DELILAH’S DILEMMAS

by

DIANE

At the risk of exercising paranoia to the extreme, Delilah took back roads home after shopping. She circled back a half-dozen times, and still she had a feeling the black SUV was tailing her, though she hadn’t seen wheel nor fender of the blasted thing since she left Naifeh’s.

It had been less than a week since she received the email; They are gone – your turn now. It was impossible to know who had sent the menacing missive, but one thing was certain, whoever it was believed Eli, Dooby and Abigail had been eliminated. They had no idea that the three presumably dead people were holed up in the apartment over the garage at The Royal Flush Ranch.

Delilah hadn’t told Eli and Dooby about the email. Why bother? It wasn’t like they were oblivious to the danger everyone was already in by sheer association. And the email had left no clue as to its sender, so it wasn’t likely to assist in the identification and apprehension of additional members of the Mr. Wrigley operation.

Once home, Buford Beauregard helped his daughter unload the spoils of her shopping adventure from the Camaro. And then helped her put everything away.

“Daddy, you don’t have to stay now that, you know,” Delilah said, with a jerk of her head toward the garage.

“You trying to get rid of me, Sugar?” Buford asked on a chuckle, as he placed the laundry detergent and fabric softener on the shelf above the washer and dryer.

“Of course not!” Delilah exclaimed. “I rather enjoy having you here. Especially with Mother NOT here.”

Buford cut a reproachful look at his daughter. “Your momma loves you, Delilah,” he said. “Even though her actions might sometimes suggest otherwise.”

“I know,” Delilah said. “And I love her.”

“She might not approve of your life choices,” Buford continued, but with a bit of a grin. “And she would rather you were a little bit more like her.” He held up his forefinger and thumb as far apart as possible. Delilah smiled.

“And she gets excessively annoyed because she can’t control your life,” Buford offered. “Course, that has been her constant frustration since the day you were born.” Delilah laughed heartily.

“Well, I guess that’s some consolation,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that.”

Another reproachful look from Buford, who took a seat at the banquette.

“Okay, not sorry,” Delilah said, joining him at the table. “Daddy, do you think we need to tell Eli and Dooby about the email I got a few days ago? I think I might’ve been followed when I was in town, and I’m not certain if that’s an extension of the email, or something else. What am I saying? Any way you look at it, it all ties back to the darn Mrs. Wrigley operation. Which, speaking of, Abigail is up to something. I just know it.”

“Are you sure that’s not just years of animosity speaking?” Buford asked.

“That is exactly what’s speaking!” Delilah exclaimed. “Years of experience.”

“And what do you think she’s up to?” Buford pressed.

“I don’t know, but it’s nothing good I can assure you,” Delilah replied. “Eli assured me she’s not been out of their sight, and there is no way she could have contacted anyone or made any arrangements, but they underestimate her.”

Buford chuckled. “Sugar, you’re getting too worked up about this,” he said.

“Maybe,” Delilah said with little conviction. She couldn’t understand why no one was taking her seriously. They all knew how conniving and malicious Abigail was. Especially Dooby. Sure, there were things Abigail had done in the past that Buford was blissfully ignorant about, but Dooby knew it all. And still he minimized how dangerous she was.

“Incidentally,” Delilah said after a long stretch of silence. “Karon is coming out when she gets off work.”

“Good to know,” Buford said with wide eyed comprehension. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

And sure enough, after lunch, both Joel and Buford could be found nowhere.

As Karon’s Mustang made its slow trek up the drive, Delilah bounded out the back door to greet her friend.

Though Eli had used one of his fancy, spy gizmos to scan the house for listening devices, and found none, Delilah had been airing on the side of caution and not discussing Dooby and Eli in any of the structures on the ranch.

“Oh, my heavens!” Karon exclaimed as she leapt from the car. She looked completely stricken with panic.

“You’ve heard something, haven’t you? Oh, Lord help me! Their bodies have been found. I knew it! I just knew it!”

“Karon,” Delilah said, stealing a glance up at the living room window of the apartment where Dooby stood peeking through the blinds, with a mischievous grin on his face. “Karon!” she repeated. “Look at me!”

Karon ceased her lamenting and stared at Delilah. “I’m going to tell you something,” Delilah said, and she immediately held up her hand to stave off another collapse of composer. “It’s not bad news. But you must promise you won’t show any emotion. Just in case we’re being watched. Do you understand? It’s imperative we act as normal as possible.”

It occurred to Delilah at that moment that for Karon to act as normal people act or react, would be totally abnormal. She shook her head; Etch A Sketching that

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thought right out of her mind.

Karon blinked back tears.

“They’re here,” Delilah said softly.

Karon stared, utterly void of expression for the longest. For a moment, Delilah thought she might have completely checked out. Stopped breathing. Been transported by the rapture. Then Karon blinked feverishly.

“Say what?” Karon finally said.

“They’re here,” Delilah repeated.

“They’re here,” Karon stated. “As in . . .?”

Delilah raised a brow and cut her eyes in the direction of the apartment.

“Don’t look!” Delilah demanded quickly.

“And just how long have they been here?” Karon asked, a slight tone of resentment in her voice.

“The three of them got here last night,” Delilah said.

“And he didn’t bother to call me?” Karon said, the tone not so slight now.

“Well, of course they . . .” Delilah began.

“I’ll kill him!” Karon raged, and she turned toward the garage.

“That’s the spirit,” Delilah said taking hold of Karon’s arm. “You can’t go up there, Karon. If we’re being watched, we can’t give any indication there are people in that apartment. Remember?”

“Right,” Karon said. “Wait! What do you mean the three of them?”

Delilah opened her mouth to reply but was quickly cut short.

“Not the broom rider, too?” Karon pleaded.

Delilah sighed heavily. “The broom rider, too,” she said.

In an instant, Karon’s demeanor changed dramatically.

“Well, why are they in the apartment?” Karon asked. Delilah gave her a puzzled look.

“I mean, why didn’t you put ‘em in the trailer? There’s more room, and any activity there wouldn’t be suspicious, right?” Karon said.

“Right,” Delilah said. “Okay, I guess we can move them tonight. Good thinking, Karon.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Karon said with a grin. She glanced up at the living room window of the apartment and saw Dooby peeking through the blind, just as he had done with Delilah.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Karon said with a jerk of her head toward the peeping Dooby.

Delilah laughed. “I suspect that particular woods is named He-Should-Have-Let-Me-Know-He-Was-Okay.”

“Mmm huh,” Karon confirmed.

It was nearly midnight when the transfer of humans to the ranch hand’s mobile home took place. Fortunately,

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it was two days past the new moon, and dark as pitch. Joel remained in his bedroom in the big house, allowing more room for Eli, Dooby and the broom rider.

This had been an excellent suggestion on Karon’s part, as it made it easier to transfer food to the mobile home’s occupants. And Delilah’s presence there would not be as suspect as it would be in the apartment.

Saturday passed without incident, or measurable progress in the collection of information on the Mrs. Wrigley operation. Shortly after 1:00 in the morning, Delilah, Buford, and Joel were abruptly awakened by thunderous stomping in the hall downstairs.

“Delilah, Buford, Joel!” Dooby shouted.

“What’s wrong?” Delilah asked as she sailed down the stairs with Buford and Joel right behind her.

“The mobile home’s on fire!” Dooby said.

“Oh, heavens!” Delilah shouted. She gasped. “Where’s Eli?”

Dooby gave her an exasperated look. “He’s trying to put it out with the garden hose.”

“Where’s Abigail?” Buford asked, slightly panicked.

Another exasperated look.

“Gone,” Dooby said. n

Gone, as in dead? Or gone, as in nowhere to be found?

How did the fire start? Like we have to ask. February’s installment of Delilah’s Dilemmas should be a burner. Get your copy of the Corridor Magazine to find out.