by Vikki Walton
Inside, she saw the expected contents of a bachelor’s refrigerator—a box from a local pizza shop, bottles of Shiner Bock, and a bunch of electrolyte drinks in various colors.
Shana May joined her at the fridge. “Here. You could have one of these.”
A thought popped into Christie’s mind. “No! Stop. Don’t touch it.”
The woman turned and looked at Christie. “Um, o—kay.”
“Sorry. I—” The young woman frowned and cocked her head, which instantly reminded Christie of a young friend she knew in Colorado.
“Listen, Shana May, I’m going to level with you.”
Shana May plopped into the spindle back chair and stared up at Christie.
Christie closed the fridge, and not seeing but two chairs, leaned against the tiled kitchen counter. “We think Hector’s death is suspicious.”
“Suspicious, like, how?” Shana May folded her arms and looked back and forth between the women.
“It just seems weird, that’s all,” Christie said. “Hector was young, and for him to die of no apparent cause, it just seems—”
“Oh, gotcha. Yeah, that is, like, weird.” Her mobile phone rang. She held up a finger. “Hello. Shana May here,” she chirped. She listened. Nodded. “Um, hum. Okay.” She ended the call.
“Hate to be a spoilsport, but I have to get back to work. That was Tyler Webster. They will be stopping by and wondered if I would be here.”
“Okay. Well, thanks for letting us visit.” Trish hugged Shana May.
Christie waved at her. “Nice meeting you.”
The young woman stood on her tiptoes and hugged Christie. “Thanks for the pie. That was, like, delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at yet another reminder of her young friend’s habit of using like in her sentences.
They moved out to the street. Trish spoke first. “You little snoop. What did you find?”
“Stop. I already feel horrible sneaking around like that. But if they think I or my Pop had anything to do with Hector’s death, I feel like I need to get some answers.”
“Okay, you’re forgiven.” Trish crossed her arms. “So, spill.”
“Hector was definitely involved with a woman.”
“Noooo,” Trish whispered. “The gall of that man. A young bachelor, and he had a girlfriend!” She feigned shock and put her hand over her mouth. Then, she said, “Whatever is the world coming to?”
“Ha. Ha.” Christie pursed her lips. “But it’s the lotion. I think it’s like what Kimberly uses. I saw some like it in her basket at the grocery store the other day. There was also a bottle of essential oil in the bathroom.”
“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. She’s been trying to get me to buy that stuff forever.” Trish leaned against Christie’s Jeep. “But everyone uses oils nowadays. Again, not really any proof.”
“Okay, I also saw a parcel map on Hector’s desk. I didn’t have time to look at it.”
“What about drawers? Anything in the desk?”
Christie shook her head. “I didn’t have time.”
“Ohhhh.” Trish bent over. “Not feeling so good.”
“Are you okay?” Christie put an arm around her friend.
“I’m fine. I’m just putting on a show in case the neighbors are watching.”
Christie looked up as a curtain in a neighbor’s front window fell back in place. She gritted through her teeth. “Don’t do that. You scared me to death.”
“Why?” Trish rose but kept her hand on her stomach.
“I think I know how Hector was killed.”
Trish bolted upright. “Killed? For real?”
“Yes. For real. Killed.”
“How?”
“Antifreeze.”
Trish responded with a shocked expression. “Oh. My. Gravy. You’re really good. How did you figure that out?”
“The bottles of electrolyte drinks. Think about it. Hector was sick to his stomach. Then he acted drunk. I thought it might be low blood sugar or heatstroke, but that’s also a sign of Ethylene Glycol poisoning.”
“Huh?”
“Antifreeze.”
“Whoa. Shana May had said Hector had not been feeling well the last few days. He’d started drinking more of those drinks, but it hadn’t seemed to help.” Trish stopped. “Poor Hector. It shouldn’t have happened to him.”
“We’ve got to go to the police and let them know. But first, one of us will have to stay here and make sure Shana May doesn’t drink any of it.”
“Not to worry about that. She hates that stuff. She’s never understood how anyone drinks that chemical… well, I won’t say what else she calls it. She’s into natural things.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to the sheriff with my suspicions. What do you plan on doing?”
“I’m sick, too, remember? Must be some stomach bug going around. I will go use Hector’s bathroom and see what else I can find in the office.”
Christie sighed. “I felt so guilty and weird going through his stuff.”
Trish laughed. “You forget, I’m the mom of a teenage boy. I go through stuff all the time.”
“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
“Yes. But I’d rather invade his privacy than to find out he’s involved in drugs or something else. If you were a mom, you’d understand.”
Was that an underhanded dig? No, I’m just on edge.
“I guess. Well, I better get going.” Christie slid into her car and turned the AC up to high. She waved and pulled away from the curb as Trish walked back up to the house. As she drove around the corner, a white pickup headed toward her.
Shoot. Must be Tyler Webster.
But as the truck pulled up alongside her, she saw that it was Cole. He slowed down his truck and waved at her to lower her window.
“Christie.”
“Cole.”
“What are you doing in this part of town?”
“Well, it’s not really any of your business, but I was visiting a friend.”
“Christie, what’s with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You act like I’ve offended you, and I don’t know how. I thought, after all these years, we could be friends again.” He gripped his steering wheel.
Christie took a deep breath and let it out. “Sorry. I’ve just been on edge with my father’s injury, then Hector dying on our property—”
“No apology necessary. How’s your Pop doing?”
“Cantankerous as ever.” Christie grinned.
Cole retorted, “He’s always been nice to me. Listen, I really want to talk to you about the Webster proposal. I know your dad said no, but I’d at least like to give you the full story.”
“Oh, so that’s what you mean about being friends? You want to try to cozy up to me to get to my Pop.”
“No. I never said—”
“I have to get going.” She raised her window.
What was she thinking? Cole was only being friendly so he could work his old charms on her. And she’d almost fallen for it.
~~~
After talking with the sheriff’s deputy about her suspicions, she left dejected after he told her they couldn’t pursue her theory simply on a “hunch.” Even when she’d informed him of a similar instance where someone had given an elderly relative antifreeze in their drink, the deputy had insinuated that Christie knew an awful lot about how it could kill. She left more frustrated than ever. At least he said he would talk to the medical examiner. It was out of her hands.
Her phone chirped.
“Pop?” Is everything okay?” She heard Mutt and Jeffrey barking.
“Yep. Them dumb dogs don’t bark at anything else. But see a squirrel, and you’d a thought the squirrel was trying to burglarize the place. When are you coming to take me over to see Curtis?”
“I’m on my way now.”
“All right.”
The line went dead.
Once she arrived home, Pop agreed to letting her take the other pecan pie o
ver to Curtis if she’d bake him another one. They needed to retrieve more hay for the mare and the foal, and Curtis still had some in a covered lean-to.
As they drove, Pop spoke, “Oh, I found your phone.”
“You did? Where?”
“It was on the ground outside. It must have fallen out there by the tree. I walked by it and saw it.”
“That’s weird. Why wouldn’t we have seen it earlier? And how could it have been missed?”
Christie slammed on the brakes causing Pop to grab for the dashboard.
“What the—”
“Pop! You didn’t pick it up with your hands?”
“Well, of course I did. Whatcha expect me to pick it up with? My toes?”
Christie slammed her hand against the steering wheel. Whoever had used her phone to text Hector had surely wiped the phone of prints, and now the only prints that would be on the phone would be Pop’s. That wouldn’t look good.
“Pop. I think that Hector was killed. Whoever texted him used my phone. They’re trying to make it look like I—or even you—had something to do with it. So at some point that same person brought the phone back to the property.”
“Well if that don’t beat all. Someone better not be messing with my girl. No siree.”
Chapter Eight
They drove over to the Altgelt ranch in silence. As they made their way up the dirt road, Christie spied a Mercedes parked out in front. Two men looked up as the truck headed toward them. Christie maneuvered the truck up to the corral next to the charred remains of the barn.
“Daggum shame. That’s what that is. Curtis loved that barn.” Pop shook his head.
Christie got out of the truck and opened the passenger side door for her father. He cradled his hurt arm as he exited the vehicle.
One of the men picked up a map like the one she’d seen at Hector’s.
Pop stretched. “What are you boys doing out here?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, old man.” The taller of the two men stepped forward.
Pop sighed deeply. He moved closer to the taller man. “This is Curtis’s place. So, I’ll ask you again. Does Curtis know you’re out here?”
Christie stood by, her stomach in a knot. Surely, these men weren’t going to pick a fight with her father.
“We have as much right to be here as you do.” The man with the map rolled it up. “Plus, once he’s gone, this will be our place.”
“You know, I hate people who don’t respect their elders.” With surprising speed for his age, Pop reached over, grabbed the map out of the man’s hand, threw it down, and ground it into the dirt with the heel of his boot.
“Old man, I’m going—” The man in the blue shirt took a step toward Pop.
Christie stepped forward. “If I were you, I would rethink what you’re planning.”
“Or what?” He sneered. “Who’s going to stop me? You? That pitiful old man with his arm in a sling?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Christie replied.
A high-pitch scream sounded as the man dropped to his knees.
Pop had hold of the man’s hand, and every time he tried to get up from his knees, Pop pressed again.
“Stop! Stop it!” The man took a swing, only hitting air.
“Now, see here. First, you don’t respect your elders. Then, no one, and I mean no one, talks to my Christie like that.”
“You’re insane.” He tried to take a swing again but cried out in pain as Pop added more pressure to the man’s hand.
“Sonny, you need to behave. I won’t put up with those kinds of people who need to be scraped off the bottom of my shoe.” He moved, and the man crawled after him, his once crisply starched, gray slacks now covered in dirt.
The other man took a step forward. Pop squeezed the man’s hand again.
“Stay there, Erik!” The man gestured with his free hand.
Pop moved them around until the man faced Christie. “You say you’re sorry now, son.”
“Sorry.”
Pop squeezed. “That don’t sound sincere, like.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked up at Pop, who waited.
The man spoke to Christie, “I apologize for my words, ma’am.”
“Better.” He stood there for a minute. “Now, if I let you loose, are you going to be a good boy?”
“Yes.”
Erik took another step. “Nick said he was sorry. Now let him up.”
“Don’t let this arm fool ya, now, son.”
“Erik, move away.”
A truck drove up. Curtis got out, and a smile played on his lips.
“What’s going on here?”
“Ahh nothing. We came over to get that hay, and Christie brought you one of her famous pecan pies.”
“Let’s go inside, and I’ll put on the pot.”
The man on the ground pointed at Pop. “Are you going to make him stop?”
“Oh, no. Nick, it seems like you must have done something to make R.C. almost mad.”
“Almost mad?”
He laughed. “Yep. You don’t want to see R.C. actually mad.”
Pop looked down at the man. “Son, you going to behave now?”
“I already said I…yes, sir.”
Pop let go of Nick’s hand.
Erik helped Nick up, then said, “Can you teach me how to do that?”
“Sure,” responded Pop. “Give me your hand.”
“Um, no thanks.” He backed away. “Nick, let’s get out of here.”
Nick rubbed his hand as he climbed into the passenger side of the car. Erik gunned the Mercedes, and in a last act of defiance, he spun out on the gravel before he headed back down the road.
Inside, Curtis put on the coffee, and the trio gathered around the scarred oak table in the dining room. When they each had a cup of coffee and pie in front of them, Curtis spoke. “I loved their mother. God rest her soul. I took them boys in like they were my own. Then, they moved off and went to live with their father. Now, they’re like buzzards flying over me, looking for my dead body.”
So, that’s why the pair looked familiar. Though, when she had known them, they had both been short and plump. Christie knew better than to interrupt, but she wondered why Curtis didn’t just cut them out of his will.
As if he’d read her mind, Curtis continued. “I told their mother I’d always treat them like they were my own. I made her a promise.”
“Yes, but that was when they were kids.” Christie took a sip of the strong, bitter coffee.
“True, enough. But I need to stand by my word.”
“What would Marilyn have wanted?”
“I know she’d have been unhappy about how them boys turned out.” He shook his head.
Pop interrupted Curtis. “Christie has some news.”
She swallowed a sip of the hot brew. “I do?”
“The fence?”
“Oh, yeah. When Trish and I were out riding on our property, we noticed that the fence had been cut between our properties and the main wood post pulled up.”
“Where is this?”
“The old animal track on the back forty.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“Tyler Webster’s been coming around, asking about the property. I’ve told him over and over, I’m not ready to sell. Then, he contacted the boys. Not sure how he did that. After that, I’ve been noticing strange things happening around here.”
Christie set her cup down on the table, “Like what?”
“Stuff in the shed that’s always on the right side was down on the left side. I’d go back later, and the items were back in the right place. Then, I found my remote in the fridge.” He sighed. “It sucks getting older and losing your mind. But now, I wonder.”
Christie was familiar with patients who suffered from dementia or Alzheimer’s. She’d cared for many of them in their last days. “Have you seen a doctor lately?”
The men laughed. “For
what? Getting old?” Pop asked.
“Pop, it’s good to get a diagnosis if there’s an issue.”
“No issue. If I leave something in the wrong place, then I just have to find it.”
“Have you been experiencing this, too?” she asked Pop.
He patted her hand. “Don’t worry, darling. It’s all just part and parcel of getting older…except…”
“Except what?”
“I could have sworn I put that—”
Christie’s new phone rang. “Excuse me.” She went into the other room. It was Trish.
“Hey. What’s up?” Christie put the phone on speaker.
“Christie. It’s all gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shana May called me and let me know that Emma and Kimberly came in and went through the place like a tornado. It’s all gone. Everything.”
“What?”
“Yep. Turns out Hector was renting the place from the Websters, and they wanted it cleaned out so they could have it ready to rent for the first of the month. They took most of the stuff to the thrift store and boxed up his stuff.”
“But what about his family?”
“His parents live in Mexico. They’re trying to reach them now.”
“Wait. What about the electrolyte drinks?”
“They threw them all away.”
Christie moaned. “I guess that’s it, then. We tried.”
“I’ve got worse news.”
“Worse than that?” Christie tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Yeppers. Remember Mike’s friend, the cop? Turns out, the cause of Hector’s death has been ruled inconclusive.”
“If they would just test his blood chemical—”
“Not sure what they did. Plus, he’s going to be cremated. So, that looks like the end of that.”
“Oh, geez. I don’t want this hanging over our heads forever. Plus, Hector deserves justice.”
“Christie, I really think you should let this go.”
“We’ve got to get those bottles. When’s trash day?”
“Day after tomorrow. Why?”
“You up for stealing some trash?”
Trish laughed. “Are you turning into a criminal?”
“Listen, I’m not at home but I’ll call you later.”
Chapter Nine
“Don’t you think they moved awfully fast? I mean, Hector just died.” Christie plopped down on the sofa back at the house. “It makes me wonder if Emma or Tyler aren’t involved in Hector’s death.”