Ride The Tiger. Lindsay McKenna

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      Colonel Parsons was a lean, narrow-faced marine in his early fifties. Wearing starched green utilities, he sat at his desk, busily reading flight reports. Gib approached and came to attention.

      “Reporting as ordered, sir.”

      Parson looked up. His scowl dissolved. “Gib. Glad you could make it. At ease. Have a seat.” He motioned to the dark green metal chair in front of his desk.

      Gib sat tensely. Normally, Parsons wasn’t this amiable. His CO must want something from him. “I’m just about ready to take a flight of supplies to Firebase Judy,” Gib said.

      “I know, I know.” Parsons leaned back in his chair. “Give the flight to Captain Mallory. I’ve got something that demands immediate attention, and I want you to take charge of it.”

      “Oh?” Gib frowned.

      “Yes. You know that report you wrote up on the Villard woman being killed two days ago?”

      An uneasy feeling snaked through Gib. “Yes, sir.”

      “I’m appointing you investigation officer on the case. It happened on South Vietnamese land, and we’re officially charged with the investigation.”

      Gib’s mouth dropped opened. “What?”

      Parsons stared at him bluntly. “You were there. You saw it happen. There’s no reason not to be the IO on this, Gib.”

      “But, sir, I’ve got a squadron to run.” Gib’s heart started a funny hammering in his chest. He’d have to see Dany Villard again—a number of times, he was sure, before he could close the case. Again that weird panic ate at him. Her vulnerability unstrung him, got inside him, and he couldn’t afford that. Not now.

      Parsons shrugged and took another report from his In basket. “Look, Gib, I know this is an extra duty you don’t really want, but the general was a friend of Mrs. Villard’s, and he wants an immediate and thorough investigation. He’s upset over this.” His mouth working into a tight line, Parsons growled, “I don’t like this any more than you do, but you’re assigned. If you hadn’t been at the wrong place at the right time, I’d give it to someone else, but you were an eyewitness.”

      Gib opened his mouth to argue, but knew it was folly. An order was an order, and a marine followed it. Glumly, he stood. “Yes, sir.”

      Parsons glanced up at him, keeping his voice low as he handed Gib a thick file with Villard on the tab. “Look, there are some things I don’t want to see in your write-up on the investigation.”

      Gib handled the thick folder. “Oh?”

      “The general was going to meet Mrs. Villard the day she was killed. He was planning to ask her to marry him. That doesn’t go in there, understand?”

      Hating politics of any kind, Gib nodded. “Yes, sir.”

      “The general seems to think a local VC leader by the name of Binh Duc probably is responsible for this murder. Find out. If he is, the general will make sure the little bastard’s caught and hung by his—” Parsons waved him away. “Dismissed. When you get the answers, let me know.”

      Gib nodded unhappily. “Yes, sir.” Great. Just friggin’ great. He didn’t want the IO status. Nor did he want to see Dany Villard again. As he left headquarters and walked between the long rows of tents toward operations, Gib frowned. A part of him did want to see Dany—some crazy-assed, better ignored part, he amended. His head was screaming at him that this whole mess wasn’t going to bode well for him emotionally. But he was a twenty-year marine, and if he wanted to continue up the promotion ladder, he had to take assignments like this every once in a while, whether he liked it or not.

      His mouth compressed grimly, Gib tucked the file beneath his arm. First, he’d go to operations and hand the flight over to Pete Mallory. Then he’d head to motor pool, requisition a jeep and drive to the Villard plantation. What a hell of a twist to his life.

      * * *

      Gib couldn’t steady the beat of his heart as he slid out of the jeep. Climbing the wooden porch steps—remarkably swept clean of the constant red dust—Gib found himself feeling damned unsure, almost like a sixteen-year-old boy going out on his first date. It was crazy, he decided as he halted to knock on the screen door.

      Ma Ling, the maid, appeared silently before he could knock, her dark eyes accusing as she grudgingly opened the door for him.

      “Good morning,” he said. “I’m Major Gib Ramsey, the investigation officer on Mrs. Villard’s death. I’m here to talk to Dany Villard. Is she around?” Gib hadn’t called before coming over, assuming that with the funeral for her mother having been yesterday, she would be remaining close to the house.

      Ma Ling’s gaze never flinched from his. She jabbed angrily at him. “You in uniform!”

      Gib was taken aback by the mamasan’s fury. “Of course I am.” What the hell was her problem?

      Ma Ling bristled. “Major, Villard neutral.”

      Gib scowled and opened his mouth to speak.

      “You no come here in uniform,” Ma Ling continued in her stilted English, wagging her finger up at him.

      Anger tinged Gib’s patience. “Look, I’m here to see Miss Villard,” he ground out, “on official Marine Corps business. The sooner we quit chatting and get this over with, the quicker I’ll be out of here and you’ll have your neutrality back.”

      Glaring, Ma Ling stepped aside and allowed him into the highly polished teakwood foyer. Although she was dwarfed by his height, disgust was clearly written on her small features. She pointed her gnarled finger toward the drawing room where he’d taken Dany four days earlier.

      “You go in there. Miss Dany sleeping. She very tired by her mama’s funeral.”

      Guilt stabbed at him. He should have called first, damn it. His mouth quirked, and he nodded. “Tell her I’m sorry, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

      Ma Ling glared at him and left him standing alone.

      Out of sight, out of mind, Gib thought perversely as the mamasan disappeared. Wiping the sweat off his upper lip, he sauntered into the room. The plantation was quiet, with a soothing silence that certainly didn’t exist at Marble Mountain. Minutes later Ma Ling returned with a teakwood tray. Dany was nowhere in sight. Ma Ling glanced accusingly at Gib as she placed two dainty white china cups and saucers on the French provincial coffee table in front of the couch. The sterling silver teapot was placed between the cups, as was the creamer and sugar bowl.

      “Miss Dany be down shortly. She said to serve tea.”

      At least she was trying to be somewhat sociable, instead of openly hostile. His hands in his pockets, Gib turned his attention to the walls of the room, beginning to inspect the framed photographs he’d noticed on his previous visit. On closer look, Gib realized that Dany’s mother must have been a Hollywood actress. Two large, colorful movie posters adorned the nearest wall. Reading the credits, Gib saw Amy Lou Rawlings’s name in each of them, although in small print compared to the leading actor and actress. Moving to the next wall, he saw black-and-white photos of Dany’s СКАЧАТЬ