Page 149 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“And don’t try anything or you’ll be sorry,” Mabel said.

“What are we going to do with her?” Fly asked.

“I suppose we’ll have to shoot her,” Mabel said.

Cat felt her head spin and she had to swallow to keep her lunch down.

“I want to be the one to shoot her, sweet pea,” Fly said.

“No!” Mabel said and then softened her tone, “No, honeybunch, you know you’re a lousy shot.”

“I am not. I can hit the diamond on the ace of diamonds at fifty paces.”

“More like five paces.”

“There you go again,” Fly said. “Miss Hoity-Toity. You always think you’re so much better than me. My mother was right about you.”

“Don’t you drag that old battle-ax into this, you mama’s boy,” Mabel said. “That woman was nothing but mean to me from the first.”

“That’s because she knew you weren’t good enough for me.” Fly sniffed.

Cat glanced in the mirror to see them glaring at one another. It was now or never. She braked the car in the middle of the road. Both Fly and Mabel were knocked to the floor. Cat opened her door and hefted Lucy out with her.

“Run, Lucy!”

Cat only got three paces away when she heard a pitiful yip behind her. Cat turned to see Mabel standing outside the car, holding Lucy by her ears.

“Get back in the car or else,” Mabel said and waved the gun at her.

On knees that shook like loose change, Cat climbed back into the driver’s seat while Fly picked up Lucy and put her back in the passenger’s seat.

Mabel leaned forward and pinched Cat’s forearm with one of her age-spotted old hands. “No more stunts or else.”

Cat nodded. She bit her lip to keep from crying. She had to keep her wits about her. She had to pay attention and look for an opportunity to escape. It was her only chance.

“Turn here and park,” Mabel ordered. Cat turned the SUV into the entrance to the Copper Creek Buttes State Park. A group of ramadas and a water fountain were all that marked the desolate camping area. She had dropped off Fly, who was now following them in their latest RV, an Airstream trailer towed by a large pickup.

“Get out,” Mabel ordered. “Take the dog with you.”

Cat climbed out of the car, leading Lucy by her leash.

“Do you see our contact?” Mabel asked Fly as he joined them.

“Yeah, he’s sitting over there,” Fly said and pointed to the furthest ramada.

“Okay,” Mabel said. “We’re not going to kill you. But that’s only because we don’t want murder on our rap sheet. But it won’t be our fault if you get lost in the desert and die of exposure. Right, Fly?”

Cat felt her knees sag with relief.

“That’s right,” he agreed. He was wearing a pair of binoculars around his neck, looking like a regular birdwatcher.

“So, start walking,” Mabel said and waved the gun at Cat.

Anything was better than hanging around these two gun-toting old coots. Cat began to walk.

“Hold it,” Fly said. He grabbed Lucy’s leash out of Cat’s hands. “Just so you don’t get any ideas about not doing what we tell you. You keep walking or we shoot the mutt. Got it?”

“No—” Cat protested.

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