by Dovie Ruth
“We’re not going anywhere,” Delaney groaned.
“Apparently, Conin dropped Dylan off a few blocks from your residence with that dummy package. The plan was to see whether anyone was home. Since you didn’t answer your door, Mrs. Fox, Dylan assumed the coast was clear. That’s when he tried your stolen door key and discovered the lock had been changed.”
Chad smirked. “I guess he wasn’t planning on that.”
“And of course,” the officer continued, “you know the rest. That is, except for their plan. Dylan was to call Conin once he got inside the house. It seems Conin had ‘borrowed’ a pickup truck, and he was going to use it to cart your belongings away.”
“Borrowed?” Chad confirmed. “I am assuming that means he pinched it.”
An audible gasp escaped Delaney’s mouth. “Just like they took my car.”
Chad moved to Delaney’s side and sat next to her on the bed. “Are you all right?”
Delaney’s fair brow smoldered as she recalled her earliest memory of Conin. If only she hadn’t gotten into his pickup and allowed him to take her back to The Tilted Plume. Then again, at the time, there seemed to be no other choice. “What does Conin want from us?” she demanded.
The investigator responded in a matter of fact tone. “I’m afraid it’s all rather simple. Conin and the woman you knew as Mavis Beasom are flat broke.”
“Broke?” Delaney’s voice reeked of pessimism. “What about that fancy cabin? Just the real estate alone is a gorgeous piece of paradise. Her vehicle was a luxury model — until it went over a cliff. Why, even her clothes looked expensive. Granted, they were strange, but they weren’t cheap.”
“Don’t let appearances fool you,” the detective warned. “According to Mr. Rouster, Conin and Mavis were desperate. The mortgage hasn’t been paid on the property for six months, and the bank has issued a notice of foreclosure.”
“No wonder Mavis was being such a tight wad,” Delaney reflected.
“According to Mr. Rouster, the couple have already made a few trips back up to The Tilted Plume and grabbed everything that wasn’t nailed down. They’ve been selling things as fast as they can haul them out of there.”
Chad scowled. “I thought no one is supposed to be on the property.”
“They’re not,” the officer assured him. “but the department can’t afford to keep officers around the clock in a remote location like that. The front gate has been padlocked for quite some time to keep people out. Apparently, that didn’t stop Conin from cutting through the barbed wire fence. He drove right through the brush to get to the cabin.”
“How do you know the tweeker is telling you the truth?” Chad badgered.
“He’s telling the truth all right. An officer from the sheriff’s department went up to the property yesterday afternoon. The fence and the cabin was just as Mr. Rouster said. Everything had been stripped clean with the exception of some clutter.”
“No wonder Mavis was feeding me that mystery soup.” Delaney gagged.
“What?”
“Oh nothing really. She just didn’t seem to have much food.”
“Anyway, Mrs. Fox, we were talking about this Dylan Rouster. During our interrogation with him, Dylan gave us a lot of information. Of course, he is already suggesting that he wants a something in return.”
Chad cradled his forehead. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
“Maybe not,” the gumshoe quipped, “but a plea deal is fairly common.”
“A plea deal?” Delaney shrieked.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s trying to cut a deal. He might possibly plead no contest to the drug charges. That means he would be staying in the county jail until we can get him into a state-sponsored rehab program. The remaining charges against him would be dropped.”
“That’s not acceptable!” Chad snapped.
“Now, let’s not get too hot under the collar yet. Dylan can discuss this with his court-appointed lawyer. We’ll wait to see what the two of them have to say.”
Delaney whimpered. “What about Conin? Have you found him yet? And Mavis – or Rhonda Buffalo – or whatever her dumb name is. Have you found her?”
“Believe me, we’re looking.”
“None of this is fair,” Delaney snapped, “Dylan is getting away with a multitude of sins. Do you have any idea how frightened I was when he was trying to break into my house?”
“I’m not making any excuses for what he did, Mrs. Fox, but rehab is really our best hope for Dylan.”
Delaney wasn’t finished. “All of this is making me so angry. Is everyone getting away with murder? And let's not forget to mention that my Mustang is still missing. And I bet those crooks are still trying to make purchases with my credit cards.”
Detective Travis didn't argue with Delaney. “I hate to tell you this, Mrs. Fox, but you are right. Someone did try to use one of your cards at yet another mini-mart, and it came back as being cancelled. When the clerk asked if he had another way to pay, he said he was going outside to get some cash out of his car. Of course, the scammer never came back.”
“Of course not,” Chad fumed.
“He did drive away in a gorgeous red Mustang, though.”
“My Mustang!” Delaney was simultaneously filled with joy and despair. On the positive side, her car was still in one piece. It hadn’t been crashed, burned, or stripped for parts. But for how long? “Where was the mini-mart?”
“Gusher Flats, California.”
“Gusher Flats?”
“You know the place?”
“Of course I do. It’s a little shanty town sitting on top of a giant oil spigot in the southwestern San Joaquin Valley. It’s not far from a place I grew up.”
“And where was that?”
“In a town called Roughneck.” Delaney sulked for a moment. “I am going to feel so guilty if they swindle or harm anyone in my hometown – or any of the surrounding areas. If it wasn’t for my big mouth, Mavis wouldn’t have known about that isolated oil patch in the first place.”
“Now don’t beat yourself up, Mrs. Fox,” Detective Travis soothed. “It’s probably just a coincidence.”
Delaney stood up from the edge of her bed. Her vitality was at a low ebb. “Chad, let’s skip this trip to the coast. I want to go to Gusher Flats and look for my car.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Chad rested his warm hands on his wife’s shoulders and shook his head. “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I allowed that.”
“Listen to your husband, Mrs. Fox. He’s giving you good advice. You don’t know what these crooks might do if they think they’re cornered. Let the authorities handle this one. We’ve already got the Shale County Sheriff’s Department out patrolling the area. If the suspects are anywhere in the vicinity, they will find them.” The detective’s phone crackled like it was threatening to disconnect. “You two need to get away for a couple days and relax.”
Chad embraced Delaney. “Let’s go to Morro Bay – just like we planned.”
"Better yet, why don’t you head on up to Yosemite?” Detective Travis suggested. “It’s beautiful this time of year.”
“Yosemite is a little rustic for Delaney right now, sir.”
“Then go to Pebble Beach. They’ve got plenty of nice hotels up there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Delaney grumbled the entire time Chad loaded both of their suitcases into his SUV. “Are we really going to follow Detective Travis’s recommendation and go to Pebble Beach?”
“Of course not. I know how much you love Morro Bay.”
“Thank goodness. I’m getting a little miffed at that bossy snooper. He thinks he can run our lives.”
“Lighten up, sweetie. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“Oh, boy, don't I know it!” Delaney rubbed her lower back.
“You’re going to wear yourself out before you get there if you decide to be a grump. Besides, look on the positive side.” Chad winked at his scowling wife. “Avenal State Prison is on ou
r way to the beach. We can stop and visit some of Conin’s old friends if you’d like.”
“I might just ditch you at the beach.” Delaney threatened as she settled into her seat. With frequent stops to stretch her legs, it was going to take at least four hours.
“No need to hurry,” Chad remarked as he fired up the vehicle’s engine and backed out of the driveway.
Delaney donned her sunglasses and leaned back against the headrest. “I’ll try to think about Morro Bay. That little town always makes me happy.”
Within fifteen minutes, Chad was navigating the SUV through the grid of roads that parsed Visalia’s rich farmlands into various patches of green, gold, and amber. Before long, the lush vineyards and orchards gave way to open land. As the road shot westward, the plots of agricultural land gradually transitioned into expanses of dry undulating grass. Although it was only May, the native ground cover had already turned from green to its typical golden hue.
About one third of the way into the trip, Chad made one of his characteristic announcements. “Next exit, Avenal State Prison! Mrs. Fox, are you sure you don’t want to turn off and visit some of Conin’s friends?”
“Do you ever want to see your first born son?”
“I guess that means ‘no’.” Chad kept his eyes on the road. The highway threaded its way through parched foothills in a westerly direction. As the slightly meandering road climbed out of the great Central Valley, the vehicle swayed a bit from side to side with each curve.
“I think we’d better stop at the next café,” Delaney alerted her husband.
“You’ve got it. How about that little roadside diner in Cholame? I know it’s kind of old fashioned, but …”
“… the food is good,” Delaney laughed as she finished her husband’s sentence.
“Next stop: Cholame. Population: Twenty people and ten thousand cows.”
“You goofball. Your figures are way off on both accounts.”
Ten minutes later, Chad pulled onto the right shoulder of the two-lane road. There were only a few cars in the small parking lot outside the café.
As soon as they walked through the front door, a lanky waitress met them with menus. “Welcome! I’m Berta, and I’ll be your server.” She pointed toward a blackboard posted near the entrance. “If you’re wanting some lunch, we have enchiladas on special. They come with rice and beans.”
“That sounds good,” Chad remarked as he and Delaney followed Berta to a booth by the front window.
The restaurant was devoid of customers except for a couple of solitary travelers sitting at the counter.
“Where y’all from?” Berta asked.
“Visalia,” Delaney answered, trying to sound pleasant. She was disappointed that she wouldn’t be having enchiladas for lunch. Her pregnancy had put her on a hiatus from spicy foods. She cradled her stirring son with one hand as she eased her body into the upholstered booth with the other.
Berta twisted her bright pink lips. “Did you happen to come through Gusher Flats?”
“Gusher Flats?” the couple asked in unison.
“Yes, the news channels have set up camp there since early this morning.”
Delaney stared at the server in disbelief. “Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, the boss has a TV and a radio back in the kitchen so he won’t miss any important news. That’s real excitement for him, you know, since we’re so isolated out here in Cholame. For the most part, all we’ve got to are customers and range cattle.”
Chad leveled his dark brows. “What’s happening in Gusher Flats?”
“Law enforcement officers are swarming the place.” Berta filled two glasses with water for her guests. “Two suspected murderers are holed up in a shack – a man and a woman. The cops think they are the ones who killed that famous romance writer, Mavis Beasom.”
“That dirty detective!” Chad sputtered.
"I told you Bucky and Rhonda killed her!" Delaney proclaimed.
“That snooper was doing everything he could this morning to get us out of the area," Chad growled. "No wonder he kept suggesting Yosemite and Pebble Beach.”
“We’ve got to go!” Delaney announced as she made an attempt to get her rounded body out of the booth. “I want to see what’s happening in Gusher Flats.”
Chad was already two steps ahead of her. “Sweetheart, please sit down.”
“I will not!” Delaney made another attempt to rise to her feet and succeeded. “I want to go to Gusher Flats! I want to see what happened to my Mustang.”
The waitress stared in horror at her agitated customers. “I am so sorry,” she apologized to Chad. “I had no idea …”
“It’s okay, ma’am. We think it’s the same two crooks who stole my wife’s car. Not to mention some other things.”
Berta floundered for words. “Please forgive me.”
Delaney was as unrelenting as a gnat. “I want to go to Gusher Flats!”
Chad took his beloved’s hands into his own. “Dear, I want you to think about this for a moment. Let’s come up with a plan. First, we should sit down, and I will try to get Detective Travis on the pay phone up front. Meanwhile, Berta can get us something to eat. We’re not going to be good for anything or anybody if we are hungry. Then we’ll discuss things and go from there.”
Tears welled up in Delaney’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just so darn emotional. And as usual, Chad, you are making a lot of sense.” She reluctantly slid back down into her seat.
Chad sat across from Delaney. “I’m going to have the enchiladas. Dear, what would you like?”
“Are we close enough to the beach for clam chowder?” Delaney asked Berta.
“Coming right up, young lady. Anything else?”
“Maybe some fruit salad for the wife.” Chad nodded his chin curtly as if he were putting a period at the end of a sentence.
Delaney knew that Chad’s nodding chin meant he was quite finished with a conversation.
Berta nodded back and headed for the kitchen.
Chad gently assisted his wife to her feet. “Let’s go make that phone call.”
“Do you really think Detective Travis will be in his office? It’s Saturday.”
The couple walked arm in arm to the pay phone, which was near the front door.
“Somebody will be.” Chad dialed the number and waited for the operator to ask for the long distance toll.
“That will be three dollars and fifty cents for the first three minutes.”
With her hands full of coins, Delaney fed the quarters into the slot. Then she stepped close to Chad. They stood cheek to cheek so both of them could hear.
“Sheriff’s department,” a male voice answered.
“Hello, Detective Travis! It’s Chad Fox.”
“This is Deputy Marr.”
“Oh, excuse me, sir.”
The deputy’s voice was flat and cool. “How can I help you, Mr. Fox?”
“Is Detective Travis still in? He called my wife and me earlier this morning.”
“No, sir. Would you like to leave a message?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know if he’s over in Gusher Flats, would you?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, I guess you can tell him I called.” Chad scrunched his upper lip and returned the receiver to its cradle. “Detective Travis is probably running through Gusher Flats with two guns blazing, but I can guarantee you that Deputy Marr isn’t about to breathe a word about it.”
“I believe you’re right.” Delaney laced her fingers through Chad’s.
Chad tapped his foot on the floor. “I’ll tell you what, Delaney. We haven’t even gotten halfway to the beach yet. I know you won’t argue with me if I suggest turning around and heading for Gusher Flats. It’s only a little over sixty miles from here – a smidgen of an hour for us.”
“We should go!”
“Is there anything else to do in Gusher Flats while we’re there?”
“There are two little coffee shops.”
<
br /> “Seriously? That’s it?”
“The business district is all of two blocks long,” Delaney chuckled. She always enjoyed filling in the details about her home turf since Chad was not a native of Shale County. “Sally’s Pies has the best desserts ever. Lemon meringue pie … German chocolate cake … peach cobbler … you name it, and they’ve probably got it. The building is kind of rustic, but you can’t beat the food.”
“Sounds like a place after my own heart.”
Chad and Delaney left a generous tip for Berta before they parted ways.
Berta smiled as she tucked the gratuity into the pocket of her apron. “I hope everything works out for the best,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll even get your Mustang back.”
As the pair got into their SUV, Chad patted his tummy. “At this rate, we’re going to eat our way through California today.”
“Hey, I just had chowder. And a side of fruit salad.”
Chad smiled. “I know you did, sweet gal.”
Delaney buckled her seat belt and put on her pink sunglasses.
“Next stop: Gusher Flats, California!” Chad announced. And with that, he turned the key in the ignition and backed out of their parking spot. They were on their way to the shriveled up remains of Gusher Flats. It had once been a boomtown when a colossal gusher spewed from the barren earth over eighty years before. Then as time passed, most of its citizens moved to nearby Roughneck for one reason or another. Still, the tiny burg had managed to survive as an isolated bedroom community and pit stop for travelers.
Delaney pouted. “I’m still sick of how Detective Travis keeps bossing us around.”
“I should have known he had something up his sleeve when he called this morning – especially on a Saturday.”
“That darned weasel!”
“You can’t tell me he didn’t know anything about the standoff in Gusher Flats,” Chad ruminated. “Heck, for all we know, he was calling us from Sally’s Pies.”
“That’s why he kept trying to get us to go someplace in the opposite direction … Yosemite … Pebble Beach … anywhere but Gusher Flats.”
By the time Chad and Delaney arrived in Gusher Flats, the entire town was under siege.