and held it up.
“Cut it open it, Sergeant.”
He looked at her, removed his knife and made a small slit in the package. Showed her the white powder on the blade. “Its drugs, Major.”
“Yes, but whose drugs?”
“I don’t know, Ma’am.”
Rita looked at the sergeant. “I’d like a copy of your report when its completed.”
“I’ll need statements from both you and the LT, first, Ma’am.”
“Not much to tell. They came in on that boat.” Rita pointed. “Lieutenant Applegate ordered them to stop and raise their hands. They reached for their weapons and we shot the savages.”
He asked, “And did you see any weapons before you fired?”
She tilted her head slightly, looked down at the dead men’s guns lying on the deck close to their bullet riddled and bloody bodies. She spoke slowly, her voice edged with sarcasm. “Yes, Sergeant. We saw their weapons.”
The sergeant caught her tone. Stood up straight. “I guess that’s it for now, Major. My team can take it from here.”
“I’d like a copy of your report when its finished, Sergeant.”
He nodded and released his breath. He knew he wasn’t going to win this one. “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll have it sent to your office.”
Rita glanced around at the other MPs, glanced at Dixie, looked at the sergeant. “Fine.”
The two Badger Troop women walked through the human barricade, soldiers dressed in green keeping back the now growing number of onlookers. Rita glanced back at the dead men, at the sergeant talking on his cell phone. She studied the faces of the people watching, some staring back at her and Dixie. Two ambulances arrived on the scene, their sirens loud, lights reflecting blue and red in the afternoon gray and light mist.
“Does something feel wrong to you, Lieutenant?”
She looked into Rita’s green eyes, the green quite visible even in this gray light. “What are you sensing, Major?”
“I’m not sure. What do you know about that sergeant?”
“Sergeant Lewis? I haven’t heard anything bad. He does handle the policing around here. He and a Lieutenant Sweet. He could have just been patrolling close to here. It might be a coincidence.”
Rita looked at her, kept walking. “Yeah, maybe. Why did he have so many MPs with him? That doesn’t seem normal, does it?”
“Some new MPs arrived at their base recently. Maybe he was out training them or something.”
Rita thought about this, looked at Dixie. “Could be that.”
They entered the Liaison Office; Rita glanced at the wall clock, just past four. Smiled at a Badger Troop lieutenant sitting at her desk. “Everything okay, Cathy?”
Cathy Blackmore nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. I heard sirens.”
Rita decided to let Dixie explain what happened. She walked into her office, kicked off her shoes, removed her black skirt and slipped into a pair of tight faded blue jeans and an old pair of worn and scuffed tan colored elk hide cowboy boots. She walked back into the main area wearing sunglasses and holding her motorcycle helmet. Looked at the two lieutenants, both sitting at their desks in the large open office space.
“Its Friday. I’m leaving a few minutes early.”
Dixie looked at Rita’s very short buzz cut blonde hair, her clothes. “I hope you’re not going to just sit in that beach house by yourself all weekend, Major.”
Rita grinned. “I’ve only lived in the house for two weeks. I’m quite enjoying the salt air and peacefulness.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I’ll be home tonight if you need me.”
Rita walked out the back door, fired up her old cruiser. The green and silver motorcycle had become like an old friend. They had traveled many good miles together.
It didn’t take long to leave the town of Sidney, B.C. As Rita rode south on the Pat Bay Highway, she felt more comfortable living on the coast now. A major departure from Base Killdeer in Saskatchewan, that was for sure. Her skin even felt smoother, not so dry like on the prairies.
After a few minutes Rita left the highway, turned onto the narrow paved road, throttled up and leaned into a curve, the road now running parallel close to the beach, her new house only a short distance ahead, the surf rolling to shore like horses racing side by side in a long white line. She downshifted, the bark from the exhaust loud, rode onto the driveway next to her house and parked under the car port. Shut down the motor.
She looked at the beach, two people walking, both males, playing stick toss with a dog. An older woman looked at her from the yard next door. The woman waved and walked toward her.
“Hello there. Nice to finally to meet you. I’m Stella Rhodes. Also known as the kooky Christian who lives in the first house.”
Rita grinned. “Hi Stella. I’m Major Rita Royale. A kook doesn’t sound so bad to me.”
“That’s what I say too.” She eyed the taller green-eyed blonde, her very shapely figure. Stunning was the only word that came to mind. “You’re military?”
“Yes. I’m the new Liaison Officer in Sidney. Would you like a glass of something? Juice? Beer?”
“I think a beer might be good. The weeds are winning today. I need something to drown my disappointment.”
The two women moved onto the front porch. Sat on brown wicker chairs with large flat arms. The view was open but for the roof and a low wooden wall about two feet high that decorated the front and sides. Both women admired the ocean view, sipped their cold beer.
Stella said, “So Rita, you look very young to be a major.”
“I turned thirty-six three days ago.”
Stella nodded. “You look thirty.”
Rita grinned. “Thanks.”
“I remember thirty-six. That’s when men still chased after me.”
“They probably still do.”
Stella smiled. “I’m a kook. A sixty year old kook. But truthfully, I enjoy living on my own. I guess that’s why I never did marry.”
Rita looked at her handsome face, small lines under her blue eyes, along her cheeks.
Stella asked, “Have you ever married?”
“Once. She died last November. We were married a year. Her helicopter went down. A malfunction.”
“You married a woman? And how are you feeling now?”
“I
