on this street, so Mollie knew every last detail. Last year, Mollie had been in charge and convinced her best friend Charlize to play the role of the Basin Hotel front clerk, since that was her actual job, plus no one else wanted to play the clerk... for obvious reasons. “The hotel clerk came running down the street shouting there was a holdup,” Mollie continued. “Of course, as soon as he ran into the bank, the gangsters had him.”
“Killed him?” Rosa asked with a gasp.
“No, just took the hotel clerk as a hostage.”
“Yup, the gangsters sound pretty tough to me.” Janson’s accent sounded thick under his scorn. “They had a whole bank of hostages.”
What? Was he rooting for the bank robbers now? Or was he talking about himself? She sneered. “Yeah, they thought they were so smart. When those robbers poked their heads outside and saw they’d lost their getaway car, they thought they’d escape on foot and sneak out that alleyway there.” She pointed to the alley behind them—the same alley that would take them to the catacombs where she’d cut this tour short. “They took Tobe Smith and Miss Loma Sawyer captive, but as soon as they got those two outside, the hostages hit the ground and got out of the way. And that’s when Eureka Springs had their way with those robbers.”
“Yeehaw!” The loud cry echoed through the darkness. She swiveled and felt her jaw almost drop off her face when she saw Scooby swagger over to them in a hoody and sweat pants. “You looking for the Price brothers?”
Oh great! Scooby had often compared himself to the infamous Price brother gang since his last name happened to be Price, too. No relation. Scooby was hanging out with a bunch of his guy friends, and as usual, they were looking for trouble since they hadn’t found it at the Yellow Dragon. Crazy to think he was the sheriff’s son. She glared. “Go away, Scooby.” If he hoped to win the starring role for the town’s yearly re-enactment of the robbery, he bombed. “You can’t have the role.”
“Why not, darlin’?” Scooby was from Atlanta and could turn on his Southern accent on a whim. It dripped from him as he transformed into pure redneck before her eyes. His usual fear of her had somehow been obliterated, and he’d transformed into the class clown he’d been in high school. “You sure about that?” He danced up behind her and pulled her to him. “I got myself my hostage.”
Mollie raised her hands up in disbelief. He’d never ruined one of her tours before, and of all the times to choose, this was the most ironic. “Are you kidding me right now? You want me to call your father?” She glanced up at her confused audience. “His dad’s the sheriff.”
“Oh c’mon, play along. These good folks haven’t seen what I can do.” Scooby glanced over at the tour group under heavily lidded blue eyes and gave a wink. “Oh don’t worry; we’re just exes. She has to put up with me.”
Rosa murmured out in understanding. Janson’s face grew stormy. “Don’t the bank robbers get shot?” he muttered. He exchanged looks with his bodyguards, and, too late, she noticed them edging closer, not to Janson, but to her. “Uh, Scooby,” she warned.
Her ex was already aware of the complications. With a low grunt of nervous laughter, he released Mollie and clutched his chest, staggering away, then spun and staggered again like he was the villain in a melodrama. “I’ve been shot.” He collapsed against the ground and reached up for her. “Mollie? You just let it happen.” Stupid Scooby. He was pretty good. If he didn’t watch himself, she would put him in the reenactment as George Price. She stared wordlessly down at him, unable to respond. “You haven’t seen the last of the Price brothers,” he gurgled out. “All... because I was... an hour... early.” His head dropped to the ground and he played dead.
Rosa squealed and clapped her hands together. The dirty engine from a motorcycle sounded in the distance and grew louder. What now? Mollie turned to see Ashlynn Price’s shocked face as she drove up on her prized BMW 1250GS bike. The heavy, six hundred pound, black and gray model was more bike than most women would want, but Ashlynn wasn’t what anyone called typical. The girl killed the engine in front of her prostrate brother. “Scooby? What are you doing?”
Scooby ignored her, his face wrinkling around his