Stone Cold Blooded

by Catherine Dilts

  * * *

  Police Chief Bill Sharp placed barricades on Hill Street just beyond the rock shop entrance, with signs almost as forbidding as the one on Eustace Day’s gate. No vehicles were permitted beyond that point except for the residents of the two homes at the end of the cul-de-sac.

  The Rock of Ages unexpectedly became Gossip Central as frustrated looky-loos loitered at the shop, exchanging theories about Eustace Day’s demise.

  Del arrived before noon in an old truck given to him by his friend Barton Potts.

  “Am I glad to see you!” Morgan told the old cowboy.

  Business had become steady under Morgan’s direction. She had been on the verge of hiring an additional employee when Kendall and Allie unexpectedly returned to Golden Springs. Theoretically, they didn’t need extra help now, but that only worked if Kendall actually pitched in to help on a more than random basis. Kendall’s mismanagement had nearly lost them the family rock shop once. Morgan wasn’t going to let it happen again.

  By two in the afternoon, Del slumped onto the aspen wood bench across from the checkout counter. Morgan was tempted to take a break with him, when a teenager approached the counter.

  “Hi. Mr. Bahr from the feed store said you were hiring. I’m here for the job.”

  The kid resembled a teen idol, except for front teeth badly in need of braces. He only stood five feet, but his black hair added another four inches, rising from his scalp in a style she’d seen on CD cases for a British boy band. He looked like the victim of an electric shock. Morgan would have guessed him to be fourteen at the most. Too young to work the hours she needed.

  “I’m Ned.” He held out a hand.

  “Morgan Iverson.” She returned his surprisingly firm and confident handshake. “I don’t recall telling Mr. Bahr I was looking for help.”

  A flush crept up Ned’s acne-dotted cheeks.

  “Perhaps I misunderstood, but I was certain Mr. Bahr said ‘the rock shop on Hill Street could use a hand’.” He did a passable imitation of Snowy Bahr’s deep, rumbling voice, then returned to his own boyish tone. “I decided to take a chance, even though it’s a long walk.”

  “Half a mile from Main Street.” Morgan knew. She often walked to town, and the climb back uphill was a workout. “Mr. Bahr might have heard me talk about hiring extra help, but that was before my brother returned from his travels.”

  Ned scanned the shop. People crowded the narrow aisles, their feet clomping across the pine floor, voices bouncing off the low ceiling, and hands scrabbling through wooden bins full of rocks and fossils.

  “You don’t need help now?”

  Ned wore a surprisingly sophisticated and amused expression for one so young. Morgan suspected this was a teenager accustomed to plowing past setbacks.

  “How old are you, Ned?”

  He shrugged. “I’m short for a high school junior. But I really am sixteen.”

  Morgan might have guessed sixty, based on his clothing choices. Ned wore a white button down shirt and wide blue tie. From their sloppy fit, she guessed Ned had raided an older relative’s closet. The shirt draped over blue jeans that crumpled to a stop at unlaced purple high top sneakers.

  A family approached the checkout counter. Del was spinning a yarn about the recent Sasquatch sightings in Golden Springs, entertaining a gaggle of tourists who were no doubt delighted to talk to an authentic Colorado cowboy.

  “Ned, hang on,” Morgan said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  As she finished ringing up the postcards, shark teeth, and an angel donkey T-shirt, two rock hounds entered the shop. The men were regular attendees of the Pine County Gemstone Society and Prospecting Club Morgan had recently joined.

  “Do you have any hammers? You know.” Buck slammed a massive fist into the palm of his hand. “Prospecting hammers?”

  “Our tool and lapidary section isn’t very organized,” Morgan said. “I think I remember seeing hammers the last time I checked.”

  Another customer approached behind Buck and Shawn, holding a battered shopping basket packed with rocks.

  “I’ll find them,” Ned told Morgan. “Where is the lapidary section?”

  Morgan pointed. Ned led the rock hounds to a far corner of the shop. After Morgan had checked out several more customers, their small purchases slowly adding to the meager coffers of the rock shop, Ned returned to the checkout counter. Buck carried one of the brutal-looking hammers. Morgan rang up the pricey purchase.

  “I got the last one,” Buck said.

  “We’d better order more,” she said.

  “Got it.” Ned scribbled on the notepad Morgan kept at the counter, and not simply writing “hammer.” He included the brand name and model number.

  As they prepared to close the shop for the day, Morgan noticed the teen sweeping the dust and grit of the day’s business from the pine floor.

  “Del,” Morgan whispered. “Did you tell Ned to clean up?”

  “Nope. The kid asked me where to find a broom and dustpan, and he just set to work.”

  “I think we should hire him.”

  “We could do worse,” Del said. “The customers seemed to like him.”

  “I’d better consult with Kendall first,” Morgan said. “He was pretty upset that I bought that cabin without discussing it with him.”

  Del nodded. “It’s best to keep the peace where family is concerned.”

  Morgan waited until Ned had tapped the substantial contents of the dustpan into the trash.

  “Ned, I’m co-owner of the rock shop,” Morgan said. “I’ll pay you for your work today, but I can’t promise you a permanent job. I need to discuss this with my brother first.”

  Morgan handed Ned bills and coins, and for the first time that day, he looked like a kid, wide-eyed with wonder.

  “Wow. Thanks!”

  “You did good,” Del said.

  Ned sorted out the cash on top of the glass display case. When he finished tucking the money into his jeans pocket, he leaned closer to the case.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “A Triceratops brow horn,” Morgan unlocked the case and pulled out the descriptive card.

  “ ‘Species: Triceratops horridus,’ ” Ned read. “Seventy million years old! That’s cool. Is it really worth three thousand dollars?”

  “Yes,” Morgan said. “That’s why we keep it in this display case.”

  “You’d better get moving, Morgan,” Del said. “You’ll be late. I’ll lock up.”

  “Can I give you a ride home?” Morgan asked Ned.

  The teen’s face flushed. “I can walk.”

  “Mrs. Iverson’s heading to town anyway,” Del said. “You might as well save your feet some wear and tear, if you want to work again tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Ned said. “You’ve sold me on the idea.”

  “First we need to feed the donkeys,” Morgan said.

  “The donkeys on the T-shirts?” Ned’s face lit up again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Morgan introduced the teen to Adelaide and Houdini, then sent him clambering up the ladder to the loft to toss down a bale of hay. After feeding the donkeys, they headed to Golden Springs.

  “Where do you live?” Morgan asked.

  Ned looked out the passenger window at the cottonwood trees lining the irrigation ditch.

  “It’s kind of out of the way.”

  “I don’t mind,” Morgan said.

  “My parents said they’d be at some deal in the park tonight. You can drop me off there.”

  Not far from the footbridge in Mineral Springs Park, a cluster of people sat on blankets spread on the grass. An older woman patted her thick hands on a drum while a young man strummed an acoustic guitar. Elrond, the skinny owner of the local record store, played flute. A hazy blue cloud hovered over the audience.


  Ned hopped out of the car and darted across the bridge. A woman in a long denim skirt and loose yellow tunic pulled him into a hug. From this distance, Morgan guessed her to be in her early thirties. Possibly his mother, but definitely a relative, with hair as straight and black as Ned’s. A man with a curly red ponytail joined them.

  When Ned pointed to Morgan’s car, she waved at the trio. Morgan waited to see if his parents would want to talk to this stranger dropping their son off, but the couple rejoined the impromptu concert in the park.

  Woodstock in Golden Springs. Since the legalization of recreational marijuana, the peace and love crowd had rushed to Colorado in droves. Morgan supposed one could attract a worse crowd.

  She drove the three blocks to Bibi’s Bakery and parked in the small back lot. The bakery was closed, so Morgan let herself into the kitchen, then climbed the narrow stairs to Bernie’s apartment. She tapped on the door. Bernie pulled it open, then hobbled to the sofa to pull on her other running shoe.

  “I told you, you don’t have to knock. Mi casa su casa and all that.”

  “I wouldn’t want to walk in on you and Rolf in the middle of an intimate moment,” Morgan said.

  “I was serious when I said we’re saving those activities for our honeymoon.” Bernie tied the laces on her sneaker, then looked up at Morgan. “Rolf can’t make it tonight. He’s talking to the Mineral Springs riding stable about lessons for Stacie.”

  Morgan gathered her running clothes and went into the small bathroom.

  “His daughter is at that horse crazy age.” Morgan spoke loudly through the closed door. “Kurt can’t make it tonight, either. The campaign is heating up, plus he’s working on a story about the explosions at Eustace Day’s ranch.”

  “Kurt is a busy guy.”

  Morgan pulled her curly black hair, streaked with too much white these days, into a ponytail. She exited the bathroom and grabbed the enormous camouflage fanny pack Del had given her soon after her arrival in Golden Springs. Morgan had learned the value of certain items the hard way. A pocketknife, flashlight, and matches could save a person’s life.

  * * *

  The drive down Topaz Pass in Bernie’s enormous SUV was a little over twenty miles, which gave the women time to catch up. Since Rolf’s proposal, Bernie talked about little else but her wedding. Morgan couldn’t fault her friend. Bernie was only in her thirties, but as a plus-size gal, she had given up on romance. That was until she met big-and-tall Rolf.

  They reached O’Reily’s Irish Pub in downtown Granite Junction. The sturdy, narrow brick building had dark window frames and a heavy wooden door that stood open in the summer heat.

  Morgan and Bernie had completed more than ten “runs,” and proudly wore the O’Reily’s Runners T-shirts their dedication had earned them. On the front, a bear dressed like a leprechaun stole a beer from a picnic basket. Morgan wondered if seeing the running club shirts had given Lorina the idea that the naked creature at Eustace Day’s was a leprechaun. A naked leprechaun.

  After signing in, runners gathered on the sidewalk in front of the pub to hear the rules for the umpteenth time. At the organizer’s shout of “Go!”, runners poured down the sidewalk.

  “Let’s see how far we can run this time,” Bernie said.

  Morgan jogged with her friend for several downtown blocks, dodging light posts and parking meters, until they reached the park. A wide gravel trail followed a creek, tracing a curving line through lush grass and flowerbeds. Aspen, cottonwood, and pine trees shaded benches, many occupied by snoozing homeless people.

  Morgan and Bernie trotted along at a decent pace, no longer the back of the pack. There were typically people behind them on their weekly runs now.

  “Ow!”

  Bernie stopped abruptly, sending up a spray of gravel and dust. She bent over and grabbed her right calf. A group of runners managed to dodge around her.

  “What’s wrong?” Morgan asked, already digging in her fanny pack for her cell phone.

  “Cramp,” Bernie moaned.

  Morgan nixed the 911 call.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Bench. I need to sit.”

  Morgan helped her friend hobble to an unoccupied park bench.

  “Ow ow ow ow.”

  “You need to stretch,” Morgan said. “Trust me, sitting will only make it worse.”

  She demonstrated for Bernie, bracing her hands against the back of the bench and extending behind her first one leg, then the other. After a few minutes of stretching, Bernie relaxed.

  “I think it passed,” Bernie said. “Whew! That was painful.”

  “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Morgan said. “It’s hot today. Did you drink enough water?”

  In answer, Bernie pulled a plastic bottle from the mesh pocket on her fanny pack and guzzled.

  “I’ve been drinking this herb tea that’s supposed to help you drop water weight,” Bernie said. “Maybe I overdid it.”

  “If you’re losing water weight, in Colorado, in July. . . ”

  The high altitude combined with the dry climate made dehydration particularly dangerous.

  “I know,” Bernie said. “But my wedding dress will look so much better if I can lose fifty pounds.”

  “In six months? That’s a couple pounds a week. Have you talked to your doctor?”

  “She just gave me the usual diet and exercise lecture,” Bernie said. “I’ve already been doing that this entire year, and I’ve only lost twenty two pounds.”

  “That’s great,” Morgan said. “Most people would be envious of you.”

  “It’s not enough.” She patted a hand against her ample tummy. “I’ve got to lose this lard.”

  “Bernie, your fiancé asked you to marry him when you were heavier.”

  Morgan’s cell phone chimed. Everyone knew she attended the O’Reily’s Runners event on Tuesdays. If someone called, it had to be important. The rock shop’s number appeared on her caller ID.

  “Hold that thought.” She answered her phone. “This is Morgan.”

  Kendall’s voice boomed through the small phone.

  “What were you thinking, leaving the shop door open?”

  “The door?” Morgan asked.

  “The front door. Wide open.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  A group jogged past the bench, sneakers crunching on the gravel path. Their laughter competed with the raucous cawing of three magpies fighting over the delectable contents of a trash barrel. Morgan pressed the cell phone to her ear, straining to hear her brother.

  “When Allie, Marissa and I got home, the front door was not merely unlocked. It was open. I didn’t know whether to call Chief Sharp or not. I probably should have, but when I looked around, there was no one inside.”

  “When I left,” Morgan said, “Del was still there. He never forgets to lock up.”

  “The shop was empty,” Kendall said. “Not empty of goods. You know what I mean. No one was here. Nothing appears to be missing, either. So Del must have—”

  “Del would not forget to lock the door,” Morgan interrupted. “Someone had to break in.”

  “What could anyone want in the Rock of Ages that would be worth the risk of jail time?”

  “The Triceratops horn,” Morgan said. “Or our gemstones.”

  She heard scuffling on the other end of the phone as Kendall must have raced across the pine floor to the display cases.

  “The topaz is here, and so is the brow horn,” he said. “With all the traffic on Hill Street the last two days, we need to be more careful. A thief could have walked in and taken everything. It’s a good thing we keep the cases locked.”

  “A thief would have smashed the display cases,” Morgan said.

  Unless the thief thought the horn was a treasure, and could not risk damaging it. Could Buckskin
Quinn have attempted to steal the Triceratops horn? If so, he had been remarkably foolish by making a big deal of introducing himself to Morgan.

  “Kendall, before we speculate any further, let me call Del.”

  When she called Barton’s cabin, Lorina Dimple answered.

  “Barton’s got this beautiful big kitchen,” she said, “and the most cooking he does is opening a can or sticking something in the microwave. I’m fixing these boys a real dinner.”

  “That’s nice.” Morgan wasn’t sure how interested Del was in Lorina, but he needed to be reminded to eat half the time. Maybe the cowgirl could fatten him up. “Can I talk to Del?”

  “You bet. Del!” Lorina yelled. “Boss lady on the phone.”

  Morgan had to assure Del that everyone was okay, including Adelaide, the pregnant donkey.

  “I’m calling to ask whether you locked up when you left the shop.”

  “Yep. I got my key right here. Why?”

  “Kendall just called and said the front door to the shop was open when he got home. Like open open.”

  “Only three people have keys. You, me, and Kendall. You left before me, and Kendall wasn’t around.” Del paused. “Well, I can see why you might think I forgot to lock the door.”

  “Nobody’s accusing you of negligence,” Morgan said. Except perhaps Kendall, but he would rather blame his sister than Del, she was certain. “I’m just trying to eliminate the obvious possibilities.”

  “Do I need to come up there?” Del asked. “Was anything stolen?”

  “Kendall said nothing was missing.”

  For the next several minutes, phone calls flew back and forth. Bernie seemed content to rest on the park bench while Morgan paced circles in the grass. Kendall could not let go of the idea that Del had left the door open.

  “I think you or I need to be there to close up from now on,” Kendall said. “We can’t place that responsibility on an employee.”

  Morgan bristled. Del was more than an employee. He was family. But she let her brother’s words pass for the moment as she addressed a bigger concern.