make it public if Dolores left him. So she stayed and Rick paid for her silence.”
Barbara was feeling uncomfortable. “Would his real father happen to be an exiled South American dictator, by any chance?”
Grier nodded.
“Oh, boy.”
“And nobody can tell him, because a certain federal agency is hoping to talk him into being a go-between for them, to help coax Machado into a comfortable trade agreement with our country when he gets back into power. Which he certainly will,” he added quietly. “The thug who took over his government has human rights advocates bristling all over the world. He’s tortured people, murdered dissenters, closed down public media outlets … In general, he’s done everything possible to outrage anyone who believes in democracy. At the same time, he’s pocketing money from sources of revenue and buying himself every rich man’s perk that he can dream up. He’s got several Rolls-Royce cars, assorted beautiful women, houses in most affluent European cities and his own private jet to take him to them. He doesn’t govern so much as he flaunts his position. Workers are starving and farmers are being forced to grow drug crops to support his extravagant lifestyle.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen dictators come and go, but that man needs a little lead in his diet.”
She knew what he was alluding to. “Any plans going to take care of that?” she mused.
“Don’t look at me,” he warned. “I’m retired. I have a family to think about.”
“Eb Scott might have a few people who would be interested in the work.”
“Yes, he might, but the general isn’t lacking for good help.” He glanced up as one of Barbara’s workers came, smiling, to refill his coffee cup. “Thanks.”
She grinned. “You’re welcome. Boss lady, you want some?”
Barbara shook her head. “Thanks, Bess, I’m already flying on a caffeine high.”
“Okay.”
“So who has to do the dirty work and tell Rick the truth?” Barbara asked.
Grier didn’t speak. He just smiled at her.
“Oh, darn it, I won’t do it!”
“There’s nobody else. The feds have forbidden their agents to tip him off. His lieutenant knows, but he’s been gagged, too.”
“Then how in the world do they expect him to find out? Why won’t they just tell him?”
“Because he might get mad at them for being the source of the revelation and refuse to cooperate. And there isn’t anybody else they can find to do the job of contacting Machado.”
“They could ask Grange,” Barbara said stubbornly. “He’s already working for the general, isn’t he?”
“Grange doesn’t know.”
“Why me?” she groaned. “He’ll be furious!”
“Yes, but you’re his mother and he loves you,” he replied. “If you tell him, he’ll get over it. He might even be receptive to helping the feds. If they tell him, he’ll hold a grudge and they’ll never find anyone halfway suitable to do the job.”
She was silent. She stared at the festive tablecloth worriedly.
“It will be all right,” he assured her gently.
She looked up. “We’ve already had a disagreement recently.”
“You have? Why?” he asked, surprised, because Rick’s devotion to his adopted mother was quite well-known locally.
She grimaced. “His lieutenant gave the new detective, Gwen Cassaway, a rose, and I mentioned it in a teasing way. He went ballistic and I hung up on him. He won’t admit it, but I think he’s got a case on Gwen.”
“Well!” he mused.
That was a new and interesting proposition. “Couldn’t she tell him?” she asked hopefully.
“She’s been cautioned not to.”
She sighed. “Darn. Does everybody know?”
“Rick doesn’t.”
“I noticed.”
“So you have to tell him. And soon.”
“Or what?”
He leaned forward. “Or six government agencies will send operatives down here to disparage your apple pie and accuse you of subverting government policy by using organic products in your kitchen.”
She burst out laughing. “Yes, I did hear that a SWAT team of federal agents raided a farm that was selling unpasteurized milk. Can you believe that? In our country, in this day and time, with all the real problems going on, we have to send armed operatives against people living in a natural harmony with the earth?”
“You’re kidding!” he exclaimed.
“I wish I was,” she replied. “I guess we’re all going to be force-fed Genetically Modified Organisms from now on.”
He burst out laughing. “You need to stop hanging out on those covert websites.”
“I can’t. I’d never know what was really going on in the world, like us having bases on the moon.”
He rolled his eyes. “I have to get back to work.” He stood up. “You’ll tell him, then.”
She stood up, too. “Do I have a choice?”
“You could move to Greenland and change your name.”
She made a face at him. “That’s no choice. Although I would love to visit Greenland. They have snow.”
“So do we, occasionally.”
“They have lots of snow. Enough to make many snowmen. South Texas isn’t famous for that.”
“The pie was great, by the way.”
She smiled. “Thanks. I do my best.”
“I’d have to leave town if you ever closed up,” he told her. “I can’t live in a town that doesn’t have the best food in Texas.”
“That will get you extra ice cream on your next slice of apple pie!” she promised him with a grin.
But she wasn’t grinning when she went home. It disturbed her that she was going to have to tell her son something that would devastate him. He wasn’t going to be pleased. Other than that, she didn’t know what the outcome would be. But Grier was right about one thing; it was better that the information came from his mother rather than from some bureaucrat or federal agent who had no personal involvement with Rick and didn’t care how the news affected him. It did make her feel good that so far, they hadn’t blurted it out. By hesitating, they did show some compassion.
Rick went
