HAND TO HAND
Chapter 1
The bedroom was bathed in blue-gray light from the television set, and Rollin propped up his head on his elbow glancing at it occasionally. But, most of the time he watched Cinnamon as she slept.
The station was playing The Fighting Kentuckian with John Wayne.
Normally, Rollin would be wrapped around Cinnamon after their lovemaking,
sleeping just as soundly as she, but he was uneasy tonight and felt the need
to watch over her. He glanced at the TV as
“Hand.” Rollin spoke quietly as Cinnamon began to stir.
“Good. I can use one.” The voice on the line replied.
“Jack?” Rollin was wide-awake now, and his surprise showed in his voice.
“Who else would be calling you at
“Uncle Jack, it’s not Robby any more. It’s Rollin now. You know that, and besides---you also know there’s
a three hour time difference, so it’s not
“May have slipped my mind since there’s a lot on it right now. And what kinda name is Rollin? That was the nick name Merle gave you---‘course we didn’t say Rah-Lin then….”
“Don’t remind me, Jack.” The younger Hand interrupted. “Rollin is my acting name and I’ve gotten used to it.” Rollin was a little short, and felt regret for sounding so. After all, he had not spoken to Jack Hand in almost five years, and he was the only blood relative he had ever met that still lived.
“Anyway Rob…er, Rollin, I wouldn’t of called ‘cept for the fact I’m in a real jam. You’re the only one I thought I could turn to.” Jack’s voice sounded strained, intoxicated, and Rollin thought perhaps depressed.
“I’m glad you felt you could call me, Jack. If you need something you can count on me.” Rollin was sincere and thought Jack probably needed money. A private investigator’s life was never any easy one, but Jack Hand, the PI, was probably the only person who could have found this phone number to reach him. He knew Cinnamon was awake and listening by the change in her breathing pattern even though she had not stirred any further. He was going to have to explain this to her later, he knew.
“Thanks, I knew you would.” Jack sighed audibly and paused before
he continued. “I’m working in
Rollin was getting a completely different picture in his mind this time. His years a of reading others in order to impersonate or confuse told him Jack truly was in a kind of trouble wiring money to him couldn’t fix. Jack Hand always had a penchant for taking the darkest, most troubling cases that generally paid the worst. He sought out the missing persons, looked for the stolen heirloom, or returned the life savings of those who had been swindled. He never took the easy-money cases where he could live off the divorce attorneys or the insurance companies because something in him yearned for the adventure and adrenaline high of solving a puzzle others could not.
“What do you want me to do, Jack?” Even as Rollin asked the question, he was mentally preparing to pack. If Jack Hand needed him, he would be there.
Chapter 2
Cinnamon Carter knew she was dreaming. She didn’t know how she knew, but as she walked on the sunny beach hand-in-hand with Rollin, she knew. As they walked, he kept catching huge fishing nets flung from the sea toward them and throwing them back. Behind them, far down the beach she could see a large, cubical structure and as they walked it seemed to stay the same distance away as if it followed her, but was afraid to come any closer.
Reality doesn’t work this way, her mind told her but everything else seemed just as it should. In the distance she could hear horses galloping and guns shooting, but didn’t see them. Then there was a phone ringing from a small round table with its feet awash in the surf and Rollin released her hand to answer it. She knew she would have to wake up now or the cube would reach her or the nets would ensnare her, or the horsemen would find her.
Cinnamon opened her eyes and she knew she was in Rollin’s beach bungalow and could hear Rollin speaking and the television playing softly. The Pacific surf made its relaxing swoosh-swoosh, which always helped her sleep, but now she concentrated on Rollin’s voice, but didn’t move.
“Uncle Jack, it’s not Robby any more. It’s Rollin now. You know that, and besides---you also know there’s
a three hour time difference, so it’s not
Robby? Is that short for Robert? Uncle Jack? She
thought, and was suddenly taken aback by something she’d always known and that
was how little she really knew about Rollin. The business they were in---you
never knew if the person you were working with was really who they said they
were. How much of their life was cover-story, and how much was real was never
supposed to come up in conversation. Of course, you probably shouldn’t fall
in love with them either, so it shouldn’t matter. They had crossed the line
over a year ago when they decided to secretly get married after the completion
of a mission. They spent a week on their honeymoon in
“… If you need something you can count on me,” Cinnamon heard Rollin say. He would do what he had to do help anyone---even at the risk of his own life as he had done for her before. “What do you want me to do, Jack?” Rollin asked. Cinnamon turned over beneath the sheet and looked at Rollin’s bare back as he held the receiver to his ear and nodded. She reached out to him, put her hand on his naked hip and felt him tense slightly in reaction to her touch, but nothing more.
“I’ve got it, Jack, and I’m sorry that had to happen. Yeah, I liked him a lot. I’ll see you there. Keep your head low.” Rollin hung up the phone and turned back to Cinnamon. His hands sought her out under the sheets and he kissed her passionately. She responded in kind, and probed his mouth with her tongue for a minute or more but then she knew by his hesitation that his heart was not in lovemaking. His mind was involved with the phone call.
Cinnamon retreated and looked into Rollin’s eyes, the silent question passing from her to him.
“I’ve got to go.” Rollin said.
“Your Uncle?” Cinnamon asked. He had always held back about himself and in all the years she’d know him, she did not know he had an uncle.
“Yeah, kind of. He’s all the family I have left, since my mother died.” Rollin paused for a moment to consider what he should tell her, shaking his head dejectedly. He loved her, as he had never believed he could love and she deserved to know everything. Why have I not told her already? Of course, I know why I haven’t told her. Rollin thought; his guilt for not telling her almost stronger than the guilt he felt for not being closer to Jack Hand. “I know we’re all supposed to keep our distance for obvious reasons, but you and I have already broken the rules in several ways and you deserve to know.
“Jack is my father’s younger brother. When Dad was killed in the
war, Jack took care of both of us when he came home from
“He’d lied to get in the Army early, and when he got out, he was 19 and I was
10, so even though he worked to help support me, it was more like my older brother
than my uncle. He came to live with my mother and I in
“Jack did odd jobs and even ran numbers for some of the local bookies, before
he decided to hang out his own shingle as a PI. My first job was with Jack
and his partner, Merle Blake, in their investigation business. Merle was a
Brit that Jack met in
“My mother was from the old country, and the times being what they were, and Merle and Jack being who they were she was very reluctant to let me spend time with them. In order to keep working with them I finally promised her that she would one day have grandchildren, but of course I lost her before I found you.” He smiled his crooked smile at her and took another pull on the cigarette, wondering what Cinnamon thought about homosexuality. It was not a subject that had ever come up between them.
Cinnamon, for her part, forced an impassive front. She listened, understanding why he could have felt he needed to keep this to himself but with all they’d been through, and now all the love they shared he should have felt he could tell her anything. After all, she thought, it is the ‘70s! Cinnamon stood and donned one of the robes they kept here at the beach house, and then returned to the bed to sit cross-legged next to Rollin
“I hung around their office for almost a year when I was about 12 until out of annoyance they finally put me on the payroll.” Rollin smiled at the statement, and got that wistful look that drew people into his aura. “I ran errands for them, and I got my start in acting by playing characters and helping them con the cons. We would plot elaborate games to hoodwink number runners or act out complicated charades where the three of us would be all the characters. Merle was the first makeup instructor I ever had.
“When I was ready, Merle and Jack paid my way through college out here in LA and I worked with them occasionally on breaks and during the summer. Some time while I was away at college, their business took off and they had to hire a couple of other people who had acting backgrounds---at least that was what I was told---and they worked all over the world.”
Rollin often wondered if there was some connection to his recruitment by the Company and his work with Jack and Merle. Nothing had ever come to light, but the feeling struck him every now and then.
“I got several paying jobs here in
“What do you plan to do?” Cinnamon broke the momentary silence.
“He said he didn’t have time to go into it over the phone, but
he asked for me to join him in
Chapter 3
Jack leaned heavily against the padded leather rail on the edge of the small tavern’s bar and stared at the black phone the bartender had let him use. Next to the phone was a double martini with a single white onion, and one of Jack’s favorite recent songs, Three Dog Night’s Shambala played in the background on a late-night pop radio station.
“Martini. Shaken not stirred”, Jack said softly as he grabbed the glass. Hell, I’m lucky if the glass is clean in this joint. But Merle would have liked the reference---he always had a thing for Sean Connery.
Jack, raised the drink briefly in silent salute and downed the it in two large gulps. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, but not from the drink.
A few more of these and maybe it won’t hurt as much. Jack wiped the droplets threatening to fall from his eyes with his sleeves and shook his head quickly back and forth, trying to shake the feelings from his brain.
The burly black bartender appeared suddenly and took the glass.
“You wan’ some mo’?” The barman asked.
There was no one else there, and the black man looked like he wished Jack would just go away, but he was willing to do his job as long as there was a customer. He wasn’t the “tell your troubles” kind of bartender, though.
Jack just nodded his head in assent, and looked up at the mirror behind the bar. The red-eyed, flush-looking face that looked back at him didn’t appear much like a guy he would want telling their troubles either. Jack hated mirrors anyway and never liked the way he looked---slight of build and he always felt he was too short, coming in three inches shy of six feet. His formerly wavy blonde hair was beginning to gray more than he really liked but he was not about to get rid of his shoulder-length style that was much longer than was currently in vogue for a middle aged guy. He had it pulled into a pony-tail and usually wore a Phillies baseball cap to cover it. His departed brother, Robert, whom he resembled somewhat---but definitely not in height---had thinning hair at 23, so he guessed he was lucky to have it last into his forties.
The bartender sat the fresh drink down in front of Jack and went back to his dishwashing at the far end of the bar.
So Rollin will be here tonight, and I have to meet him in the
lobby of the Regency. All I have to do now is stay out of sight for a few more
hours and maybe we can think of a way out of this. They won’t stop until they
have what they want and I’ve got it. I may have a safehouse
or two that only Merle and I know about in
Jack mulled the thought for a minute, finished the drink, laid a ten-dollar bill on the bar for his three drinks, and headed out the door into the early morning. The sun was just below the horizon, and the sky blazed pink in the cool April air. I’ll just have to disappear.
The blazing sky made Jack think of his family’s dimly remembered
home in
When Madam Petrov, as the old gypsy preferred to be called, took ill Robert thought his plan would be in trouble, but the elderly Romanian woman told him not to worry. Her late husband’s niece was coming to stay with her and she would look after Jack. The first day Robert came by to get his brother he fell in love with the dark-haired beauty who cared for Jack, and he married Andrea Petrov six months later. Madam Petrov passed on two years later, leaving the apartment building to Andrea and her husband, and shortly after Jack turned nine years of age Robert Gunter Hand, Junior was born.
Jack’s life changed in 1942 when Robert Hand heeded the call to defend his
country and only a few months later Jack joined his brother in the service,
lying about his age in order to enter. He was sent to
It was a difficult to adjust to a life where Jack didn’t have to constantly look over his shoulder to see who might be there. He tried many things but finally found that he needed to help others whose lives were disrupted by forces beyond their control, and opened Hand Confidential Investigations. It not only gave Jack the satisfaction of helping, it provided an income to help raise his nephew, Robby, who was always underfoot in the office. Merle moved to the states and helped Jack open the business and it was like old times when they lived with excitement and danger at every turn, including the illicitness of their relationship.
Jack didn’t understand the whys of who and what he was, and there was a part of him that was glad his parents were dead so they didn’t see what he’d become, but it did not change the facts. He cared for Merle with the same depth he’d seen in his brother, Robert and his love of Andrea, and nothing had changed that for 25 years. The only thing that had ever separated them was death, and Jack was going to make someone pay for that act.
Chapter 4
The doorman, a tall, slender, sixty-year-old, black man opened the cab door, smiling broadly; his large white teeth glinting in the lights surrounding the awning over the front door of the Regency hotel.
“Good evenin’ Mam!”
“Miss Candy Culpepper. Good evening. I have a bag in the trunk. Would you please take it to the concierge desk?” The attractive brunette, wearing large glasses, a white bandanna, and a cream colored white pantsuit with studded flowers, slid smoothly from the back seat of the cab. She spoke with enough southern accent to sound “genteel” but with the near-perfect diction required of a lady. Then she handed the cabby a crisp twenty with one hand and extending the other slim hand to the doorman who quickly took a gentle hold of it while she read the name Nathan on the gold tag on his jacket.
“I surely will take care of it, Miss. Will you be staying with us long?” He asked.
“Long enough, I suspect, Nathan.” When she released his hand there was a ten-dollar bill in its place.
“Thank you, Miss!” Nathan exclaimed, and rushed around the cab to retrieve the mentioned bag.
Hide in plain sight by diverting attention with the little things---the first thing they teach you in the business, she thought.
The brunette took the opportunity to scan the surroundings, noting all the people she could see on the street in case they appeared later at an inopportune time. The newspaper box near the entry held the Washington Post with headlines about Erlichman and Haldeman Under Close Scrutiny, and she shook her head in disgust.
Sometimes I wonder why I’ve tried.
Nathan dashed ahead of her holding her single bag that was big enough for several days---but really held little more than her makeup kit and a change of clothes---and pushed the door open for her. Inside, The Regency was ‘Old South’ palatial, with dark wood paneling and large plants abounding. Its lobby was a huge area suitable for gatherings or large numbers of people lounging comfortably---the perfect place to arrange to meet someone.
She strode gracefully through the lobby to the registration desk directly across from the entry, with Nathan next to her.
“Miss Culpepper, Sir.” Nathan introduced her and left to give her case to the concierge.
“Yes, Miss Culpepper. What can we help you with today?” The clerk behind the desk asked cheerily with the hint of a local accent.
“Has Mr. Hand checked in or left a message?” Candy asked, returning the clerk’s smile. Her sweep of the lobby identified five hotel employees and six non-employees currently in the room. Three of the hotel employees were black bellhops; the other two were the mousy clerk behind the desk and the stuffy, short, bald man at the concierge desk. The non-employees consisted of an Oriental couple in rumpled-looking travel clothes taking pictures of the interior of the hotel, an elderly lady standing nearby scowling at them, a striking strawberry blonde gazing out the front windows, and two men at opposite ends of one long sofa---one stooped and elderly, and the other a tired-looking GI who must be recently back from Vietnam. No one else was visible, but the she could not see into the bar.
The hotel bar entrance was on the far right side of the lobby from where she was now and that would be her next area to check, but it looked at though she arrived before Rollin.
“Mr. R. Hand has reservations, but has not checked in yet, and there are no messages in his box. Maybe you can check back.” He smiled and looked back down to the mail he had been sorting.
“Thank you, I’ll do that.” Candy said softly, and moved to the concierge desk with the desk clerk looking after her to check her walk. He smiled at the view and her sixth sense caused her to smile inwardly, knowing he appreciated what he saw.
“Can you please hold this bag for me? I’m waiting for a friend.” She asked the concierge. He wore an elegant black suit and tie, but it didn’t do enough for him.
“Certainly, Miss Culpepper. Where may we find you, should someone ask?” His voice was nasal and hard to listen to. Obviously, his hair fled to get away from his voice, she thought with a smile.
“I’ll be here and there.” She said with a flick of her wrist, and walked into the bar, further to her right. The transit afforded her the chance to get a closer look at the patrons noted earlier.
Soldier was an army sergeant whose regalia indicated a heroic tour, and he was mustering out. His left leg was prosthetic. Strawberry Blonde faced away from Candy in an overstuffed chair, her fingers interlocked and resting on stocking covered, crossed legs, just gazing out the large windows facing the street. Picture Takers had moved on to stand in front of the registration desk speaking to each other rapidly in Japanese that she did not catch with her limited understanding of the language. The unfriendly-looking Elderly Lady joined Old Man on the sofa next to Soldier.
The bar was dark and smoky, lit by stained glass lights over each of the tables and booths. Over the bar itself was a sign that read On Duty, and below that a removable tag that said Nick Bonnitelli. Three men in baseball style caps and plaid shirts sat at a table at the furthest end of the room, smoking, drinking beer and talking. She noted them watch her closely as she sat at the second seat at the bar right near the entry. From here she could see the front hotel door, the lobby, registration desk, and elevators at the far end of the lobby.
“What’ll it be, Miss Culpepper?” Nick the Italian-looking bartender, wore an open-collared white shirt that was close fitting enough to show him to be a muscular man.
“Martini.” She replied. “You know my name, Sir?” She asked as calmly and coyly as she could manage while she pulled a light pink and gold cigarette case from her white purse, and extracted a long filtered cigarette from it.
Nick lit it with a blue Bic lighter he pulled out of his shirt pocket. His hand was large and covered in dark hair like the hair on his chest that protruded from his open collar. As Candy leaned forward to the lighter held out to her, her hand touched the back of his and long, polished nails barely grazed his skin. The tingle it sent through him was evident in the look that passed through his eyes for the briefest moment, and she was sure other parts of his anatomy were reacting to her touch as well.
“Ah…, Perkins at the desk. His voice carries like a bad smell on the wind.”
“Oh, then call me Candy.” She looked directly into his eyes. “That is such a cute lighter.” She nodded at the Bic while still holding eye contact with Nick, and he opened his hand to show it to her.
“Yeah, they’re new. Just started carrying these.”
As she moved to take it from his hand to examine it, she traced a line with her index fingernail from his wrist through his palm and as she picked it up, continued down his middle finger, catching it more heavily at the tip.
“You go ahead and take it. I’ll get your martini.” Nick said quickly and moved further down the bar, trying to disguise his difficulty walking.
This was going better than she thought it might so far. She could hear the lobby quite well from here and see most everything. Now she needed to wait for Rollin to show and it didn’t take long---the martini and Rollin arrived at the same time.
“Here you go Miss Candy.” Nick said sweetly.
“Thanks, Nicky. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Count on it, Doll! I’m here ‘til
Rollin strolled into the hotel looking casually dapper in his elbow-patched tan jacket and went straight to the Registration Desk. Candy heard his voice, but could not make out the words. The desk clerk went to check Rollin’s mailbox and pulled up short, obviously remembering he had just checked it for her. He gesticulated in the direction of the bar, and Rollin nodded, headed toward the bar entrance and pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket. Before he could light it, Strawberry Blonde rose from her chair and bounded at him swiveling her hips and wrapped her arms around his neck in a romantic embrace.
“Rollin, darling!” She said excitedly.
Rollin looked surprised at first as she nuzzled his neck, then he apparently realized who was hugging him, and a broad smile came to his lips.
“Gillian! It’s so good to hold you again!” They embraced more tightly; Gillian’s black and white checked dress riding up the back of her legs to expose her stocking tops and Rollin bending slightly to push his face into the red-blonde hair that curled in at the base of her neck.
They finally parted, holding one another at arms length and whispered too low to hear, and as they turned Candy could see tears coming from Gillian’s eyes.
“Let me go freshen up, Rollin. Wait right here.” She said, grabbing her purse from the chair and heading for the back of the lobby out of Candy’s sight.
Candy sat in stunned silence and watched her go as Rollin too, watched her. He shook his head no as if in despair, and stood next to a plant and lit the cigarette he still had in his hand. Candy’s mind was made up instantly, and she slapped a five on the bar and followed Gillian, who entered the Ladies Room just as Candy got out of the bar.
Candy reached the restroom and as she entered saw Gillian standing at the mirror. Her black and white check dress just reached her knees, and her voluminous, shoulder-length red-blonde hair was mussed from her embrace with Rollin. She was not model-thin, but attractively shapely and only slightly taller, even in low-heeled shoes, than Candy. Her mascara was in streams down both her cheeks as she dabbed at the stains with a tissue held in fingers tipped with long red-polished nails.
Gillian paid no attention until Candy stepped up to the sink next to her, and then the blonde smiled politely at her. Candy’s green eyes looked into the mirror into the reflection of Gillian’s deep blue eyes and Gillian’s sculpted eyebrows rose in startled recognition.
“Oh my God. What are you doing here?” Gillian gasped.
Chapter 5
Rollin walked into the lobby of the hotel taking in the room, and went purposefully to the registration desk.
“Yes, sir. How may I help you this evening?” The clerk said in a practiced way.
“I’m Rollin Hand. I believe you’re holding a room for me?”
“Yes, we are sir. Room 1018.” The clerk produced a registration card from beneath the counter. “If you could fill out the card, please---and you have no messages, but a lady has asked after you just a few minutes ago. A Miss Culpepper.” He smiled at Rollin knowingly.
“Culpepper?” Rollin glanced around the lobby for a second time noting the strawberry blonde, the Japanese woman, and the elderly lady. “Is she here now?”
“She entered the bar just a few minutes ago, and I think I would have noticed her leaving if she had.” When he mentioned the bar, he nodded his head to Rollin’s right, and Rollin headed straight toward the bar, ignoring the proffered card. He paused to reach into his inner jacket pocket and pulled a cigarette out of the pack with one hand while fumbling in the outer jacket pocket for his lighter. Before he could find the lighter, he noticed the blonde from the lobby sofa moving toward him with her arms outstretched.
“Rollin, darling!” She said loudly, and wrapped her arms tightly around the back of his neck and nuzzled her face into his ear. Her breasts pressed against him, and her perfume filled his nostrils with lilac as her hair covered half his face.
Rollin was never one to shy from a beautiful woman, but this encounter disconcerted him. He didn’t have time to explain why he was here….
“Rollin,” she breathed softly into his ear, “it’s Gillian.”
Rollin’s mind raced. Gillian. Gillian. I didn’t get a look at her face, but….
“Do you remember
“Gillian,” Rollin stammered slightly, “it’s so good to hold you
again.” Rollin was nearly overcome with the memory of the hotel room in
Hand Confidential Investigations was hired to look into
the disappearance of the daughter of William Broscow,
a wealthy industrialist in
“What do you want us to do?” Jack asked Broscow with a tinge of helplessness in his voice at the first meeting they had with the bereaved father. Rollin and Merle both leaned casually against the wall of the manufacturer’s dark-paneled office like tall, dark sentries. “Your daughter is ready to be buried this afternoon, and the police didn’t find any leads.”
“I want you to bring justice to my family. The cops were incompetent and I’m not sure they ever really even tried. They were probably bought off---I don’t know. But I know my daughter can never rest in peace until the kidnappers are made to pay for their crimes.”
That was all it took for Jack’s sense of right to take
hold. HCI would look into the case, and Merle came up with a plan to have a
rich ‘heiress’ spend a week at the swank hotel in Atlantic City from which Caroline
Broscow had disappeared three weeks before. They
had a tip that it was an inside job, and since the kidnappers didn’t get anything
from the Broscow family, they might try again soon.
Gillian Conner rented a suite on the top floor and Jack moved in as Gillian,
going to parties and having parties for the next 5 days. The real Gillian Conner
was safe at the Conner Family’s lodge in
Merle and Rollin changed identities repeatedly to stay close to ‘Gillian’ until her party of Friday night, which the hotel catered. They had just about decided the kidnappers-turned-killers had been scared off and were going to call it quits the next day. That was when the room began to change colors and the walls took on a life of their own for everyone. Rollin could see Gillian get thrown over the shoulder of one of the waiters, but could not balance himself well enough to stop them. He managed to stumble after them and shake off the effects of the hallucinogen enough to get to the street, and hail a cab to follow the catering truck the kidnappers used to make their escape. They only went a few blocks and pulled into an alley behind a run-down hotel well away from the beach. Rollin paid the cabbie and sneaked into the alley in time to see the ersatz caterers carry Gillian into the service entrance of the hotel before consciousness left him.
The sun lightened the dark sky to a bright blue day by the time Rollin awakened enough to make his way to a pay phone a block from the slum hotel and called Merle Blake back at the suite. A couple of frustrating calls later someone aware of their surroundings found Merle and got him to the phone. A horrifyingly long 15 minutes later, a cab pulled up and Merle struggled out of the back. The light hurt his eyes, but he could see well enough to hand Rollin a .32 caliber police service revolver that Rollin looked at as though he’d been handed a snake.
“What are we doing, Merle?”
“Plan B”
“I’ve never used one of these.” Rollin whispered.
“Well, Lad, it doesn’t take much. If they point a gun at you, shoot. If you think they are pointing one at you, shoot. If they pull a knife on you, shoot. If they do any that shit to me, I would like it if you shoot. Just make sure you are pointing in the general direction of the bad guys.
“We are speaking of survival, and we’ve got to move quickly. The autopsy on the Broscow girl showed they decided to have their way with her before they killed her. They have had Gillian for nearly 7 hours, so they must have made their ransom demand by now and we’ve been on a long trip with our friend, Mr. LSD, so no one has responded. Can you imagine what they will do if they find out that Gillian is really Jack?”
Rollin responded by grasping the gun firmly in his right hand walking toward the parked catering van. In minutes, they were inside the hotel going room-to-room looking for any sign of their kidnapped ‘heiress’. The whole place smelled of mildew, mold, and the pungent odor of urine. Merle took the lead, and as he rounded a corner into yet another dingy hallway, lighted by flickering, hanging florescent light fixtures, he suddenly slapped his gun into the back of his pants and for all the world acted as if he were drunk. Rollin picked up the plan quickly and flattened himself against a nearby wall as Merle must have seen one of the kidnappers.
Blake stumbled along, one hand occasionally bracing against the wall, and the other jingling change in his pocket as if to look for a key.
“Good to, urrrp,” he burped loudly and slurred his words, “be back in Jer-shee.” His cultured British accent was gone, and he sounded like a native---albeit one that was just returning from an all night bender. Rollin looked around the corner as Merle stopped in front of a door and very loudly used a key from his pocket to try to open it. A shadowy figure from the far end of the hallway moved toward him as he yelled at the uncooperative door. “Damn cheap joint! Nothin’ works right.” He turned his back and mule-kicked the door at its base and it opened suddenly to reveal a stockily built, swarthy man with a surprised expression on his face.
Merle acted instantly, using the surprise of his opponent against him by pulling him out of the room by his caterer’s white jacket and slamming him face-first into the wall opposite the doorway. He stood leaning against the wall, dazed. This caused the shadowed man to launch himself upon Merle in a feral rage, and the two of them tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
Rollin rushed around the corner and kicked the shadow man in the ribs with all his might. As he rolled off Merle, Rollin recognized him as the blonde waiter of the party caterers. They must be using the hotel catering as both a cover and a source of information on potential victims, Rollin thought. Why the police could not uncover this would have to remain a mystery for another day. The swarthy kidnapper regained his senses and fell upon Merle swinging his fists, while the blonde man rolled twice and came quickly to his feet clutching his ribs with one hand and a pistol in the other. Rollin didn’t hesitate as he squeezed the trigger.
The report of the revolver reverberated from the walls of the narrow hall, and the blonde assailant flew backward; a bloody blossom erupting from his body. Rollin stood stunned for a handful of seconds by the results of his action until Merle’s shout brought him to awareness.
“Get Gillian!” He rasped as the other kidnapper put a chokehold on him.
Rollin rushed into the room, realizing later that he probably should have used greater caution in case there were more than two of them. This was a lesson he would remember all through his career in the business.
The room was an efficiency consisting of a living/kitchen area and separate bedroom, and the living area was unoccupied. Rollin ran through the room, and smashed into the bedroom door with his shoulder, flinging it open violently. The rash action saved him as the door, with his full weight behind it bashed into the skull of the third kidnapper standing behind it, and the villain dropped to the floor in a heap as Rollin pulled up short to regain his balance.
Still wearing the white dress from the night before was Jack, with his hands tied above him, as he lay prone and unconscious on the bed. Rollin looked at the kidnapper briefly to ensure he remained where he was, and quickly moved to untie Jack’s hands from the bedpost. The white dress showed smudges and stains in several places of blood and dirt, and Jack’s long, blonde hair covered his face. Rollin moved the sweat and blood plastered hair to reveal the results of a savage beating, but Jack was still breathing.
Merle limped into the room just as Rollin lifted Jack off the bed.
“Give me the gun and get him out of here. I will deal with the cops and get this scum off the street. Take him to this address,” he stuck a card into Rollin’s pocket, “and get him changed and cleaned up. The ‘lady’ there understands.”
Rollin, holding his uncle in his arms, nodded at Merle without comment or expression, thinking about what his UCLA cohorts would say. What did I do on spring break? I ran a scam, shot a guy, and had to carry my transgendered uncle to a queer whorehouse. The usual.
He knew he’d gotten there as fast as he could when the deal went south on them, and he’d had to use a gun for the first time in his life. It didn’t help, even after all these years. Rollin knew he had to keep Jack alive this time, too. He held more tightly to the only blood relative he knew.
Gillian finally released her hold on Rollin and looked up into his eyes. Tears streamed from her eyes and Rollin wiped one away with the back of his hand while fighting to restrain his own.
“Let me go freshen up, Rollin. Wait right here.” She released him and swiveled gracefully to head for the Lady’s Room.
Lighting his cigarette, Rollin shook his head and watched his uncle walk toward the women’s restroom, and then looked down at his shoes when he realized he was checking ‘her’ out.
No guy should have legs that great. I wonder how long he’s known he was different. I’ve been aware he was different since he came back from the war. How long before that, did he know? I wish Cinnamon were here---she always knows what to do with these situations. Maybe I should have invited her along. Of course, I have already withheld that I had any family and now I’ve told her my uncle is homosexual. How do I explain this side of his personality?
Chapter 6
You belong if you act as though you belong. Rule number nineteen of The Game. Jack thought as he walked toward the bathroom.
He pushed open the door labeled ‘ladies’ without hesitation and stepped past the stalls to the mirror with the click of his heels on the tile floor echoing from the walls. Jack checked the stalls in the mirror to make sure, but no one else was currently in the restroom. Streaks of darkness flowed down both cheeks from ruined makeup as Jack looked into a face that had become more who he is than anything else had ever been. Jack dabbed the tears away with a tissue as someone else entered the bathroom.
Jack watched with his peripheral vision as the other occupant hesitated, then walked up to the sink to his right. She didn’t say or do anything, and Jack finally decided he had to look directly at her in the mirror and smile, because that was what women did in the restroom. Inside the doorway, everyone was a sister. But the newcomer just stood there doing nothing.
At first Jack thought she looked just somewhat familiar, but then---even with dark hair---the eyes and lips were unmistakable. Cinnamon Carter. Jack followed the career of his nephew and the woman he loved quite closely, but he didn’t expect to meet her in person here. Like this. His blue eyes met her green.
“Oh...my...God. What are you doing here?” Jack stammered softly. The tears just removed began to form again.
Cinnamon looked at the blonde with a hard expression. Who is she? I thought Rollin came here to help his uncle, not meet this woman. Maybe she…
Carter looked at the woman again. Her voice, her hair, her face, her figure where perfect. Maybe a little fuller than the model agencies were buying into right now, but it was the kind of figure most men found desirable. But there was something about her…. Then it struck her. It was the hands that gave her away. Her hands were just a little to big for her fine, hairless arms, but you would probably not pick up on it because of the length of her slender fingers and her long nails, plus the perfection of both her appearance and feminine mannerisms.
Cinnamon’s anger abated as she came to the see the truth of the situation. This “woman” is Rollin’s uncle Jack in disguise! I have never seen a man look this authentic as a woman. Carter thought. So Rollin comes by his disguise acumen honestly!
Cinnamon opened her mouth to speak, but found no words to say to her husband’s uncle. She stood with her mouth half open as Jack began to sob, and she gently put her arms around him in a motherly gesture, and stroked the full blonde hair. Even in heels, Cinnamon was slightly shorter than Jack, but she let him put his head on her shoulder to comfort him.
“No,” Jack said with a sobbing stutter. “I’ll get makeup on your outfit.” He sounded much like a deeper-voiced Laura Petrie of the Dick Van Dyke show, caught in a trap of her own making by Rob. Laura would always get involved in a scheme with her next-door neighbor, Millie, or suspect her husband Rob of something and by the end of the episode would finally end up in Rob’s arms sobbing ‘Oh, Rob’. Jack’s voice was an octave lower and the effect was that of a sultry Laura.
“You might. C’est La Vie.”
“But Cinnamon!” He pulled away from her comforting arms. “I …Oh, Jesus. I should go. Tell Rollin I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called him. Look at me. I’m…” Jack turned away.
You’re what? Gorgeous? Precious? A perfect imitation damsel in distress? Cinnamon’s mind filled in the blanks, but she didn’t have the right words that would pull Jack out of a blue mood quickly, but she had to try.
“It’s fairly obvious that what you are is ‘in trouble’. If you think after finally getting Rollin to tell me about you, and now meeting you that he or I would walk away voluntarily, you’re wrong. We’re family, and that comes before anything else.
“You’ve suffered a horrendous loss. I can’t imagine losing Rollin or how I would react. I didn’t know Merle, but I’m here to help you get through this and find justice for him. Rollin is here for the same reason, and I’m sure he’s hurting for you on the inside---he just doesn’t show it as much as some of us.” Cinnamon smiled at Jack and he smiled back faintly, crossing his arms and looking up at the stained tile ceiling in another ‘Laura Petrie’ moment.
“I remember his father, Robert, being like that. He was never big on emotional displays, but I knew when something hurt him.” Jack caught a sob and let out a little cough. “ Rollin’s mother taught me to feel life because Robert couldn’t manage to feel it as much as she did. She said she always wanted a daughter who was able to share her love of life, and Robert, who was the one great love of her life, was gone before she could have that daughter. In a way I guess she got one---at least on the inside.”
“The outside looks damn good, too. I’m glad you aren’t any prettier, or I’d be out of work in the modeling business.” Cinnamon smiled coyly. “Fix your face, and let’s go surprise Rollin.”
“Surprise? I think he’s figured out its me.”
“I mean me. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“You didn’t come together?” An arched eyebrow rose in question. “I should have guessed Rollin would try to do a Lone Ranger impression, but don’t you think I’ve shocked him enough for one day?” Jack cocked his head to the left and did an exaggerated hair flip with a wan smile.
“He can handle it. Come on.” Cinnamon smiled broadly, and tugged at Jack’s sleeve, but he remained where he was.
“Just a sec, I’ve got to at least wipe the mascara off of my cheeks.” He dabbed quickly at the dark runnels, pulled a compact from his purse and quickly repaired the damage, and reapplied his bright red lipstick. When he finished, Jack took a very deep breath that almost became a sigh when he released it. He shook his head no, as if to surrender to the inevitable. “I think I’m ready.”
Chapter 7
Jack decided he was not quite ready and needed to use the facilities, so Cinnamon came out of the restroom and stood by the door while Jack used one of the stalls inside. She watched Rollin who was preoccupied with looking out the front windows of the hotel and doing a great job of looking nonchalant. The elderly lady from the lobby rose and walked, slightly bent, toward the restroom and was nearly to the door, when it opened as Jack exited. He had to stand aside as the older woman brushed past.
“ ’Scuse me, Hon.” The old lady said as she entered.
“Yes, Mam.” Jack replied sweetly and as respectfully as he could manage.
The older woman stopped, straightened, and looked at Jack with one eye open and the other squinting. She looked down at his black pumps and surveyed him bottom to top, looking into his light blue shadowed eyes.
“What’s your name?” She asked.
“Gillian, Mam,” Jack replied without hesitation, smiling to hide his nerves.
“Gillian, eh? Well, Gillian, more young women should have your respect for their elders. I hope you have daughters and teach them to be as polite as you.” She smiled back at Jack and continued on into the restroom, the door slowly closing behind her with Jack staring at it for several seconds. Cinnamon broke the silence as she patted Jack on the arm.
“We have a problem.” She gestured toward the lobby where the nasally-voiced concierge stood near the entry to the bar with the three baseball capped beer drinkers pointing at Rollin. The three started toward Rollin, flanking him slowly.
“They move like pros,” Jack observed softly, “and they’re leaving him the front door as an escape so there must be more outside. Maybe they don’t want to rumble in the lobby so they’re going to herd him into the street. Let’s make a move before they get there.”
“You have a plan?” Cinnamon asked, a sly grin coming to her lips. Jack looked at the intelligence in her eyes and the readiness in her stance, and understood why Rollin fell in love with her. Jack quickly dug into the purse he carried and retrieved a car key.
“Plan B. There’s a red Cadillac convertible two cars down from the doorman’s station. I’ll provide the distraction. Whoever is outside, shouldn’t be looking for you, and they obviously didn’t tag me earlier so all we need to do is get Rollin’s feet away from the fire.”
“Be careful.” Cinnamon whispered.
“You too. These people are dangerous.” Cinnamon nodded and the two separated.
Jack bent slightly at the knees, looking as though he were adjusting the hem of the black checked dress, and scooped a handful of cigarette butts, ashes, and sand from the ashtray by the restroom door with his right hand. He flung the long strap of the small black purse over his left shoulder and began a jaunty-looking walk to quickly cover the thirty yards that were between he and Rollin. The three potential assailants had closed in enough that Rollin noticed them, but he didn’t try to get away when he saw Gillian coming toward him.
Gillian had to step around one of the three about twenty feet from Rollin.
“Hey Lover,” Gillian said loudly. “I bet you thought I’d never be ready.” She threw her arms around Rollin’s neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away long.” Rollin picked up his role in the game, and it worked long enough to slow the trio’s advance, but they were truly professionals and when Rollin and Gillian started for the hotel entry the thugs closed in quickly. One of them stepped in front of them in a change of tactics that made Jack grin on the inside. Just as I expected.
“Why don’t we all go out the back and talk for a while.” The leader said, pointing toward the hallway next to the restrooms at the back of the lobby. Taller than Rollin, he run one hand absently over his military crew cut red hair as he spoke. His build suggested a hard-toned, well muscled body beneath the slight scruffy clothing. The others had the seedy, unkempt look of hired guns.
Outside, in front of the hotel, Cinnamon exchanged a quick couple of words with Nathan, who told her about a black sedan just down the street which turned out to be parked in front of the Cadillac. Cinnamon strolled down the sidewalk and saw three men in the black Ford LTD. The one on the front passenger side was smoking---his window down to exhaust the smoke. She took one of Barney’s “special” cigarettes out her case and lit it with the Bic lighter Nick gave her. Timing was everything as she took a long drag of the smoke until there was an audible sizzle and flicked the fag into the Ford.
There was immediately a loud pop and the car filled with fumes, but no one got out.
“Honey, who are these men?” Gillian asked as she leaned close to Rollin; her voice tremulous with fear. She did a nervous left handed hair flip that allowed her to locate the second man just behind Rollin and a little to the left. Perfect, they’re keyed on Rollin.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll find out what’s going on. Now!” With that exclamation, Rollin laid a right cross on the leader as Jack stretched in two directions throwing the ash and sand into the face of the right hand attacker and connecting the two inch heel of his left shoe with a side-kick to the kneecap of the one behind Rollin. The kick resulted in a loud crack and the man went down in a heap, clutching his knee. Rollin uppercut the ash-blinded man who collapsed immediately, but the leader had recovered and landed a blow to Rollin’s stomach.
Gillian’s arm suddenly was bent painfully around into a lock hold and an arm encircled her neck bending her backward. She could not reach her assailant with her free hand and thought they were in real trouble---they had not taken the concierge as a real threat. There was a dull ‘thud’ sound from behind and the grip on her was released as she toppled backward onto the attacker and rolled off of him to her knees. She saw Rollin’s opponent fall for a last time when a hairy, muscular hand slid beneath her arm and easily lifted her to her feet bringing her face to face with the bartender, Nick. In his hand was leather covered bludgeon, and at his feet the concierge.
“You okay, Miss?” He asked earnestly.
“Fine, thanks to you. But you’ll get in trouble for this.”
“I’ve wanted to do that for months!” Nick smiled and Gillian returned it, and touched Nick’s cheek lightly before she turned and grabbed Rollin’s hand and headed toward the street.
The Cadillac, with its white top folded into the boot, pulled up to the front door just as Jack and Rollin came through the doorway. Rollin began to turn right to make a dash up the street, but Jack pulled him strait down the canopied, carpeted entryway.
“That’s our ride!” Jack whispered breathily, hushing Rollin’s objection to the change of direction. They passed the doorman, Nathan, who paid them no heed at all as he waved to Cinnamon in the driver’s seat. The pair reached the car’s door handle as two of the thugs burst through the doorway.
“Hold it, you two!” The leader shouted as he pulled out a .45 caliber automatic.
Rollin looked back as the leader stopped to draw a bead on them and instantly decided on a change of tactics himself as he lunged forward carrying Jack and himself over the side of the car into the back seat. While they were still falling, the big convertible leaped forward with a squeal of tire rubber followed by the report of gunshots. One shot passed close overhead and through the passenger side windshield of the car as it pulled away.
Jack lay on his back with Rollin’s weight pushing down on him and watched the streetlights whiz by faster and faster as the Cadillac picked up speed.
“Are you alright, Rollin?” Jack asked loud enough to be heard over the wind.
“Fine. You?”
“I can’t say it’s entirely unpleasant to have a handsome man throw himself on top of me, but in this case it’s kind of like kissing your brother.” Rollin gave Jack a glaring eye and pushed himself up from the seat and carefully looked into the darkness behind them.
“Who’s our getaway man?” Rollin asked with a tip of his head to the driver.
“Even less than me.” Jack said with a sarcastic lilt while smoothing the checkered dress that had ridden up to his navel.
Rollin watched him from the corner of his eye, noting the feminine smoothness of Jack’s body, the garters holding up the stockings and felt the stirring of arousal in his own body. He snapped his eyes shut. Geez, I’m doing it again. Rollin grimaced. It’s like ogling your mother!
“So what does that mean?” Rollin asked as he pulled Jack’s legs from beneath him and sat down on the seat with his eyes still clinched shut and Jack’s legs now resting on his lap.
“It means she is a real lady as opposed to my extremely,” Jack paused and slid a shapely, nylon encased calf back and forth across Rollin’s chest, “authentic simulation.”
“Gillian, I mean Jack; I wish you wouldn’t do that.” Rollin’s voice sounded strained.
“So do I, Gillian. He is only human, after all.” Their getaway driver said.
“Cinnamon!!??” Rollin opened his eyes so wide he nearly strained a facial muscle. “What…how….” He stammered, and then fell silent. I should know better than to underestimate Cinnamon. In fact I should have been upfront with her the whole way. She has obviously met Jack so how much worse can I screw up?
“You sure know how to ruin a girl’s fun.” Jack said with an exaggerated pout. “Have you noticed anyone following us, Cinnamon?” Jack asked as he stopped tormenting Rollin and pulled his legs over to his own side of the back seat.
“I haven’t seen anyone, and I don’t think we will.” Cinnamon said over her shoulder. “We can thank Barney for that one.” Rollin and Jack took her meaning, although she was surprised by Jack’s lack of curiosity about the statement.
“You two make a great team even when you don’t know you’re working together.” Jack observed, pushing his blowing hair back from his face. “We need to slow down and turn right. Then go five blocks and turn right again. Our change of cars is about five blocks north of the Regency. We probably stand out from the crowd in this Cadillac.”
“How about we get serious here for a minute.” Rollin gripped the passenger seat back as Cinnamon wheeled the big car onto a side street and accelerated again. “What’s going on, Jack? Who just tried to kill us?”
Jack sat in the darkness, his eyes closed and head tilted back with the wind blowing his hair almost straight back.
“Let’s wait until we don’t have to shout, and just enjoy the breeze.”
Cinnamon made the second turn and sped up more slowly. “I agree, Rollin. We’re almost there, Jack. What are we looking for?”
“Ahead on the left under a broken streetlight is a light blue Mercedes. Pull up next to it, and I’ll get out. You two go ahead to the next block to the parking lot under the apartment building on the corner and park the Cadillac. I’ll be along in just a minute or two.”
Cinnamon spotted the car, pulled next to it and leaned forward to let Jack out the door. He had the key ready and motioned them to go on as Rollin jumped the seat to sit next to his wife before they began moving.
Cinnamon pulled out slowly, watching each one of the several cars that passed by the red Cadillac for any signs of recognition. Rollin watched from his side of the car as she checked the traffic and casually drove down the street, very carefully avoiding looking directly at her passenger. Rollin finally broke the silence.
“Needless to say, I’m surprised to see you, Cinnamon. Happy, but surprised.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. I never want you to feel you need to protect me from part of your life. I love you too much to let you do that. I hope you understand.”
They sat silently as Cinnamon turned left into the lighted parking under the apartment building and she found a secluded space near the back of the garage.
“I think Jack is taking his time so we can talk, Cinnamon. He’s one of the finest people I’ve ever known. And yes, I understand. I was wrong not to tell you years ago about my relatives and my life. We aren’t supposed to leave any tracks that would endanger a mission---plus the fact that I thought you might think less of me if you’d met Jack. But I’m probably trying to justify cutting Jack out of my life. That must have hurt him more than I can imagine, and he still never said anything. I don’t’ ever want to hurt either one of you again. You’re the only family I’ve got.”
Cinnamon sat perplexed. Rollin Hand, international playboy, actor, spy, and lover, is worried about someone thinking less of his manhood because of something beyond his control, and is embarrassed by his having hurt Jack’s and my feelings. This must have tortured him for years! I wish I could find something to say that would make it better.
“Rollin, my love, I am here for you. By your side---always. Your..,” she stumbled over the word ‘uncle’, “Jack is a very special person, and not the first I’ve met with his personality trait.
“You might be surprised how many genetic males consider themselves wrongly assigned to male bodies. Some I’ve met are homosexual, and others are women in a male body. From my brief encounter with Jack, I would say he is probably the later.”
Cinnamon’s clinical discussion of Rollin’s uncle took him aback, and it showed on his face as he sat with his mouth open. Cinnamon smiled and looked sheepish.
“Sorry. My Master’s degree in psychology makes me look at
the world a little differently---not that it has done me a lot of good. My
major professor at Northwestern once told me that with my degree and fifty cents,
I could ride the L in
“Cinnamon, don’t apologize. It’s just me. I was able to accept him and his lifestyle years ago, but others often can’t, and I didn’t know what this would do to us.”
“Nothing can do anything to us---not as long as we can talk to each other. Besides, my parents are both only children and I always missed out on having aunts and uncles. Now I kind of have both!”
Cinnamon smiled and leaned over to kiss Rollin with a passion that surprised him, but he recovered quickly and they were soon lost in each other’s embrace.
“Ahem.”
The gentle, throat-clearing cough was amplified by the concrete emptiness, and startled Rollin and Cinnamon out of one another’s arms.
“I can get you two a room, if you like.” Jack heckled them from behind the Cadillac.
“We might take you up on it, if you don’t fill us in soon.” Rollin retorted.
“Follow me upstairs after you count to fifteen. Here’s the
spare elevator key.” He tossed the key to Rollin. “Top floor,
Cinnamon watched Jack walk away while Rollin surveyed the rest of the garage from his shotgun position.
“Are we going to follow him, Rollin?”
“Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Yes.”
Rollin exited the car, trailed closely by Cinnamon who had removed the dark wig, shaking her head to fluff her blonde hair and then pealed the white studded jacket off to reveal a bright red, sleeveless satin shell. The pair quickly went to the elevator, and used the key to call it to take them to the fourth floor. There were only three apartments on the floor, and the door to 401 was open.
As soon as they walked through the door, Cinnamon began to assess the character of the person who lived here. The apartment looked immaculate, and was decorated in a style that showed a flair for modern design. Sleek, curvaceous furniture in pastels and sheer drapes in pale hues highlighted a living room anchored by a huge stone fireplace. I could be over-analyzing things, but this is definitely a woman’s home. Maybe just talking about it with Rollin is bringing out the psychologist in me.
“This is quite a place, Jack. If you don’t mind my asking---How do you manage it?” Cinnamon asked.
Jack had dropped his purse onto the large, overstuffed sofa and had a picture on the wall opened outward from the left on hidden hinges. Beneath it was an electrical panel covered with large buttons that he pressed several of in specific combinations. There was an audible beep after which the panel lights turned green and he closed the picture back over it.
“Sorry, Cinnamon. But I only have 45 seconds to reset the alarm after we’re inside.”
Rollin closed the door and walked around the room, looking at the photos and paintings on the walls, but watched Jack carefully as he set the alarm and fell heavily onto the sofa. It never hurts to know the terrain. He thought.
“How do I manage? Well, technically speaking, I don’t manage. This all belongs to the real Gillian. Which some of the time is me.” Jack crossed his ankles and leaned back to relax, kicking off the black pumps.
“Do you remember Gillian Conner, Rollin?” Jack asked looking up at the slowly turning ceiling fan while Cinnamon found a spot on a love seat across glass coffee table from the sofa.
“I only met her once. It was after the Broscow kidnapping case where you played her for the game. She’d left town for her father’s ski lodge so anyone checking wouldn’t find her. When we were through with the case, Merle came by my Mom’s place with her to see you after I picked you up from Luanne’s. I remember being stunned at how much you looked like her when you were dressed.
“She really wowed my mother when she told her how great you were and how much she liked you. Mother was convinced there was something between you two---but she always tried to ignore your feelings for Merle.”
Rollin sat down on the wide arm of a low, pale green chair, fussing with a string on his sleeve. This was obviously difficult for him to talk about.
“While you were busy with acting at school, Merle and I took a case for the Conners about 8 months before the Broscow affair. That’s been over ten years ago, now.
“Milton Conner, Gillian’s father,
is a financier in
Jack grinned like the Cheshire cat, Cinnamon chuckled, and Rollin smiled weakly.
“Needless to say, I wasn’t”, Jack continued, “And it was me his rent-a-cop followed back there. I was working a case for Mickey Abernathy, a local bar owner who said his lady patrons were being harassed and were afraid to come back to two of his establishments. I’m sure it wasn’t altruism on his part----everyone knows if the girls stop coming to a bar, the boys stop coming, too.
“I knew he had ties to the local mob, but the cops weren’t going to help him, and four girls had been beaten up already so it was me “en femm” that was frequenting the bars, and Merle was backing me up. We cracked the case in about a week, after two fellows tried to mug me. They told me not to go to Mickey’s taverns or next time it would be painful for me. Merle tailed them and they turned out to be cops trying to ‘fight organized crime by getting tough’. I made a couple of calls and the problem stopped since they didn’t want it publicized that police officers were threatening people.
“We knew that one of the nights someone followed me but only watched, and that must have been the Conner’s guy.”
Cinnamon nodded understanding. Milton Conner had gotten word his baby was doing the town, and he was going to put a stop to it. “Did you tell him it was you that was mistaken for his daughter?”
“Not that night. If fact once I explained---and gave him references---he put HCI on retainer for security investigations for his firm. A couple of weeks later Gillian disappeared while she was out for an evening and Conner got a ransom demand the next day. He came to me and begged me to get the girl that looked so much like Gillian to help convince the kidnappers they had the wrong person.
“Merle liked the idea and fleshed out a plan to have the false Gillian appear in some very public places to confuse the kidnappers. That’s where we got the plan for the Broscow situation months later. Conner gave us dozens of pictures of Gillian, and he thought it would work because he’d told Gillian about the doppelganger that worked for us and was sure she’d catch on quickly. I was not as sure as Merle that I could do the part of the swinging socialite, but he convinced me we had to try.
“While we painted
Cinnamon raised an alarmed eyebrow.
“What do you mean? We don’t even do the same thing for a living.” She said calmly as she and Jack looked at Rollin.
“You wanted to get serious a little while ago, Rollin. It seems time for some serious truth.” Jack leaned forward and crossed his legs at the knee.
“How was that bottle of 1924 Rothschild I sent you for your wedding?” Jack asked bluntly.
Cinnamon was in shock. Not only did Jack know all about them and their life, but also the ‘family reunion’ was about to devolve into an argument. She needed to begin deflecting this animosity without getting involved.
“Not as good as it’s reputation. But I didn’t know this was ‘let’s beat up on Rollin’ night.” He replied shortly.
“Honestly, Rollin, that’s not my intent. I just think we should all know what we all know.” Jack got up and crossed the room to the bar and poured wine into one of four glasses from a stoppered bottle. “Anyone else?”
Rollin declined, but Cinnamon accepted the other long-stemmed glass and returned them to the topic at hand.
“That was certainly an interesting case, Jack. How does that lead you to living here? Was Conner that grateful?”
“He was certainly grateful to get
Gillian back and over the years HCI did many more jobs for him and we made a
lot of money---and he even understood about Merle and me. While I was undercover
on jobs, I was mistaken for Gillian a couple more times and it became a running
joke. He’d call me to see what his other daughter had been up to lately, and
we’d have a nice laugh when he told me I sounded a little hoarse. I was surprised
last year when Gillian’s mother called to ask me to come to their house in
“Merle came with me, and we found that the real Gillian was very ill. She wanted to see me and ask the favor of occasionally making appearances to keep her name awareness in the charities she worked with until she recovered and to keep her Conner Foundation running. The doctors had not been able to identify her illness and couldn’t forecast how long it would take for her to recover and she worried that the children’s home and several of her other charities would suffer. The doctors and family felt that her mind being eased would help her recovery.
“I agreed to help, so for six months I spent about one quarter of my time as Gillian, living her life, driving her cars, sleeping in her apartments or houses, visiting her parents, and dumping her boyfriends---or just avoiding them. I actually came to start enjoying it all and really liked helping to run the Foundation and I found myself spending more time working on it. Then Conner called to tell me Gillian had quietly passed away two weeks before, and they managed to keep it quiet and asked if I wanted to continue playing the part for a while.”
“He asked you to be Gillian? For how long?” Cinnamon asked incredulously.
“Kind of the ultimate acting job.” Rollin interjected before Jack could answer. “A part you actually have to live, and with the constant risk of being exposed as someone else---sometimes at the risk of your life. That’s how the game is played, and we’re all in it. You just have a repeating performance.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. It’s a part I’ve been in part-time for over two years, and these are the perks.” Jack swirled on stocking feet, gesturing to their surroundings. “With the help of the Conner’s, Merle, and my own contacts I’ve managed to not be ‘read’ by anybody, and I have enough ID to fool anyone who doesn’t give me a physical exam.”
“But wait a minute. These guys tonight were trying to kill Jack Hand, not Gillian Conner. What’s it all about?” Rollin asked as Jack went to a cabinet and opened it to reveal it to be full of electronic equipment.
“I don’t know if I should show this to you or not. Once you’ve heard it, you’ll be in as much danger as I am---and I don’t know how you’ll react.”
“Why don’t you give us some background?” Cinnamon queried.
“I think when you hear it, you’ll know everything. Even more that you want.”
From speakers on either side of the fireplace came scratchily recorded voices.
“Well, I understand that Haldeman is after some kid they've got that--whether he was the one that bugged Gary Hart?”
“Yeah, that's true. Yeah, the one that bugged McGovern headquarters. Yeah, I suspect so.”
“But how could that be, for this reason: Watergate came before McGovern got off the ground and I didn't know why the hell we bugged McGovern.”
“That voice sounds like President Nixon!” Rollin exclaimed. “The other man I don’t recognize.”
“Well, remember that was after the
“Watergate was?” The President’s voice asked.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“That’s Colson.” Jack said flatly as he turned off the recording. “I’ve met that slimy guy before.”
“The President sounds confused.” Cinnamon commented.
“He sounds that way a lot on these tapes. I have a feeling things are not running under the command of the Commander-in-Chief.”
“This is a secret recording of the White house? How did you get them? You bugged the White House?” Rollin rattled off questions quickly.
“No to the last question. A security company under contract to the government hired us. They were assigned to electronically survey near the White House because anti-Nixon demonstrators were thought to be trying to broadcast nearby, and asked HCI to help them tighten down the security. I told them this was a job for the Secret Service, but they were working for the Service and had clearance---so we signed on.
“A week into the operation, we started picking up voices on our receivers but couldn’t nail down where it was coming from until we ran across a stronger signal near an office building down the street from the White House. We searched the building with some pretty sensitive radio receiving equipment until we found an office that was packed full of receivers. No transmitters at all. The signals were being broadcast out of the White House on a high-power directional transmitter and recorded in the office. There was no one there, just the recording equipment and lots and lots of tapes recorded at very slow speed.
“I wanted to call the Secret Service, but Merle objected saying they had to be involved and we didn’t know who we could trust. So we decided to take the tapes into protective custody until we figured out who should have them. Merle and I loaded the tapes into two cars and locked them in a room-sized safe. We had no idea what to do with them because they would be devastating to the Presidency.
“Over Merle’s advice, I called an old friend at the Technical Services Division of the U.S. Secret Service, and asked him if he had ever heard of recordings being done in the White House. He told me to forget I’d ever heard of any recordings, and not say anything to anyone about them.” Jack idly swirled his finger on the rim of the glass around and around, slowly rubbing red lipstick off of it.
“I’ve done a lot of very sensitive government work, but I was shut down at every turn on this. A lot of very damning material is on these tapes and I’ve only listened to a few hours of the thousands of hours we found. There is a side of Mr. Nixon shown on these tapes that is quite unbecoming of the office he holds. I’m not his biggest fan, and I don’t want to bring down the country, but someone killed Merle and they are going to come to justice.
“Ultimately, I’m the one responsible for Merle’s death because I’m the one who called and let them know I knew about the tapes. They had to also know I have them---and now Merle is dead.”
The three sat in silence for a time, no one able to counter the truth of Jack’s words.
“I’m in.” Rollin said firmly. “But I’d like it if Cinnamon got out before whoever we’re up against IDs us all.”
“Oh no, you don’t, mister!” Cinnamon stood, glaring at Rollin. “We’re all in this together. If you, for one minute, think I’ll throw the last of the Hand family to the wolves while I wander off to safety---guess again!” Cinnamon shook her index finger in his face. Rollin found himself leaning back from her onslaught before she turned to Jack.
“And you,” she paused and smiled, “Miss Conner---can give me a tour to find the powder room so I can freshen up.”
Jack smiled slightly and led her down the short hall opposite the kitchen to a bedroom on the left.
“The bathroom is through there, and you and Rollin can have this bedroom. The right-hand bureau has nightgowns and robes, but I’m afraid they will probably be too big for you. I’m about 6 sizes bigger than you are.”
“True. I thought you must be about a 14. That’s alright though, because it just makes them easier to get out of, and Rollin will make sure of it later!”
“Nice to know there’s at least one red-blooded American male in the family. Feel free to use anything in the house. The bathroom is fully stocked, and there are fresh clothes of varying types and sizes to put on in the morning. I’m not sure if there is anything you’ll find flattering, but Merle’s clothes will fit Rollin quite well.” Jack turned to leave toward the bedroom across the hall, but Cinnamon held his hand.
“We will figure this out tomorrow, but you need to talk to Rollin. Tonight.”
Jack looked as if he were inspecting the pattern in the carpeting, but Cinnamon refused to release him.
“Rollin doesn’t want to talk to me. He’s managed to avoid me for five years, and if I hadn’t called, you and I would probably never have met.
“Don’t misunderstand. I don’t blame him for his feelings, and I would not have involved him if I didn’t think I needed his help to do right by Merle. He has his life, and it doesn’t require me in it. I know how I must make him feel, and there have been times I didn’t want my life either, but I always had Merle to make me feel complete.”
“Rollin needs both of us. I’ve known him a long time, and very well. He hides behind that tough exterior, but inside he hurts over this estrangement more than you and I can know. Please. Go talk to him now. Do it for me. After all, I’m your only niece.”
Cinnamon smiled and Jack hugged her, putting his head on her shoulder with tears welling up in his eyes.
“Obviously, you’re the peacemaker of the family.” Jack choked out.
“No, just the family psychiatrist. Five cents, please.”
They laughed together for a moment and Jack headed for the living room. When he got there Rollin was reading a pile of clippings from the Washington Post that Jack collected on the coffee table.
“It says in this article that ‘McCord, a former CIA employee was arrested breaking into Watergate in the summer of 1972’ and you have it highlighted. Do you think this is related to the tapes?”
“Not directly. But I’ve listened to enough of the tapes to know the White House orchestrated the break-in. I think we have proof of some serious abuses of power perpetrated upon American citizens.”
“Then we should do something about it.”
“Thank you. From both Merle and me.”
“I should be thanking you, Jack. I may be here to help you, but I haven’t even tried to call you in years. Sometimes I need to be reminded I’m not alone. This line of work doesn’t exactly encourage close family ties---in fact it discourages them. I almost lost Cinnamon because I wanted to be a good company man and not have ties that could threaten a mission. She brought me to my senses when we fell in love, and I guess you both are helping me come to my senses now.
“The two of you have a great deal in common----and not just your taste in clothes!” Rollin smiled the first real smile of happiness he’d had tonight. It had been a very long time since he had last teased Jack, with both of them knowing it was out of love.
“Well thank you, Sir. A lady likes to be noticed, and speaking of ladies, I believe there is one asking for you in the bedroom on the left. Something about a problem with a nightgown?” Jack took on a look of innocence.
“Well, time for bed!” Rollin jumped to his feet, but stopped and brushed the top of Jack’s head with his lips. “Goodnight, Jack.” With that Rollin disappeared down the hallway.
“Goodnight, Robby.” Jack said softly, downing the last of the wine in his glass before turning in for the night.
Chapter 8
Cinnamon knew when Rollin came to bed that something had changed in his attitude. He carried less anxiety than before, and the hesitance was gone from his affections allowing him to exhaust himself fulfilling both their needs.
Cinnamon awakened at first light with the morning sun peeking through drawn drapes in visible streaks, just as she did no matter where she traveled or how long she stayed. Through the closed bedroom door she could faintly smell coffee and hear the muffled sound of a television, so she decided to quietly arise. The sheer blue nightgown she’d started out with the night before did indeed disappear, and ended up somewhere in the sheets. Rather than search the bed, Cinnamon wrapped the matching, more-than-floor length satin robe around her naked body and carefully left the bedroom trying not to wake Rollin.
In the hallway the smell of fresh coffee was much stronger, drawing her toward the kitchen where she found Jack Hand sitting on a stool at the bar sipping at a steaming mug. His hair was pulled into a ponytail with that un-brushed, slept-on look because of the stray hairs sticking out. He too was wearing a robe, but shorter than Cinnamon’s and red in color accentuating curves she thought the night before were padding. Even without makeup, Jack looked more the attractive, just-risen lady, than the middle-aged male private investigator. I really thought the hair was a wig! I wonder what else is going to be a surprise?
“Good morning, Cinnamon.” Jack smiled at her over the coffee cup. On his lap was a section of the Atlanta Constitution and the rest of the paper was scattered across the bar.
“Good morning. I see you’ve read the paper already this morning.” She made a sweeping gesture over the bar.
“My morning ritual. Merle was never an early riser, so I’d get up and make coffee, read the paper, and when we were at our place in Philly, I’d sit on the balcony and watch the city come to life. I love to watch the sunrise, and Merle hardly ever got up before eight. By then I’d have breakfast made and have mine eaten!
“Of course he’d be dressed and ready for the day when he did finally come out, and it would take me three times that long to actually shower and get dressed. Longer if I was going to spend the day working as Gillian.”
Cinnamon nodded. Few males had any concept of how much extra time was required to look good.
“I’m glad you’re talking about it. You need to talk about loss or it will eat you up from the inside.” Cinnamon commented as she put her hand on Jack’s.
“I’m glad you’re here to talk to. This is the first time I’ve been able to think about Merle without crying for four days.”
“Its alright to cry, too.”
“Don’t worry. There isn’t a macho bone in my body---literally---so I don’t have any hang-ups about crying. I have so many other hang-ups that crying is insignificant.”
“Just different than other peoples hang-ups. Don’t get me started on my claustrophobia!”
“That’s one that doesn’t bother me. On one assignment during the war I was shipped behind Nazi lines under a false-bottomed load of chickens. My biggest fear was that the false bottom would leak. Oooh, it was so disgusting to think of being covered in wet chicken manure!” Jack made a shivering gesture, shrugging his shoulders.
“Everyone has their own scarecrows. Even Rollin has them, although for as long as I’ve known him, I haven’t discovered what really digs into him.”
“I know one. Other people’s perception of him is really important to him. He’s been afraid for years that someone would connect my life and me with him. He was especially afraid it would be you.
“I’ve tried my best to honor his need to be disconnected from me, but over
the years I’ve developed a real fear of being alone. The other night, after
Merle had been killed, and these guys had hunted me for three days, I was just
worn down and started drinking. I think I really wanted them to catch up to
me and just end it all because with Merle gone I felt totally alone. But instead,
I called Rollin and asked for his help. That’s when I decided to go back to
being Gillian, since the only person---other than the Conners---that
knows I’m really Gillian was Merle, it was my best hiding place. The underground
“We will, Jack.” Cinnamon held Jack’s hand with both of hers to reassure him.
“Yes, we will, Jack.” Rollin’s deeper voice agreed from the end of the hall where he stood clad only in pajama bottoms. “And I promise that you will never have to feel alone again.”
Rollin walked into the room and Jack leaped from the stool and ran to him spreading newspaper across the floor and then crushing him with a hug, which he returned. He shrugged as he looked toward Cinnamon.
“What can I say? I’m irresistible.” Rollin grinned his toothiest grin, and Cinnamon bounced across the distance, picking up two pillows from the sofa and began pummeling him with them. Jack took one of the pillows and swung wildly whacking Rollin and Cinnamon indiscriminately. Rollin retaliated with tickling both Cinnamon and Jack mercilessly. The three laughed, giggled, and finally fell to the floor in an exhausted heap.
The three were on the floor, trying to recover their breath and slowly untangle themselves, and Jack lay on his back with the red robe almost off of one shoulder exposing a shapely breast. Cinnamon noticed, pulling the robe back into place and Jack blushed bright red. She didn’t think Rollin was quite ready to see Jack in that kind of light just yet.
“Come on, Jack.” Cinnamon gripped Jack’s wrist and helped him to his feet. “Help me find some clothes I can wear in that big closet.”
“Rollin, there’s coffee and two-day-old croissant in the kitchen. Help yourself.” Jack said as Cinnamon towed him out of the room. When they were into the bedroom, Cinnamon finally released Jack and opened the folding doors to the huge walk-in closet.
“So I see you have more than just Gillian’s money, Jack.” Cinnamon said offhandedly. Jack jumped onto the mussed up bed and sat cross-legged, ignoring some slight dampness beneath him.
“Five years of hormone treatments will do that to a girl---or anyone else for that matter.” Jack’s voice trailed off.
“Jack,” Cinnamon said as she stood in the closet door, “I’m not making a judgment. I understand your situation, and you are not the only male in the world to feel this way.”
“I know. A friend of mine during the war had the same…‘problem’. His name is James Morris, and he was a young British war correspondent doing stories on the Resistance.”
“Doesn’t he write travel books? I’m sure I’ve read a couple of them.”
“Yes, he does, and he contacted me several years ago when he started with his hormone therapy. We’ve stayed in touch through the years and he finalized his transition and is Jan Morris now.”
“Is that where you’re heading, Jack? Hormone therapy, psychiatrist visits, and surgery?”
“Been there, done that, and ready to buy the t-shirt.” Cinnamon restrained her shock and let Jack continue uninterrupted. “ I’ve loved Merle with all my heart, and I’m lucky enough that he loved me throughout this whole thing. Its also lucky for me he could swing both directions. In fact, he intended to make an ‘honest woman’ of me.”
“Were you planning to tell Rollin any of this?”
“Until last night, I didn’t think I’d ever even see Rollin again. I guess as we proceed with this operation, mine might now come up some how. I really didn’t think it through, but I thought, or hoped, I’d just dress as Jack for the rest of this and he’d never know. I figured I’d fade into the background after it’s all over, and possibly never see him again. I never expected you and I to become friends. I didn’t even think I’d ever get to meet you!”
“Okay. You were just going to switch back to Jack Hand mode for the rest of the time we’re together. So are you boxers or briefs?” Cinnamon chuckled.
“Bikinis, actually.”
“Ooooh! You’re that kind of girl? I should have guessed.” Cinnamon smiled as she dropped the robe off her shoulders, and stood naked in the closet doorway.
“I see my nephew has excellent taste.”
“Why, thank you, kind lady. But what do you suggest to wear since my change of clothes is back at the Regency?” Cinnamon pushed hangers apart, looking at one outfit after another until Jack stepped into the closet to assist.
“Well, I’m a little bigger than you up top, so any lingerie I have probably won’t fit properly. Why don’t you go with a gypsy-style wrap skirt?” Jack held the brightly patterned garment out to Cinnamon. “It adjusts so you should be able to close it up some extra. And you can match it up with this wide-necked peasant blouse. You can wear it off the shoulder. It should look great on you, and it’s supposed to look loose.”
“I can show off a sexy shoulder to try and keep some attention on me. I’m not used to having competition on the team!”
“I’ll just be another guy who looks pretty drab by comparison to Rollin.”
“What about me?” Rollin said, walking into the room.
“We were both just admiring your good looks and charm, my Love.” Cinnamon quipped.
“Awe, shucks Mam.” Rollin shuffled one foot back and forth in obvious false modesty.
“What do you think of this, Rollin?” Cinnamon held her blouse and skirt in front of her.
“I like what you’ve got on already.” Rollin leered.
“Fun, but hardly practical.”
“If you two will excuse me, I’m going to shower and change.” Jack walked toward the door, wishing to leave the married couple alone, but Rollin caught his arm.
“Wait a second, Jack. I was thinking about how we’re going to move with this--- project. I think we should set up a sting for these jokers, and to do that we’re going to need to move freely.” Rollin moved his hands as he talked.
If you tied his hands down, he might not be able to talk at all! Cinnamon thought with a smile.
“Do you have a disguise kit here, Jack?”
“The mirror at the end of the hall is an entryway to what used to be a third bedroom.” Jack led them to the end of the hall and pressed mirror supports on both sides at once. There was a click, and Jack pushed the mirror and wall inward to reveal the hidden room, which the threesome entered. Rollin looked around the room and whistled.
“Wow, Jack. This would awe Barney. Surveillance equipment, tools, disguise material, weapons. You could take over a small country with all of this.”
“You can, but we gave it back. The weapons were Merle’s area. It’s surprisingly difficult to carry a very large gun in an evening gown, so I leave the hardware to someone else.”
“This is great. As I said, we need to move without whoever this is catching on, so I’m going to put a kit together for each of us to change identities.” Rollin stopped for a moment, rubbing a stubbly chin. “On second thought, you two should probably put your own together. We’d be better off with Gillian’s help, than trying to hide Jack Hand, so plan for three ID changes and accompanying changes in attire.”
“You know what that means, Cinnamon?” Jack asked.
“Shopping trip!” Jack and Cinnamon said in unison.
“Wait a minute. We need to get on with the operation today!” Rollin looked slightly perplexed when both his companions started giggling.
“We’ll only be gone two hours. I know where all the best places are located,
and even if it’s not
“Okay, this how I see this working…..”
Chapter 9
Rollin crushed out his spent cigarette into the ashtray built into the arm of Gillian’s elegant sofa.
Nixon’s tapes, he thought sullenly. Why would a sitting President tape himself saying such things? Why would he say those things, knowing he was taping the conversation? Why did these tapes have to cost Merle his life? For that matter, why is my Uncle becoming my Aunt?
I worshipped Jack when I was a kid, and now I’ve accidentally copped a feel on him. My God, his breasts are bigger than Cinnamon’s! No one ever told me that life was fair…
Rollin’s musings were interrupted as Cinnamon and Gillian came through the front doorway carrying bags and laughing. Cinnamon had already switched to a more conservative dress, and Gillian had donned a short skirt and long coat. They’d left dressed in entirely different outfits.
“You are really wicked!” Cinnamon extolled. “You just left him standing there naked?” Cinnamon sat on the sofa next to Rollin.
“Security came by later and let him back in the building, but I’d dumped his
cloths in the trash bin so I don’t know what he wore home. Needless to say
he didn’t call me again.” Gillian dropped two of the three bags she carried
at Cinnamon’s feet, and pulled off the two and a half inch heels, and then shed
the coat. “I called Gillian to apologize for messing up her relationship with
Frank, and she told me to forget about it and give him credit for persistence.
He had tried something similar with her a year earlier,
and she kneed him in the groin and pushed him into the
“Was shopping that exhausting?” Rollin smirked.
“Not really, but it’s always a relief to get a pair of high heels off your feet.” Gillian sighed.
“No woman likes to where heels all of the time.” Cinnamon chimed.
Rollin looked at Cinnamon, perplexed.
“I thought they liked them.”
“Men like them---on women. High heels push the chest out and the buttocks up, while slowing the gait so women walk more slowly than men.”
“Oh.” Rollin knew when not to keep prodding, and moved onto the topic of their ‘mission’. “I’m packed and have enough equipment together, so all we need is the two of you to put your kits together and I’ll load up the Mercedes. We should probably get a couple of hours away from here before nightfall. Its more than 10 hours to DC from here, but we’ll be there well before dawn.”
“We can stay at the Conner’s DC brownstone, and do our background
work in the afternoon. We don’t need to be ready until almost
“You’re going to love the new dress I bought for the party, Rollin.” Cinnamon commented.
“She wears clothes so well it’s no wonder she’s a success at modeling. There were guys waiting on their girls in the dress shop drooling when she came out to show me her dress.” Gillian smiled and winked at Cinnamon.
“But I only have eyes for you,” Cinnamon began to sing her best Sinatra impression, while snuggling up to Rollin as Gillian winced at the sound.
“And I for you,” Rollin interrupted, “but I’ll spare Jack the singing. Let’s get a move on!”
An hour later Rollin stood next to the baby blue Mercedes in the parking garage, impatiently tapping his foot. He’d donned one of Merle’s black suits and an off white shirt and black tie; trying for his usual, blend-into-the-background look. He’d had the car loaded for 15 minutes now while he waited on Jack and Cinnamon. Gillian and Cinnamon, he thought. I’ve got to let him stay in character.
The elevator door opened to expel Cinnamon and Gillian. Rollin noted that they had changed clothes again, and were now wearing matching dark blue dresses, large Gloria Vanderbilt eyeglasses, Gucci bags, and identical Vittadini scarves around their necks. They’d even managed to have different size heels so that their heights matched closer. Were it not for the darker strawberry tints of Gillian’s hair and her 40 more pounds of weight, they could pass so that one probably would not detect the difference with a casual glance. He saw Cinnamon’s hand in this---making herself and Gillian look enough alike to make her an equal target.
“So much for not standing out in a crowd. It’s going to be tough to be inconspicuous with the Doublemint twins in tow.” Rollin spoke just loud enough so that he knew they’d heard him, and then flashed a mischievous smile.
“We’ll take that as a complement!” Gillian retorted, and as she stepped up to him threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek, then released him.
“Cinnamon! Not in public. You’ll make Gillian,” he cocked his head toward the real Cinnamon, “feel inadequate.”
“Inadequate!” Cinnamon responded as she threw her own arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, and planted a lingering French kiss on his lips. When they finally parted, Rollin stood breathing heavily.
“So Rollin, are you packing a gun or are you just happy to see us?” Gillian chided, looking down at the bulge in Rollin’s pants as Rollin turned varying shades of red.
“Just happy, and lucky to have the two of you for traveling companions.” He opened the back door for Gillian, who stepped up to it.
“I take it that I will not be driving my car.” Gillian stated it flatly as she smoothed her dress and sat down in the back seat, and pulled her legs in after her.
“Well, I…er…I thought I’d….”
“Men! They always think they do things better.”
“Isn’t that the truth!” Cinnamon agreed with Gillian as Rollin accompanied her around the other side of the Mercedes and opened her door as well. Rollin waited while she sat, and in the same deft, ladylike move as Gillian, drew her fine legs into the car. Cinnamon managed to somehow make the action sensuous and she looked up into Rollin’s eyes from the passenger seat with an allure that caused him to become aroused again. He carefully closed the door, then walked around the back of the car to obscure his difficulty and slid into the driver’s seat.
Chapter 10
Jack, Cinnamon, and Rollin arrived in the DC area at mid-day and moved into the Conner family residence. None of the Conners were here and only the housekeeper was in the 100 year old brownstone. Gillian gave her the rest of the day off, and they unpacked and rested to prepare for the party to which Gillian was invited. After a couple of phone calls, she had an official invitation for Cinnamon as Jacqueline Webb and each of them would need an escort for the evening.
Rollin would escort Gillian who contacted the Conner’s business office in
“Sounds okay, if you’re sure you can trust him.” Rollin said.
“I do, but we won’t bring him into the game. He’s just window dressing---and I asked and he has a tux. He’s looking forward to escorting Miss Webb.” Jack tilted his head at Cinnamon with a teasing smile as he brushed wavy strawberry blonde hair from his face to tuck it behind his ear.
“It’s your show, what’s next?” Cinnamon asked.
Jack explained his plan, and they prepared for their mission.
Rollin pulled the powder-blue Benz up to the valet parking of the Willard Intercontinental
Hotel with trepidation, wondering how this would play out. He had been on
many a mission in his career, but seldom on
Gillian’s red-tinged blonde hair was coifed to a slightly more elegant style
than at the hotel in
They entered the hotel and passed through the lobby with its high ceiling supported
by huge marble columns of 19th century design. Each entryway was
upheld by arches and decorated with carved filigree. Soft piano music wafted
from the
“They say that Henry Clay introduced the Mint Julep there.” Gillian offered.
“Really? I could use one.” Rollin replied. They finally arrived at the ballroom containing several hundred guests. The sign at the door said “Democratic National Committee Fundraising Dance. Rollin looked around the room noticing the upper part of the room was a continuous landscape painting and in the center hung numerous glass chandeliers.
Gillian and Rollin strolled carefully through the crowded room arm in arm; Gillian nodding, smiling, and saying hello to many of the guests. She introduced her escort to a few of the woman who were obviously interested and at least two social reporters who took their picture for the “social pages” of whatever rag for which they worked. The pair made an attractive couple as Gillian occasionally exposed an attractive leg staying in step with her pseudo paramour.
“Tell me once more why we’re attending this party.” Rollin was obviously less than enthusiastic about a mission where he played himself. “If we want to give the information to the press, we could have just anonymously dropped some of the tapes into an envelope and send it to the Post with a location for the rest. I’m always up for a complex game, and we could have planned a drop…”
Gillian sighed with an audible exhale.
“I don’t want the Conners publicly associated with this venture, but we need Gillian’s name to help seal the deal to make certain the head of the most influential newspaper in the country takes personal interest in this material. It’s one thing for a leading socialite to have a woman-to-woman talk about something a friend has found and explaining the importance of it. I’m not sure that in the current political environment anyone would believe the President would say these things without verifiable proof. Speaking of publishers, do you see Katherine anywhere?” Gillian stood on tiptoes to look over the top of the crowd of politicians, social gadflies, military officers, and reporters.
As Gillian stretched to look over the head of the tall, gray haired Admiral next to her, she spied Katherine Graham about 30 feet away. Graham stood amidst a crowd of hangers-on comprised of members of the House, Senators, and other politicos less well recognized. She was the center of conversation and they all obviously hoped to gain a audience with the Queen of Washington, or even get her attention for a moment. Gillian grabbed Rollin by the wrist and began to tow him through the close-packed partiers toward Katherine in a less than leisurely fashion.
"Excuse me, General." Gillian said breathily as she pushed past the three-star officer, and smiled up at him. He looked down past her smile at the top of her gown brushing against his body.
"Certainly, Miss." He smiled back and watched her move away, pulling her tuxedo'd escort along. Rollin stopped short just outside of Katherine's entourage.
"Did you see how that military masher looked at you? He didn't look at your face at all! He looked right at your, uhmm, attributes!" Gillian reached up and pulled Rollin's face down to her and kissed Rollin lightly on the cheek.
"I appreciate you being so gallant, but if he is trying look at my breasts, he is probably thinking about something other than 'Is she a criminal bent on overthrowing the government'. A revealing gown is intended to be the attention getter. Women just get used to it. Besides, if we were trying to hide our," Gillian paused and smiled, "attributes, we'd all don burkas."
Switching mental gears, Gillian tried to find an opening in the ever-shifting morass of people who surrounded Katherine Graham.
"Isn't she amazing, Rollin? The awe in Gillian's voice was evident as she peered through the group at Graham.
Katherine Graham, the
tall and graying middle aged publisher, looked a bit severe and hard-worked
to Rollin. Living in the whorl-wind of '70's
“Rollin?” Cinnamon's voice sounded in his ear and he looked around to find her in the crowd without success.
“Hi love. Glad you finally made it.”
“Not more glad than I am. Gillian's friend that she fixed me up with for the evening is nice but dull---and he's little more than a child!”
A few feet away from Rollin, Gillian tried but could not restrain a giggle.
“Sorry, Cinnamon. I tried to find someone else, but Leonard was available and pretty safe. He does some computer system work for HCI, and probably doesn't get out much. And he is almost 30 years old.”
“Going on 16. We had to stop and rent him a cummerbund for his tux and get some electrical tape for his glasses. I was not coming in here with someone with a wad of masking tape between his eyes. He is a sweet guy, though. Falling all over himself to be polite.”
“He'd better be.” Rollin warned as he switched to their private channel. “Where are you anyway? And where is Junior?”
“Junior is in the restroom, and….”
“Hello, and you are?” Another voice came through the earpiece.
“Jacqueline Webb. Good evening, Senator McGovern.”
“Miss Webb, would you like to dance?”
“Oh, why thank you, but I'm waiting for my escort. He'd never find me in this crowd if I go off dancing. Maybe later, Senator; and please call me Jackie.”
In her ear she could hear Rollin. “Mmmmf. Very cute. Just the facts, mam. Now you're Jack. I guess I don't know Jack.” Cinnamon restrained a laugh. It was one of the things she loved about Rollin, that he could make her laugh.
“Later then, Miss Webb---Jackie.” The Senator bowed just a touch and moved off to find a dance partner elsewhere.
Rollin spotted McGovern near the bandstand, walking away from a beautiful redhead that could only be Cinnamon.
“Looking good, Red.” He said voyeuristically.
“Thanks. I’m finding it humbling to have to compete with Gillian for attention. “
“There is no competition, but I have to admit that I’ve come to love her. She is almost as amazing a woman as you. Almost. “
“That’s just one of the many reasons I love you. Gotta go---my escort is here.”
“Say hi to Clem for me.”
“
“I’m going back to concentrate on Gillian. She’s reached Katherine Graham.” He switched back to the channel the three of them shared.
The crowd around Katherine ebbed and flowed from one moment to the next. Everyone wanted a brief audience, to be seen with her, but no one really wanted her scrutiny. The group drifted away as Gillian stepped up to Graham as she drained the last of the champagne in her glass.
“Gillian Conner! Darling! Where have you been keeping yourself?” Katherine smiled broadly an honest smile. “The last time I saw you was over two months ago at the Pre-school fund raiser.” Katherine stopped and her smile faded as she looked at Gillian and saw something in her eyes---a pain that was not there the last time they met.
“This isn’t a chance meeting tonight. Is it Gillian?”
“Katherine, I….” Graham was as smart and perceptive as she thought her to be. There would be no hiding the facts from her. “No, it’s not. I need to talk to you about something, but I don’t know where to begin.”
“Let’s start by visiting the Ladies Room.” With that, Katherine shooed Gillian ahead of her. Rollin trailed behind at a discrete distance and hesitated near a group chatting about a recent play. From his location he could see both doors of the Ladies Room as well as hear the conversation.
Chapter 11
The elegant restroom of the Willard International Hotel was made up of several separate parlor-like rooms with full doors on each stall and classic carved woodwork and furnishings. Katherine led Gillian to the one furthest back and whispered briefly to the attendant and waited at the mirror while the room cleared. No one else entered, and Gillian realized Katherine had arranged a private room for them. Why has she never read me as not being the real Gillian? Was it because when Jack is Gillian, I truly believe I’m Gillian or had she figured it out and talked to Dad Conner to check me out?
“Tell me what happened.”
“A very close friend of mine..,” Gillian began as tears welled up and her voice broke, “has been killed. He found something that came from the White House that he said is very incriminating.” Tears ran down both her cheeks.
“I’ll do whatever I can, Gillian.”
“I know, Katherine, but nothing will bring Merle back. Maybe if you use this material to let the public know what is going on, in some way justice will be done. He gave me this tape,” Gillian took a miniature tape recorder out of her purse. “It’s a copy of some of the original so you can hear some of what I’m talking about. The location of the originals is attached to the back of the recorder, and you may do whatever you like with them. Just be aware that Merle was hunted down and killed for these tapes.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police or the FBI with this?” Katherine asked, suspecting she knew the answer..
“Listen to the tape and I think you’ll know why. I don’t know who hunted him down, but they had resources that could only have come from the highest levels. Merle didn’t know who to trust…” Tears flowed freely down Gillian’s face, and she choked back sobs that shook her body.
“I think I understand. Were you involved with this friend?”
“He asked me to marry him. I never got to give him the answer.”
Katherine let it all sink in for a moment before taking the recorder, putting the earplug into her own ear and playing the tape. Her eyebrows arched upward as she listened.
“Just when you think there is nothing left in this town that can surprise you…” Katherine muttered to herself. “Do you think you’re in danger, Gillian? If you are, I can help.”
“I’ll be fine. As far as we can tell, no one has connected me to the tapes.”
“Good. Then stay just as you are.” Katherine looked into Gillian’s eyes with a motherly gleam.
A shiver ran down Gillian’s spine, raising goose bumps on bare shoulders.
“You mean you want me to stay in DC?”
“No, I mean stay Gillian Conner. They must be after Jack Hand, not you.” Darkness threatened Gillian’s vision, and she thought she was going to faint.
“Jack Ha….”
“Let’s not play games.” Katherine cut off her denial. “You are a well-known socialite in the papers on a regular basis working with charities. Public figures, which you are, are my business. The first time we met I thought there was something different, so I had every picture of Gillian Conner for the last 8 years brought in and I analyzed them personally.
“You are good.” Graham paused. “No, you’re great. You are so great that you are actually more ladylike, more feminine, more sophisticated, and better at being the caring philanthropist than the original Gillian Conner. She had rough edges. She was a man hunter, who really disliked men but publicly chased them. She never managed to grow up, but you’re a more mature Gillian and a better person than she was.
“I’ve known Milton and Edna Conner for twenty years
and they admitted what was going on and told me their biological daughter had
died, but that God has blessed him with a new daughter. I know
“Katherine,” Gillian squeaked out, “I don’t know what to say. What do you want from me?”
“Want? Haven’t you given enough? Merle Blake was shot for these tapes and you and whomever you have working with you have risked your lives for this information. If what I’ve heard is any indication, these tapes will take down a president of the most powerful nation on earth. What you need to do is to be Gillian Conner, because the Conner family, the Foundation, and this country need people like you.
“The world needs people like Jack Hand as well, but not if it risks your life. Let Jack go. You were born to be Gillian Conner. Be the best Gillian you can and continue to do the good work you have been doing. HCI will continue to do its work as well. Your father can buy the company and Gillian can work with it and use it to do the good work that Jack Hand did with it. The first Gillian got thirty-three years to get it right, and you perfected it in just a few. It’s your turn to live. Don’t give it up.”
Gillian’s sobs slowed as she considered Katherine’s words. She’d done what she intended, and turned the tapes over to someone who would use them to achieve the justice Merle deserved.
Maybe I can take the time to feel sorry for myself now and grieve for Merle.
“I hate to interrupt, but we have a problem.”
Cinnamon’s voice spoke into their ears. “Someone has connected the dots and
the red haired gunslinger from
“I’ve spotting him, too.” Rollin put in. “I’ll have my Dresser look him over when he doesn’t have a gun. He’s got a woman with him this time so I guess we can’t all take refuge in there with Gillian and Katherine to wait him out. She’s light blonde, wearing a white, mid-calf dress. The two of them kind of stand out in this cultured crowd.”
“Katherine, I’ve got to go. There’s trouble and I don’t want you in danger. They’ve caught up with me again, so I guess this may be the Big Goodbye. I promise no one will find out from me that you have the tapes.” Gillian quickly hugged Katherine.
Graham reached out and grasped Gillian’s hand, stopping her in her tracks.
“The service exit behind the bar on the west wall leads directly to the kitchen. When you see the tall man in a black leather coat, trust him. I’ll see you again.” Katherine smiled and released Gillian’s hand.
“I hope so, Katherine.”
“Never give up hope, Gillian.”
Gillian hurried for the restroom exit, her heart racing. Katherine Graham has always struck me as more of a realist, than the soft-hearted type. Maybe she’s mellowing. She paused at the last mirror on the way out, fixed her makeup, smoothed her dress and took a deep breath before pushing the door open and swaying her hips back to the party in the ballroom to the beat of the music from the band stand.
“Interesting conversation.” Rollin said. “We’ll talk more about it later.”
“I hope we get the chance, Darling. You need to
get Cinnamon and
“Gillian, where are you going?” Rollin asked; a puzzled look on his face.
“Plan B. You three have done your part, so we’re moving on.” God help me. I should never have involved them.
“That’s not the way a team works, Gillian.” Cinnamon’s voice said in Gillian’s ear.
“You’re right, love. You and Rollin are a team,
and your job is done. I’m asking you to get
I guess they have connected me with the tapes. Do they know I’m also Jack Hand? That fact getting out in this setting would devastate the Conner Foundation work and Dad Conner, too. Plan B had better be great when I come up with it.
The red-haired operative and his blonde ‘Mata Hari’ both made eye contact with Gillian and the man spoke into his jacket cuff indicating they were not alone. Gillian spotted George McGovern with whom Cinnamon had spoken earlier and a plan germinated as she made a bee line for him. The two operatives moved toward her through the crowd.
“Senator McGovern!” Gillian said, sidling up to him without his notice.
“Hello, Miss...,” He paused trying to remember if they had met before. A political man who had run for president had lots of friends he didn’t remember meeting.
“Gillian Conner,” she offered. His face showed that it came to him suddenly that he had indeed met her before.
“How are you? How is your father?”
“He’s fine, Senator. Is Eleanor here with you?” Gillian asked after the Senator’s wife.
“No, she couldn’t come to DC this time. Too many irons in the fire back home.”
“Then perhaps I could ask you to finish this dance with me? My escort is off talking shop with someone.”
“I’d be thrilled. Most folks don’t know it, but I love to dance. I’d planned to have many dances held at the White house if I’d become President. A dance with you will need to suffice.” He took her hand and they moved smoothly across the dance floor in a flow that slowly circled the room.
“I have really admired your work with the Conner Foundation, Miss Conner.”
“Gillian, please, Senator. And thank you. I’ve admired your work as well. You did great things for the world as the Director of the Food for Peace program under President Kennedy.” Gillian felt a warm glow from the Senator’s praise. “Would you support the Foundation starting a food and home building effort for the poor here in the States?” Gillian momentarily forgot her fugitive status as the music stopped and they were near the bandstand.
“Eleanor and I would be happy to put our support behind such an effort, Gillian.”
“Wonderful! I look forward to working with you both.” She paused before adding, “The two of you can be on the board for the new program!” The Senator released her from their dance; all but her hand which he kissed.
“That sounds terrific. I wish here were more women like you in DC. Maybe you’ll run for office someday! The DNC could use an attractive, intelligent woman running for high office.”
“I think my life is complicated enough, but thank you. Would you mind announcing the new program here tonight?” She glanced around to see the two agents hovering a distance away.
“Not at all. I’ll be at the microphone shortly and we can announce it then.”
Gillian saw another man take the microphone on the platform in front of the bandstand only a few feet away from her. His friendly smile, cute southern accent, and wavy red hair certainly made him stand out from the crowd. She recognized him only vaguely as a Governor from the south. He introduced Senator McGovern, who next took the microphone and thanked everyone for coming to the DNC fundraiser dance.
“Your money will be well-spent and I promise it will not be spent on me again.” Everyone laughed politely. “Eleanor and I are going to concentrate on representing our home state and supporting philanthropic organizations to help the underprivileged.”
The crowd gave McGovern an enthusiastic round of applause and cheers as reporters flashed pictures.
“We will also be on the Board of Directors for a new program with the Conner Foundation that will bring food and new houses for the poor.” More applause and pictures.
“I’d like to introduce the Director of the Conner
Foundation, Gillian Conner.” McGovern held his hand out to Gillian, who gracefully
came to him and stood with him at the microphone to more applause. She saw
“Thank you, everyone. The Foundation will initiate a new program providing food directly to the poor and eventually start a program to build single-family homes for working poor families. Senator McGovern has kindly accepted a post on the board to help formulate the program and get it started. We’re lucky to have someone with his experience to work with us.” The audience applauded again and camera flashes went off just before the crowd gasped as one when a blonde in a white dress collapsed to the floor.
“She’s fainted,” someone said. “Get her some water.”
Gillian looked toward the fallen blonde and the crowd parted into a semi-circle where she saw Rollin. On either side of him stood a man in a black suit, and opposite him in the semicircle was the red-haired operative that was chasing them. He did not look at Rollin, so his disguise was intact, but the man’s countenance was dark as he looked from Gillian to the comatose blonde. Rollin did a surreptitious thumbs-up sign indicating he had something to do with the woman’s malady and it was not a trick on her part, and that he was okay.
Who are the men in the black suits? Why have
they bracketed Rollin that way? Are they with the other two? Far to her right, Gillian saw a tall, gaunt man
wearing a black leather jacket near where Cinnamon and
At the front of the crowd Gillian watched the red-haired agent reach across his chest, as if in slow motion, into his jacket to draw a holstered pistol. The two black suits were on top of him as they shouted ‘Secret Service’ and were reading him his rights with a knee in his back before anyone else could move.
Rollin stood passively, a contented smile on his disguised face.
“Quite a way to punctuate our announcement, Miss Conner.” Senator McGovern said from beside her. He did not seem bothered by what appeared to be an attempt on his life.
“That man may very well have been trying to kill you.” Gillian said in a shocked tone, even though she knew she was the target.
“Public life is hell. It’s all part of the game.” He smiled as he watched the black suits drag the would-be attacker away.
“Perhaps so. I’ll have to get used to it, I guess.” Gillian mused. I guess Katherine was right about my time as Gillian Conner. I will make a difference if I live through this.
Rollin was standing next to her as she said ‘thank you’ and ‘goodnight’ to the Senator. He silently extended a hand to assist her down from the platform.
“That ended quickly. I take it we do not need to look over our shoulders for the rest of the evening.” Gillian said. Rollin had a smug look on his face and took his time answering.
“Plan B. Works like a charm every time.” He paused as the commotion died down now that the unconscious blonde had also been carried out. The band started back up, but few people were dancing. “I called in some reinforcements, and we’ll know everything they know within the hour. The sodium pentothal I shot the blonde with should help with that.”
“It all comes from careful planning. Cinnamon
and
“Katherine’s
friend got them out and Cinnamon is taking
Gillian looked at Rollin and a tear appeared on her cheek, which Rollin wiped off with the back of his hand. Gillian took his hand and they danced alone on the ballroom floor. Rollin felt her hair on his cheek and her head on his shoulder and wondered at the way the world worked sometimes. He danced with countless women all over the world and never enjoyed it more than tonight.
Chapter 12
Gillian tied the purple, oriental patterned silk robe closed more tightly, and picked up the coffee tray, pushing through the swinging door to the Conner brownstone’s dining room table. Rollin and Cinnamon sat waiting at the chrome and glass table where they already helped themselves to croissants.
“Coffee’s ready,” Gillian announced as she set the tray on the table.
“Great!” Rollin said with enthusiasm. “Why so many cups? Are we expecting company?”
“Yeah, we…” The front door opened and a man and woman entered. The tough-looking, craggy faced man was average in height, and mostly gray hair with a smile that warmed his appearance when he saw Gillian. The lady was slender and elegant with dark brown hair, and smiled too as the man helped her take off her coat. Gillian hurried past Rollin and Cinnamon to the foyer as fast as the fur-trimmed, purple, two-inch heeled slippers would allow.
“Da…” Gillian stopped
before calling Milton Conner ‘Dad’. “It’s the Conner’s,” she said over her
shoulder. Gillian hugged
“Gillian, we heard about everything and came as soon as we could figure out where you were.” Edna said, her eyes filling with tears. She hugged and kissed Gillian again whose eyes teared up as well.
“This is my nephew Rollin and his wife Cinnamon. They helped me get through last night.”
“We’re glad
to meet you,”
“Glad we could be of assistance, Mr. Conner.” Rollin replied. “Join us for breakfast!” He gestured to the table.
“Thanks, and call me Milton. This is my wife, Edna.” He put his hand on Edna’s shoulder and she smiled warmly.
“We really appreciate you helping Jack. He’s come to mean a lot to us.”
“Likewise.” Rollin answered back as he poured coffee for everyone. A discomfiting silence followed until Gillian finally spoke.
“We need to talk about me.” She said bluntly. “I’ve come to a couple of decisions that require all of us to work together, if that’s possible.” Everyone sat at the table hanging on Gillian’s next words.
“I want to continue Gillian Conner’s work if Mom and Dad,” she nodded toward the Conners, “agree that would be something they want. I also plan on making my transition to being a full-time woman complete. That’s something Merle would have wanted for me, and I know that I want it. I’ll never have the children I wanted, but…”
“You could adopt.” Cinnamon put in.
“I don’t think that would be fair to try to raise a child by myself. I don’t have the kind of life…, they’d never let me…even if Merle had lived…..”
“We’re not too old to help!” Edna Conner interrupted. “Gillian was our only child, and we will do absolutely anything to keep you in our life---as Gillian or anyone else you choose to be. If you would like to raise children, we’ll make that happen and we’d have the chance to be grandparents. If you’ll let us.” Tears were running down Edna’s face.
“Katherine Graham told me that I needed to let Jack go.” Gillian looked at Rollin and Cinnamon. “But I can’t let go of you two. Rollin, you are like a brother to me and I need you and Cinnamon in my life as well.”
“Then they’re part of the family, too!” Milton Conner shouted. “I’m not about to lose my daughter, and this way I gain a new nephew and niece.”
“If this is what you need to do, then I’d like your kids to come stay with Uncle Rollin once in a while---as long as ours can visit Aunt Gillian and the Conners once in a while.”
Gillian leaped up and kissed and hugged Rollin which started a round of hugs, kisses and tears and sobs.
“Looks like we’re all in this together, and the only person we needed to convince was you, Gillian.” Rollin said, standing back as the others were all in a group hug when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Rollin said looking at the bear-hugging group with Cinnamon in the middle. He opened the front door to find another crowd on the porch.
“I’ll be damned. Come in, come in.” Rollin stepped aside to let them in.
“Jim, you amaze me sometimes---no make that all the time.”
“Thanks. You know that’s a full-time job for me. You know Ms. Graham?”
“No, but I know of her. Pleased to meet you, Katherine.” Rollin bowed slightly and shook her extended hand.
“And this is Mr. Carson. You probably saw him
last night.” She introduced the tall, gaunt man still wearing a black leather
jacket. Rollin shook his hand as well, and
“And you know….”
“Yes, I do. Gillian, we have more company.”
Gillian pulled away from Dad Conner’s hug and dabbed tears with a Kleenex. She entered the foyer to find another group including Katherine, the two men from the night before, and a third man with his right arm in a sling and crutch under his left arm.
“Merle!!! My God! Merle!!! Merle!!!” She ran to him, touched his face, his wounded arm, his shoulders, and back to his face. He leaned down and Gillian carefully circled her arms around his neck and they kissed long and deeply.
Jim and Rollin gallantly turned their backs and stood side by side in front of the passionate kissers.
“Plan B. Works every time.” Jim said.
“Thanks, Jim.”
“Are you going to tell me about all of this?”
“Later. Much later. After the wedding.”
They went to tell the others the good news and fix more coffee.
THE END
Candy Carlton