Chapter LXXVIII
CHAPTER LXXVIII
Angel, Louis, and I sat in my kitchen, where I popped two more painkillers and waited for Macy to join us. While Wyatt Riggins had been practicing his swing on me, she’d been in Houston, Texas, bringing a northern perspective to a multi-agency panel on border security. She’d kept in touch with the hospital—Angel had told her what happened—but she hadn’t been able to get back to Maine until that evening. She arrived at my home just as the Tylenol began to kick in—which was fortunate because she immediately commenced shouting, causing my head to start hurting again, though not as much as it might have done without the pills.
“What were you thinking? You knew Riggins might be dangerous, and still you tried to beard him without backup. Were you even armed?”
“I wanted to reason with him,” I replied, “not kill him.”
“And how did that work out for both of you?”
“Better for him than me,” I admitted.
Macy transferred her ire to Angel and Louis.
“Where were you two while all this was going on?”
Louis looked at Angel, who shrugged.
“I think we were eating lunch,” said Louis. “I had the fish.”
“He definitely had the fish,” said Angel.
I thought Macy might be about to flatten both of them, but the urge passed and she took a seat at the table. Louis poured her a mug of coffee and Angel slipped her a Two Fat Cats cookie he’d found at the back of the bread basket.
“Tell me all of it,” she said.