Page 96 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

The second Maggie hit the ground and ran back toward the motel apartment, shrieking, “Mommy, Mommy!” Merrill swung the crutch against the back of the assailant, who had a terrified Grandma pinned up against the diner, with a four-pronged cane pressed against her windpipe.

The guy dropped to his knees, the cane falling to the ground. “Ow, ow, ow! Oh, fuck! Oh, damn!” Merrill immediately had him facedown, with his foot pressing against the guy’s back. “I got bad knees, asshole. Now, they mus’ be broken. Call a doctor. Call an ambulance. Ow, ow, ow!”

“Bad knees are the least of your problems, buddy.”

Meanwhile, Harry had somehow managed to hobble over to the diner and was holding a sobbing Grandma in his arms. Sirens were wailing in the distance. K-4 and Adam, both half-dressed, came running out of their motel units, followed by two women, who wore even less clothing. And then there was a horrified Delilah coming out of the back door of her apartment and staring at the scene unfolding before her.

This on top of the scene back at the forge, when her secret had been disclosed, had to have Delilah feeling frightened, and alone. He wanted to go to her, but held back, wanting to deal with this creep and the police first.

Bill Henderson handled himself in a surprisingly professional manner for a small-time sheriff. By talking to Delilah’s grandmother and getting some documents that showed her original loan of two thousand dollars a year ago, of which she’d repaid five thousand, but was now presumably up another ten thousand again.

Henderson read the man, James Goodson, aka Jimmy the Goon, his rights and then told him, “You are facing some serious jail time, Mister Goodson. We do not appreciate extortion here in North Carolina.”

“I wasn’t extortin’ no one,” Jimmy protested. “I was just collectin’ on a loan.”

“Did I mention that loan-sharking is illegal, too?”

“I want my phone call. Sharkie will have a lawyer here faster ’n you can say, ‘What the hell?’”

The sheriff shoved Jimmy none-too-gently into the backseat of the patrol car and said, “You’ll get your call when I’m good and ready. This is Bell Cove, my friend, not Atlantic City. We’re like Frank Sinatra. We do things our way.”

“I knew Frank Sinatra. He used to hang out at The Five. That’s the 500 Club in Atlantic City.”

“Yeah, and I knew King Kong. He used to hang out at the Conti mansion.”

“Huh?”

Delilah and Maggie were over by the ambulance where an EMT was examining the Glam Gram who sat in the open back doorway of the ambulance, swinging her long dancer’s legs in the same full-body leotard she’d had on this morning, puffing away on an e-cigarette that smelled a lot like aged bourbon. Harry was holding her hand, he noticed. And the Glam Gram was clearly enjoying all the attention. When it appeared as if she wasn’t having to go to a hospital but was having her neck wrapped in some kind of gauze bandage, Merrill walked back to talk with the guys.

“Excitement follows you everywhere, my friend,” K-4 said. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

“Me, too.”

“Wanna come in and have a beer?”

“Nah. I need to talk to Delilah first.”

“Oh, boy! Sure you don’t need fortification? I might have a half bottle of tequila left.”

He shook his head. “I need a clear head for this.”

“My advice? Take her to bed, screw her silly, and then talk.”

“Has that ever worked for you?”

“No, but it’s gotta work for someone.”

Merrill went into his motel unit, where he showered and shaved. He called to check on his mother, and his father said she was much improved since this morning. “When will you be back?” his father asked.

“I don’t know. Everything is going crazy here. I have a press conference tomorrow. And all kinds of business matters that have piled up during the ten days I’ve been gone. If there’s any change, let me know.”

“I will,” his father said, “and, Merrill, we appreciate your coming.”

Oh, shit! Make me feel guilty, why don’t you?

He ordered a pizza, and when it was delivered, he carried it over to Delilah’s apartment.

“Hello, Merrill. Thank you so much for your help today,” the Glam Gram said from where she sat at the kitchen table playing a game of solitaire, still vaping bourbon. She’d lost the leotard and was wearing some kind of silky black robe that had a band of red feathers along all the edges. A thick swathe of white gauze was wrapped around her neck, which would probably impress the hell out of the seniors tomorrow. “If it weren’t for you, I might be dead by now.”