Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

insisted the landlady. “A comfy bed, a space heater, all my Agatha Christies. I even gave her Mona’s old TV set.” She turned to Michael. “What did you do with her car?”
    “I parked it down on Leavenworth. Five or six blocks away.”
    Brian frowned. “That doesn’t exactly cover our tracks.”
    “Well,” shrugged Michael, “if you know of a swamp nearby …”
    “Leavenworth is fine,” said Mrs. Madrigal. “I don’t expect we’ll be keeping her longer than two or three days. I hope not, anyway. She says she’s due at the station on Friday afternoon. Somebody’s bound to start getting suspicious.”
    “Mary Ann took care of that,” said Brian.
    “How?” asked Michael.
    “She called the station and said that she and Bambi are on the trail of a big story and that they won’t be back until the weekend. The news director was plenty pissed, but he bought it. He didn’t have much choice.”
    “So no one else knows that DeDe and the kids are alive?”
    “No one except the kidnapper,” said Brian.
    “And they’ve got no idea whatsoever who he is?”
    Brian shook his head. “Just some guy Mrs. Halcyon met on the ship. Mary Ann is convinced that any media attention at all would seriously jeopardize their chances of getting the kids back alive.”
    “That’s quite enough for me,” said Mrs. Madrigal.
    “She wouldn’t have asked us to do this,” added Brian, “if the situation wasn’t desperate.” He turned to the landlady. “Did you get Mary Ann’s notes, by the way?”
    Mrs. Madrigal nodded. “I locked them in my safe.”
    “Good. We’ll come out of this O.K. I mean … it isn’t like we’re torturing her or holding her for ransom or something.”
    “You’re right,” Michael deadpanned. “Maybe we’re not thinking big enough.”
    “Michael, dear.” Mrs. Madrigal remonstrated with her eyes.
    Brian addressed the landlady: “I think you’re great to be doing this. Mary Ann says she’ll take full responsibility when she gets back.”
    Mrs. Madrigal’s smile was understandably weary. “It’s not just for her, you know.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Those children,” explained the landlady. “I wept for a week when I read about their disappearance in Guyana.”
    “You knew them?” asked Michael.
    Mrs. Madrigal smiled wanly and shook her head. “I knew their grandfather.”
    “Mary Ann’s old boss?”
    Another nod.
    “You mean you …?”
    “We had a rather friendly little affair just before he died. Nothing earth-shattering, but … nice.”
    Both men stared at her in amazement.
    The landlady took ladylike delight in their confusion. “If I’m not mistaken, one of the twins was named after me. The little girl, I presume.”
    “That’s right,” laughed Brian. “Her name is Anna. Mary Ann told me. Jesus, you’re a trip!”
    “The little boy is Edgar,” added Mrs. Madrigal. “Edgar and Anna. Isn’t that lovely symbolism? Our affair was memorialized by those children. They’re coming home safe and sound if I have to strangle that ridiculous woman in the basement.”
    Michael regarded her with admiration. “What a fabulous ulterior motive!”
    The landlady gave both of her boys a jaunty shake. “How about some brownies for my partners in crime?”
    “When did you have time for that?” asked Michael.
    “Well … I made a batch for our houseguest, and there are plenty of leftovers.”
    “You got her loaded?”
    Mrs. Madrigal’s face was resolute. “I want her to be comfortable.”
    “This woman knows how to take prisoners,” said Brian.

The Diomedes
    A FTER SEVERAL HOURS OF SEARCHING IN NOME, Mary Ann and DeDe found an Eskimo bush pilot who filled their requirements exactly. His name was Willie Omiak, and his cousin Andy had served for the past four years as a National Guardsman on Little Diomede.
    “He can have it,” declared Willie, shouting over the engine noise. “Nome’s small enough for me. I tried living in Wales for a while and even that drove me crazy.”
    “You mean … the British Isles?” Mary Ann couldn’t picture this round-faced, brown-skinned youth living among Welshmen.
    The Eskimo grinned. “Wales, Alaska. The nearest mainland town to the Diomedes. We’ll be stopping there to refuel and check weather conditions. You sure you want to stay overnight on Little Diomede?”
    “We may,” said DeDe. “It depends.”
    “They don’t have a Holiday Inn,” smiled Willie.
    “We’ll manage.”
    “Sure,” said the pilot.