Free Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 01 - Death Is Clowning Around by Peggy Dulle

just easier to give them my cell phone number. I still keep in touch with several of the kids who I used to teach.”
    “Don’t they call you at all hours of the night?”
    “Sometimes, but only when they’ve got great news or there’s a real problem. And I’d rather know about a problem late than have them coming at me in the morning. By then they’re even more upset.” I dialed the Inn and paid the rest of my bill. Sarah wished me a safe drive home. I thanked her for all her help and hung up.
    “Come on over and have some waffles.”
    “I thought you’d never ask.” The waffles were as wonderful as the meal had been last night. If I spent too much time with this man I might have to give up my commitment of never exercising.
    After breakfast, I took my bag upstairs and changed. When I came down, Tom was standing at the door. His face said it all. His eyes were narrow, his brow and jaw tight. He didn’t want me to go.
    “I’ll be careful.”
    “You will call me at least four times a day. Once when you first get up, then around noon, then in the afternoon, and again before you go to bed. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to camp and drag you by that beautiful hair away from the clowns.”
    I walked over and leaned my body against his. “Are you going to miss me?”
    He reached down and kissed me, hard and passionately. My body reacted like a volcano. I couldn’t catch my breath and my hands shook. I stepped back and put my hands out. “Okay, you’re going to miss me.”
    Then his face became serious. “I don’t want this relationship to end here.”
    I reached up and stroked the side of his face. “Me neither. I’ll make sure I call you four times a day and maybe you can come down next weekend and stay at my place.”
    His face lit up. “That would be nice. You can show off your new boyfriend and what your dog did to him.”
    I laughed and Shelby barked. “Okay.”
    “One more thing before you go.”
    I didn’t have time for him to drag me back upstairs, and if he kissed me again, I might be the one doing the dragging.
    He stepped forward and held out a small handgun. I put my hand up. “I don’t like guns .”
    “I’ve already figured out that I can’t talk you out of going to clown camp but before you go, I’m going to give you a shooting lesson. You are not leaving without this gun and knowing how to protect yourself. According to their website we know that the clowns are into pornography. If they are also kidnappers, they are dangerous people.”
    “I’m going to clown camp. And just like they have two different websites, I’m sure they keep their legal and illegal activities separate.”
    “Just the same, I either handcuff you to the swing on my front porch or I teach you how to shoot.”
    I didn’t want the gun. I didn’t believe in guns. Why was I getting involved with a man who carried a gun for a living? But I knew he wouldn’t let me go unless I took it . Then I’d lock the gun up and give it back to him when I saw him next weekend.
    Tom took me outside in the back of his house. I watched as he showed me how to load the gun and then slowly squeeze the trigger. When he finally handed me the gun, I ejected the clip, slammed it back in and fired at the tree – striking it with each shot.
    He raised his eyebrows and inclined his head toward the tree I’d pummeled.
    “I said I didn’t like guns. Not that I didn’t know how to shoot.” I ejected the clip, made sure there wasn’t a bullet in the chamber , and handed them to Tom.
    “ That’s great. Who taught you to shoot?”
    “My dad taught me and my sister to shoot several different kinds of handguns, including a rifle and shotgun.” My parent’s might have been staunch environmentalist but they were also realists.
    “Was your dad a hunter?” Tom asked, as we walked back toward the front of his house .
    “No , but my dad used to say that the world is full of many different kinds of people – some good and