I pulled the Catfish up outside the newspaper office, and leaned over to kiss Tee good-bye.
"Call me as soon as it's over," he said. "And I mean as soon as it's over."
"I will," I promised.
"And be careful," he said. "I don't like the idea of you meeting this guy alone out in the middle of nowhere."
"I won't be alone, Agents Harrell and Allgood will be right there," I reminded him.
"Yeah. That's what I'm worried about."
"See you tonight?"
"You better."
My cell phone rang as I was heading back to Birdsong, startling me so badly I almost ran off the road. I dug in my pocketbook and brought it out, glancing at the caller ID screen: government caller.
This particular government caller happened to be Special Agent Jackson Harrell.
"If you're done necking with your boyfriend, maybe we can meet back at your place, for one last briefing," Harrell said.
I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that the silver government-issue sedan was right on my tail.
"You're following me?" I said indignantly. "That is so not cool!"
"For your own protection," Harrell said. "I'm just a servant of the people."
"You're a damned peeping Tom is what you are. Why don't you follow Alex Hodder around?"
"We have been," Harrell said. "That's where Cam is right now. His plane just taxied up to the gate."
It was only one thirty. I swallowed hard and my stomach clenched. I glanced in the rearview mirror again, and Harrell gave me a little wave.
"Relax," Harrell said. "We're right on schedule. His plane landed all the way out at the E terminal, and unless he can sprint faster than ol' O.J. Simpson, there's no way he gets to the rental counter before two p.m, or to the church before three P.M."
"I'll see you at the house," I said, clicking the phone shut.
Harrell parked the sedan down the block from the house and loped up the street to meet me.
"Just takin' precautions," he said as he passed me on the sidewalk. "Go on inside. I'll double back around the block and cut through your backyard neighbor's yard. See you in five."
Ella Kate was back from physical therapy. She was sitting on the chair in front of her bedroom window when I walked past her door. "That colored FBI fella is back," she called out, putting down Norbert's army-issue World War II binoculars. "Wonder what he's up to."
"He's here to see me," I told her. "I'm meeting my former boss later today, and he wants to go over the plan with me. How was your physical therapy?"
She snorted. "That girl is more like a terrorist than a therapist. Had me workin' like a field hand. I'm flat wore out. This old boss-is this the fella been tellin' people you hired prostitutes for that crooked congressman?"
"He's the one," I said.
"You takin' a pistol to this meeting?"
"No!" I said. "Absolutely not."
"City girl," Ella Kate said contemptuously, picking up the binoculars again. "Well, I got Norbert's old Colt under my mattress if you change your mind."
"Thanks anyway," I told her, wondering how and when Ella Kate had spirited a firearm into her new sleeping quarters. God forbid it was loaded. Maybe I didn't want to know?
Shorty was barking frantically out in the kitchen, scratching at the back door. I opened it and let Harrell in.
He glanced down at the little cocker spaniel, who looked up and emitted a low growl.
"Don't bother trying to pet him," I told Harrell. "He's just like his owner. He plain doesn't like strangers."
I motioned for the agent to take a chair, and I pulled one up across from him. "You've had somebody watching Alex all weekend, right?" I asked.
"Never had him out of our sights," Harrell said. "He kept close to home, though. His wife went to some big charity gala Friday night, but he was a no-show. He didn't even play golf with his regular foursome Saturday morning. You've got him worried, all right."
"Not as worried as me. I feel like I want to throw up every time I think about this whole farce."
"It's no farce," Jackson said, dropping his casual demeanor. "This is the real deal. Hodder checked his suitcase at the airport. You don't do that for a down-and-back flight to Atlanta unless you don't want your carry-on searched in front of everybody by the TSA. He's got the money, we're certain."
He reached inside his jacket pocket and brought out a plain white business envelope, which he handed across to me. I opened it and pulled out an exact copy of Alex Hodder's golf scorecard from the infamous Lyford Cay outing.
"Wow," I said, gingerly turning it over and over to get a closer look. "Pretty decent forgery."
"Go ahead and handle it a little bit," Harrell urged me. "Your original was kinda beat up too. We want it to look like it's been kicking around for a while."
"You want me to give him this-instead of the original?"
"Yeah," Harrell said. "We've had the original fingerprinted, and the handwriting analyzed. It's got Hodder's fingerprints, and Licata's, which was a bonus. And it's definitely Hodder's handwriting. The boss doesn't want to risk him deciding to rip up the original once you hand it over to him."
I held the duplicate golf card in my hands, which were beginning to sweat.
"Got something else for you," Harrell said. He brought out a black plastic key fob with a Ford emblem in the center.
I looked up at him questioningly.
"Put it on the ring with the keys to the Bulldogmobile," Harrell said.
I went out to the hallway and got my key ring from my pocketbook and came back into the kitchen. He took the ring from me, and attached the fob to it.
"Okay," I said, tapping the fob. "A remote-control door-lock thing. Is this another example of my tax dollars at work?"
"It's your body mike," Harrell said. "You said you didn't want a bug on you, so this is what we came up with."
I gave the fob a closer look. It looked just like any other remote I'd ever seen. The silvery Ford logo looked real. It wasn't particularly thick.
"For real?" I asked. "This'll work?"
"Works like a charm," Harrell said smugly. "It's hypersensitive. Comes through clear as a bell. You can even leave it in your pocket if you want to."
"Where will it transmit to?" I asked.
"We'll have a team right across the road, in an old barn," Harrell said.
"Will you be there?"
"I'll be around," he said vaguely.
"Cam too?"
"Oh yeah. She's not missing out on this operation. She hung around the airport just long enough to see Hodder's plane land, and she's on her way back right now." He checked his watch. "I better get going too." He handed me another envelope. I opened it, and saw that it contained typed directions to the church.
"He should be calling you anytime now, to find out about the meeting place. Read him those directions, get him to repeat 'em to be sure. We don't want him getting lost."
"Okay," I said, looking up. "Just get me to the church on time, right?" "Right," Harrell said. "You know what you're supposed to do, don't you?"
"Try to draw him out, get him to talk about Lyford Cay, and Tony Licata," I said. "Show him the golf scorecard, make him show me the money. Make it clear that I'm selling him the scorecard because that's his handwriting with the call girl's phone number on it. That's about it, right?"
"Just like we talked about the other day," Harrell said smoothly.
Harrell slid his chair away from the table and stood up. He extended his hand. "All right, Dempsey. Don't be nervous now. And don't be leaving your keys in the car. We need that to be with you just in case the mikes in the church don't pick up what you and Hodder are saying. This is gonna go just like clockwork. Don't you worry about anything. We got your back the whole way."
He was halfway out the kitchen door before another thought occurred to me. "What happens after he gives me the money?" I asked.
"You take your bag full of cash and get the hell out of Dodge," Harrell said, flashing a pearly smile. "We'll take care of the rest."
I took the stairs two at a time. I'd laid out my outfit earlier in the morning. It was my black Power Ranger suit. I was already wearing the Piaget watch. I got dressed, put on my high-heeled boots, twisted my hair up and back, and dabbed on some makeup-foundation, blush, heavy black eye liner, and mascara. At the last minute, I slipped Lynda's necklace over my head.
"Ready or not, Alex, here I come," I whispered.
The necklace charms tinkled merrily as I went downstairs, suitcase in hand.
"Dempsey?" Ella Kate called out from her room.
I stuck my head in her door. She carefully put the binoculars back in their case. She looked me up and down, taking in the dramatic makeup and the suitcase. "Don't you look a sight," she said.
I didn't know if that was a compliment or not, so I decided it was. "Thank you," I said.
"I see you're wearing that necklace your mama made you," she said. "She's a flighty one, your mama, but I believe she's got a good heart. Even if she is livin' in sin. I'll tell you something. Ever since she did that burnin' bush voodoo of hers, danged if I don't feel a good bit better."
"Really?"
Ella Kate nodded. "Your mama thinks I should go see another cancer doctor to get a second opinion about surgery. She says I'm too ornery to let cancer get the better of me."
My eyes widened. "Are you going to do it? Have surgery?"
"Ain't saying I will or I won't," Ella Kate said. "I'm just sayin' I'll study on it."
"I'm glad," I told her.
"Anyway, I know you got to git. But I got somethin' I want to give you."
The old lady was just full of surprises today. "Well, thanks," I said, hoping the presentation wouldn't take too long.
She reached into the pocket of her cardigan sweater and brought out a small box. It was covered in worn blue velvet, and had a tiny catch.
"Here," she said stiffly, pressing it into the palm of my hand.
I opened the catch. A small, gold, star-shaped pin twinkled from the blue velvet lining. I held it up to read the engraving. GUTHRIE UNITED METHODIST SUNDAY SCHOOL, it said.
"It's lovely," I said, lifting it from the lining and fastening it to the lapel of my jacket.
"My folks didn't have no money," Ella Kate said. "We were the poor relations to your kin, that's for sure. My daddy didn't have no diamond stickpins, or pearl shirt studs, and Mama didn't even have a real wedding ring, just a little tin ring Daddy give her. That pin there, that's the only prize I ever won in my life. Got it at church, for perfect attendance five years in a row at Sunday school, when I was ten years old. It's eighteen-karat gold. I know, 'cause I took it to Macon to the jewelry store at that mall and had 'em check it out. It's the real thing."
"Oh, Ella Kate," I said, feeling my heart melt. "I can't take your pin. It's too precious." I started to unfasten it from my jacket.
"No, now, I want you to have it," Ella Kate said. "I didn't think much of you when you showed up here at Birdsong. Still don't think much of your daddy, and his daddy, well, you know how I feel about that scoundrel. But you've been good to me and Shorty. Probably gooder'n I deserve. I don't know what's gonna become of you after you get this business settled with them FBI agents. Probably, you'll pack up and hightail it back up there to Washington, D.C. Probably, your daddy will sell this house, and turn me out. Carter Berryhill says that's his right. And he's a lawyer, so I reckon he knows the law."
"I wouldn't let him turn you out," I said quickly. "Anyway, we couldn't sell the house until it's finished. And it won't be. Not for a while yet. We'll figure something out."
"The Lord works in mysterious ways," Ella Kate said. "I've been prayin' on it, and that's what I know. I know my scripture verses too. And the scripture says no matter what happens, you are never alone. I keep that close to my heart, and you'd do well to keep it close to yours too. Either way, you keep that pin. You earned it. For perfect attendance. To me and Shorty."
I leaned down to hug her, but she turned her face back to the window. Probably hoping to spy some more skulduggery on the street outside.
"I'll be back in a little while," I told her. But she didn't turn around.
My cell phone rang as I was walking toward the front door. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest when I glanced at the caller ID readout: private caller. This was it. We were rolling. I touched Ella Kate's Sunday school pin on my lapel. Be strong, I thought. Like that old lady in the front bedroom.
"Hello," I said, trying to sound cool.
"I'm here." Alex's voice was curt. "Tell me how to get to this meeting place of yours."
"Have you got the money?" I asked, fumbling in my purse for the directions to the church.
"Of course I've got the goddamned money," he snapped. "Now, can we get on with this? I've got a seven o'clock flight to catch, and I sure as hell don't want to spend the day driving around in the godforsaken backwoods of Georgia."
"You'd better get used to the backwoods. We're meeting at a church. It's the New Macedonia Full Gospel Church of the Brethren. Have you got a pencil?"
"A church? What the hell?"
"It's very private," I told him. "Away from prying eyes and ears. Now, write it all down. I don't want you and that satchel full of money getting lost on the way down here from Atlanta."
"Fuck," he said under his breath.