Hanson Page 8
to see for himself. "Like Sleeping Beauty--"
    "Who's Frankie Two Shoes?" Beulah asked.
    "The guy with the numbers painted on his boots," Glad said. "He's our only witness."
    "He drinks," I said. "One is for left, two is for right."
    "I don't know him," Beulah said. "Should I?"
    "His dad was an inventor," Glad said. "So is Jim."
    "I didn't know that," Beulah said seriously. "I'm glad to hear it worked out. What are some of Jim's inventions? You say he's working on robots?"
    Glad glanced at me as I stared at the fireplace, at the river stones and the blackened crack that angled upward toward the mantel, at the glass eyes of the elk, ram, Rocky Mountain goat.
    "Let's leave it for now," I said. "We don't know much." I looked back at Beulah.
    "I see," Beulah said. "Secret police business."

    "What about Web Olson?" Glad said. "Ever see him?"
    "I don't think anyone's ever seen him, not for years. Sally used to mention him. Her father was Web Olson's attorney."
    "Really?" I said.
    Beulah frowned.
    "She and Jim were pretty liberal, idealistic. I think Olson and her father represented the vested interests, big money and power, the cattle barons. I'm sure Sally's father wasn't taken with Jim--"
    Beulah stopped and stood up. She's leaving, I thought.
    For a moment the blue flower's scent returned, strong and sweet, and instantly, fleeting as a thought, disappeared in the pine-scented summer air.
    "We're going to have coffee," Glad said with alarm. "Don't you want some? There's ice cream."
    "I've got some dessert in the car," Beulah said. "And something else. I forgot--"