Thomas

The Golden Doll commercial incident made the local news, and we had reporters calling to ask for an interview with Daisy, but she turned them all down, releasing a statement about how supportive the company had been and how good the product was, which was pretty tactful of her in the long run.

In the short run she was determined to keep busy through her recovery, which both Higgins and I understood. A physical therapist came to Robin's Nest twice a week, putting her through some exercises and the rest of the time Daisy took the lads for long walks and spent time reading in the shade of the coconut trees on the estate. A week or so later, round sunset, I checked in with her, curious about what she was enjoying.

"It's a book about early stuntmen in Hollywood," she told me. "Between westerns and slapstick, there were sure a lot of them. By the way, thank you for coming out and getting me from the water. I probably could have made it to shore, but it would have messed up my shoulder even more. I appreciate the help."

I shrugged, dropping into a squat to talk to her. "I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't," I told her. "Let alone what Higgins would do to me if you drowned."

She snorted and I grinned. Daisy held out a hand so I could help pull her to her feet, and she rolled her head from side to side. "This place needs a hammock chair. Maybe I ought to make one."

"We already have a hammock," I pointed out.

"True, but a hammock chair would be a nice addition, and it's been a while since I . . . did anything with rope," she finished, blushing a little. "Macrame, that is."

"Ah," I managed since I'd immediately thought of other things myself. "Is it like weaving?"

"A little," Daisy agreed, tucking the book into her sling. "That hippie style stuff. I did a few hanging plant-holders and a sort of curtain for my kitchen doorway back in California. "I go all twitchy if I don't have something to DO when I'm recuperating."

"I get it," I commiserated. There were only so many movies you could watch or books you could read without going nuts. "When do you get the sling off?"

"End of next week," she told me. "I'll finally be able to wear a bra again, yay!"

I blinked, and closed my eyes because if I kept them open, I'd look. Not proud of that, but I know myself too well. Luckily, she giggled.

"Yeah, more than you wanted to know, I'm sure, but it's been annoying. Hey, I meant to ask earlier, but does Robin have a gun safe here?"

I risked opening my eyes again. "Ah yes. In the cellar, opposite the wine racks."

"Good. I've got a gun to put in it. Had it because of . . . well, you know. But now that Isaac's not a threat anymore, I'd feel better having it locked away. Just to be safe."

"Probably smart," I agreed. "We can do it now if you like."

She nodded and rose up, tucking her book into her sling and then brushing off her backside. "Okay. Meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes."

I already knew the combination to the safe, and more than that, I knew Higgins would be happy that the gun would finally be locked away. He trusts me with my own firearms, but I did have to earn that, and I've always been good about keeping my weapon securely confined in the guest house.

But I was curious about Daisy's experience with guns and asked her as we headed down the cellar steps. I kept her behind me in case she started to fall because the steps cut into the limestone and weren't even in a few places. The cellar wasn't huge, but there was enough space for Robin's many wine racks, along with some of the bulkier cleaning and yard maintenance supplies for the estate above us.

"Well, I had to learn how to use them for work. I usually deal with blanks, but I have put in time at a few ranges." Daisy wrinkled her nose and added, "Dank."

"Well, it's pretty much a limestone cave, so yeah," I agreed. "It's a little gritty underfoot too, so watch your step."

The safe was built into one of the walls and had a vault door with a combination lock. Robin didn't have many firearms himself, but Higgins did, which boosted my respect for him. Not for having the weapons, but for storing them correctly. My time in the service drilled into me the importance of that.

"Here," Daisy handed over the Beretta to me; I checked the chamber, but it was empty. She gave me a wry grin. "I left so fast I forgot to bring the ammo."

"Probably for the best," I told her. "We have some here that would work, should the need arise, which it won't."

"Agreed," Daisy sighed. "Willis would be all over me about it."

"Willis?"

"Parmenter," Daisy murmured. "Old boyfriend."

Daisy

I hadn't thought of Willis in a long time, but from the look on Magnum's face I guess it hadn't dawned on him that I did have a life before Robin's Nest. He arched one of those heavy eyebrows at me, and I felt the need to expound a bit, just to clear the air.

"Willis worked for a few of the studios in West Hollywood," I offered. "Specialized in car stunts mostly but he had his armory certificate and did pyrotechnics once in a while. Kind of an all-arounder. He took me under his wing when I first got started and we hit it off. Then after a few years, he got hired for the first Scorpion Team movie and between that and his relocation, we decided to end it. He's still a good guy."

"Scorpion Team, huh?" Magnum asked over his shoulder as he closed the safe. "Not bad, as action movies go."

"Not good either," I snickered. "Yeah, the stunts are pretty solid but man the scripts suck. Mostly straight to video for the sequels, but I'm sure he's got enough in the bank that it doesn't bother him."

I kept my tone light; I didn't begrudge Willis his success, even if the Scorpion Team series was strictly B movie fare. We all wanted stuntwork and he was good at what he did. Actually, he was good at a few other things too, but I wasn't about to tell Thomas that.

"Rick loves 'em," came the reply as he waved me back up the stairs. "But then he's into anything with a good car chase in it."

"Big Bullitt fan, is he?" I teased, and it was good to hear the chuckle behind me.

"Very," Magnum assured me. "Watch your step."

"Me, I like the one in What's up, Doc myself. Not many car chases include a Chinese dragon."

"A what?"

Turns out that Thomas had never seen the movie, and that was unacceptable, so I talked him into inviting Rick and TC over a few nights later so we all could watch it over at the guest house. I rented it from the Blockbuster at Kahala beach and brought it back along with chips, dip, and a few six-packs of Olympia beer.

"Man, I cannot believe we are watching a Barbra Streisand movie!" T. C. grumbled, but lightly, since I'd also put out a couple of meatball subs and a big bowl of sliced mango on the coffee table.

"Hey, it's ALSO got Ryan O'Neal, who started as a stuntman and boxer," I pointed out. "It was Madeline Kahn's movie debut, AND it's got a car chase," I added.

"Yeah, but it's a chick flick," T.C. shot back, half-grinning to show he wasn't serious. "I bet there's . . . romance."

"Tell you what—I'll let you know when to close your eyes," I shot back, settling in between Rick and Thomas on the sofa. "So you don't get eye cooties or something."

"Eye cooties?" Rick snickered. "I gotta remember that one."

"Shhh, just watch," I told them.

It was as good as I remembered, and it cracked me up that all three of the guys were enjoying it. Comedy, especially screwball comedy, is kind of universal in appeal. Not always a lot of stunts, but this one did have the car chase and it was such a good parody of Bullitt that Rick was howling. But the best moments were when the character of Mr. Kaltenborn was on the screen.

"I'm tellin' you it's HIM. HAS to be!" T.C. kept muttering. "The looks, the voice. Totally him."

"Higgins is . . . a lot of things," Thomas began, his face kind of torn between amusement and skepticism, "But I doubt he took the time off from managing Robin's Nest to fly stateside to star as a second banana in a Barbra Streisand film."

"That's what he wants you to think!" Rick interjected, scooping up the last of the guacamole dip. "But he's always doing those theatrical shows and quoting Shakespeare and stuff!"

"What's Up Doc isn't Shakespeare! I protested. "Not by a long shot. And why would Higgins do it anyway? It doesn't make any sense!"

"Brothers," Thomas muttered. "He's got . . . several. Maybe one of them did the part."

"If you say so," Rick shook his head. "But I don't buy it. That right there is one hundred percent Higgins."

"Higgy Baby all the way," T.C. agreed.

Thomas and I cleaned up after they left, picking up the leftovers and straightening the living room. I had enjoyed the evening more than I realized—just having a little company was fun. I think he must have thought so too, because he made a comment about maybe doing it again at some point.

"Maybe something with REAL stunts in it," I agreed. "Ben Hur, or The General or a Bond film."

"What, no Scorpion Team?" he teased, and I laughed.