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I said that to Molly, and she said, “Yeah, I owe Cash one, too. He suckered me into that poster mess. I’ve felt guilty about that for fifteen years.”
We probably should have stopped there, just big talk, except for the Amaretto milkshakes. Molly and I had two each and were starting on our third, when Molly said that thing about guilt. I was way ahead of her on the poster thing, I’d bought paint and brushes the day before on impulse when I was picking up things for the house, not sure I’d have the nerve to do anything with them. But I cannot hold my booze, so two Amaretto milkshakes in, I was nicely high, not drunk but definitely open to Big Ideas, and I definitely had the nerve.
“We have a mission,” I said, and told her what it was, and she laughed out loud and said, “YES! I’m driving this time,” so I took her third milkshake away—she has a much harder head than I do but still—and gave her the keys to the Camry.
I took my third milkshake with me. Liquid courage.
We spent the next half hour driving around in the dark to find O’Toole’s posters. They were horrible red and yellow atrocities that said “Vote For O’Toole, Save Burney’s Future.” Molly kept the car running for the getaway, and I’d get out with the paint and block out the “O” and the apostrophe along with the last E with the yellow background color, and then take the narrow red brush and add “Don’t” and an “a” over O’Toole’s defaced name so that the posters now read, “Don’t Vote for a Tool, Save Burney’s Future.” I figured there’d be a lot of laughter tomorrow. And I’d probably get arrested by Bartlett, but so worth it.
Molly, meanwhile, was giddy about the whole thing, I think in part because she loathed O’Toole, but mostly because we were now even for a long-ago poster vandalism that had put me in jail while she’d gotten off scot-free.Soworth it.
We stopped about half an hour after midnight when a truck pulled up behind us in the dark. Molly said, “Liz?” sounding scared, and I called back, “Gladiola. It’s Vince,” and kept painting. I heard her laugh, and then she yelled, “Run!” just like I had fifteen years before, and I knew she didn’t feel guilty anymore. We weren’t even halfway through, but we’d gotten all the most public posters and put her guilt to rest. We’d done good work.
Vince got out and walked up, Rain going over to the car to talk to Molly.
“You arresting me?” I said as I painted in the last “a.”
He looked at the poster and shook his head.
“You two are like little kids.” He took my paint can away and took my arm. “Come on, you are now in custody.”
“Are there cuffs?” I asked as he walked me past the Camry, my paintbrush still in hand.
“There could be,” he said. “We’ll see after I take you in for questioning.” He leaned down and spoke through the open passenger window of the Camry. “Molly, you need to go with Rain. She has some harsh words for you. And she’s driving.”
Molly giggled. “I love it when she’s harsh.”
“Questioning? Seriously?” I said to Vince.
“Yes,” he said, trying to look stern, and failing miserably as he pulled me back to the Gladiator. “We’ll go to bed and I’ll ask you what you want.”
“You,” I said, and kissed him with the paint brush in my hand.
What else could I do? He’d caught me red-handed.
* * *
Molly and Rainwent back to the Pink House in my Camry, taking a photo of one of the posters we’d vandalized to show to George, and Vince and I drove to the Big Chef in his Gladiola. Along the way he made me get rid of the paint and brushes in a dumpster. He told me he was sure Rain would scrub the picture off Molly’s phone to get rid of the evidence.
Then we went to the bedroom, where he gave me a stern warning and made me come my brains out.
“This is not exactly a deterrent,” I told him when I could form sentences again, drowsy in his arms.
“If I have to do this again, I will,” he said, going for stern again, “as many times as it takes,” and I laughed and fell asleep, safe because I was with him.
And determined to do something really evil to O’Toole for what he’d done to George.
The posters were just a start.
SUNDAY
CHAPTER 42
We set a meeting via text with the rest of the cavalry for the next afternoon. There were things we needed to do first. I’d followed Liz from the Pink House to the factory, made sure Jason was there for her meeting with him and Anemone, and thus felt pretty good about her safety from Cash. I still needed to drop the damn bear off at the fire department so I was on my way to do that.
I was driving down Rt. 52 when an unmarked SUV roared out from where I used to sit in the cruiser to fulfill the mayor’s stupid ticket quota that I never could meet.
Blue lights flashed in the grill.
