grinned. “As a matter of fact she was.”
“I’m told Victoria, and even Sidney, have many eligible woman of your persuasion.”
“I suppose.”
“You’re heart is still heavy. In time perhaps you’ll find love again.”
“What do you do, Stella?”
“My parents, God rest their souls, left me financially stable, which allows me time to do the Lord’s work.”
Rita squinted. “What’s that?”
“I lay hands on people who come and visit me with problems. Mostly it doesn’t work. That’s why I’m called a kook. But sometimes the Lord does work through me and the person gets healed.”
The major grinned. “A kooky Christian?”
“I follow Jesus. Maybe stumble along behind would be a better description.”
Rita smiled, looked at the water, Mount Baker standing tall across the ocean, the inactive volcano clear and visible today.
Stella asked, “Have you always known you were attracted to women?”
“Yes, I suppose I did. I thought by dating men, maybe it would pass. The feelings for women, I mean. One day I just accepted the fact I’m attracted to women. Men not so much.”
“Men are peculiar creatures. Still, I do like the way some men smell when they perspire.”
Rita smiled. “That’s funny, because I don’t like that smell. I’ll take a sweating woman over a sweating man any day.”
“The beauty of God’s world. We are all so unique. Though, I also think we have twins out there in the world. You resemble a French actress named Brigitte Bardot. When she was young. Amazing resemblance actually. Same facial shape, cheek bones, and full lips. I can’t recall if her eyes were green though.”
Rita smiled. “I’ve heard of her. Maybe I’ll look her up on the internet.”
“I think you’ll be amazed.”
That same evening, after a dinner of stir fry for one, Rita sat on the sofa, the sliding glass porch doors wide open in the warm June darkness. She picked up the receiver and dialed a familiar number.
“Arnold here.”
“Hi General, its Rita.”
“Rita. I was just about to call you. I’m told you had some trouble today.”
“Three Middle Eastern looking guys with bags full of drugs. Probably cocaine.”
“Damn sorry that had to happen. I sent you to lotus land for a vacation of sorts, not to fight. You’ve earned a time out, Rita.”
“I had Dixie with me. She’s a capable woman.”
“I talked to Colonel Robinson at the Army base in Sidney. He’s delving into things on that end. Let him do his job, Rita. You just take life easy. Go to a few luncheons, dinner parties with the mayor, that kind of thing. No more shooting.”
“Yes, sir. That’s my hope too.”
“Other than that, how are you?”
Rita sensed something outside. Heard a faint noise that sounded an awful lot like a rifle being cocked. “I’ll call you right back, General.”
She switched off the lamp, picked up her pistol from the coffee table and eased herself off the sofa. She listened, heard the squeak of the front gate. The house was dark except for a dim light from a streetlight in front of Stella’s house casting shadows across the living room floor and walls. She was thinking she really didn’t want to shoot anyone in her new house. She heard something out front again, kept herself low as she crawled up close to the open doors. She peeked out, spotted a crouched figure in the yard, just this side of the short white picket fence. She gripped her pistol, crawled in silence onto the porch and hid behind the low wall lining the front, glanced over the top and rested her gun hand on the flat surface, aimed at a man’s chest. Light reflected off something in his hand.
“Stop right there.”
The man froze but a moment, began rapidly firing his weapon at the sound of Rita’s voice, his bullets slamming into the wall behind her head, Rita ducking for cover, splinters and paint chips landing on her head, back and neck. She heard the gun jam. Looked over the wall and fired three times, her bullets hitting him squarely in the chest.
Another bullet struck the front of her house just near the open glass doors. Rita crawled to the end of the porch, jumped over the low wall, landed barefooted on the paved driveway and crouched down. She knew someone was just outside the fenced yard. Feet scuffed the road.
She made a decision, ran quickly and silently along the driveway toward the street. Spotted a man bent low, taking cover behind the fence. His eyes looked toward the porch. She fired three times; her bullets downed the man before he had seen her.
She heard the report of another gun behind her. A wind that blew past her cheek. She turned around, saw a burst of fire, watched a man fall to the pavement beside her parked motorcycle.
A voice called out. “Hope I didn’t hit your motorcycle, Rita.”
“Stella, go back inside, its still not safe.”
Rita sensed something else. She looked along the road in front of Stella’s house, a car parked near the streetlight. She ran toward the car, the lights coming on as someone tried to start the vehicle. She rapid fired. Her bullets smashed through the back window, through both left side windows, the car moved slowly, turned off the road and stopped part way on the beach. Rita held her fire.
Stella called out. “Okay Rita?”
Rita walked to the driver’s window; her gun aimed at the man slumped against the steering wheel. Blood on his face and the side of his head. Hair stained dark and matted. She heard Stella walk close.
Rita glanced at her double barrel shotgun, it looked ancient. She grinned a little. “He’s dead, let’s check the others.”
People began to appear out of the darkness, neighbors who lived along the beach road. Rita looked at Stella. “Keep them back from the bodies. I’ll go call the MPs.”
“Okay, Rita. That was some shooting.”
Rita grinned. “You too, Stella. Thanks for getting that guy.”
“I saw the three walk along the road toward your place, I saw they carried guns. Thought you might need help.”
“Where did you get that shotgun?”
“My dear old sainted father left me this shotgun.”
Rita nodded, walked into her house, called the military base, then dialed the general’s number.
“Rita? What just happened?”
“I had some visitors drop by. Unfortunately, they shot at
