Bead onTrouble

by Barbara Burnett Smith

  Either you just got dumped by some other woman and you're thinking I would make a dandy consolation prize, or you want me because someone else does. Or maybe I'm just handy for the moment. I don't care which it is. I don't care if you realized that I am your soul mate." I took a breath. "I'm not. And the truth is," I slowed down and said with all the honesty I had in me, "The truth is, I just don't care."

  He took it in, slowly, with a stiff expression. "Cordy told me you didn't have anyone else in your life right now, but I guess she was mistaken."

  The man couldn't hear what I had said, and I didn't care about that, either. "Thanks for the offer of dinner, that was nice of you, but no thanks. If you'll excuse me . . ." I hurried around him and along the path to the office.

  I kept expecting to feel regret that I had put him aside.

  Maybe some smugness that I hadn't stooped so low as to tell him what a bum he was, but I didn't feel anything.

  Heck of a deal.

  I popped up the steps and opened the door to find Nate Wright standing there as if he was expecting me. "I have a favor to ask."

  "Ask away," he said. Something in his expression made me suspect he'd heard every word of my conversation with Jeb.

  "I need to borrow one of the vans. Shannan hasn't shown up."

  "Have you called her?"

  I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. "It's dead, and I don't know where to call without the number that went in the memory?'

  "That's probably long gone if the battery died. Here."

  He took my cell phone, looked at it, and then plowed through a drawer with about a dozen chargers. "We seem to collect these things."

  In just minutes, we had the phone plugged in. "Thank you," I said. "Now, if we just had the number for the Nachman's."

  Nate closed his eyes. "Four-two-eight . . He concentrated for just a few seconds and then said four more numbers before opening his eyes and reaching down to pick up the camp phone. He held the receiver out to me. "I'll dial."

  "Amazing." The call went through and began ringing at the other end of the line. Sure enough, it was answered by the same woman I'd spoken to earlier. "Shannan still isn't here," I told her, "and I'm getting a little worried."

  "Oh, I'm so sorry. She was running late, but she called your cell phone and left a message. She should have been there by now. Oh, dear."

  "How late did she leave?"

  "Maybe an hour and a half ago."

  I held my breath. "And how far from Wimberley do you live?"

  "Oh, gosh, we're up in North Austin. I'll bet she had at least an hour's drive. But still—"

  "There's a traffic jam here because of the Trade Days, and she must have gotten caught in it. Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be here any minute."

  "Have her call and let me know she's safe, won't you?"

  "I certainly will."

  I was breathing again when I turned to Nate. "She's on her way, and not even very late."

  He took the phone and hung it up. "Finally some good news."

  "Yes, and while we're making calls—let's just check in with Beth." Nate didn't look convinced. "No?"

  He handed me the receiver again. "Okay, but she did say she could do this on her own."

  I believed him, but that didn't mean I believed Beth was right. It wasn't so much that she couldn't handle it—just that she was in the kind of situation that called for rein-forcements. I wanted to be there, at least in voice, if I couldn't be there in person.

  I reached over and punched in the number, then waited through six rings until the answering machine picked up. I didn't like that at all. Even if the lawyer had arrived, Beth would have answered the phone.

  Nate said, "Is something wrong?"

  "I surely hope not. She didn't answer." I hung up and thought about it. Beth loves the telephone. She sometimes wears a headset so we can talk while she's beading, and I've never known her to let a phone go unanswered. Something wasn't right.

  "Do you have a phone book for Austin?" I asked.

  "Somewhere." He rummaged around in a bottom drawer, and I worried. Now the entire Fairfield family was not in contact, and it was concerning me more than I could stand. Damn.

  "Here you go." Nate put the huge thing on the desk, and I flipped through as fast as I could.

  I was looking for the number of Beth's neighbor, Mrs. Martin who knows all and sees all. If she was operat-ing true to form, she could tell me what was going on at Beth's house.

  There were dozens, no, more like hundreds, of Martins in the Austin phone book, and while I didn't know the first name, I did know the address. I searched for the street name.

  "Can I help?" Nate asked.

  "You can try that page," I said, pointing. 'We're looking for an address on Brayton Road."

  He didn't ask any questions, just started searching. A few minutes Later, we had it.

  Helen Martin. I dialed, and she answered on the second ring. "Mrs. Martin? This is Kitzi Camden, Beth's friend—"

  "She told me you'd call. I've got a message for you."

  "Okay."

  "You're to take care of Shannan and be sure and keep her at that camp. Don't let her alone and don't let her come into town." Mrs. Martin took a breath. "The big thing was, don't leave Shannan alone. I expect because of the murder."

  A nice guilt-inspiring message since I hadn't seen Shannan. "Where is Beth now?" I asked.

  "Oh, she and Ron and some man in a flashy black Mercedes left right after the police."

  That ought to tarnish Beth's reputation in the neighborhood. "Do you know who the man was? In the Mercedes?"

  "Yep. It's their lawyer, but he didn't look near as snippy as Ron."

  "One more thing, do you know where they were going?"

  "I don't know for sure, but I expect it's some police department, don't you?"

  I expect I did, except which one? Austin? The Travis County sheriff's office? And it didn't really matter, because I had to stay here. "Miz Martin, thank you. If you see Beth when she gets back, she can call my cell phone."

  "I'll give her the message. Anything else going on?"

  "No, ma'am, not a thing. Thank you, again." And I hung up.

  "You look stressed," Nate said. "Not good news?"

  I passed on what I'd been told, and then I shook my head.

  "Well, thank you for the loan of the telephone. And the charge on my cell. I'll be back later to collect it." He opened the door for me, and I listened for a second before I stepped out. "The camp seems awfully empty. Where is everyone?"

  'We have about ten women still at the Trade Days, and the others are all in the Saloon. Oh, and some went home."

  Apparently, I'd slept through that. "Is that a problem for Cordy and Green Clover?"

  "I don't think so. Most of them had kids and just felt they should be with them. They'll be back next year; I don't think you need that on your plate, too. In fact, what are we going to do about your stress?"

  "Cheech," I said. "I'm going for a quick walk around the camp on Cheech." My favorite horse.

  "I'll help you saddle him up."

  We went off to the barn, and I had the bridle in my hand before we even got to the stall_ The big sorrel didn't even move while I slipped his bridle on. "You are such a handsome boy," I said to him.

  "Why, thank you," Nate said.

  "I meant Cheech." Then I looked at Nate and said, "But, you're not so bad yourself."

  "I have been damned with faint praise. Or was I darned with faint praise?" He slipped the latch on the stall and led Cheech out into the main area. Once there he said, "Here, you go." He handed me the reins, and I held them while he saddled Cheech.

  Nate was a pretty good cowboy, not to mention a pretty nice guy. I'd have to remember that when this was al over.

  Of course, I didn't know where the man lived, and he could be a resident of Yakutat, Alaska with a fiancée who didn't like Texans. And I'd prefer he didn't have a fiancée at all.

  Anywhere.

 
We walked Cheech out into the sunlight; the horse was hopping a little, maybe picking up my tension.

  "You sure you don't want me to top him off?" Nate asked. "He seems a little skittish."

  "We'll be fine." And I was pretty sure we would be.

  When Nate gave me a boost up into the saddle, something I wouldn't have needed ten years earlier, I said, "Thank you.

  I'm going up by the front gate to wait for Shannan."

  "Let me know when she gets here."

  "I will. Thanks, again."

  I tapped Cheech's flank, and we trotted up the path. I tried to pull him down to a walk, but he wouldn't settle. "I can't take you out on the trails today, but maybe later, after she gets back." Cheech nickered.

  I reached down and petted him. He had the softest coat and sweetest disposition. If he'd been a little smaller, I'd have taken him home years ago to live in my house, even though horses don't make good house pets and I don't have a stable. But my, it felt good up so high. I wished all the problems were at ground level, and I could rise above them.

  We met Cordy on the road in front of the Saloon. "Not going to the demonstrations?" she asked, rubbing Cheech's nose.

  "No, I'm going to wait for Shannan. She's got my Rover, and she's late." Cheech was dancing, ready to move away.

  "I wouldn't start worrying, if I were you," Cordy said.

  "Some big rental truck got stuck trying to turn around on Ranch Road Twelve, although I can't figure what they were thinking when they tried that little maneuver in the first place. The traffic was already a mess, but with that, if she doesn't know some back roads to get around Wimberley, she might just have to park the Rover in a barrow ditch and walk."

  "Since it's my Rover, I hope she doesn't. See you."

  Twenty-four

  There was no one at the gate, which was finally wide open, just like it was supposed to be. I could

  hardly get Cheech to stop, so after a quick look across the empty parking lot I turned him around. We could lope through the back road of the camp so he could let off a little steam. I bounced too much, but eventually we started working together. It was nice to be out riding with the smell of fresh air, leather, and horse all mixing together.

  We rode past the yellow crime scene tape, reminding me it hadn't been a happy retreat.

  We ended up at the rock behind the Lazy L. I stopped Cheech and while we both caught our breath, I considered introducing him to Sinatra. Common sense told me that there was no way of knowing how Mr. Blue Eyes might react to some very large competition like Cheech, so I decided not to chance it. Besides, I'd have had to climb down out of the saddle, and I wasn't sure I could get back on. After a slow lope back, I positioned Cheech at the side of the gate to wait for Shaman. Instead of my Rover, a camp van pulled up, driven by Jeb.

  Cheech shied at the vehicle, "It's okay," I told him as I rubbed his neck.

  The women came piling out of the van. There were Sande and Angie, and several others I didn't know, and last was Lynn, our noir header.

  "Hey, Annie Oakley," Angie said, stroking Cheech's nose. "If you stay out here, you're going to miss a great demo on pop-up art cards. I know because I'm giving it in about ten minutes?'

  "I'm waiting for Shannan," I said. "Be there as soon as I can."

  She hurried on, as did the others. All except Lynn. Lynn walked to the side of Cheech so I got a good look at her sneer. "Well now, there you are, in your favorite spot.

  Katherine The Camden high above the rest of the world."

  Cheech didn't like her tone and he started. "Easy, boy." I have never had anyone treat me so abominably in my Iife, well, except for once or twice in the senate, but I had no comebacks for her.

  Lynn said, "What? You don't want to knock me down like you did last time?"

  I never remember knocking anyone down, at least not after I got past thirteen and my cousins and I stopped having serious disagreements. I said, "You know, I'm at a dis-advantage here, since I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Really?" Lynn raised one eyebrow as she looked up at me. "Well, maybe I should tell you my maiden name. How would that be?"

  "Okay. What is it?" I was expecting Godzilla or some such.

  "Doman. Susan Lynn."

  Susan Lynn Doman? Didn't ring a bell—and then it did. I was talking to Susie Lynn Doman. Susie Lynn who'd come to my sixth birthday party and complained because I was spending too much time on one of the ponies.

  Susie Lynn was now Lynn Donaldson, our noir beader.

  And here she was, still pissed at me after fifty-some years, over something we did at a kid's birthday.

  "Susie Lynn Doman," I said. "I don't believe it. What a surprise." I started to smile, since it was a homecoming of sorts.

  "Oh, please," she said in her snotty voice. "This isn't some happy reunion. You thought you were better than the rest of us back then, and things haven't changed a bit."

  I waited until could speak without spitting, and then I said, "You know, I remember the ... uh, event you're talking about. It was at my birthday party, and I was up on a pony." And she had said we were rotten rich people and that my grandfather's house, now my house, was ugly. A little flicker of heat rose up in my chest and it occurred to me that I was still holding a grudge, too.

  I looked down at her face, so angry and hard; I hoped I hadn't been the sole cause of that. "You know," I said, "I think it's about time that we let bygones be bygones. If I was a brat at my party, and I'll bet my social skills weren't al that good, I would like to apologize. I'm sorry."

  A tiny smile started on her face. "You're apologizing?"

  This could change her whole life, and who knows, maybe mine, too. "I am. I'm very sorry at the way I acted, and I'm sorry I was unkind to you. So, Susie Lynn, Lynn, would you accept my apology?"

  She thought about it, looking up at me. Then she said,

  "And you still can't get off your high horse to say it."

  "Actually, if I get off, I'll never get back on."

  She laughed. "I see. Well, I'll take that into considera-tion when I say, not no, but hell no!"

  And with that, she turned around and stomped off.

  So much for an epiphany that could change our lives.

  Except, seeing her marching down the road all huffy and smug was sad. And while I might still be sitting on a horse, I was smarter than I'd been at six. I was sorry we couldn't at least be nodding acquaintances.

  With a tad of regret, I turned back toward the parking area. I had done my best for Susie Lynn, and it hadn't been enough.

  Cheech was finally calm and we moved forward, so I could look up and down the narrow country road. There were no cars that I could see. Nothing but emptiness and some beautiful blue sky.

  "Well, Cheech, let's see if we can find a place to get out of the sun," I said. He flicked his tail.

  We rode out through the gates and onto the caliche of the public mad, just in case I'd missed something. Still no cars, trucks, or Land Rovers. "Okay, how about over there?" I turned Cheech to the right, and we got behind the last row of cars- under the shade of a couple of mesquite trees.

  "Much better," I said.

  I still had lots of questions in my mind, and some answers. At least I knew now that it was May who'd talked with someone about her affair with Ron. That someone had told Peterson.

  That didn't explain how Peterson knew Shannan and I had lied about our outing on Thursday night. The affair might have been known by everyone in the camp, but - where we went was our secret.

  Peterson knew I had guns, too. I'd heard him say that. But they were at home, so he had it all wrong, maybe because someone told him wrong. On purpose. And he knew I'd left the camp on Friday morning when I'd picked up Sinatra.

  I kept trying to put together who might have known all of those things, and who might have a reason to tell Officer Peterson. Well, the reason was to throw suspicion from them to me. Or maybe one of the Fairfields.

  I put my head down on Cheech'
s neck to think it through.

  Who knew all those things? Who was there and knew? It was like a hazy picture that wouldn't focus. I closed my eyes. I had all the information, but I couldn't quite get it in place. I kept trying, but one more time I dozed off.

  "No clawing me, now."

  I heard the voice, which was close at hand, through a haze of sleepiness. I wanted to go back to what I'd been thinking. It wasn't a dream, these were real thoughts; while I was asleep my subconscious must have kept working to figure out who killed May. The answer was right there, on the edge of my mind, if I could just . . .

  "That's a good boy," the voice interrupted. "You're such a little sweetheart. And you're going to love it at my house. I know you will. Here we are." A car door opened, and I squinted at the light. "No, no jumping around Sinatra.

  You have to obey me, remember? It won't be a long ride, but we have to hurry so I can get back before anyone notices I'm gone. They'll just think you got out again. They don't know I kept letting you out."

  My eyes popped open, just as the car door closed. I sat up, coming back to life. An engine started, and a little white VW Beetle pulled out of the lot.

  Had I heard right? Sinatra was going to live with someone else, or had that been part of the dream? The car was real, it was sliding onto the road.

  I knew that if I could just see into the car, it would all make sense. Except the car was leaving.

  I looked toward the gates; I needed the keys to a van, but there wasn't time.

  I lifted the reins. "Let's go, Cheech," I said. I clicked my tongue and tapped my heels on his flanks. Cheech perked up faster than I did and stepped out carefully, then turned to the road. "I'm out of practice, so don't get too wild."

  It wasn't a really good idea, but I needed to be sure, and I didn't have any proof. I guess I thought if I could just see her, and see where she was going with Sinatra, I could get the sheriff to help me.

  The VW was moving fairly slowly, but kicking up lots of white caliche dust. Cheech and I got behind the cloud and loped along. I wasn't sure I could go any faster, since I was bouncing like a tenderfoot, my pubic bone hitting the saddle horn.