“Here’s your hat, cowboy.” I tossed it on the table in front of him.
He picked it up and settled it on his head without looking up. “Thanks.”
“I don’t know why I bothered,” I said. “I oughta let you fry out in the sun. Maybe it would bake some brains into that empty head of yours.”
He stopped scrubbing on the leather and looked up. His eyes were still webbed with red lines, and his lip was cut and swollen under his long, sandy mustache. A bruise the size of a small plum bloomed on his cheek. One eye was almost swollen shut. “Look, Benni, I know I acted like the biggest asshole this side of Texas. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not just me you should be apologizing to.”
He lay the old blackened hackamore down on the wooden table in front of him. “I didn’t mean to make small of you. You know how much I care about you.”
“I know, but ...”
“He just grates on my nerves, you know? He’s always lookin‘ at me like I’m a piece of shit caught on his boot heel.”
I smiled, thinking that was pretty much what Gabe felt Wade thought about him. “He’s jealous, Wade. You can understand that, can’t you? Whenever he sees you, he’s reminded of Jack. I loved your brother so much that it’s hard for Gabe. He always feels second best. Think about being in his shoes for a moment. How would you like that feeling?”
He turned his head and didn’t answer. I watched his head slowly drop, and in a few minutes his shoulders started shaking.
His sobs gradually became audible, and I went to him, placing my hand on his broad back. I rubbed a slow circle as he bent over the buttery-smelling tack and cried for his brother. Eventually hot tears rolled down my own face, though this time they weren’t for my sorrow.
“You have to let him go, Wade,” I said.
“No!” He slammed his fist on the table. The tack hopped and trembled in front of him. In the cool, sun-speckled barn, birds fluttered and chirped, startled by his voice. They darted out through the dovecote at the top of the barn.
“You have to.” I continued to rub his back, like you would a frightened child, until his crying stopped. He wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve, then stood up, hunching over and flinching as he did. Dirt from Gabe’s hiking boot stained the front of his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick and wet.
“For feeling sad because you miss your brother? C‘mon, Wade.”
“Now I’m not just a jerk. I’m a wimp, too.”
I sighed. Men. No wonder they died of heart attacks and hypertension. Maybe they should teach crying classes to high school boys and save us all some grief later on. “I accept your apology. Just no more cracks about me and Gabe, okay?”
He nodded. “I’ll apologize to your ...” He cleared his throat, unable to say it. “... Ortiz the next time I see him. Okay?”
I gave him a careful hug. “That would be great. I gotta go now. I’m so behind in my work that this may be my last exhibit if I’m not careful.”
He walked with me over to the double barn doors, trying to disguise his limp. “What do you think’s going to happen with that guy’s murder? Do you really think I’m going to take the fall for it?”
“Not if I can help it,” I said. “I’m working on it now. I’ll let you know if I find anything out. In the meantime, do whatever Amanda says and please, don’t leave the ranch.”
“I don’t intend to. I just hope this gets wound up soon. Didn’t think I’d ever say it, but I’m starting to miss Texas. And I for sure miss my kids.”
“We’re working on getting you back there as quick as possible.” I started out the door into the sunlight.
“Hey, Benni.”
I turned around and squinted in the sunlight at the darkened outline of Wade in the barn. His features were undecipherable, and for a moment I had an eerie sensation of seeing Jack again. But for the first time since Jack died, it was something I didn’t want to experience, this acute physical memory of him. Though a part of me would always love Jack, that time of my life was over.
“Yes?” I waited in the warm sunlight.
He touched two fingers to his Stetson. “Thanks.”
I lifted a hand in acknowledgment, feeling something give in my heart, like a guitar string breaking. “No problem, Wade. What are friends for?”
13
ON THE RIDE to town, I contemplated my next move. After everything that had taken place in the last twenty-four hours, I decided what I needed was to speak with someone sane, sensible, and not ruled by their emotions.
“She’s in her office,” the clerk at Blind Harry’s said. “But she’s not alone.”
“Who’s in there?” I asked.
She pointed to the steep wooden stairs, and I saw my cousin descending, wearing a smile that would light up Little Rock and all its surrounding communities. I met him at the bottom step.
“Either you just won the lottery, or Elvia was nice to you this morning,” I commented.
“Saturday night’s the night,” he said. “And she even offered me a cup of coffee.”
“Wow,” I said. “She must be melting. She only does that to every sales rep and Tom, Dick, and Harry who crosses her doorstep.”
“Don’t be such a negative Nellie,” he said. “Just because your own sweet life is in tattered shambles, don’t be rainin‘ on my parade.”
“You’re right,” I said, holding my hand to my heart and laughing for the first time this morning. “I’m being a snot. Congratulations on your success. I wish you a double-wide trailer full of luck on your upcoming date.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear, “ ‘Cause you’re going to need it.”
“Just you wait. You’re going to be forced to gobble up those words someday. How’d it go this morning, by the way?”
“Don’t ask,” I said with a groan. “And try not to comment on Gabe’s black eye and fat lip when you see them.”
A head popped up from behind the paperback mystery section.
“Black eye!” Sam said, his voice jubilant. “Fat lip!” He apparently had pulled an early shift at Blind Harry’s today. That explained why he wasn’t out at the ranch to enjoy his father’s adolescent skirmish with Wade.
“What happened?” Emory asked, his green eyes bright.
“Yeah, what happened?” Sam echoed. His quarter-moon grin was entirely too enthusiastic.
I shook a finger at both of them. “Look, I’m warning you both. Gabe is in no mood to be teased about this. If you want to stay among the living, I’d suggest you just ignore his injuries.”
“What happened?” Sam whined.
I told them the condensed version, trying not to laugh at Sam’s obvious enjoyment at hearing how his father lost control.
“This is so cool,” Sam said. “I would have never thought Dad would get so amped at someone that he’d hit him! Man, I’m going to rag on him about this for months.” His face lit up. “Years!”
I jerked my thumb over at his piles of books. “Right now you’d better get back to work or you’re going to get bugged by one tiny but powerful little Latina lady.”
His dark eyes sparkled with laughter. “She’ll cut me slack. I sell too many books.”
“You are getting almost as arrogant as that father of yours.”
“Walk me out to my car,” Emory said. When we reached the Corvette, which he’d miraculously managed to park directly in front of Blind Harry’s, he asked, “So, where does Wade stand legally at this point?”
I told him about the gum, what Amanda had said, and the questions I’d asked the bartender at the Frio. “Amanda’s going to get her investigator working on it, too,” I added.
“You’re too involved in this,” he said, sticking his hands deep into the pockets of his dark wool slacks. “That worries me to no end.” His pearl gray cashmere sweater looked warm and soft in the weak noon sunlight.
“Like I said last night, Emory, I don’t have a choice. I’m not going to put myse
lf in danger. Not if I can help it, anyway.”
He studied me silently, green eyes troubled. For the first time, I noticed fine age lines radiating from them, and a part of me desperately hoped that my best friend could see how wonderful this man was, how lucky she’d be to have him in her life.
“Don’t worry, Emory. I’ll be very discreet with my questions.”
“I’ll see what I can find out with my contacts at the paper. I think you’re right that the person who did this is, unfortunately, one of the people closest to her.” He reached into the car and pulled out a small leather day planner. “Give me the names of the people who might be involved again, and I’ll see what I can dig up.”
“Bobby ... uh, Robert Sanchez. Grew up here in San Celina. Parker Williams ... her professional name is P.L. Williams. She’s originally from Bakersfield. Olivia Contreras. Another native San Celinan. Roland Bennett ... he’s the one who owns the gallery. He lived in San Francisco before coming here, that’s all I know. And Greer Shannon. Her family’s been here five generations. I guess that’s it.”
“And Isaac Lyons,” he added.
“What? You erase his name right now. He wouldn’t kill his own granddaughter.”
“Stepgranddaughter,” he corrected. “Benni, you’ve been married to a cop long enough to know that nothing is too outlandish when it comes to homicide.” He closed the day planner and threw it back down on the passenger seat. “His name stays ... for the time being.”
I scowled at him but didn’t argue. Deep down, I knew he was right, but that possibility was something I didn’t want to contemplate.
“We’ll have to talk tonight. I didn’t even get to hear the details of how you finally convinced Elvia to go out with you.”
“Now, you know she wouldn’t be able to resist my charming self for much longer.”
“You drugged her,” I concluded. “That is against the law, you know.”
“Get something to eat, sweetcakes, you’re getting pissy.”
“You are crazy, no doubt about it.”
“Now you know that’s nothin‘ if not true. I come from a long, proud line of crazy fools. You know us southern men have to be either plumb insane or drunk on homemade bourbon to have voted on goin’ to war without a single cannon factory among us.”
“Then you are a credit to your heritage. Call me at the museum if you find anything out. After I talk to Elvia and grab something to eat, I’ll be there the rest of the day.”
Upstairs, Elvia poured me a cup of coffee and said, “Tell me about this morning’s rumble between the cowboy and the cop.”
“Sam tattled, didn’t he?” I asked. “Couldn’t he wait thirty seconds? Geez, he’s a worse gossip than Dove and all her old cronies.”
“He didn’t have details, so give.”
I filled her in on everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I was on my second cup of coffee before I finished.
“What a mess,” Elvia said. “But I’m not surprised they finally tangled. This has been brewing since Wade arrived.”
“I know. Now that some of the steam’s been let out of the pressure cooker, maybe we can all get down to business and find out who really killed Shelby and Kip.”
She shook her head. “I knew you’d end up getting involved. It’s too bad you’re too old to join the police academy. I think you missed your true calling in life.”
I grinned. “One cop in the family is enough. I’ve got Emory looking into the backgrounds of those closest to Shelby. Specifically the ones who attended the barbecue. Don’t worry, I’ll be very careful about who I question. I’ve learned my lesson. Two head injuries in less than a year are certainly enough for this cowgirl.”
“Right.” Elvia’s expression said she didn’t buy my statement for one minute. “But, to help in the cause of keeping you so busy you can’t get into trouble, I have a request of you.”
I sat up, instantly suspicious at the sweetly conniving tone of her voice. “No,” I said instinctively.
“You haven’t even heard what it is yet,” Elvia said, irritated.
“Whatever it is, I already know it’s something I don’t want to do.”
“I’m desperate. You’re my last hope.”
“No.”
She sat up, straight and authoritative, in her rose-colored executive chair. “Maribelle D‘Angelo just had emergency appendectomy surgery.”
“My heartfelt sympathy,” I said, standing up, preparing to flee. I had no idea what Maribelle D‘Angelo’s job was, but I was certain of one thing ... I didn’t want it.
She ran her words together so fast I almost didn’t catch them. “She’s the cornerstone for the fashion show tomorrow night, and you’re the only person I know who’s the same size.” The fashion show, a fund-raiser for the Historical Society and Fine Arts Guild, was called “San Celina—A Century of Fashion.” Elvia was the chairperson this year.
“Fashion show!” I squealed. “No way, José. Not in this lifetime. Prancing in front of all of San Celina like a steer being auctioned off? Not this puppy. Get someone else.”
Elvia stood up, an evil smile on her face, and said the words I knew in my heart were coming. “Mi amiga, you owe me. Big time. Remember?”
I froze. “Dang it.”
Elvia handed me a piece of paper. “This is the place where you’ll be fitted, and they’ll give you your outfit. I made an appointment for you today at four o‘clock. You and Maribelle are the same size, so there shouldn’t be much alteration. On the day of the show, be at the Elks Club two hours early so the makeup and hair people can work their magic. You might want to think about getting there three hours early so they have extra time.”
I stuck my tongue out at her for that comment.
She ignored me and continued. “The show starts at seven-thirty. We’re hoping for a big crowd. We’ve already sold two hundred and fifteen tickets.”
“Two hundred and fifteen?” I echoed weakly. “What exactly am I wearing?”
She nodded at the paper. “You’re number forty-five—the last one.”
I looked down at the paper: Peacock blue ball gown circa 1884 (bone corset and bustle included).
“A corset.” I moaned. “A bustle?”
Elvia just laughed.
14
“WHERE HAVE YOU been?” my head docent cried when I walked through the museum’s front door. “I’ve left a million messages for you.”
“I’m here now,” I said in my most soothing voice. “What’s wrong?”
“We have two busloads of schoolkids due in at one o‘clock, and two of my people have called in sick. I can’t give a tour to a hundred children alone.”
I resolved it by begging two quilters working in the co-op studios to fill in so that each person would only have about thirty or so charges. I also called the school to make sure that plenty of adults were coming with the kids. When they arrived, I decided to take a group myself, breaking the number per tour guide down even further, and managed to coordinate it so none of us was in the same room at the same time. So it was past three o‘clock before I actually went into my office to check my mail and messages. I hadn’t been there in a couple of days, and my answering machine had seven flashing messages. I settled back in my chair with my wooden letter opener and started slitting open envelopes while I listened to my messages. The first two were artists requesting information about joining our co-op. The third was a sales rep for a wholesale framing company. I was reading a colorful, crayoned letter of thanks from our last set of schoolkids when Kip’s voice caused me to drop the letter and sit upright in my chair.
“Benni? Uh ... this is Kip. I ... uh ... can you meet me at the Frio Saloon tonight? ‘Bout eight o’clock? There’s ... I tried to take care of something ... about ... you know. I tried to do it for her, not like for money or anything, but it’s not working. I’m kinda nervous. They ... uh ... Benni, I don’t know what to do. Shelby ... uh ... she trusted you. You gotta help me decide what to do.” A
truck rumbled in the background telling me that his call had most likely been made from an outside pay phone. “Please,” he said, then hung up.
The machine beeped. I rewound it and listened to it three more times. Even then I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell me. I hit the top of my desk in frustration. If only I’d come by the museum yesterday afternoon and listened to my messages, Kip might still be alive, and we’d know who killed Shelby. I pulled the tape out of the machine and grabbed my purse.
“I’ll be at the police station,” I told the lady working behind the counter at the museum’s small gift shop.
Gabe was tied up in a meeting, so I waited in his secretary’s office. Maggie pressed me for details about his ravaged face.
“I tried for a little levity and told him his face would scare a bulldog off a meat truck. He didn’t laugh.” She winked at me. Out of all the police department employees, I was willing to bet only Maggie had been brave enough to mention his condition. She knew she had job security.
“I’ll tell you,” I said. “But you didn’t hear this from me.”
“Ranchwoman’s honor,” she said, flashing a palm. By the time I finished the story, her creamy brown cheeks were flushed dark rose, and she was laughing so hard tears sparkled in her eyes. “Oh, I wish I could have been there. I wish I had pictures for the department scrapbook.”
She managed to bring herself under control by the time Gabe’s meeting ended, and she announced my presence with a calm, normal voice. Only the glint in her black eyes as she nodded at me to go on in gave away her true feelings. She closed the door softly behind me.
Gabe was dressed in a dark gray Brooks Brothers suit, requisite white shirt, chic print tie. Very responsible looking. Very ... police chief-like.
Unfortunately the half-grown-out beard, swollen bottom lip, small white bandage on his left cheek, and rainbow shiner under his right eye sort of knocked the legs, so to speak, out from under his suit’s authority. Should I just ignore what happened and get right down to telling him about Kip’s message?
Dove in the Window Page 21