Truth and Justice - Fern Michaels Page 0,42

have a color scheme. I could never live here, Myra. It’s like . . . almost too perfect. It reminds me of a set on a movie or something,” Annie griped.

A dog barked down the street and an echoing response could be heard coming from another dog. She wondered if they were dog friends. Such a silly thought. Annie shrugged as she followed Myra up the walkway to a front porch with a bright yellow door with a eucalyptus wreath on it.

Myra rang the doorbell and fingered her pearls. Why was she so antsy, so jittery? So they schemed their way inside this enclave. So what? It wasn’t like they were criminals, and they really did have a good reason for being here. They had done worse things than this in the past. Maybe it had something to do with the aging process.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Lately, she’d spent way too much time thinking about growing older. She gave herself another mental shake. She just hoped the Olsens were understanding people.

Both women looked around at the neat, tidy porch with the baskets of colorful fall flowers. They looked lush and healthy, not a yellow leaf to be seen. A mister went off on the far end of the porch with a soft hissing sound just as the dog down the street barked again. An answering rejoinder could be heard. “I sure hope this is not one of those Stepford towns,” Annie hissed, “because that’s how it is starting to feel to me. Something about this place bothers me.”

Myra was about to make a comment, but the door opened to reveal a man and a woman standing side by side. They were holding hands. She deliberately did not look at Annie, who she knew was just itching to pull out her gun and shoot the hand-holding couple. “Mr. and Mrs. Olsen, my name is Myra Rutledge, my friend standing next to me is Anna de Silva. Countess Anna de Silva,” Myra clarified. “We’re here to talk to you about an old neighbor of yours, Andy Nolan. His widow Bella asked that we come here. We need some information on the family, so we can help her. We’re hoping you can help us do that.” She waited expectantly for the couple’s response.

“How did you get in here?” the tall, bearded man barked, ignoring Myra’s plea.

Anticipating that this little talk was going to go south rather quickly by Olsen’s tone of voice, Annie snapped, “How do you think? We lied.” And then a devil perched itself on Annie’s shoulders. “By the way, my friend and myself also have another name we respond to. Try this on for size, the Vigilantes!” She reached behind her and whipped out what she lovingly called her six-shooter. She looked Mrs. Olsen square in the eye as she made her declaration.

The screen door whipped open so quickly that Myra and Annie almost toppled over. “Lord have mercy!” Mrs. Olsen exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting all my life to meet you ladies. You come right on in here and pay no mind to my husband. He loved Andy Nolan like he was his own son. He’s just being protective of that young man. I loved him, too. We, both of us, about laid down and died when we heard what happened to him. Why it had to be Andy and not Sara is a mystery to me. I know, I know that is not nice of me, being a Christian and all, but I can’t help it. And I will not apologize, either. That girl was a bad seed. Still is, I’m sure. You all just follow me into the parlor, and we can talk there. Mercy, I cannot believe this. My bingo partners are simply not going to believe this. No sirree, they are not. Can I get you something to drink before we . . . what’s the term . . . get grilled? Henry, are you getting this? We’re being grilled by the Vigilantes. Such an honor! I am just so beside myself. Does it show?”

Annie laughed. “Just a little. We’re good,” she said. She was still holding the gun and she stroked it as she eyed Henry Olsen, who was looking everywhere but at Annie.

Myra nodded. “First, let me explain why we’re here and about Andy’s young widow. As I said, we’re here at her behest.” Both Olsens nodded and listened intently as Myra shared what she and Annie knew, and what