished settling the bill and came down the steps. He popped the trunk for Junior to load the luggage.

“Thank you, sir,” Junior said as a tip was placed in his hand. “You all come back now.”

Was Jan going to be able to handle the day ahead? She had shuddered when he mentioned breakfast earlier. Despite spending most of the morning in bed, covers over her head, there were still shadows under her eyes.

“Jan?” He held the car door.

She opened her eyes, braced herself on the door, and slowly lowered herself in.

“We’ll pull this job then meet up with Jake back in Georgia tonight.” He adjusted the mirror and began the roll down the driveway. “So much for our weekend off. How’s your head now?”

“It’s still attached. That’s the most I can say.”

“You going to be able to take care of this thing today?”

“C’mon. It’s not like we haven’t had plenty of practice.”

“Maybe this will be our last. The newspaper stories were pretty impressive. Jake can tell us what they have planned. I guess the thing’s still a go. He didn’t answer when I called yesterday, but I left a message. Couldn’t get hold of Whittaker either.”

She was rubbing her temples, making a face.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she said.

He looked over at her.

“I must have been restless. I saw you camped out on the floor this morning. I don’t know if I had a fever or something.”

He pressed his lips together to conceal a grin. “What exactly do you remember?”

“Not much.” She sounded mystified. “We went down to the veranda to meet the other guests for cocktails.”

“Cocktails being a real flexible term at the Major’s.”

“Then it gets confusing. We went into dinner. I know I sat beside that Japanese couple, but not much more. I don’t usually have migraines, but maybe that’s what it was.”

“Do you remember your drink?”

“My drink? Kind of.” He saw her frown. “Iced tea, wasn’t it? With peach slices in the ice cubes. Is that what you mean?”

“No.”

He stopped at the end of the lane to wait on a passing combine. The driver gave him a friendly wave.

“It wasn’t the peach pieces or the mint sprig that did you in. Junior offered me a little something extra for my drink.”

“Something extra?”

“He had a flask with him. Not everyone in this county is a teetotaler. He had a sample of the local homebrew grain beverage and he topped up my drink. Apparently when we went into dinner, you appropriated my glass for your own. By the time I realized what had happened, I couldn’t get it away from you.”

“But I drink. One drink shouldn’t have affected me that much.” She laid her head back on the headrest and rubbed her temples again. “It never did before.”

“We’re talking high-powered stuff, one-hundred proof. That’s fifty percent alcohol and believe me, you drained the glass lickety-split.”

“Huh.” She was quiet. “Do you think people noticed?”

“You mean when you were digging out the ice cubes to suck on them or waving your glass calling for more? I got you out when they came around with the coffee. By that time you were giggling and starting to sing.”

“I didn’t! Mac?”

He held up a palm. “On my honor. This came after some ill-advised, suspicious-sounding remarks about stealing.”

“No!” She sat up, gasped, and sank back down.

“I thought I best get you out of there before someone added two and two and decided they’d claim the reward for us.”

“Geez, thanks.” She closed her eyes. “I hope I didn’t cause any more trouble.”

“The stairs were a challenge.”

“Well, I apologize. That’s the first time I’ve been three sheets to the wind since maybe in high school when someone would raid their parents’ liquor cabinet on a weekend.” She rolled her eyes. “I can see why you didn’t want to sleep with me.”

He doubted it.

****

He pulled into the parking space and glanced over at her. She had spent most of the drive cradling her head on the window, eyes closed, until they got to the gas station where she had slipped into the restroom to change while he topped off the tank. She was sitting up now, refreshing her lipstick in the mirror.

“You ready?”

She still looked pale.

“I’m not going to get any more ready, so let’s get it over with, Mac.”

“We’re running behind.” He opened the door, got out, and reached behind the seat for the briefcase. “Looks like the parking lot has more cars than we’re used to, but Jake said this was going to be a big score.”

“Another full house.” She pulled on her gloves and took the case from him.

He casually made a 360 degree sweep of their surroundings.

“Looks okay.” He started over to the back door of the bank, Jan trailing behind. He grasped the knob, turned back toward her to say something, and caught his breath.

“Jan, your hat.”

She reached up to feel her hair. “Oh, shoot, I left it in the car.”

“Here.” He pulled out his keys for her. “I locked it. We’ve still got the hundred G’s in the trunk from the last job.”

He cracked the parking lot door open to take a quick look inside. The hall was empty.
Damn
. Typically, the bank manager had been stationed there to give them a nod that everything was going according to plan. A funny feeling was starting in his gut. Little missteps could add up to catastrophic ones.

“Okay.” She joined him in the doorway, tucking her hair under the brim.

He took a deep breath.

He was being superstitious. He pushed his misgivings down. They had the scenario down pat. They’d done it enough over the past few weeks—get in, get it done, and get out.

Ahead of them, he could hear the sound of electronic music. Jan didn’t seem to share his nerves. He followed the sharp click of her heels down the corridor.

“Good mornin’, folks,” Jan drawled stopping at the entrance to the lobby. “Sorry to interrupt your day. We need a little co-operation and everything will be just fine.”

Beyond a plastic partition an older man stood up, shaking his head as he stared at them, and glanced up pointedly at the clock.

Yeah, they were running late. Was that a crime too?

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Behind the counter a young woman gasped, clutching her throat.

“I think we need to close up shop for a while.” Jan was looking at him.

He jerked his head toward the front door. The manager followed him, locking the door as he flipped the sign from open to closed.

“I thought maybe this fool thing had been called off,” the man whispered looking over his shoulder. “If this isn’t the most nitwit idea the govern… Oh, my word, Francine!”

He turned his head to see a young teller collapsing into a co-worker’s arms.

“I think she’s fainted, Mr. Cole,” someone called.

Jan had her briefcase open on the counter.

“Is she in labor?” One of the customers asked, leaning over the partition.

Oh, even better
.

“You help get the money and we’ll be out of here. Come on,” he hissed. He shoved the manager away from the door.

Customers recoiled as he followed the manager around the counter where someone was kneeling beside the unconscious woman, wiping her face with water from a bottle.

Please let her be all right
, he prayed. Jan looked grim, watching now as the manager took money from the cash drawer to fill the case.

“Here, why don’t you take these, too?” An older woman at the next teller’s window pulled off her rings and slapped them on the counter. “If you want to steal, you might as well do it right.”

“Hiram, I got your order in the truck. You need to sign… What the hell?” A sun-burnt man in bib overalls, a cap pushed back on his head stopped in the entrance from the back hall and stared.

“It’s a robbery. A hold-up, Alvin. Get in here and do what these people say.”

“A robbery?”

The deliveryman was advancing his way. He didn’t like the set of his jaw or the look in his eye. Judging from the size of him, the man had done his share of hard, physical labor.

Don’t be a hero
, he prayed silently.

“What’s the matter with Francie? Why is my niece on the floor?” the deliveryman demanded.

“She just fainted. She’ll be okay.”

The young woman moaned as he watched.

It was getting worse. At least Jan was trying to keep it together. She piled the last of the money in her case and snapped the locks.

“I think we’re done here, folks.” He could see a line of sweat below her hat brim. “We’re going to be on our way now.” Jan’s voice sounded higher than usual. “Just stay calm, count down from a hundred, and have a better afternoon.”

He gripped the empty gun in his pocket covering their retreat as she backed toward the corridor. The faces staring at them looked anything but calm. There wasn’t any excitement this time at personally witnessing the return of the Dixie Deb.

He turned and followed her as she ran down the corridor, hitting the door, and escaping back into the sunshine.

“Okay.” She plopped the case on the car hood and tugged at the door. “Mac!”

He reached into his empty pants pocket, then stared at her.

“Jan, you have the keys. Quick!”

“No!” She shook her head and bent over, looking into her window.