Tailed by Brian M. Wiprud Page B

something else. What exactly is a cheese curd?”
    â€œThey’re yummy. Itty bits of cheese the size of your little finger.”
    â€œWhat kind of cheese is it?”
    â€œThey come in all flavors.”
    â€œGouda, Swiss, Jarlsburg, Emmenthaler, cheddar…?”
    â€œNo, more like smoked, bacon, jalapeño…”
    â€œSurely it must be some specific type of cheese?”
    Through the swinging kitchen doors came Vargas, wearing an apron. A stout man with a big white grin and black crew cut, he was decked out in Boy Scout shorts and had a rolling gait. One of his large hands reached out and grasped mine.
    â€œI am Vargas.”
    I knew that. But he seemed to like saying it so I didn’t complain. “Thanks for having me on such short notice.”
    â€œI owe a debt to Nicholas.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head in reverence. “He was very kind to me, when it was not required.”
    Amber looked me up and down. Maybe my fly was open. “Want something hot to drink?”
    â€œOnly if—”
    â€œYes, Amber, let us have coffee,” Vargas interjected. “Please, Garth, have a seat.”
    Amber sauntered into the kitchen while Vargas and I slid into a rough-hewn booth that I hoped wouldn’t result in an ill-placed splinter.
    â€œNicholas is your brother, yes?” Vargas’s gaze was leveled seriously, his meaty hands folded on the table before me. “You are lucky to have such a brother.”
    â€œI suppose I am, at times. Should I ask how you know him?”
    â€œDo not ask, I will tell what there is. I stole paintings for a living, Goyas a specialty, on spec. But that clever brother of yours tracked me down. For help to recover the paintings, I did not go to prison, and he even gave me a percentage of the bounty from the insurers on the art. I used that money to come here, with Amber. He caught her, too. She was my courier, my assistant. This is her hometown. She knew of this place, where the dog lived, where an old farm couple sold streusel on the side but had died. It was time to retire anyway, before our luck ran out. Streusel are about as good as anything else in this world to sell. We like it here.”
    â€œWhat’s not to like about streusel?”
    â€œI am also a scoutmaster.”
    â€œThe shorts gave it away.” I actually felt better knowing he and Amber were criminals. If they were straight, there was the chance they would turn me in. Even if he was a scout.
    Amber returned, setting down a tray with three steaming mugs, a sugar bowl, cream, and a bottle of Tia Maria. She sidled in next to me. Close.
    â€œSo I have told Garth of our adventure with Nicholas. Now, we need to know a little about your situation. Not everything, just some details. It will help us to hide you. I will ask questions, you tell me yes or no. Yes?”
    â€œOK.”
    Amber’s foot brushed my shoe and I shifted my feet. She poured the coffee, then held out the creamer.
    â€œCream and sugar?” She eyed me sidelong, lashes batting.
    Was I imagining it or was she flirting?
    Vargas held out one hand and pointed to a finger on the other. “Have you escaped from prison?”
    â€œNo.”
    There was Amber’s foot again. I stayed put. Maybe she thought she was bumping the leg of the table.
    â€œThat is good. Very good. Are the people who want you the good guys or bad guys?” He pointed at the next finger.
    â€œGood guys, I guess.”
    Now her knee was touching mine. I couldn’t move over as I was at the edge of the booth. I grabbed the bottle of Tia Maria and dumped a hefty shot into my coffee.
    â€œExcellent. Much better than the Cosa Nostra. State police?”
    â€œProbably.”
    â€œAh, not just state police. Feds?”
    â€œThem, too.”
    â€œI see, I see. Did you kill a cop?”
    â€œI didn’t kill anybody. Look, I’m only a suspect.” Now Amber’s hand was on my