A Match Made for Murder Iona Whishaw (pride and prejudice read .TXT) 📖

“I’m not too happy about him, so that makes two of us,” she retorted. And then, feeling his hand take her upper arm, she pulled it away. “And you can keep your hands off me. You’re nothing but a bully.”

“I’ll be dealing with you later, missy!” he hissed.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Meg folded her arms and turned to look at Lane. Darling had pulled free of Galloway and enfolded her in his arms. That’s what I need, Meg thought. Someone who loves me just like that. Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, her mind turned to Rex Holden. He had loved her just like that. Just like Ricky had.

Lane winced in Darling’s embrace and he let go, holding her out so he could scan her.

“When you went down like that, I . . .”

“I’m fine, darling. Don’t make a fuss. He just grazed me. But I’ve ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes.”

“I don’t believe you. You went down like a ton of bricks.”

“Thank you very much, I’m sure.” Lane tried to smile, but she had been hit and it was beginning to hurt like the dickens. She could feel dampness growing just where her lower rib was. She tried to still the natural panic this engendered. It was probably, as she had told Darling, only a graze. She’d have a sore rib and maybe a handsome scar.

“In the car, both of you,” Galloway said, waving his revolver in their direction. Two vehicles from the Tucson Police Department were almost upon them.

“What the hell is going on?” Idaho asked of no one in particular, looking angrily at the rising cloud of dust. “What have you done?” He directed this question at Galloway.

Lane and Darling used the distraction to scuttle around to the rear of the car. Meg joined them. Idaho and Galloway were both armed. If there was going to be gunfire, it was as well to have a place to duck.

The two police cars pulled to a stop, aligned so they blocked any exit on the road. Galloway turned to Idaho. “I don’t know why they’re here, so you’re going to have to play your part. I’m going to put you under arrest. We can sort things out later.”

“Sorry, buddy. I’ve been playing my part. No one is arresting me!”

“Don’t be an ass! If they think you’re holding any of us hostage they’ll shoot you! Just play along!”

Among the officers who leapt out of the car was Martinez. He surveyed the scene, trying to make sense of it. He could see Inspector Darling and his wife and—for some reason—Mrs. Holden standing behind the car.

“What the devil are you doing here, Martinez?” Galloway said.

“Sheriff’s office called in a report from a local dude ranch of someone shooting a powerful rifle up in this valley, sir.” He kept his voice professional.

“Well, as you can see, I got here before you, and I got him, so you can pack him up and take him right back to town. We can add kidnapping Mrs. Darling to his charges as well.”

Martinez’s eyes flickered toward a slight movement behind Galloway. Darling was looking directly at him and shaking his head.

“What I see, sir, is that the man you’ve supposedly apprehended is still holding a firearm. Why are Mrs. Holden, Inspector Darling, and his wife here?”

Galloway took a step toward Martinez, his face suffused with rage. “Who are you to be asking the questions? I made you. You do what you’re told, or I’ll have you out flipping tortillas for a living.”

“Tortillas, sir. The double l is pronounced y.” Martinez felt something inside him harden into resolution. “Can you just explain again why this man, one of Jimmy Griffin’s men, is here and still holding a firearm with you and these others, sir?”

Galloway went to take another step toward Martinez, pulling up his revolver as if he just discovered it in his hand, but he was stopped by Martinez, who pointed his own gun directly at Galloway’s chest.

“Put that down please, sir,” Martinez said, pointing toward the hood of the car.

Galloway wheeled on Idaho and shouted at the police who were watching this drama unfold. “Arrest this man and take Martinez’s firearm. This nonsense has gone on long enough!”

The police began to shuffle, and Martinez put up his hand. “Hold it right there.” He turned to Galloway. “It has gone on long enough. I found the evidence against Griffin, where you hid it, sir. I’ve got photographs of you with him in various social situations. It seems you’ve been collaborating with the biggest mob man this city has ever seen. I don’t know why, or for how long, but I think it neutralizes your ability to order people around.”

Darling saw a movement from Idaho, his rifle beginning to swing upward into position toward Martinez. If he got that shot off, Martinez would be dead and there’d be a hail of bullets from the heavily armed throng gathered around the cars. He lunged out from behind the car at Idaho, knocking him off balance, and tumbling them both backwards over the shoulder of the road into the gully.

The big cowboy landed hard with Darling’s weight driving all the wind from him in a sick woof. He gasped for breath, rolled to one side, then tried to rise but felt the barrel of his own rifle poke him between the shoulder blades. “Okay, okay,” he said, then settled face down in the gully and, without being told, put his hands behind his head.

Galloway turned, uncertain now, first aiming his revolver at Darling and then at Martinez.

“No, sir. Put it down. I briefed all these gentlemen before we left and put out an apb. Everyone in the department knows what you’ve been up to. I’ve also had James Griffin re-arrested for good measure.”

Meg watched as Idaho was handcuffed and folded into the back of one of the cars and then, with a sigh, approached Martinez.

“You seem to be in charge around here