Brilliant Disguise: Adventures in Retirement, #2

By J L Wilson

How hard can it be to fool a bunch of people in a small Iowa town?

Nick Baxter, an undercover FBI agent, thinks his cover story is solid when he shows up in New Providence, Iowa. No one will suspect he's there investigating widow Shannon Delgardie, under suspicion of treason. What Nick doesn't know is that everybody in town is conspiring to protect her and investigate him in return.

Shannon needs help. The men her late husband blackmailed are closing in and the FBI might be involved. When Nick approaches her, can she trust him? With the aid of computer hackers and hair stylists, she uncovers the truth, finding a love she never expected in a tiny Iowa town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J L Wilson
• Release date: Aug 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393446040

J L Wilson

Want more info? Check my web site. That will tell you where my books are in print, what I'm working on next, where you can find me and other gory details. Or just check my books at https://bit.ly/JLWbooks. They'll tell you a lot about me!

Book preview

Prologue

SHANNON DELGARDIE LOOKED down at her husband's grave. You asshole. If you weren't already dead, I'd kill you myself.

She smiled at one of John's co-workers who murmured sympathetic words. The damn funeral was taking forever. All Shannon wanted was to go home, get out of her tight black shoes, and have a long sip of Maker's Mark. After that, she would tear apart John's laptop, the paper files in his office, and any of his computer work files she could find. That son of a bitch wasn't going to get away with it. She'd find the data he hid and she'd blow the FBI out of the water.

She smiled weakly at Mark, another technical writer in her computer company. Sorry, Shannon, he said helplessly. I wish I could help.

You can. Leave so we can wrap this up. Thanks for coming, Mark.

I can only imagine how hard it must be for you, he said mournfully.

You have no idea.

Chapter One

TWO MONTHS LATER

Nick Baxter had been trying to meet the Widow Delgardie for a week. There were several sightings. He saw her in her flame red Volvo C30 sports coupe. He spotted her at the library. He saw her riding a bicycle. But even in a town as tiny as New Providence, Iowa, it was proving difficult to arrange an accidental meeting.

She'd already run from California and the mess her late husband was involved in. If Nick didn't play it right, she'd run from him, too. He considered the problem on this lovely late May morning when he walked into the Fourth Street Java Bean Café for his early morning cup of Joe and chat with the boys.

When Arthur Newmarket's small farm went up for sale six weeks ago on the outskirts of town, the FBI jumped at the chance to establish a presence in the town. The old man died three months earlier, leaving the house and farm to Katherine Dalton, his only surviving relative and mother of Shannon Delgardie. Katherine put the house, its furnishings, and the farm on the market.

That was why Nick was in New Providence, population 1,500, trying to strike up the acquaintance of the Widow. Now, a week after moving in, he sipped his morning coffee and chatted with the farmers gathered at the Bean.

How're things out at Arthur's place? Mike Newsome asked. Mike was a regular at the Bean, along with Harvey Gleason and Marty Glick. The three men were all in their seventies, all were stooped, big-boned, tan, and still farmed some near town.

Good. Nick sipped his coffee and wondered if he could sabotage something at the farmhouse. Then he'd have an excuse to call Katherine Dalton.

The waitress, Velma, was grinding coffee beans behind the scarred linoleum counter. Lotta beans there, Marty commented, eyeing Velma in the chipped mirrors lining the wall.

It's for Shannon, Velma said. She stays up those wicked late hours. She said she likes my blend. Says it's got a kick.

Mike snorted. That girl always was odd.

In what way? Nick asked.

The Widow was an occasional topic of conversation around town, along with the price of soybean futures, ground soil moisture, and the efficacy of pre-emergent versus post-emergent herbicides. Based on the various gossip tidbits Nick gleaned, Shannon Delgardie was financially well-off, not social when it came to dating men from town, and far too clever for her own good. That last phrase seemed to be universally echoed wherever Nick heard talk about The Widow.

Oh, pick one. Harvey hopped into the conversation. She's always had her head in a computer. If it wasn't computers, it was car engines.

Velma nodded. Shannon was different, all right. Hasn't changed much, either.

And she stays up all night? Nick prompted.

No, she stays up late and only sleeps about five hours, Velma corrected. Her tightly permed curls bobbed when she shook her head. That's what she said.

They all silently contemplated that fact. I couldn't do it, Nick finally said. I need more sleep than that. He glanced at his watch. Hell, no wonder he never saw Widow Delgardie for morning coffee. She probably wasn't out of bed yet. He'd have to find some other way to meet her.

She's good with those computers, Mike put in. I had a question on that laptop my niece gave me. Shannon came over and figured it out. Now I get email and can browse web sites by just pressing a single button. She found this one site she thought I'd like and she showed me how to get to it.

What, the Playboy web site? Marty asked with a grin, displaying large yellowed teeth.

They all chuckled genially. No, Mike said. There's this place over by Tipton that's got a camera in the fields and you can watch the corn grow. When he saw the look on his audience's face, he hurried on, Plus it's got stuff about corn research.

Oh, well that makes sense, Harvey said. If you want to watch corn grow, just drive a quarter mile outside town.

Nick was leasing out the fields around his farmhouse with the excuse that he was too busy with his consulting job to do any farming this year. He made a mental note about Corn Cam. It wouldn't hurt to brush up on farming knowledge. The little he remembered from his childhood on a farm in Missouri decades ago was strained to the limit here in the heart of Iowa. I have a couple of computer questions, Nick said off-handedly. Think she'd mind if I dropped by and asked her?

The men all looked at Velma, the fount of information about Shannon. I think she'd be okay with that, Velma said, relishing the brief moment of attention. But wait until the afternoon. She sleeps in most mornings.

What would it be like to sleep past seven-thirty in the morning? Nick could almost see the thought in the air over the heads covered by caps embroidered with assorted seed company logos. Thanks, Velma, Nick said. Maybe I'll drop by and ask her.

He walked outside with the other men and called Katherine Dalton when he got back to the farm. Mr. Baxter, she said, sounding pleased. How can I help you?

I have a question about the window air conditioner in the kitchen, he said, hoping she wouldn't be able to answer it off the top of her head. It's making a noise and I'm wondering when it was put in.

Oh. There was a pause. I have some of Arthur's papers. Maybe we can find when and where he bought it.

I hate to put you to the trouble.

Oh, no, that's fine. I'll see if I can find the papers and call you.

Nick mentally cursed. The people here were too accommodating for words. I'm coming into town this afternoon. Why don't I stop by?

I have a library committee meeting this morning and I won't be home until lunchtime. So I could look for the papers after lunch.

Why don't I stop by around two or three? Would that be okay for you?

That should be fine. Do you know where I live?

Yes, ma'am, I believe so. You're in that old Victorian house on Wood Street? He added, with what he hoped was the right amount of indifference, I heard your daughter is a whiz with computers.

She is that, Katherine Dalton agreed after a brief pause.

Do you think she'd have time to chat with me? I have a computer question.

Hmm. There was a long pause then she said, That should be fine.

Good. I don't want to intrude.

Oh, no problem. We'll see you later.

Thank you, ma'am. Now if Shannon Delgardie would just stay put today he could finally meet her. The subtle approach wasn't working. It was time to put the McBride plan into effect.

Nick did several hours of work on his home computer. The last year of his life was complicated and he still had paperwork to wrap up explaining what happened. His approaching retirement after thirty years with the Bureau was looming.

He stared out at the cornfield in the distance, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Eight months to go, he thought. Time to get out. He was tired of fieldwork and didn't want a desk. When an agent got tired of fieldwork, mistakes happened. His shoulder twitched, a souvenir of the mistake he made a year ago during the botched assignment New York.

Iowa would be his last field assignment and he was grateful he'd go out with active status even if it was a slam-dunk job. Nick shook his head angrily. There weren't any good answers about retirement in the farm fields, just like there weren't any answers back in D.C. or Chicago. Time to get this job over with and move on to whatever awaited him.

That afternoon Nick drove into town, his pickup kicking up dust on the gravel lane leading to the main road. He wore a clean black T-shirt and his patched work jeans, which were loose enough to cover his ankle holster. He pulled up to the gray Victorian house with the dark blue trim. There was an outside wooden staircase leading to the third story and a wraparound front porch with several rockers.

Nick tugged the old-fashioned bell pull and heard its shrill ringing inside. The door was a lovely oak, ornately carved with a leaded glass inset at the top. He stepped back to view the design and discovered it was a naked fairy woman with long blonde hair, sitting atop a water lily.

Katherine Dalton pulled open the door and smiled when she saw him. I was just admiring your door, he said, stepping inside.

Mrs. Dalton was a tiny woman with white-tipped black hair, a smooth complexion, and alert blue eyes. It's lovely, isn't it? she agreed. John bought it.

John?

John Delgardie. Shannon's husband. She closed the door. Her late husband.

Was he an artist?

No. John liked pretty things. Katherine smiled, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes. I found some papers you may want to keep. They're to do with Arthur's house. Please, come in. She gestured him into a large, square room to the left of the foyer. The room was a cheerful mix of furniture styles with a unifying color of warm brown. All the furniture was antique, comfortable-looking, and in beautiful condition.

What a lovely room, Nick said.

Thank you. Katherine gestured to the couch. Please sit down. Could I get you some coffee?

Only if it's already made.

She smiled. I always have a pot of coffee going. You get comfortable and I'll get us a cup.

It would be hard to be uncomfortable in this room. It had a lived-in look with books scattered about and a wicker basket holding knitting with the needles sticking up. There were homemade afghans on the backs of several overstuffed chairs and a tabby cat was ensconced in the window seat, snoring softly. Nick felt tension ease out of him while he watched the approaching rain clouds scudding past outside the big bay window, lace curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Here we are. Katherine came back into the room carrying a large tray. Nick leapt to his feet and took it from her, setting it on the coffee table after she moved some books. On the ornate silver tray were a coffee pot, cups, saucers, plates, and a dish of cookies.

We can't have coffee without cookies, she said, pouring him a cup of coffee. He carefully took the cup and saucer and was relieved to find it wasn't as fragile as it looked. I made peanut butter cookies and oatmeal cookies this morning.

He took a plate and plucked two cookies from the tray. She eyed him while he took an experimental bite. Wow, this is great, he said, biting into a peanut butter cookie. The taste took him back to his childhood and his Grandma Svitkovitch, who baked every Saturday and whose kitchen always smelled fabulous.

I hope you're finding Arthur's house comfortable?

He nodded and sipped his coffee. It's very nice. I was lucky to get it.

Arthur's death wasn't sudden but I still didn't quite expect it. I suppose whenever one's contemporaries die, it's a surprise. She sighed and nibbled on a cookie. Although at my age, it shouldn't surprise me.

He bit into another cookie and relaxed back on the couch. This is a beautiful home, Mrs. Dalton.

Call me Katherine, everybody does. Yes, it's nice, isn't it? I was afraid I'd have to move into an apartment when the house became too much for me. But Shannon needed a change and I needed the help, so she moved back here. She regarded Nick with bright, dark blue eyes. It's not very exciting for her but she seems happy. I suspect she didn't mind leaving California.

Is that where she lived before moving here? he asked politely.

Yes, out in Silicon Valley. Katherine leaned forward to nibble her cookie. Any place that's named Silicon Something can't be very pleasant, don't you think?

He smiled. You're right. I've been to the Valley and it's not as beautiful as here.

Most people look at Iowa and see flat fields, Katherine said. You don't?

I lived on a farm in Missouri when I was little but we moved because of my father's job so I grew up in a Chicago suburb. Any place that's green and growing is refreshing to me.

She nibbled on her cookie. Have you traveled much?

Yes, I have. Why do you ask?

You just have the look of a man who's traveled. I'm surprised you settled for a little town like New Providence.

It's convenient for my work, he said, hoping his evasive answer would suffice.

Hmm. She gestured toward a box on the floor. That's the records I found about Arthur's house. I suspect the air conditioner receipt is in there.

Nick looked inside the box. I'll go through these and bring them back.

Oh, no need. They have to do with the house, so you keep them.

He sipped his coffee, considering how to angle the conversation to the topic of interest. I heard your daughter knows quite a bit about computers.

She's something of an expert. You said you had a problem?

Yes, I was wondering if she could help me. I have a computer problem that has me a bit stumped. He was pleased at how casual it sounded.

Hmm. Katherine looked at the ceiling. We can check. Shannon's always willing to share her knowledge with others. She sipped her coffee and regarded him over the rim of her delicate rose-painted cup. What did you say you do? You're a consultant?

He nodded. I do consulting with Debolt Aerospace, in Cedar Rapids. Military consulting.

Ah. Military. A brief mischievous gleam lit her blue eyes.

Defense work. I can't really talk about the details because of security issues. It was a damn useful cover.

Of course. She smiled at him then finished her cookie. My husband was in military intelligence. I remember it well. All so secretive and hush-hush.

A sudden stab of concern made Nick tense. World War Two?

Yes, the Big War. And for a time after the war. She set her coffee cup down. Let's see if Shannon is in. She stood and Nick set his cup down, following her to the oak staircase leading out of the front foyer and upward.

I use the ground floor and Shannon uses the upper floor, Katherine explained while they climbed the stairs. They emerged on a landing with several rooms opening off it. One looked like a bedroom and one like a bathroom. I used to have my bedroom up here but it's getting a bit much to climb the stairs. So I moved downstairs and we used this for storage now.

Katherine led the way to a door which, when opened, revealed another staircase. She knocked loudly inside the door but there was no answer. She sighed. She probably has her music on, Katherine explained. She pressed what looked like a doorbell and proceeded up the stairs. We installed it to flash a light so she knows somebody's coming up. Before we did I nearly gave her a heart attack whenever I'd come upstairs and she had her music on.

Sure enough, Nick could hear the pounding beat of Bruce Springsteen wailing out Born in the U.S.A. There was no way anyone would hear a polite knock on the door.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He was finally going to meet The Widow.

SHANNON NOTICED THE flashing red light on the wall above her and pressed a button on the desk. The light quit flashing and she picked up the remote control to tone down Bruce. The email message on her screen seemed to glow malignantly.

You have one week then someone you love will die. Perhaps it will be your mother, or perhaps Evie's children, or perhaps one of your friends. Someone you love will die. You know you can't trust the FBI. Your husband did and look what happened to him.

She received the same message or a variation of it several times a week since moving to Iowa. The two files she managed to find on John's computer told her the terrorists making the threats weren't kidding about the FBI. They gave her one month to find all the damn files and decrypt them or else.

Shannon shoved aside her worry with a resolute sigh and yawned until her jaw cracked. The exhaustion had become a normal part of her life since her marriage to John three years previously. She looked at the email again. This was her problem and she had to solve it before others got hurt. She had a week. One more week.

The panic that was never far away threatened. Her stupidity landed her family and friends in this mess. Someone was watching, waiting to strike if she failed. At least in a town the size of New Providence it was easy to spot a stranger.

She jerked her mind away from that problem and turned to look at her mother. There was only one newcomer to town and he was walking up her stairs.

So this is the FBI guy, Shannon thought. He was tall and solidly built with a thick thatch of dark hair liberally streaked with gray at the temples. He had a weathered look around his gray eyes that were regarding her with curiosity. She ran a hand through her shaggy dark brown hair. She'd been expecting this visit and scoped him out from a distance but close-up he was far more attractive. Shannon suddenly wished she'd worn some makeup.

Oh well. What you see is what you get. She plastered a smile on her face and prepared to meet the enemy.

Chapter Two

SHANNON DELGARDIE STOOD near a large desk when Nick and Katherine walked out of the enclosed staircase. The Widow wore a gold golf shirt sloppily tucked into denim cutoffs. She was short with wide hips, smallish waist, and full, heavy breasts. Stacked, Nick thought. Plush and voluptuous. He mentally shook himself, wondering where those thoughts came from. He'd been too long without a woman if a fifty-four-year-old overweight widow looked that good to him.

He tore his eyes away from her and glanced around the room. The roofline peaked in the center then slanted down to form four alcoves, each with a different purpose. In one was a bed and dresser, in another a small kitchen, in another a couch and two armchairs, and in the last a small table and chairs. The computer equipment was in the center of the room on one large table, the power cords and wires disappearing into the floor. Each alcove had a large window, the natural light filtering into the room through the storm clouds gathering outside.

Nick turned his attention to her desk. He counted four monitors, three CPUs, an assortment of disk drives with attachments, and at least one laptop. On one computer screen, he saw a molecular structure rotating slowly. Another screen showed a book mockup, with pages turning on the screen.

What's up? Shannon asked her mother around a yawn.

This is Mr. Baxter. He's the gentleman who bought Cousin Arthur's farm.

Hey. Shannon extended a hand and Nick crossed the distance between them to shake it.

I thought you might be able to help, Katherine explained. He has some computer questions.

Shannon looked at her computer screen and pressed a few keys. What's the problem?

Are you sure you have time? Nick moved nearer to her desk. If not, I can always call or come back later.

That's okay, I need a break. She twisted, working out the tension in her neck, then made a half-hearted attempt to tuck in her shirt.

I'm having trouble with some searches I'm doing on the Web, he said, hesitating on the edge of the space designating her computer area.

She raised her eyebrows. Which search engines? She walked to a coffeepot in the kitchen alcove.

The usual. Bing, Yahoo, and Google.

Coffee? she asked, holding up the pot.

Sure. He moved to join her in the kitchen alcove.

I'll leave you two to chat, Katherine said. I hope you can help Mr. Baxter.

Nick looked down at the little old lady and smiled. Call me Nick. Please. He had a good smile and he knew it.

Katherine reacted with a pleased little twitch of her head. Nick, she amended. She smiled at her daughter and looked disapprovingly at the shorts and half-tucked-in golf shirt. I hope you can help Nick, dear.

Hmm. The Widow handed a coffee mug to him and gestured to the kitchen counter. Sugar and cream.

Black is good.

So you started with Yahoo? She leaned against the counter and regarded him over the rim of her mug. Her mother sighed and went back downstairs. Shannon sighed also. A question about computers. That covers a lot of ground.

Nick was startled by a shrewd, level look in her pale green eyes. Shannon pushed away from the counter and went to a computer on the other side of the table where she was sitting previously. After setting her mug down, she rolled her computer chair to this new terminal.

What are you looking for? She typed in a login and password. The screen saver cleared and several windows popped open, each, he noted, with a different search engine prompt displayed.

The McBride Legacy. He looked for a spare chair but didn't find one.

McBride Legacy? She gestured to the kitchen alcove. What's the McBride Legacy?

He dragged a chair over and sat down, careful not to crowd her. "It's an old family story. At the last family reunion, folks started talking and said they found information on the Web about it. There's