Making Arrangements

"Ah can't b'leeve that y'all gave that poor vet such trouble," Cindy Lou muttered to her two cats as she removed them from the van. Midnight and Snowball kept up their pitiful cries even as she hauled them inside the house. "Foah pity's sake, all he did was give yew a shot oah two!"

Setting down the carriers, she let Snowball out first. The white cat made a beeline for the water dispenser and began to lap at the liquid. Cindy Lou's nose scrunched up in an unbecoming way as she gingerly took the soiled carrier out to the back stoop for later cleaning. Returning to kitchen, she noticed that Midnight's usual loud "mrrroaw!" was getting louder and more insistent the longer he was in the carrier. She shook her head, and opened up the container. Midnight shot out, heading for the kibble while his mistress put his carrier away in its proper place. "An' jes' think, t'morrah Ah get t' take th' othah two," she muttered under her breath to the two felines. "Ah hope they don' give theyah vet th' same trouble y'all gave yoahs."

She was pulling out the cleaning supplies to tackle the dirty job ahead of her when the doorbell chimed. "Who can that be?" she murmured, setting the heavy duty rubber gloves down on the counter. Striding to the front door, she heard the chime again as she made her way across the living room. "Ah'm comin', Ah'm comin'!" she said aloud, irritated that whoever was at the door had no patience. She peered out through the beveled glass panes set in the upper part of the door and saw an unfamiliar man standing there, hands in his pockets. Hmm. Early forties, brown hair, balding, about six foot tall, bit of a paunch but not really fat, casual dresser, a bit fidgety, keeps looking across the street and has his hands in his pockets... I wonder what he wants. Only one way to find out.

She opened the door as far as the chain bolt would allow. "Hello?"

The man brightened as he turned to see her. "Hi, there, Ms., uh, Kelly. My name is Richard Hickerson, and my mother lives across the street over there. Uh, she... uh, I was visiting Mother and thought I'd come over, y'know, be neighborly and introduce myself and all."

Voice is okay, not deep but not tenor. He sure is nervous though! Keeps looking back... ah, I see. Nosy old biddy, watching through those curtains... Cindy Lou released the chain bolt and opened the door a bit more to step out on the front stoop. Richard moved back slightly to make room for her, looking her up and down slowly as he did. She held out her hand. "Pleased t' make yoah acquaintance, Mistah Hickerson. Yew'll 'scuse me foah not askin' yew in; Ah jest brought two o' mah kitties home from th' vet, an' well, they ahr not behavin' themselves." As good as an excuse as any.

He took her hand, and shook it, holding it longer than was strictly necessary. "Oh, that's okay," he said, his eyes traveling the length of her again. He tore his gaze away to glance around at the yard where the new growth of shrubs and grass was beginning to show. "I was wondering if you needed any help around your place," he began, waving a hand toward the lawn. "You know, mowing, raking, mulching, cleaning out gutters, that sort of thing. I'm really quite handy." He grinned and that grin, coupled with the look he gave her, made her scan break out in uncomfortable goosebumps.

Handy? I just bet you are! Let's play the southern belle, shall we? "That's very nahce o' yew, Mistah Hickerson. Does yoah wife know yew offah yoah... services to yoah neighbors?" she asked coquettishly. A movement up the street caught her eye and she thought, Yes! Salvation approaches! Have to time this just right!

Richard didn't quite know what to say. "Well, uh, no, Ms. Kelly. You see, I'm not married," he finally replied. "Nope, never married. You? Are you married, Ms. Kelly?"

"That's quahte a personal question, Mistah Hickerson," she said, raising an eyebrow and letting a touch of disdain color her voice. She followed this with a dramatic sigh. "But no, Ah'm a widow. Mah husband dahd in service to his country." Come on, kid! Hurry up! I need you to help me out here!

"Oh, you must get pretty lonely then, huh? Maybe you and I could go for a cup of coffee sometime or something?" he offered, smiling.

I'd wipe that smarmy smile off your face in a second if I thought it wouldn't break my cover! Cindy Lou thought furiously. What she said was, "No, Ah can't say that Ah'm lonely. After all, Ah do have mah kitties. They ahr a treasure an' a comfort."

"I'm sure they are," he said, putting a hand on the wall, leaning against it. "Still, it might be nice to get to know one another better."

"Well, Mistah Hickerson, Ah'm really quahte content with th' status quo, so t' speak. And as foah yoah offah of yard work, Ah already have an agreement with Rahy'n ovah theah." She raised her voice and called, "Rahy'n! Oh, Rahy'n!"

Ryan Pierce, on his way home from an errand to the corner store for his grandmother, slowed. Over the past few days, he'd gotten a friendly greeting from Ms. Kelly whenever she saw him walking home, and he had made it a point to ask how Snowball was. So he wasn't surprised to see her waving at him from her front porch. However, he was surprised to see who she was with. Wonder if she needs some back up or protection from old Dick the Hick? he thought. Shifting the bag of groceries from one arm to another, he waved, then turned his steps toward her house. "Hey, Ms. Kelly! How's Snowball? Hi, Mr. Hickerson." He greeted the man with significantly less enthusiasm than he did the woman as he climbed the stairs to the little porch, making Richard remove his arm and step further away from the door a bit to make room for him.

"Snowball's jes' fahne, Rahy'n," she answered. "Though she got her shots today an' she was a bit orn'ry about that."

"I'd be ornery, too, if I got shots," Ryan replied with a chuckle. "What did you need?"

Back me up here, kid, she thought as she said, "Well, Ah jes' wanted t' remahnd yew about cuttin' the lawn this weekend. Ah need yew heah braht an' early on Saturday mornin'."

Okay, now I understand. Dick the Hick's been trying to put the make on her. His line about the yard work is sooo lame! I'll play along. "Sure, Ms. Kelly. I'll be here. Thanks for reminding me."

Thank you, Ryan! "Yoah welcome, Rahy'n. Now yew'd better run along home an' see to yoah grandma. Mistah Hickerson was jes' leavin'."

"Yes, ma'am," Ryan replied with unaccustomed politeness. He jogged down the steps, and stopped to wave. "Bye, Ms. Kelly! See you on Saturday!" I'll get these groceries home and double back to see what happened.

Richard had been watching the interchange with growing dismay, and he was caught off guard by Cindy Lou's last sentence. He moved back into his previous spot, but found his quarry opening the door, preparing to go inside.

"It was nahce t' meet yew, Mistah Hickerson. Always nahce t' meet th' neighbors. Unfortunately, Ah have a dirty job t' do an' Ah'd best git to it," Cindy Lou said with a smile, motioning toward the inside of the house. "You see, Snowball soiled her carrier an' if'n Ah don't take cayah of it now... well, you can imagine how much worse it would be t' clean later. Y'all have a good evening, Mistah Hickerson."

"Uh, yes, good evening, Ms. Kelly," said the befuddled man. Cindy Lou stepped quickly inside and he suddenly found himself standing alone on her little front porch.

She resisted the urge to lean up against the inside of her door and wipe her brow. Instead, she hustled back through the house, putting as much distance between her and her new "neighbor" as she could. Going back to the kitchen, she gathered up her cleaning supplies and a bucket of hot water, then settled down on the lighted back stoop to clean the dirty cat carrier. Dusk was turning slowly into night when she started her task, but it didn't keep her from glimpsing the stealthy shadow that dropped over the privacy fence at the back of her yard. She was instantly alert and kept a hand near the spray bottle of cleaner, watching the intruder with her peripheral vision as she continued to work on the carrier. If that's you, Mr. Hickerson, and you decided not to take "no" for an answer, you're going to get one very unpleasant surprise! Fortunately for both of them, the figure didn't skulk around the edges of the yard, but came toward her in a straightforward manner, and just as he got close enough for her to recognize his silhouetted figure, he hissed, "Hey, Ms. Kelly! Is he gone?"

"Yes, Rahy'n. Ah got rid o' him."

"Good." Ryan came into the light, and parked himself on the concrete patio to watch her work. "Which cat did that?" he asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Snowball. It's a habit o' hers," Cindy Lou explained. She stopped her work to smile at him. "Thank yew so much foah comin' to mah rescue theyah, Rahy'n. Ah thought Ah'd nevah get rid o' him." She cocked her head at her young visitor. "Who is he, anyway?"

"Dick the Hick? He's Mrs. Hickerson's youngest son. He doesn't live with her but comes around once or twice a month so she'll do his laundry and give him money. She's been trying to pawn him off on some unsuspecting woman for a long time."

Cindy Lou chuckled. " 'Dick the Hick', huh? Who calls him that?"

Ryan waved his hand to indicate the neighborhood. "Most everybody around here. But me and my friends, we call him something else."

"Do Ah dayah ask?" she questioned, grinning.

The teen colored a bit. "Well, just sorta turn it around a bit..."

Cindy Lou said slowly, "Hick the Di..." She trailed off as she began to laugh. "Oh, Rahy'n! That's clevah!" She repeated the name. "Ah lahke it! What a hoot!" Pointing a finger at the boy, she said, "You ahr a rogue! Now Ah'll nevah be able t' call him 'Mistah Hickerson' agin!"

Ryan laughed, too. "Well, I came back to see if you were all right. He can get pretty pushy." He paused. "And I wanted to see if you were serious about the lawn job."

Cindy Lou took a long look at her companion. "Thank yew foah checkin' on me. That's very sweet o' yew. As foah th' lawn job, yeah, Ah could use th' help. Besides, Ah'm shure that ol' Mrs. Hickerson'll be watchin' t' see if Ah was tellin' th' truth. What would yew chahge?"

"Hmm. Fifty dollars? I'd rake and weed, too," the teen offered. "And you're right about ol' Mrs. Hickerson. She's probably already been on the phone to my grandma about it."

"Really? What will yoah grandma say?"

"Oh, I've got it covered. Told her that I had the job and forgot to mention it before."

"You ahr a cocky one, Rahy'n," the woman said, shaking her head and smiling. "Well, Ah 'spect yew to weed an' rake anyway, but... how about thirty? Aftah all, Ah do have a robot, so yew'll not be doin' a whole lot o' actual mowin'." She held her hands out, miming the use of a remote control. "It'll be jes' sitting in th' shade an' playin' with a little cahr."

"Really? You have a robot? Cool!" Ryan exclaimed. He raised an eyebrow. "Thirty-five then."

Cindy Lou raised an eyebrow and chuckled, then pulled off her soapy right rubber glove and held out her hand. "Deal. Yew drahve a hahd bahgain, Mistah Rahy'n."

He took her hand and shook it. "Okay, deal. I'll be here Saturday," Ryan said, rising to his feet. "See you later, Ms. Kelly."

"Latuh, Rahy'n." The boy was already halfway to the drive when she called out again. "Oh, Rahy'n?"

"Yes, Ms. Kelly?"

"Next tahme, don't come ovah th' fence." She smiled, but her eyes looked very serious. "Ah don't lahke people sneakin' up on me."

The teen nodded. "Okay, Ms. Kelly. No problem." He turned and jogged down the walk as Cindy Lou put the finishing touches on Snowball's carrier and brought it into the house to dry.

Virgil came to the lounge at his father's bidding. He found Jeff standing in front of the windows, staring off to sea, a cup of coffee in his hand. He glanced over at the desk to see that the lunch tray Jeff had unexpectedly ordered was barely touched.

"You wanted me, Dad?"

"Yes, Virgil." Jeff's voice was flat and emotionless as he spoke. "Please prep Tracy One for a trip to Bongo-Bongo. I've already filed the flight plan. Lady Penelope is leaving."

"Leaving?" Virgil asked, incredulous. "When you sent everyone out of the room, I thought you'd be trying to convince her to stay!"

"That was never my intention, Virgil. I wanted to let her know her options were still open and that if she really felt she needed the space to decide, it was hers." The older man sighed, blowing a deep breath out his nose, and took another sip of coffee. "Then... things got complicated."

Virgil came closer. Jeff didn't turn to him, just sipped his coffee until the younger man finally asked, "Complicated? How?"

Jeff finally turned his gaze to his son. Virgil was shocked to see how lined his father's face looked and how weary. The older man took a deep breath and said simply, "She kissed me, Virgil." He shook his head slowly, his eyes turning back to the sea. "She kissed me, and like the fool that I am, I didn't react. Not like she expected me to. I stiffened up, and... that told her all she needed to know." Another sip of coffee, then, "I tried to explain, tried to give her my reasons. But I hurt her, son, hurt her very deeply. I knew it would come to this eventually, but not now of all times. Not when she was already vulnerable and in pain." He paused and glanced down. "I hope someday she can forgive me for that. I hope I'll be able to forgive myself."

Virgil stood still for a moment, processing what his father had just said. At last he broke the silence. "So, you're sending me to take her to her ranch." When his father had nodded, he asked sharply, "Why?"

"Because she might need a sympathatic ear, a friend she can turn to. You are that to her, if nothing else, " Jeff explained. "And it would give you the opportunity, if you feel the time and situation are right, to tell her how you feel about her."

His son snorted. "Yeah, right, Dad. As if I'm going to tell her how I feel with Parker breathing down my neck."

"It's your choice, Virgil. If you don't want to take her, I'll ask one of your brothers."

The two men were silent for a moment, then Virgil nodded. "I'll prep Tracy One."

"Good." Jeff sipped from his nearly-empty coffee cup. Virgil sighed, and left the study.

When he was gone, Jeff turned and looked over at his desk and the vidphone that sat behind it. Do I call Lou or not?

" 'Ere ye go, Mr. Brains," Parker said, handing the engineer the laptop. "Th' program h'is ready an' loaded h'on h'a disk." He handed him the disk he had burned.

"Th-Thank you, uh, Parker," Brains said absently from the computer where he was working. "I'll see that it gets to the, uh, proper place."

"H'If ye 'ave h'any h'other work layke that, Mr. Brains, Ay'll be glad t' h'oblige," the chauffeur said cheerfully. "Ye'll 'ave t' send h'it t' me bay h'email, though. Ay don' know when Milady will be back this way again."

"She's leaving?" Tin-Tin cried, suddenly concerned.

"Yus, Miss Tin-Tin, she h'is. H'As soon h'as one o' th' jets h'is ready."

"But why?" the Malaysian girl asked, saving her file and approaching the chauffeur. "I thought Mr. Tracy was going to convince her to stay!"

"Ay'm sure Ay couldn't say, miss," Parker said. And he couldn't; he didn't know what had fueled this precipitous departure. Her Ladyship hadn't told him and somehow he felt that she wouldn't, either.

"Do you think she'd mind if I put in a good word?" Tin-Tin asked.

Parker shrugged. "Ay don' think it could hurt, Miss Tin-Tin. Ay b'leeve she's h'in 'er room, packin' up 'er handbag an' such."

"Thank you, Parker. Brains, I'll be back soon." And before the engineer could respond, she was out the door and on her way up to the villa.

"Well, Ay'll say goodbaye naow, Mr. Brains, an' see that Milady's bags h'are packed h'in th' jet." The chauffeur moved over to where the engineer was working, and stuck out his hand.

Brains looked up at him and took the hand to shake it. "G-Goodbye, Parker. I, uh, hope you and Lady Penelope will return s-soon."

"Me, too, mate," Parker muttered softly as he left the lab, taking the monorail further down into the bowels of the underground complex. Brains sighed, slipped the disk into his machine, and fired Parker's work off in an attachment to Deirdre.

Tin-Tin reached the guest room just in time to see Penelope emerge from it. The aristocrat put on a bright smile when she saw Tin-Tin. "Tin-Tin, I am so very glad I will have chance to say farewell to you. I hope you will pass on my regrets to the rest of the family."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" the dark-haired beauty asked, falling in step with the blonde. "Why are you leaving so suddenly, without saying goodbye?"

Penelope took a deep breath to steady herself. She was sure that her makeup was covering the redness of her eyes. After leaving Jeff, she'd had a brief cry, then turned her attention to the matter at hand: leaving Tracy Island as quickly as was feasibly possible. She had hoped to be spared any teary-eyed farewell scenes, or any explanations, but that hope had been dashed with her friend's arrival. She was aware of Tin-Tin's concerned brown eyes on her as they walked down the corridor and tried to marshal her thoughts so she could put the best face on the matter. Finally, she stopped mid-stride. Tin-Tin continued for a few paces then, realizing that her friend wasn't at her side, turned around and made her way back to Lady Penelope.

The aristocrat put her hands on Tin-Tin's shoulders and looked into those dark brown eyes. "My dear Tin-Tin! It is so very hard for me to tell you why I am leaving. But since Peter Riordan's death, I have struggled the question of remaining an agent for International Rescue. I have discovered aspects of my character that I am not sure I like. With this investigation closing in on my identity, I feel it is inmy best interests, and in the interests of International Rescue, to leave for a while. Perhaps to actually live the life of my 'cover', a pampered lady of society."

She dropped her arms and glanced downward. "Sometimes I wonder which persona I was really pretending to be, the secret agent or the spoiled aristocrat." She took a fortifying breath and gazed up at Tin-Tin again, a smile on her face. "Perhaps I will discover it in time. No matter. For the moment, I am going to Bongo-Bongo to deflect attention from the Tracys. You are welcome to visit there or at Foxleyheath whenever you like. And please, do keep in touch. One positive lesson I have learned from this experience is the importance of good friends."

Tin-Tin smiled back tremulously and embraced Penelope. "I will miss you!" she cried.

The aristocrat returned the embrace briefly. "Now, now," she cautioned, wagging a finger at the younger woman. "No tears, please. This is why I was going to sneak out in the middle of the day, carrying off the silver and the linens!" The quip made Tin-Tin laugh through her tears, and Penelope chuckled with her. "Walk down to the hangar with me." As they fell into step, Penny asked, "May I count on you to tender my farewells to the rest of the family?"

"Of course, Penelope," the Malaysian replied. Together the two of them took the lift to the monorail, and on to the small craft hangar.

"Ee oh ahhh, ee oh ahh ay! Ee oh ahhh, ee oh ahh ay! Cuentame que te paso. Cuentame que te paso!" Cindy Lou sang as she mamboed through her house, the "Speak Up Mambo" by the Manhattan Transfer playing loudly in her office. She was careful not to spill any of the red wine from the goblet in her hand as she shuffled to the Latin beat. When she entered her office, she lowered the volume to from a dull roar to something less ear splitting and slipped into her chair, still bouncing along with the music. Bringing her sleeping computer to life, she began to check her email boxes. The song changed over to "Besame Mucho" by Xavier Cugat. She sang along a little, using the only words she knew at the place where the music indicated they must appear. "Besame, besame muuuucho!" Moofums, who had been curled up on her desk, stood, stretched, and gave her mistress an alarmed look before she vacated the premises.

"Critics! All yew cats ahr critics!" the woman shouted after the departing feline. Chuckling, she settled back down to her task. "Ah!" she exclaimed in delight, seeing Dee's email and attachment. "Heah's th' goods! Finally! Now t' delivah it t' ground zero!"

With a few keystrokes, she burned the attachment to a disk without opening it. Then she composed an email message, using the email address he had originally sent it to.

"To the officer in charge of the investigation into the death of Anthony Cho.

"I received this email the day of Mr. Cho's death. I was unaware of his passing at the time nor did I know he had been murdered or I would have forwarded it sooner. I know it's not much to go on, but perhaps it will give you some clues to help your investigation. I, however, must remain anonymous. Good luck."

She made a copy of the email and slipped it into a drafts folder for later use. Then she attached the deadly, upgraded termite directly from the disk, gave it the title of AnthonyChosLastWords, and with a small smile, emailed it to her old Interpol box. She knew the missive would be returned to her as her box was deactivated when she retired, but she hoped it would be out there long enough to attract the attention of the scanner.

"Now all Ah can do is wait," she murmured. She went back to checking her email boxes.

After a few minutes, an mailer-daemon message popped up, indicating the return of the email and the attachment. But she didn't notice. She was staring at an email from a friend in North Carolina, one of the two men who ran the bed and breakfast near her old home.

"Dear Lou,

"I'm sorry that this is so late, but things have been very hectic lately and truthfully, it slipped my mind until just now.

"You asked us to let you know if anyone came looking for you, and a few days ago, someone did. It wasn't the blond that you described, though he did have a very odd voice which made me think it might have been. He was good looking, roughly 6' 2", very well built, with black hair. Couldn't see his eyes because he wore shades. He wanted to know if you'd left a forwarding address, phone number, or email address. When I said you hadn't, he seemed to accept it and drove away in a rental car.

"Again, I'm sorry this is so after the fact. I hope it gets to you in time to do some good, and that you're well and happy in your new surroundings. We miss you, especially Bruno, who keeps wandering over to your old property to see if he can smell the cats or cadge a treat. When you eventually sell the place, I hope we get a neighbor as helpful as you were. We miss you!

"Your friend, Trey"

Cindy Lou sat back and took a big gulp of her wine, a troubled look on her face. A strange voice but black hair? Could be that Franks is incognito, or that someone else entirely is curious about me. She lifted the goblet to her lips again. Thing is, what do I do about it? I'm fairly sure he's not going to find me here, but... there are Shelly and Dee and possibly other friends I told him about when we were partners. Do I warn them and possibly scare them? She shook her head as she tossed off the rest of her wine. Dee's okay; I just got that email from her. I'd better email Shelly at least. Put her on her guard. She shook her head. No, I'd better call. I'll email Dee. Glancing over at the clock, she made a face. Hmm. With her schedule she's probably already in bed. But I'll leave a message with Rachel. She'll understand.

But Rachel wasn't the one to answer the phone when she called. Her brother-in-law Chuck did. She and Chuck had always had a strained relationship, primarily because of her work, which he strenuously disapproved of. He felt her frequent traveling meant that he and his wife shouldered an unfair share of the responsibility for his father-in-law's care.

"Hey, Chuck," Lou said cheerily, dropping her Cindy Lou drawl. "Is Shelly still awake?"

"No, Lucinda, she's not, and I think you know that, too." Chuck's voice sounded irritated. "Why haven't you activated the picture? Why are you calling voice only?"

"Because I'm using my satellite phone and I've misplaced my earphone," she replied, reining in her matching irritation. "Didn't think you wanted to see a picture of my ear lobe."

"Oh, all right." Chuck seemed mollified. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, if Shelly's not awake, then could I speak to Rachel? I can't find something I need, and I've checked everywhere. She might remember where it got packed." It was the only excuse she could think of on the spur of the moment.

"Rachel's not here. She's out with some friends. I expect her home soon. Can she call you then? I can leave her a message."

Lou thought this over for a moment, and made a decision. "No, that's okay. But if you could leave a message for Shelly so she'll call me in the morning from work, that would be great."

"Okay, I'll leave her the message," Chuck said amiably. "She has your number, right?"

"No, she doesn't," Lou replied, biting her lower lip. "Let me give it to you." She rattled off a series of numbers. "That's for my new satellite phone."

"Don't know why you had to change providers, Lou," Chuck's voice now held a hint of disapproval.

"Well, you know me. New place, new phone. I wanted a clean slate, Chuck," Lou said, trying to sound breezy.

Chuck hrumphed and read the number back. "Yes, that's it, Chuck. Thanks for leaving the message. I appreciate it."

"When will you be up to visit your dad?" he asked suddenly. Lou groaned internally. Should have seen that one coming!

"Pretty soon, Chuck, pretty soon. Just need to get established around here and find a good cat sitter." Before he could ask where "here" was, she said quickly, "Speaking of the little devils, Spot just barfed on the rug. I've got to go. Talk to you later, Chuck! Bye!" She cut off the call and sat back with an audible, "Whew!"

She looked at the email from Trey again and shook her head. At least I know Shelly is safe for now and once I hear from her, I'll tell her what to look for and she can be on alert. But I'd better email Dee right away.

Jeff watched impassively as Tracy One took to the air, sailing into the clear blue sky over the turquoise waters that surrounded their island. He felt numb, not only from the built up revelations of the day and Penelope's departure, but also due to the application of two more shots of Scotch. He had gone down to the storage area they called "the wine cellar" himself and selected the oldest bottle of Bushmill's he could find to bring back up to replace the one he had emptied with his third glass. The new bottle was stronger, and smoother, and something in the back of his head told him he needed to go easy on it. So he limited himself to one shot.

That one shot was still in his hand, half-imbibed. He tossed it back and grimaced, the liquor making its warm way down his gullet. He stared at the thing in his other hand: his satellite phone. What time is it in New York right now? Would Lou be up?

He shook his head slowly. Doesn't matter. I want... I need to talk to her. She's the only one I can talk to who isn't in the thick of this. But then... she is part of this, isn't she? She just doesn't know it yet.

Putting the glass on the floor near the door to the balcony, Jeff went outside, heading for the Round House, where he hoped to have some privacy for his talk with Lou.