Miranda and the D-Day Caper by Shelly Frome

Author:Shelly Frome [Shelly Frome]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BQB Publishing
Published: 2020-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

Warding off questions about how things were going vis-à-vis what Harry had to offer, she convinced Skip that if they were going to work together given only a window of little more than two days, the best bet was to move him to her den with its spare cot and bathroom next to the garage. Not only for expediency’s sake, but there was no percentage in his remaining in his hideaway, in fear that Vin Dupre or the motorcycle maniac or both might be cruising by gunning for his hide.

“Okay, fine,” Skip said. “But I’ve been thinking. That stuff in Mathews’s office that set me off.”

“Tell me later,” Miranda said, ushering him back to her SUV.

“No, wait a minute,” Skip said, standing his ground. “Like the SAS, the Special Air Service. If, like those days of old, if these guys are so desperate to keep things under wraps, there must be a covert operation in the works. But where is it going to come from? What impending sneak attack is so hush-hush they would send Chris, Russ Mathews, and this honcho Lucian Clay Chris ran afoul of scurrying after me?”

“Ran afoul of where?” said Miranda, moving in on him.

“Didn’t I say?”

“No.”

“Back at the radio station. In New York.”

“What was Lucian Clay doing up there?”

“Who knows? Checking up on things probably.”

“Okay. But for now, Harry is researching, looking into Clay’s political influence and such. Maybe that will give us an inkling.”

She drove him back to Swannanoa, helped him pack, and had him follow her in his old Volvo while keeping an eye out in his rearview mirror. Once at her place, with the Volvo out of sight in the garage, there was unpacking to do and getting him acclimated.

But then he jumped in again and segued to “And what about Duffy?”

“Later. I may have a lead, but at the moment I’m trying to set the edges of the puzzle, so we don’t keep running off in all directions.”

But Skip kept it up until she promised to keep Duffy in mind. Before Skip had a chance to cut in again, she told him that Chase Austin was a longtime activist folk singer who might be able to divulge something about the reactionary scene in these parts.

That said, she retreated upstairs to her study and penciled in some pointed questions. All the while, she reminded herself that Chase would rather blow on a blues harp (his gritty Hohner harmonica) and rally the troops with his protest songs. But if she could play it just right, she might glom something useful and carry on.

To set it up, she called El Arroyo which, given the recent spring rains, would feature a gently gurgling creek to live up to its namesake. She reserved a table for two down the far side of the patio and ordered a bottle of Don Julio to be kept in reserve until she got there. Pressing the issue with the receptionist, who was having trouble with her English, she made sure

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