by Dave Daren
“The whole thing about this movie,” Vicki said as she leaned into my chest, “is that if she would just scoot over on that driftwood thing, he would never have to die.”
“Right,” I said. “Or if she would have just sucked it up and gotten on the lifeboat. This movie would have been better, and just as romantic, if she had gone off with her people on the lifeboat, and then found him later when he had made something of himself, and then run off with him.”
“But the whole point of the movie is about socio-economic classes and how people get trapped in them,” she said.
“Is it?” I said. “I thought it was about James Cameron showing off his massive ego.”
“That’s a much better literary analysis,” she said with a smirk.
“I had an interesting occurrence at the festival,” I said to change the subject.
“Oh yeah?”
“I saw this couple with a Black Horse Ranch t-shirt,” I said. “As soon as they saw me, they acted suspicious and ran off.”
“That is interesting,” she replied.
“We need to find out who that couple is,” I said. “They’re definitely scared of us.”
“I wonder if we could get a guest list from the festival,” she said.
“I don’t think there is one,” I said. “We didn’t sign in anywhere.”
“No, I guess not,” she said. “But do you remember what vendor they were at?”
“I think it was Sierra Ale? I’m not sure. I could get a booth map.”
“They would have taken down their information somehow, for customer relationship management,” she said. “We could get that from them.”
“If they would let us,” I said.
A staff member jogged down the hall and breathlessly greeted us. “He’s here,” the woman said.
“The baby?” Vicki sat up. “That was fast.”
The woman nodded. “She was already fully dilated when she got here. If you guys had waited a few more minutes, you would have had to deliver it yourselves.”
“Yeah,” I said. “The idea did occur to me.”
The woman laughed. “Come on back, they want you to meet him.”
Vicki squealed and jumped excitedly, and I grinned and wrapped my arm around her. We walked down the hall to the birthing room. It looked like a luxury hotel room with a king sized bed and a massive jacuzzi tub in one end. Staffers still milled about cleaning up, but Kristen lay in the bed, breathless and drenched in sweat. Perry held the baby in swaddling blankets. The baby was quiet now, and Perry grinned from ear to ear.
“You want to meet him?” he said.
“Oh my gosh,” Vicki gushed as she reached out to hold the bundle. She held him close, and I leaned over and touched his tiny little fingers.
Perry’s phone rang, and he stepped away to answer it. While he was on the phone describing the birth, the door burst open. Robbie and about ten others from the farm came rushing in.
“He’s here!” Robbie stood in the doorway and announced. The whole crowd cheered, and the baby started to cry. Vicki tried to rock him, and Perry got off the phone and took him.
All the farm people took turns holding the baby.
“Did you ever decide on a name?” I asked.
Perry smiled. “We’re going to do a naming ceremony soon. Until then, it’s a surprise.”
I turned to Vicki at this news who shrugged.
“My mom’s on the way,” Perry turned to Kristen, and she nodded. I had never met Perry’s mom, but I wondered what kind of woman would raise someone like Perry.
We stood around at the birthing party for a few more minutes, but then we caught up with one of Tranquility guys and asked for a ride back to our car at the festival.
We got home somewhere around one a.m.
“It was some day,” Vicki said.
“Yeah,” I told her as I got dressed for bed.
“What did you think, watching those two go through that experience?” she asked.
She sat on the bed and looked up at me a slight smile forming on her lips. I sat down with her and told her the truth. “I wondered if you were happy.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Just some stuff I’ve been thinking, about us, and our future and--”
“Did this have anything to do with my mom?” she said, her tone had a sharp edge to it.
My eyes caught hers, and she looked away. “Henry, she’s a different person, a different generation, they see things differently.
“I know, I just wondered--”
“Don’t wonder,” she said. “My mother has these weird views on women. With her, all women are destined to become wives, mothers and career women. Once they do, they must live forever in this confused state where they can’t reconcile anything. They yo-yo back and forth between success in either area and live in perpetual guilt that they can’t do enough. It’s just the way that generation saw things. I get it, and I understand where she’s coming from, but I’m just not there at all. I like the way things are, just you and me. I’m very happy. If I wanted more, you’d know. Believe me.”
I laughed because I knew it was true. Satisfied that the awkwardness I had felt over the last few days was finally resolved, I was able to fall into a contented sleep that night.
A few days later, Vicki and I were out shopping in an art gallery on Sedona’s famous art row on a warm Saturday mid-morning. The Earth Market meeting with the Perrys was later that afternoon. But other than that, we were free and clear.
“We need a piece for the living room,” she said. “One that is homey and captures who we are.”
“Hmm…” I trailed off. “How about this?”
I held up a ceramic sculpture of a deer head.
She laughed. “Okay. Let’s put that on the ‘maybe’ list.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “You don’t think this will look nice with our decor? I think I’ll put it in the bedroom.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “Not if you want me to sleep in there.”
“Hmm…” I looked at antlers. “Tough choice.”
She smacked my arm, and I laughed and put the antlers down. Immediately afterward my phone buzzed.
Bloodhound Bill.
“Hey, Bill,” I said. “Tell me you got some good news.”
“I got good news,” he said. “My hunch was right. I found a source that confirmed the zebra is at a farm in Holbrook.”
“Really?” I said. “Who’s your source?”
“Can’t say,” he said. “They want to remain anonymous, ‘cause this guy’s trouble.”
Vicki was contemplating a black-and-white photo series, and I motioned to her and muffled the phone.
“Bill thinks he found the zebra,” I said.
“Seriously?” she came, sat next to me, and listened through the phone.
“Sorry, Bill, yeah go ahead,” I said.
“As soon as you told me Black Star and Holbrook, I knew who it was, and started zoning in on him. I made some calls, and sure enough, we have a confirm on a zebra sighting.”
“How do we know it’s Neptune?” I asked.
“How many zebras are there in Arizona?” he asked.
“That’s a good point,” I said. “But we can’t just go storming in there on the suspicion.”
“This source has a toddler who’s been talking about seeing a zebra for two weeks,” he said. “That’s about when Neptune went missing. The source said he thought his kid was just being… well, a kid.”
“Right,” I said.
“But then,” he said, “the source said he was out driving around, and the kid pointed to the pen along the road. And there it was, a zebra.”
“Why do you think they wanted the zebra?” I asked.
“Well that’s just it,” Bill said. “The guy who owns that ranch, Zed Walker, has a long-standing feud with Quentin Alucio.”
“And it all starts to make sense now,” I said.
“Yep,” he said. “It’s ancient history, those two, everyone knows. He worked for Quention a long time ago. Then, Zed tried to take over the company and cut Quentin out, but Quentin is… well… Quentin. No one in their right mind is going to go against him.”
“I got that impression,” I said.
“So, the betrayal didn’t go far,” Bill continued. “Quentin fired Zed and then ruined his career forever. But Zed knows his shit about cows and horses. That’s why he climbed up the ranks with Quentin in the first place. But since he’s blacklisted in the whole ranching community, he can’t do much. Now, he lives on some pissant little farm in Holbrook and breeds for Black Star.”
“And stealing Neptune was his way to get back at Quentin, and get his life back with a sizable fortune,” I concluded.
“Sounds like it,” he said.
“But the zebra was Alister’s,” I said. “He would have to know that Quentin could access the money.”
“I don’t know. I just find the guy,” he said. “What goes on in fancy boardrooms is really more your thing.”
“Thanks, Bill,” I said. “Great work. What’s the rescue plan?”
“I’m going to drive out there now,” he said. “I’ll need someone to do all the official whatnots that it’s the right zebra and all.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I can go out there.”
“And we’re going to need back up,” he said. “These guys are the grandsons of the original Old West outlaw cattle rustlers.”
“Quentin,” I said.
“Quentin,” he repeated.
I ended the call, and Vicki and I sat down in the art gallery.
“Well, you have to go,” she sighed.
“Yep,” I said.
“The Earth Market meeting,” she reminded me.
“Shoot,” I said. “Can you do it?”
“I could,” she said. “I just don’t know the contract that well.”
“The contract is all sewn up and done,” I said. “It’s basically just a meet and greet and listen to them hash out details.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I can do that.”
“Great,” I said. “I’ll call Quentin.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll call AJ.
We both got on our phones and left the art gallery.
“Quent--in,” I said once I got on the phone. I don’t think anyone has ever shortened that man’s name and lived to tell about it.
“Henry,” he said. “Did my guy came through yet?”
“He did,” I said. “He thinks he found the zebra at a ranch in Holbrook. He said you might know the guy, Zed Walker?”
He muttered a string of big meaty curse words.
“That’s about how Bill said you’d feel about it,” I said.
“He tried to cut me out of my own business,” he said. “Little wuss, still at it. I’d love to go out there and kick his ass again. It was fun the first time. What the hell, I was going to go to the rodeo in Flagstaff, but kicking Zed’s ass is always good for a fun time.”
I laughed. “I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic.”
“Hey,” Quentin said. “Don’t get smart with me, upstart lawyer boy. Just ‘cuz Alister took a shine to you, don’t mean we’re friends yet.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Would you like to set a plan?”
“Let me get my guys,” he said. “Zed’s a little pussy, but he’s got a posse. If those guys come out with their guns blazing, we’ll have to be ready for them.”
Chapter 17
We met up with the posse at Quentin’s ranch outside town. As much as Vicki wanted the possibility of going on a safari hunt, I had to convince her to stay.
I knew she could handle herself out there. We had had a break-in not too long ago, and she took down some hardcore criminals. But that didn’t mean I wanted her to go looking for trouble. Besides, we had a full truckload anyway.
I arrived at Quentin’s sprawling ranch house, and the drive was already full. Four thick-necked bouncer types stood around a black SUV. They were dressed all in black with wraparound shades, and massive biceps strained the seams of their shirt sleeves.
I stepped out of my car, and Quentin came to greet me. He wore his usual wide brimmed tan cowboy hat, jeans, a plaid western style shirt, and a leather belt with a massive belt buckle that tried unsuccessfully to reign in his beer belly.
Under his hat, he had a severe expression as he commanded the driveway full of compadres to the cause.
“Henry, welcome,” he said with a somber tone. “This is our security detail. They’re gonna come behind us, just in case we have any trouble. They got rifles in the back.”
One of the guys nodded at me, but still looked straightforward. Quentin motioned toward two young cowboys. “This here is John and Evan. They’re ranch hands, they work for me. They’re gonna get Neptune corralled. Guys, this here’s Henry. He’s a lawyer, and chairman of the trust.”
Both John and Evan nodded and tipped their hats, and I nodded back. This crowd was not much for mincing words it seemed. Earnie’s Porsche pulled up at this point, and he jumped out.
“Late,” Quentin said with a frown.
Earnie smiled. “Ah, yes. The old Alucio Time Zone.”
“On time is late,” they said in unison and laughed.
“Alright, is this everyone?” Quentin asked.
“Bill,” I mentioned.
“Bill went inside,” Quentin looked toward the house just as Bill emerged.
Bloodhound Bill on a job was quite a sight to see, or at least this job anyway. He wore khaki pants with a gray button down safari style short-sleeved shirt and black bulletproof vest. He topped it all off with a gray safari hat and a cross body satchel that made him look like he just stepped out of Dora the Explorer.
“Hey, Diego,” I quipped when he came to the drive.
He just gave me a confused look and then turned to Quentin. “I got everybody’s numbers in my phone. Let’s get this show on the road, hoss. We need to--”
Quentin looked at him like he had lost his mind, and Bill just shrugged ruefully. No one gave Quentin Alucio orders, I guessed. Quentin instead motioned to the security team, who got in their SUV and gunned the engine. He nodded toward John and Evan who boarded in a brown pickup with a horse trailer attached. He turned to me, Earnie, and Bill.
“Ya’ll are riding in the truck with me,” he motioned. “Giddy-up.”
We followed Quentin to a massive quad cab red Ford F-150 and all boarded. I sat in the back with Earnie, and Bill sat in the front with Quentin.
Quentin started the engine, pulled up to the waiting caravan and then sped ahead to the front.
“What way are we taking?” Bill asked as he rifled through his goodie bag.
“Seventeen to forty,” Quentin shrugged as he rattled off the names of interstates.
“You could save time by going--”
“Kid, I’ve been driving to Holbrook since before your mom and dad even met each other. I know how to get there,” Quentin said.
That shut Bill up pretty well, and he unpacked his bag of gear and carefully laid it all out on the seat.
“Whatcha got there, Diego?” I asked Bill as I leaned over the seat. I figured it was as good as entertainment as any.
“Let’s see,” he drawled. “I got these cuffs here. I bought ‘em last year at an auction.”
He opened and closed a pair of intimidating silver handcuffs for display, then put them away in a pouch. I tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smirk, but Bill saw it.
“Good for bedroom use too, huh?” he grinned at me.
Everyone in the cab laughed.
“I was thinking something of the sort,” I muttered.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Earnie piped up from his silent corner of the backseat.
“Between those two,” Bill whistled. “I bet they get kinky.”
They all laughed, and I felt myself blush. “Please don’t project your deranged fantasies onto me.” This cause
d even more laughter to erupt in the cab.
“To each his own,” Earnie smiled. “What about you, Bill? You seeing anybody?”
“Nah,” he said. “Women are a lot of work. You gotta buy ‘em shit, and then you got to talk about your feelings. And they’re always calling you, and if you forget something stupid, they get all silent mad, and you have to wrack your brain to figure out what you did. Plus, I just like my freedom. Nobody calling me, asking me where I am. Nobody trying to tell me what I can and can’t do. And at my age, most of the single women left are the psychos. I don’t want no psycho all leaving her lady shit in my bathroom, and then one day trying to slice me to death with her pink, flowery razor.”
Everyone in the cab dissolved in laughter, and Bill shuddered.
“Well, Bill,” Quentin smiled, “that would certainly explain why you’re still single.”
Bill looked a little embarrassed and went back to laying out his gear.
“Alright, so what else is in your bag of tricks there?” I asked.
“Well,” he grinned. “I got these. These are my pistols.”
He laid out three revolvers that looked like they were straight out of a western movie. He spun the cylinder on one and smiled big.
“A lot of guys get all caught up in the weaponry,” he said. “They gotta have their Magnums and their Glocks. No, I like the classic guns. That’s how this country was founded. If it was good enough for Daniel Boone, it’s damn sure good enough for me.”
“Well,” I said. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“These here are replicas, for daily use,” he stated as if I should have known. “Back at the house, I got the real ones, classics from the 1900s. They’re real collector’s pieces. But on the job, I use these.”
He rattled on about gun features. What I knew about guns couldn’t even fill a 3x5 index card, so I just inserted generic agreements randomly. This just served to encourage him.
“What is that?” I pointed toward a rather involved elastic getup on his lap.
“Oh, this,” he smiled as he unraveled the headgear. “This is my new toy. It’s a GoPro Hero. I got it so I can make videos of my assignments to show in court if necessary.”
I nodded. “That sounds like it might be useful.