Stone Cold Blooded

by Catherine Dilts

  There was a pause, the telephone line going silent. When Roxy spoke again, her raspy smoker’s voice was soft, maybe even on the verge of tears.

  “I need to know what happened. Can we at least meet and talk about it? Maybe you can help me make sense of it. ‘Cause right now, grandpa’s death don’t add up to me.”

  Morgan’s eyes teared up hearing the pain in Roxy’s words. She wanted to offer whatever comfort she could, but she wasn’t going alone. She had learned her lesson.

  “I’ll need to bring my investigative partner with me. Kurt Willard.”

  “See, I knew you were a PI.”

  Morgan didn’t correct her this time.

  “I live a ways out,” the granddaughter said. “Can you meet me at the Wagon Wheel in Wild Donkey, at say, six o’clock? This Wednesday.”

  “Wild Donkey?” Morgan asked.

  “Yeah, I know,” Roxy said. “Funny name for a town. The local kids have a heyday with it, as you can imagine. Grab a pencil. I’ll give you directions.”

  “Just give me the address. I can Google it.”

  “Google don’t work for Wild Donkey.”

  As Morgan jotted down the convoluted instructions, she wondered, What have I gotten myself into?

  * * *

  Kendall and Allie returned to the Rock of Ages at three, as promised. Kendall wore a suit, and Allie resembled a PTA president instead of her usual look of mountain mama. Morgan wondered if they’d been to another job interview, but she was in too much of a hurry to inquire.

  She walked behind the barn and up the hill to the cabin. The satisfying sound of hammers filled the air. David climbed down a ladder. A loose bandana hung around his neck. He lifted it to mop the sweat off his face.

  “I’m driving to town,” Morgan said. “I won’t be coming back to the shop today, so I’ll see you at Bernie’s later.”

  “If it’s okay,” David said, “I’d like to spend the night here. Aunt Allie invited me for dinner. She said I can take a shower, too. I’ll get a sleeping bag out of the trailer. It’ll be like camping.”

  “There’s no restroom here,” Morgan said.

  “But the one in the trailer is functional. If I can have the key.”

  Morgan worked the key to Del’s trailer off her keychain and handed it to her son.

  “I can’t believe how fast the roof replacement is going,” Morgan said.

  “It’s a small, simple job,” David said, “and fortunately the cabin is structurally sound. We’ll have it done tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Then we can unload the trailer,” Morgan said.

  David placed his hands on his hips and studied the cabin. “I’d rather get some shutters put up, and a lock for the door. If that newspaper guy’s kids are staying here, they can help. I talked to them at church yesterday, but I didn’t know I’d be hanging out with them, so I didn’t get their numbers.”

  “I’ll see Kurt—” Morgan paused. “Their father, today.” She could feel heat rise in her cheeks. “I’m working on his campaign for City Council,” she hastened to add.

  “It’s okay, Mom. I figured it out already.”

  “You did?” Morgan had been dreading telling her adult children that she was dating. They had only recently mourned Sam’s passing as a family. She had feared her children’s emotions were still too raw to introduce Kurt into their lives. But maybe she was making leaps and bounds in David’s assumption. “Figured out what?”

  “Kurt likes you.” David assumed the tone of parent for a moment. “Dad’s been gone for almost three years now. I’m glad you weren’t one of those people who jumps into a new relationship right away, but I suppose you’ve waited long enough.”

  “We’ve only started dating,” Morgan said, feeling odd explaining herself to her son. “This isn’t serious yet.”

  “Neither are me and Chelsea. But you know, don’t you? Or is it that way when you’re older?” It was David’s turn to blush. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to call you old.”

  “No offense taken. It is different when you’re older. At least for me it is. Your father was a special man, and our marriage was all I wanted. But God had different plans.” Who would have thought those plans would one day involve the Golden Springs newspaper editor? “I’ll text Kurt and get his sons’ numbers,” Morgan said, hoping to change the subject gracefully. “You can call them and decide if you want to invite them up here tonight, or after the roof is finished.”

  “My guess is they’ll want to move into their own bachelor pad as soon as possible. They’re probably getting tired of being cooped up in that fancy hotel with their mother, and sharing a guest room at their dad’s wouldn’t be fun. They do have a lot of electronic gadgets, though, and you said there’s no electricity in the trailer?”

  “Right,” Morgan said.

  “We’ll see how serious the California dudes are about roughing it.”

  Morgan thought about all the inconveniences and the unsettled nature of David’s visit. He was supposed to be on vacation, and had already put in a sweaty day’s labor.

  “I’m sorry things are so chaotic here.”

  “No need to apologize, Mom.” David scanned the hills, dotted with pines and aspens, then turned to take in the donkeys grazing in the pasture. “This is perfect just the way it is.”

  * * *

  The county sheriff’s office issued conceal carry licenses, requiring a trip to Granite Junction. Morgan met Kurt at the newspaper. They rode in his vintage Plymouth down Topaz Pass. Lorina Dimple and Del Addison were already in the waiting room.

  “Here are your class certificates.” Del handed them each the required evidence that they had passed his gun safety course. “They’ll run the background check, and you should get your license in a week or so. Carrying a firearm is a serious responsibility. It gives you more reason than ever to avoid dangerous situations.”

  Like trying to solve a murder for a distressed granddaughter, Morgan thought. Maybe she should call Roxy and cancel their Wednesday meeting.

  “I’m going through the formalities.” Lorina studied her reflection in a window as she fussed with her pinkish-orange hair. “But the right to carry a firearm is guaranteed by the US Constitution. Getting this license is just for grins as far as I’m concerned.”

  They filled out forms and paid the license fee. A technician rolled their fingers in ink and onto fingerprint cards, then took their photos. As they drove back up the hill, Morgan sorted through her folder full of class notes, and the receipt for the conceal carry license.

  “You’re quiet,” Kurt said.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “It was easy,” Morgan said. “I somehow thought we’d have to go through more.”

  “You’re a law abiding citizen,” Kurt said. “Some people don’t believe you should have to do that much.”

  “Like Lorina,” Morgan said. “I suspect she only took Del’s class as an excuse to spend time with him.”

  Kurt laughed. “You noticed that, too?”

  What was Morgan’s excuse? Had she taken the class just to spend time with Kurt?

  As if in answer, the memory of staring down the muzzle of a loaded gun rose to the surface. Not everyone thought an armed citizenry was a good idea. But ordinary citizens did not become involved in murder investigations.

  * * *

  Kurt drove down Main Street, passing the Hot Tomato.

  “I thought we were having dinner,” Morgan said.

  “We always eat there,” Kurt said. “Tonight is special. We’re celebrating. But first, we’re stopping at my house.”

  Kurt’s townhome, stuffed full of 1940’s era antiques, was strangely silent.

  “Where are the boys? Morgan asked.

  “With their mother in Granite Junction,” Kurt said. “They promise
d Zulina they’d go to a play with her tonight. I’m picking them up tomorrow. Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

  Kurt trotted up the stairs, returning a few moments later with a box covered in pink camouflage wrapping paper.

  “For passing the class,” he said.

  The box was heavy.

  “Open it,” Kurt said, bouncing on his toes in eagerness.

  Morgan sat on an antique loveseat and unwrapped the box. She opened the lid. Her heart jumped at the sight of the Smith and Wesson .32 revolver.

  “Kurt, you shouldn’t have. This is too much.”

  “You’re going to the Denver Mineral Show this weekend,” Kurt said. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.”

  “We don’t have our licenses yet.”

  “Del is certain we’ll receive our cards before then. He helped me pick it out.” Kurt studied Morgan’s face. “You don’t like it? You can exchange it for—”

  Morgan jumped up and hugged Kurt. “Thank you. I’m just overwhelmed. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have imagined wanting to own a gun.” She leaned back. “If you bought me a gun, you must have gotten one for yourself.”

  Kurt smiled. “Yes, I did. It has a laser sight.” His smile faded. “That night in May intrudes on my thoughts, my dreams, more than I’ve admitted.”

  He had been forced to take deadly action against an armed killer.

  “Having a gun might not have changed the outcome,” Morgan said. “It could have ended worse.”

  “We’ll never know. But I do know your neighbor died under questionable circumstances. If we run into trouble as a result, I want to have a fighting chance.” Kurt glanced at his watch. “We’ll be late for our reservation. I’ll have to show you my gun later.”

  They left both weapons locked in Kurt’s safe. Morgan thought that was the best place to keep them, for now. Maybe permanently. When they entered the Swiss Lodge Restaurant, Morgan recalled from class that statistically, three percent of the patrons were potentially packing. Morgan tried to imagine who. The man with the military haircut might not have beaten his sword into a plowshare just yet. The woman with the oversized canvas purse could have been mugged once in a grocery store parking lot, and was now determined to never again be a victim.

  Morgan studied the menu, but her mind kept straying to the Smith and Wesson.

  * * *

  Dinner conversation seemed stuck on the City Council campaign. Morgan listened as Kurt vented anew about the smoke-in at the park. He had told her about it over the phone when she was in Sioux Falls, but hearing the story in person, and seeing Kurt’s face flush a deep red, made her realize how angered he was by his opponent’s dirty tricks. When he seemed to wind down, Morgan steered the conversation to an equally inflammatory topic.

  “Did Zulina enjoy my brother’s sermon?”

  Kurt frowned. “She didn’t tell me she was coming. And then sitting next to me. I know her game. She’s just gathering gossip about the quaint lives of the simple mountain folk to take back to LA. She’ll amuse the cocktail set with her stories, at our expense. Or maybe she’s trying to make Jet jealous. Yes, that’s got to be it. She has her mind set on winning him back.”

  “She’s been here for a week and a half,” Morgan said. “She must need a lot of stories.”

  Kurt ignored the unspoken question of whether the woman was ever going to leave. Instead, he reached across the table for Morgan’s hand.

  “Between Zulina luring my boys to a five star hotel, and your son tempting them with the mountain man experience, my guest room seems destined to stay empty. I wish you’d accept my offer of electricity and indoor plumbing.”

  As much as Morgan wanted to stake her claim on Kurt by moving into his townhome, there was too much other emotional turmoil going on. David had just accepted the idea of his mother dating. Besides, any escalation of their relationship should be due to mutual attraction, not defensive tactics more suited to the animal world.

  “You don’t know how tempting that is,” Morgan said. “I’m really getting tired of sleeping with Mr. Whiskers. Who knew a cat could snore? But I don’t think now is the time.”

  Kurt leaned back with a sigh. It might not be a good time to keep him at arm’s length, with his beautiful ex-wife flaunting herself. Morgan changed the subject again, switching gears with as much grace as the old tractor at the Rock of Ages.

  “Eustace Day’s granddaughter called me again today.”

  Kurt seemed equally eager to change the subject. “She is persistent.”

  “Apparently we’ve gotten a reputation for solving crimes,” Morgan said. “Roxy Day thinks we’re private investigators. She wants us to find out what happened to her grandfather.”

  “I don’t think the feds will tell us anything,” Kurt said, “and Chief Sharp made it clear I’ve squeezed all I’m going to get from him.”

  “I tried to discourage her,” Morgan said. “She wants to meet with us Wednesday night in some little mountain town called Wild Donkey. I know you’re in the middle of your campaign, so if you can’t spare the time, I understand.”

  “After that smoke-in, I’m afraid my candidacy is fading fast. My time would be better spent taking the boys sightseeing. And then there’s making sure you stay out of trouble. That’s nearly a full time job.” Kurt shook his head. “Wild Donkey? I’m guessing that’s exactly in the middle of nowhere.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After dinner, Morgan fended off Kurt’s appealing invitation to stay the night. She left his gift of the revolver locked in his safe, then let herself quietly into Bernie’s apartment. Her friend was already asleep, but Mr. Whiskers greeted Morgan with soft mewing. The cat seemed excited to see his sleeping buddy. He pounced on Morgan’s chest the minute she settled onto the sofa.

  Tuesday morning, Del beat everyone to the shop. When Morgan walked in, he was pushing a pile of sandy grit around with the broom.

  “I brought you breakfast.” Morgan handed Del a white bakery bag containing a bagel sandwich and fruit cup. “In case you haven’t eaten.”

  Del often forgot meals. The abusive physical demands of the cowboy lifestyle, plus his macho walk-it-off reaction to health issues, had done their damage. Del was only sixty-eight, but he wore every year and then some on his weathered face. The smell of the savory eggs encased in a fresh bagel seemed to stimulate his appetite.

  At noon, Cindy arrived to discuss their mineral show strategy. Kendall and Allie made a rare appearance, greeting Cindy as though they had not seen her two days ago at church. Allie insisted on taking Cindy’s baby and two younger kids into the living quarters to play with Marissa so Morgan and Cindy could work.

  “That trailer has possibilities.” Cindy walked around the rented trailer still filled with Morgan’s Sioux Falls furniture. “We’ll be taking a lot of gear. I wish we could borrow Herb’s truck to haul it, but he needs it for work.”

  “Maybe David would let us use his truck,” Morgan said. “Let’s go ask, and you can see the cabin.”

  Cindy approved of the rock shop addition. The green shingles of the new roof contrasted pleasantly with the weathered logs. A power saw rested on a sawhorse next to a diesel generator and a pile of lumber. David had gotten a jump on constructing window shutters. The women discussed painting them green. Morgan could imagine yellow gingham curtains in the windows, and pots of geraniums outside the door. David climbed down the ladder when he saw them. After introducing him to Cindy, Morgan explained their plans for the mineral show.

  “I wondered if we could use your truck to haul the trailer,” she said. “The mineral show runs all week, but I wouldn’t expect you to stay the entire time.”

  “No problem, Mom,” David said. “I’d go with you, but Mr. Terrence offered me a job on his next project.”

  “We won’t be driving anywhere in Denver,” Cindy told David. “Once we get the tr
ailer parked, we’ll be walking everywhere.”

  “How about we trade temporarily?” Morgan asked. “You can use my car while we’re at the show.”

  David raised one eyebrow and grinned. “Are you sure you trust me with your car? The Buick is a real babe magnet.”

  * * *

  David took a break from roofing to hitch the trailer to his truck. He pulled the trailer around the barn to the cabin, where Morgan and Cindy unloaded it. As the July day heated up, Morgan felt sweat bead on her forehead, then trickle down her face.

  There was not much room in the little cabin. One bedroom had built in bunk beds, for which air mattresses and sleeping bags would suffice. A double bed and dresser barely fit into the other bedroom. A kitchen table and chairs, sofa and easy chair, pots and pans, towels and dishes filled up the rest.

  They hauled the trailer back to the carriage house garage and swapped the remaining furniture for the packed bins. After closing the door to the trailer, Cindy tugged on the lock.

  “You’ll need something better than this. We are going to Denver, after all.”

  “Do people steal from mineral shows?” Morgan asked.

  “The rockhound community is honest,” Cindy said. “It’s those city people you’ve got to watch out for. Some folk’ll steal anything that’s not nailed down.”

  After the experience with the tampered Triceratops brow horn case, Morgan’s faith in the honesty of people had definitely been shaken.

  “I’ll get the heaviest lock I can find.”

  * * *

  Morgan drove the Buick to the Temple Mountain Feed and Seed, which stocked hardware, veterinary supplies, gardening seeds and tools, ranching equipment, and pet food. Fern Bahr, co-owner of the feed store with her husband, showed Morgan a dazzling display of locks. Dressed for work in jeans, cowgirl boots, and a Feed and Seed T-shirt, Fern was a sturdy, plain-featured gal in her late fifties.

  Morgan selected a lock that would deter a determined thief, yet fit the trailer’s hasp.

  “We’ll be hauling some of the rock shop’s most valuable merchandise to the mineral show,” Morgan explained as she paid.