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And Devine held the woman as tightly as he could because he knew better than most that either of them could be gone tomorrow, which was promised to no one.
CHAPTER
55
MY GOD, DEVINE, YOU AREa one-man trouble magnet,” exclaimed Fuss as she examined Devine’s shot-up car outside the police station. “Did you get a good look at them?”
“The shooter I saw had on a ski mask. I already told you about the vehicle. I didn’t get the plate because there were no plates. They had at least one shotgun and one MP5.”
“How in the hell did you get away, again?”
He didn’t want to tell her about the unexpected aid from quarters unknown. “Outdrove them.”
“But this happened last night and you didn’t call us,” she said. “Why?”
“I didn’t want you guys walking into a trap where you were out-manned and outgunned. I did pass it along to my superiors. They’re following it up.”
“Same people as the other time, you figure?”
“Probably, with a fresh crew,” noted Devine. “Where’s the closest airport?”
“The closest major airport is in Bar Harbor. They have twin asphalt runways, and commercial and private jets can land there.”
“Then my people can check the flight data there for the last couple of days and see if something pops.”
“What are you going to do for wheels? You’ll freeze to death in that thing. And the windshield crack’s gotten so big I’d have to ticket you. And there’s no rental place around.”
“I made other arrangements.”
As he finished speaking, Annie Palmer drove up in her grandfather’s old pickup truck. Her scooter was tied down in the truck bed.
She rolled down the window. “It’s not fancy but it does run and the heater works. And it has one of those old track tape player things and a box of tapes. My granddad was a big fan of some guy named Hendrix and a band called...the Doors?”
Devine cracked a grin. “Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison, what more does one need? I’ll drive you back to the Brew and offload your scooter.”
“Thanks.”
Devine turned to Fuss. “I’ll let you know what we find out.”
“Thanks. And don’t getthistruck shot up, okay?” warned Fuss.
Palmer looked surprised and then noted the shattered condition of Devine’s Tahoe, with particular focus on the small holes in the windshield.
“Wait, are those—”
Devine opened the driver’s side door. “Slide over. You have hungry customers also craving caffeine and I’m one of them.”
As they drove off she said, “What did you mean last night when you said someone killed my grandfather?”
“I’ll explain all that later, I promise. But I need to think it through and then dig up some more facts, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, though she didn’t look or sound happy about it.
He dropped Palmer and her scooter off at Maine Brew, had some breakfast, and got back into the truck.
He saw Earl’s box of tapes, which was on the floorboard. “Damn,” he said to himself as he looked at the array of works by iconic musicians.
A master sergeant he’d served with overseas had taught him about sixties rock-and-roll and it was now Devine’s favorite genre of music. A minute later he was listening to Hendrix bang out “The Star Spangled Banner” like no one else ever could, even with the left-handed Hendrix playing the right-handed guitar upside down. And the Kinks, the Who, and the Grateful Dead were all up on deck.
