CHAPTER 17

Darla was kind of busy when I called her, but she sounded glad to hear from me, anyway. "Yeah, I'm in the middle of a small crisis here," she said. "My chief crime reporter is out sick with the flu, his back-up is a woman with a houseful of kids—all of whom seem to have that same flu—and the police just picked up a suspect in a chain of domestic burglaries that have been taking place recently in a high-class neighborhood. I may well have to go down to the police station myself to get the story."

"Don't worry about it, boss," I heard a male voice say, "I'll go. I covered the crime beat for fifteen years before the old man made me an associate editor."

Darla sighed with relief. "Good! I'm glad you have the experience! Thanks, Joe. I owe you one—big time!"

"No prob, chief. You'll have your front-page story before press time."

"Well, that's one less thing I have to worry about," she said to me.

"Joe's a good man, is he?"

"I'm thinking of recommending him as my replacement when I leave."

"If Dad made him an associate editor, I'm sure he's aware of the man's qualifications."

"Undoubtedly. But, I think he'll be more likely to give Joe the job on my say-so than he would if I expressed no opinion whatsoever."

"Very true. . . So, you're busy, busy, huh? I sort of am, too. Mac and I 've spent most of the day making preparations for what we're calling 'Operation: Revenge.'"

"Jack . . . what are you two planning?" Darla asked pointedly.

"What you don't know can't come back to bite you in the rear later, D.J., so I'm not going to tell you."

Darla sighed. "I just know you two are up to no good. . . You really intend to make your dad pay for interfering in your lives, even though it's worked out for the best?"

"You just had to point that out, didn't you?"

"Yes, Jack, I did. I think you're being unreasonable."

"Your opinion has been duly noted. However, the plan is already underway. It's too late to turn back now, even if we wanted to; and believe me . . . we don't!"

She sighed again. "Okay; I know when I'm talking to a wall. . . So, when are you going to be finished with this little scheme of yours?"

"The set-up should be complete before sundown this evening, but we won't actually see the fruits of our labors until sometime tomorrow. Depends on how things go."

"I was hoping we could spend some time together this evening." I heard the door of her office shut while she was speaking—time for some privacy. "Maybe we could go out to dinner?"

"At a place with a dance floor, perhaps?" I queried.

"Not necessarily—unless you want to."

"It was kind of nice. . . ." I admitted.

"Anything that gets me into your arms is worthwhile, as far as I'm concerned."

"Ditto. So, how about a drive-in movie afterward, then?"

"Is there still one in operation? I thought they all went out of business years ago."

"They did," I confirmed, "but an enterprising middle-aged man who used to frequent one of them when he was young bought the place, fixed it up, and re-opened it. They show mostly PG-13-rated horror movies, so they can admit all the young teenagers as well as the college crowd. . . Business is, apparently, booming."

"And you know this because . . ."

"Dad told me about it . . . must've been about six months ago, when the owner called and asked if the paper could run an ad in the entertainment section. Dad thought it was a horrible idea, bringing back the drive-in movie craze. He says it's like giving teenagers a legal and legitimate place to do things they shouldn't be doing in the first place."

"He's right in a way," said Darla, "but teenagers are going to do what they're going to do; and if they're at a drive-in movie, at least their parents will have a better idea of where to find them if they go looking."

"That's certainly true. . . I remember when I was in high school, I took Betsy Rush to the drive-in once. When her old man found out, he came looking for us. . . Of course, we were only necking. I wasn't that bad back then. But, he dragged Betsy home and never let me take her out again."

"Oh, isn't that a shame!" Darla said sarcastically.

"Oops! Forgot for a minute who I was talking to."

"Obviously."

"Sorry, Darla. So, what about it? Are you game?"

"I'm not much into making out in a car anymore. It's too uncomfortable."

"Your place again, then? –after dinner, I mean?"

"That would probably be best."

"I love you, Darla."

"I love you, too, Ja-a-ack!"

"What? Darla what's going on?"

"It's . . . it's . . . it's my kids! They just walked in the door!"

"All four of them?!"

"With their respective spouses. Jack, I think you'd better get down here. Something tells me that this . . . this . . . visit has to do with you."

"Can't it wait? I've got a really time-consuming errand to run . . ."

"Jack, ple-e-e-ase!"

I sighed. "Okay, Darla, okay. Calm down. I'll get there as soon as I can. In the meantime, stick 'em in a conference room and get the lay of the land, so to speak. Then you can brief me via text message before I walk into the room cold."

"Okay. You got it. Conference room. Um . . . uh . . . maybe the second largest one, on the fourth floor. Yeah, that'll do it. Bye, Jack."

She hung up before I could say goodbye. Poor Darla! Wait a minute! What was I thinking? Poor me! I had to go over to the Standard-Gazette and face those shark-infested waters! Still, I hoped her sons wouldn't be too hard on Darla because of her decision to marry me. If they were—if I got there and found her crying—I'd give those brats a piece of my mind!

(*)

"What's going on?" I asked my brother, joining him in the living room when I heard the sound of his voice raised half a decibel.

"Darla's kids just walked into the Standard-Gazette offices. She was in a panic when she saw them. She wants me to come down there." Jack sighed. "I don't really want to confront her sons, since it's entirely possible that they're vehemently opposed to Darla's marrying me. But, since that's undoubtedly what this impromptu visit is about, I don't really have much choice."

"But . . . the packet . . . the mission . . ." I stammered. "I'd volunteer to go to Bear Log Hollow myself, but I've never been up there before, and I haven't had the stealth training you've had. I'd probably step on a twig and alert every living thing in the vicinity to my presence."

Jack nodded. "I know, Mac, I know. But I can't do both at once." He appeared pensive; I just stood there, looking at him expectantly, hoping that he'd come up with a plan. After a few minutes, he finally said, "I guess I have no choice but to go up to Bear Log Hollow after I finish castigating Darla's kids. I only hope it doesn't take too long. She and I were just finishing up making some romantic plans for tonight when the brats arrived. I'd like to come back from Bear Log Hollow early enough to follow through with those plans."

"Gonna do a little passionate necking?" I asked, smiling mischievously. Jack gave me a scathing look. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me. I should know better than to ask that particular question. Even if that is what you're planning, you wouldn't admit it. You've never been one to kiss and tell."

"You got that right. But I don't have time to argue with you about it now. I've really gotta get to the paper and help Darla out. She shouldn't have to go through this alone—not when it has to do with me in the first place."

"I'll finish up here while you're gone. Tell me how to get to O'Shaughnessy's cabin in Aurora and I can take the map up there tonight . . . after ten, did you say? –if you aren't back by then from your rendezvous with Darla. If you're done with the packet, you can take it with you and head immediately up to Bear Log Hollow when you're finished terrorizing Darla's kids."

"I'm not gonna terrorize anybody!" Jack protested. "But I amprepared to get mean and nasty if they've done anything to upset Darla."

"That could be counterproductive."

"True. I'll try to control my temper."

"Good idea. Now, how do I find O'Shaughnessy's place?"

Jack gave me an actual address, which surprised me. "Why?" he asked. "It's not like he lives in the middle of nowhere. His cabin is set back from the road, but it's a good, well-paved road, and so is the driveway. The address is posted on top of the mailbox—which is at the end of the driveway—and there's a lamppost close to it so that you can read the numbers, even when it's dark. You shouldn't have a bit of trouble finding it. The mailbox is shaped like a horse's head."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Don't tell me: mail gets put into it through the horse's mouth."

"Yep. Shaun is a huge Broncos fan."

"What? No Irish theme at all?"

"Well, the house is painted Shamrock Green . . ."

"A horse's head mailbox and a shamrock-green-colored house. . . I think I can find it."

"Good! Now, I really do hafta go." He grabbed the duffle bag with his camo fatigues in it and then went into Dad's office and picked up the packet of evidence he had created. "See you later tonight. Don't call me if you have trouble finding Shaun's place. . . Okay, if you really have to . . . but only if you really have to. . . "

"Understood. Good luck to you, too, bro. Hope everything goes well with Darla's kids."

Jack waved goodbye as he turned and headed for the door, the packet tucked beneath his left arm. It looked as though it was going to be a busy day and night for both of us.