Thomas

So about two weeks later I asked Daisy to be my wife. It took a while to talk her into it; she had plans for the afternoon but I sweetened the deal by offering a pizza and beer if she agreed to rearrange her schedule, especially if I agreed to extra cheese. With all that decided and sealed with a handshake, we took off for the Sweet Breezes condominium sales talk over in Waipahu, opting for her AMC Eagle instead of the Lamborghini.

"So while I sit and listen to someone pitching me the merits of a split-level with a screened-in lanai and stucco ceilings, what are you going to be doing?" Daisy wanted to know as I drove.

"I will be checking the office filing cabinets and any other place I can into," I told her. "My client's pretty sure the falsified building permits are stashed there."

"So you're breaking in?" she sounded interested instead of scandalized, which should have been my first warning sign.

"I'm not going to break anything. I'm going to . . . investigate. Possibly take photographs," I muttered. "While you smile and ask lots of questions about dryer hookups and neighborhood schools."

It was sort of fun watching her roll her eyes. "The things I do for pizza," Daisy muttered but nodded. We reached the building site a while later and got out, looking around. I noted that while the model seemed ready to show, most of the other lots were simply cleared dirt, and the earth-moving equipment was standing idle.

Then the salesman came out, all white teeth and file folders. "Oh hey! You must be the Smiths!"

Daisy shot me a look. "The Smiths?" she said under her breath before turning to the guy and letting him pump her hand.

Okay it wasn't the most original name but I didn't have time to argue it as we were herded into the model and given the standard spiel, sped-up version. Despite that, Daisy did great, chatting and asking questions and giggling. The salesman ("Call me Irv!") led us around and finally to the living room where three other couples were on folding chairs, looking up as we came in. None of the guys looked particularly thrilled but the women were sure focused. I made sure to take the chair closest to the door and tried to look interested.

Daisy was still talking to the sales guy and I saw her lean in, her expression looking a little concerned. Irv nodded, gave me a quick glance of what I think was pity, and then moved to the front of the living room as Daisy came to sit beside me.

"What was that all about?" I whispered.

"Told him you had, uh, some bladder issues," Daisy admitted. "Now he won't wonder when you step out."

I glared at her. "Thanks," I growled, even though it was a pretty good ploy all told. Given that Daisy was holding the fort just fine I figured I had time enough to find what I needed out in the business trailer. I wasn't prepared when she leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.

"No worries, Tomcat," she replied brightly just as I realized the couple sitting in front of us were watching.

"Right," muttered and we both faced Irv and the presentation.

To make a long story short, I found the falsified files, took the photos and made it back to Daisy without raising any suspicions. Then she took every brochure Irv gave her, promised a follow-up meeting and proceeded to shred each one of them on the drive back to Robin's Nest, tearing the glossy pages into long strips.

"What a creep," Daisy growled. "If you don't get him on bad records I'm sure there's something in the zoning that's off, and the way he shoved aside the questions about environmental studies, ha! So what happens next?"

"Next I hand over the evidence to my client and collect a fee," I replied trying to gloss over that part. By rights I should be happy but her comments about the zoning bothered me, as did the equipment. Something about those earth-movers didn't seem right.

Ordering pizza must send out telepathic waves because Rick showed up the same time the pie did, and Daisy gave into his puppy looks before I could say no. We ate and washed the slices down with beer, chatting.

"Oh yeah, that whole condo thing stinks," Rick told me. "I heard that Bremer Enterprises was pissed they got outbid and were planning to get even."

I tried not to cough; Arlene Bremer was my client.

"Get even how?" Daisy asked, twirling cheese around her index finger.

Rick shrugged and helped himself to a second slice. "Dunno, some sort of sabotage. It's a family thing I heard."

"Wait, a family thing?" I asked, trying to be nonchalant.

"Yeah a feud," Rick replied. "Arlene and Irving Bremer are twins. Been fighting since birth is how the story goes. Remember when the Nihoa Spa went under? All those accusations of bribed inspectors and dangerous chemicals? It was because of them. Got any more beer?"

Now I was concerned. After we'd finished the pizza and Rick left, promising to have us over for barbecue at the Club, I considered returning to Sweet Breezes.

"You know, we really should go back to those condos," Daisy announced. I wondered if she had mind-reading powers even as I shook my head.

"Not we, me. Or I as the case may be," I argued. "You already did your part."

"But I can still be helpful," she countered. "I already know the place, I have a dumpy car nobody will notice and I'm just as curious as you are."

"You know what they say about curiosity," I grumbled, sensing I was going to lose this battle.

"Yes, Curiosity is an imperious tyrant and will be obeyed," Daisy replied, grinning at me. "Come on, let's go."

It was easier to agree than keep arguing; we made it back to the site just after sunset, pulling up into the parking lot across the street. A chain link fence surrounded the place but I figured I could climb it easily enough.

"You stay here," I told the empty air over my shoulder because Daisy had already sprinted across the street and was halfway up the fence. At least she waited for me to get over it before smirking.

"Anything you can do I can do better," Daisy threw at me.

"Not true. Frankly I'm sure I can pee on a wall better than you can," I snapped back. Normally I'm not that vulgar but to be fair I was angry and felt a need to let her know it.

She gaped at me and then laughed. "I'll give you that. Okay, what do we check out first?"

And just like that I was back in charge. I hoped. I pointed my chin to the bulldozer. "Those."

We quietly made our way over to the nearest one, and I climbed up on the seat, looking at the dashboard.

"And?" Daisy called up to me.

"It's wrong," I told her quietly feeling my hunch confirmed. "It's a track loader. Too small for surface grading, which is what you do for construction. This is mining equipment."

"So what's it doing here?" she wanted to know but before I could answer, floodlights came on, nearly blinding us both.

Daisy

Sometimes I really regret being as impulsive as I am. I could have been in bed back at Robin's Nest instead of being tied up spine to spine with Magnum on the dingy closet floor of the condominium model. But then again he'd still be in trouble either way, and I had at least one advantage he didn't.

I knew the ropes. That is, I knew my way around ropes. And the stuff we'd been tied up with was cheap polyester rope in bright yellow—the same sort used in construction sites everywhere. It's thick, it's woven and quite honestly, it's hard to knot well. When we first got tied up, I bunched up my muscles just like I'd been taught to increase bulk. Once Irv—yes it was Irv, our sales representative who'd caught us—I relaxed and felt some slack.

Magnum felt the slack too and started struggling.

"Stop!" I told him. "Look I can get loose but you have to stay still and let me concentrate, okay?"

"You're sure?" he tried to turn his head.

"Yes, I'm sure. Okay, here's what I'm going to do. I want you to brace your feet on the wall you're facing,' I said. "I'll do the same on the other side. I'm going to walk my feet up as high as I can while I shrug down and out against your spine. You have to brace your back against me. If I can get one shoulder free, the rope should loosen enough to slip off. Got it?"

It took him a second to visualize it but Magnum agreed. "Got it."

"Okay," I let out a deep breath, reached out my feet, and started to wriggle. The rope shifted incrementally, and I took that as a sign to keep going. Bit by bit I moved my feet up, using the muscles in my legs to force my torso down. My shirt slid up, but I managed to shift nearly four inches and the topmost coil of the rope was close enough to my shoulder for me to grab with my teeth.

I bit into it and pulled it up as I pushed hard against Magnum's back. He did his part, bracing firmly while wonder of wonders, the rope loosened. I ducked my head under the coil and wiggled; the rest of the coils gave up slack. I got an arm free and began getting out, trying hard not to let some of the other sensations get to me.

Rope. Yeah, I knew my way around rope and now was NOT the time to get into a zone about it that was for sure. I pulled another coil off of myself and felt Magnum shifting, finally getting one of his hands free.

We sat up, shrugging off the rest of the rope. "Smoke," I pointed out. "We have to hurry."

"Yeah." He braced himself against one of the walls and crouched there, his head touching the shelf over it. "Let's get out."

Good old Irv had dragged one of the chairs and braced it against the closet knob, but we managed to knock it free with a few good kicks, and then we were out and in a lot more smoke. I motioned the way through the kitchen and out the back, which must have been the route Irv took because the sliding glass door was open.

One more climb over the fence and we bolted for the car, both of us scratched, smoky and in my case, pissed as hell. "Damn it! He tried to KILL us!" I growled.

Magnum looked grim. "Yes, I was there, remember?"

"We need to call the fire department," I started to get out of the car, but he shook his head. "There's a Seven Eleven down the road with a payphone; we'll call from there."

We did and headed back to Robin's Nest just in time to find Higgins standing on the front porch, looking like a granite statue of disapproval personified.

"Miss Munro; Magnum," his frosty voice chilled us. "What on EARTH—"

I took a breath. "There are no words I can offer to excuse my foolishness this evening, sir. I assure you that Mr. Magnum did his best to dissuade me from coming along and I alone am responsible for that. In light of my disgrace I will hie myself to the confines of my bedroom and reconsider my actions in a repentant light."

I made a little bow and moved past him as contritely as I could, well-aware that both Magnum and Higgins were staring at me as I did so.

"Hie herself?" I heard Magnum echo. "Hie herself?"

"A perfectly functional if somewhat archaic verb meaning to move oneself quickly, Magnum. What in God's name have you two been doing, and why do you both smell like a moldering barbecue?"

"Higgins-"

That was all I heard as I headed up, eager for a bath and a chance to forget the entire evening.

So I soaked, and tried not to think about the rope, and succeeded right up until I climbed into bed and dropped off. When you're awake you can direct your thoughts; when you're not, parts of your brain take over, sending you on strange trips through scenarios that can both terrify and chide. I shouldn't have been surprised to find myself trying to get out of the back room in Casa de Làtigos, knowing Isaac was coming for me, working hard to find doors that were too small and windows too high.

Woke myself up with a little yell and stayed wrapped in the blankets until dawn, when I finally slunk down to the kitchen for breakfast.

Magnum was already there. Handed me a piece of freshly popped toast.

I went to the fridge, torn for a moment, and then chose the jar of grape jelly. He watched me smear it on the warm bread for a moment and he wasn't smiling as he arched an eyebrow at me, pointedly looking at my breakfast.

"I . . . don't want to talk about it," I mumbled.

He shrugged and buttered his own slice before speaking. "Thank you for your . . . Houdini skills."

"You're welcome," I replied, aware that he was biding his time. I risked a look at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Magnum told me. "I didn't say anything."

"But you were going to," I groused.

"Well now that you mention it," he began, "I'm curious how you figured out how to escape. I mean, most people don't have the ability to think out a step by step plan of that kind."

"Stunt-person," I countered automatically. "Kind of have to deal with bondage in the business."

"Really?"

"Yep," I wanted to shut this conversation down pronto. "Lassoing, knots, trick roping. You know—all that Will Rogers John Wayne kind of stuff."

Magnum nodded and I relaxed, right up until he spoke again, studying his toast. "Yeah, except . . . stunt people call it escapology, Daisy. Not bondage."