by Gayle Hayes
Eric Knudsen filed his report about the robbery and then left the Sun River County Sheriff's Department. He was buckling his seat belt when he remembered to check his phone for messages and found one from Emma. She was making a quick trip to Buffalo Jump for a long weekend and wondered if he was busy. Eric slapped the dash of his GTI and whistled. "Hot damn!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Emma Favager left her office, walked down the short hallway and around the receptionist, and greeted the man who was waiting for her.
"I'm Emma Favager. How can I help you?"
"Jack Hennessey. Pleased to meet you. Crystal Smart gave me your card a few months ago. I travel most of the time. This is the first chance I've had to call on you."
"I'm sorry. I'm drawing a blank here."
"My mother found something in her luggage that belonged to you…"
"Oh, of course. I assumed you were a new client. I wanted to thank you for returning the scrimshaw set. It was a family heirloom."
"You're quite welcome. Do you know how it happened to be in mother's suitcase?"
"No. I was hoping you could tell me," Emma said.
"You probably don't know. Mother died right after she returned to Denver."
"Crystal did mention it. I'm sorry. How did you know to return the scrimshaw set?"
"It was on the dining room table with a note to call the airline about it. I stayed with her when I was in Denver on business. She relied on me to do errands. The note said she had no idea how the box wound up in her luggage."
"Well, it was very nice of you. I was surprised it was returned. I'd like to reward you somehow."
"That's not necessary. The box didn't belong to us. It didn't occur to me to keep it. But you could do me a favor." Hennessey hesitated. "I usually eat alone, because I travel so much. Would you have dinner with me tonight?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I have another commitment tonight. Could I meet you for dinner tomorrow? There's a nice place around the corner…the Denver Grill."
"Sounds good. I'll meet you in the lounge about six if that's all right?" he asked.
"Perfect. I'll look forward to it."
Emma returned to her office, closed the door, and stood by the window. She watched as Jack Hennessey crossed the street below and hailed a taxi. Then she called her contact in the Denver Police Department and asked her to find out if Jack Hennessey had a record. While waiting for the information, Emma typed his name into her browser and waited. As she scanned the hits, she wondered how women checked out a man in the days before the internet. There were several Jack Hennesseys, but none matched the one who'd agreed to meet her for dinner. Her DPD contact called to say Jack Hennessey appeared to be clean. Still, Emma was glad she suggested meeting him in a public place. He didn't have a record, but that might mean he hadn't been caught yet.
There were surprisingly few members at The Six Pack when she arrived. She usually preferred working out at the gym on Friday nights when there were fewer members. This Friday she would already be in Montana. While on the treadmill, Emma thought about what she'd wear Thursday evening. Meeting after work would simplify things. She decided on her gray suit and the new blouse with the draped neckline. It was a nice shade of yellow and would add some interest while the suit gave her a more professional, detached appearance. She'd wear her hair pulled off her face. That would give her an opportunity to wear the silver posts with the tiny teardrop in the same yellow as the blouse. Jack Hennessey was tall, so she'd finally have a chance to wear the new gray spike heels she'd been saving for such an occasion.
Once Emma was home, she checked her suit and blouse and packed the shoes in her tote. Then she found her bus pass and secured it to the strap of her handbag. It appeared Jack Hennessey relied on taxis while in Denver, so she'd take the bus to work and a taxi later. That would eliminate the need to offer him a ride home. Her gut told her he was fine, but she'd relax later when she knew he was trustworthy. A smile crossed her face. Why was she thinking about her safety one minute and later the next?
Emma checked for messages before turning off her phone for the night. She was surprised to find one from Eric. His voice produced a twinge of guilt that surprised her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ethan Taggard raked piles of leaves onto a lightweight snow shovel and then dumped them into the sack inside the garbage can. Harold Lowe faithfully cared for his yard when he was alive, and the trees and hedge were testaments to his skills as a gardener. Ethan Taggard was too young to appreciate the number of years represented by each tree, but he was looking forward to his pay for raking the leaves.
Phyllis Carle was cleaning the windows on Harold's bungalow to get it in better shape for Emma's visit. Emma was still thinking about moving to Buffalo Jump. She wanted to stay in Harold's house to help her decide whether or not she could live there. Phyllis believed clean windows made up for a multitude of faults. She sprayed solution on the glass, pressed the squeegee to the surface, and moved the excess liquid to the sill with a firm, steady motion.
Ethan and Phyllis enjoyed a glass of lemonade while sitting near Buffalo Creek, which still meandered through the backyard even though it was nearly dry. Someone with first water rights had been drawing out of it for weeks. Phyllis had never seen it so low. The creek contributed to the ambiance of her Buffalo Jump Inn, but she did not depend upon it for irrigation. Still, it was disconcerting to see exposed moss and piles of leaves that would have been covered or swept away by the once fast-moving water.
"How're the Montana Mountain Lions getting along?" Phyllis asked.
"Um…good. We're having a haunted house to raise money for the kid that got hit on his bike."
"Jacob Abbot?"
"Yeah. Jake," Ethan said.
Who's helping you with it?"
"Our moms and dads and some of the people who own stores in Buffalo Jump. It's gonna be real scary. I'll let you in free if you wanna check it out."
"Do I need a costume?" Phyllis asked.
"Naw. Just come like yourself."
Phyllis laughed. "Hey. I think I've been insulted. I'm not that scary to look at."
Ethan's face turned red. "I didn't mean it that way, honest."
"I know. I couldn't resist teasing you. I'll do my best to come. I gave your mom a small contribution for supplies. Sounds like you have some spooky stuff planned."
"Thanks, Miss Carle. I plan to use the money from raking these leaves to buy my costume. But I can't tell you what it is. Just in case you come. It'll be scarier that way."
"Wind's coming up. We better get these piles in the garbage or we'll have to start all over," Phyllis said.
While Ethan raked, Phyllis breezed through Harold's old house dusting a little here and there and catching cobwebs on the end of her broom. She almost knocked over a vase in the process. She remembered giving it to Harold when he suffered his first heart attack. Now, she noticed he taped a photo of the yellow roses to the bottom of the vase. Tears filled her eyes. She missed him more as time went on and found it more difficult to keep from crying in front of Carole. No one knew about her and Harold, and she'd go to her grave making sure no one ever did.
"I'm done, Miss Carle," Ethan yelled at the front door.
Phyllis dug in her purse and handed him the ten dollars they'd agreed upon. "You did a good job, Ethan. You can be proud of yourself. I won't hesitate to hire you next time I need a hand," she said.
Ethan straddled his bicycle and began pedaling, turning to wave at her. His voice faded as the bicycle accelerated down the street. "Bye. See ya later," he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Carole Wylie realized she'd been staring at the blank page and blinking cursor for a long time. The ideas that came so easily had dried up. Was it possible she'd said all there was to say? When Harold was alive, she could walk to his office, bounce an idea off him, and then go back to work. He was not the source of her inspiration, but he seemed to believe she could do anything. What if he was wrong? What would she do
with her time if she never had another idea? She could not imagine anything giving her the same delightful sensation as creating a meaningful moment or insightful dialogue. Maybe God was trying to tell her something. Maybe she'd spent enough time at this silly pastime of writing make-believe stories no one ever read. Maybe it was time to be a foster grandparent, a big sister, or a better friend. She shut down her laptop, grabbed her keys, and locked the door. Maybe it was time to visit her mother.
A black pickup and red SUV were first to arrive at the four-way intersection in front of the pizza parlor. Carole waited for them and then proceeded through the intersection. She signaled to go left and increased her speed as she neared the end of the interstate on-ramp. No other vehicles were on the interstate. Dark clouds hovered in every direction, but Carole welcomed them after the summer of forest fire smoke that kept her indoors. She always enjoyed the drive to Great Falls. The four lanes gave drivers in a hurry the option of going around her, so she kept her speed at 55 miles per hour for the most part. That allowed her to take quick glimpses of the scenery while staying safe.
When Carole arrived at the Assisted Living Center of Great Falls, she saw her mother walking with one of the aides. Her mother didn't recognize Carole until she wrapped her in a hug.
"Mom, you look wonderful. Are you enjoying your walk today? It's beautiful out, don't you think?"
Carole's mother stopped walking, let go of her walker with her right hand, and tried to slip it around Carole's waist. Then she faltered and fumbled for the walker.
"I need to sit down," she said.
Carole assured the aide she could leave and then walked beside her mother to the patio. Carefully, she backed her mother up to a chair and gently coached her until she was touching the seat of the chair with the back of her legs. "Okay. Easy does it. You can sit now. I've got the chair. You'll be fine."
Carole's mother was relieved to be sitting and took a minute or two to get comfortable.
"Hi, Madge. How're you doin' today?" A visitor asked as she walked past Carole and her mother.
"Who's that?" Madge asked.
"Elsie's daughter. I don't remember her name," Carole said.
Madge wrapped her arms around herself. "Ooh, I'm cold."
"Will you promise to stay right here if I get your sweater?"
"And where would I go?" Madge asked.
Carole hurried to her mother's room, found the sweater in a different drawer, and returned with it to the patio. She helped her mother into the sweater and pulled it around her.
"How's that?" Carole asked.
"I haven't seen you in so long. Where've you been?" Madge asked.
"Don't you remember? I was here at the first of the week." Carole said.
"No. What did we do?" Madge asked.
"We visited like we are now. I showed you a few photos I'd taken and read to you from my latest story. You laughed and told me it was a good one." Carole could tell Madge did not remember.
"I went dancing last night. I was out late. The door was locked by the time I got home. I had to sleep out here on the patio." Madge pretended to shiver. "I've been cold ever since."
Carole knew better, but these nonsense conversations were the only ones her mother was capable of now. Carole continued the fantasy.
"Who'd you dance with last night?" Carole asked.
Madge didn't say anything for a moment and then laughed. "All of them. Just like every other night. They're all crazy about me, you know. Am I leaving with you this time?" Madge asked.
Carole dreaded this question. Madge never failed to ask. Carole's answer was always the same. "Not today. You couldn't make it up the stairs, Mom. I'm looking for another place, though. One without all the stairs," Carole said.
Madge forgot her question by the time Carole finished her answer. There was a time her mother would fret about the stairs and worry Carole would take a fall and no one would know. Carole tried to focus on the positive. Her mother could no longer make those connections. Like a child, she was easily distracted. This time it was a young man making a flower delivery.
"Oh. Pretend you don't see him. It's the third time this week he's brought me flowers. He's handsome, don't you think? I never give him the time of day. He'll be back, though."
Once the sun disappeared around the building, Carole moved her mother to the living room. They sat side by side on the sofa with Little House on the Prairie blaring on the TV. Another resident wanted the volume turned up. Madge was sleeping. Every so often, she'd open her eyes, realize Carole was next to her, and ask how long she'd been there. When the aides began moving residents to the dining room for dinner, Carole kissed her mother on the cheek, told her she loved her, and promised to come again soon. She knew her mother would forget the visit by the time Carole was home again.
Carole wished she would have left earlier. There was more traffic on the highway. By the time she arrived at Buffalo Jump, it was nearly dark. She turned off her headlights and sat in the car for a moment gripping the steering wheel. Tears trickled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes with the fingers of each hand and reached for a tissue in the box she kept close by. Then she remembered Emma was coming the next day. The thought made her feel better. God took her Babe but brought Emma into her life. A door closed. A window opened. Only God knew how many good days she'd have. She blew her nose, took a deep breath, and got out of the car. She climbed the steps and flipped the light switch inside her front door. It would have been nice to come home to someone who might listen and give her a hug. Instead, she found the news on TV and headed to the kitchen to make a quick sandwich.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Emma found Eric in her list of contacts just as her paralegal, Ally, walked in behind Jim Sanborn. He was not one of Emma's favorite people. Ally threw up her hands to show Emma she'd not been able to head off the obnoxious Sanborn. Emma set her cell phone on the desk, stood up, and extended her hand. Instead of shaking her hand, Jim Sanborn tossed a manila envelope on Emma's desk. Then he sat down and rested his right foot on his left leg and started drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair. Emma could tell from his smug expression that the meeting would not be pleasant.
"I like the suit, especially the blouse. A sexier look for you, isn't it?" Sanborn leered.
Emma picked up the envelope and forced a smile. "For me? You shouldn't have," Emma said.
"You won't be smiling when you see those," Sanborn said.
Emma opened the clasp on the envelope and dumped several 8 x 10 glossies onto her desk. She recognized the woman in the photos as her client, Susan Marks. She did not know the man with her. Susan was shown in various states of undress and clearly enjoying the attention of her companion.
"Are you representing Alan now?" Emma asked. Alan Marks threatened to fire his attorney more than once.
"No, actually. I'm representing Mrs. Marks. Alan's mother. She hired a PI to take the photos."
"Alan Marks' mother has standing under Colorado law. Why hire someone to take sleazy photos when she could bring her issue to court?
"Inez Marks is well known in Denver. This is the first divorce in the family. She wants to keep a lid on it. The last thing she wants is a story in the legal column of the Post, you know, with the ax murderers and child abductors," Sanborn said.
"Who's the man?" Emma asked.
"Susan's employer," Sanborn said.
"They're already divorced. Alan agreed to the relocation. What's the point of the pictures?"
"Inez Marks has proof Susan is relocating the children under false pretenses. She claimed she was moving to take a new position. These photos prove she's taken several," Sanborn laughed.
"These photos prove nothing. Susan acted in good faith. Whatever happened after she accepted the job, it was the job that was the primary motivation. She hadn't worked here in months. What's this really about?" Emma asked.
"My client is pushing 86, on oxygen, and refuses to fly. Her doctor advised against long car trips. S
he tends to clot. Inez cared for the Marks children while their mother pursued her degree. The children depended on her. She feels a special bond with them. Your client is depriving their grandmother of these children when she could easily work right here in Denver."
"These photos are disgusting. I'm sure Susan would've been amenable to providing visitation for Mrs. Marks if she'd approached her in a civilized manner. When she sees these, you can bet she won't be in any mood to accommodate her former mother-in-law." Emma stood up, walked to the door and opened it. "That's all the time I have. You know the way out."
Emma sat at her desk, took a deep breath, and tried to remember what she was doing when Jim Sanborn walked in and spoiled her day. As if on cue, her phone rang. It was Eric.
"Hey, Emma. I was sure glad to get your message. I'm scheduled to work the weekend, but I'll be free tomorrow night. Too bad you can't stay longer," Eric said.
"I know. This is the last window I'll have for a while, though, so I'm going for it. My flight gets in about quarter to five."
"I thought you'd arrive earlier since you only have the weekend," Eric said.
"There was only one other flight available for the same price. It'd get there noonish, but I'd leave around six in the morning and be in the air twice as long. I'd be exhausted making that flight, you know, by the time I get to the airport, and go through security, so I'd need a nap anyway. My flight leaves about one. This way, I'll get a good night's sleep and be able to enjoy the evening with you."