Stone Cold Blooded (A Rock Shop Mystery)

by Catherine Dilts

  “And by ‘you or I’ you really mean me?” Morgan asked. “Because you’re never around.”

  Kendall heaved a huge dramatic sigh. “Morgan, I’ll try. I have several irons in the fire right now. Please bear with me. Just a few more days.”

  “And what? You’ll help more with the shop?”

  “Just give me a little more time.”

  As Morgan slid the phone into her fanny pack, Bernie stood.

  “We had a good pace going,” Bernie said. “But we’re definitely back of the pack now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “Trouble at the rock shop. Again.”

  “The delay is my fault. I should know better than to let myself get dehydrated.”

  Morgan suspected Bernie’s leg cramps were due to more than lack of water. When they reached the pub, Bernie passed on her usual fish and chips and a Guinness beer in favor of water with a slice of lemon and a salad, from which she removed the croutons.

  The clique of a dozen runners crowded around a long wooden table in the pub after nearly every Tuesday run. Morgan tried to enjoy chatting with friends, but her thoughts kept straying to the open shop door. The Rock of Ages needed Del, and his ability to enthrall a tourist with tales of the Wild West. Likewise, Del needed to work.

  Morgan didn’t want to believe that Del was getting forgetful. He wasn’t even seventy yet. But if Del hadn’t left the door unlocked, how did it happen to be open when Kendall got home?

  “A penny for your thoughts.” Chuck waved a hand across the table at Morgan. “Maybe a half dollar, even.”

  His wife Vonne elbowed him. Both she and Chuck were lean and attractive, dressed in top of the line running gear. Vonne’s hair and makeup remained intact, even when running in bad weather.

  “Is something bothering you?” Vonne asked. “Besides Chuck.”

  “My brother called,” Morgan said. “The shop door was open when he got home. He accused me, or Del, of being responsible. Or irresponsible.”

  “How do you know Del didn’t leave it open?” Vonne asked.

  “Because he wouldn’t,” Morgan said. “Someone had to break in. But nothing was taken.” Morgan shivered. “It terrifies me that Kendall and Allie almost walked in on a burglar.”

  “That’s strange.” Chuck rested his elbows on the table. “I heard your neighbor blew himself up. Do you think your shop could have been broken into by someone nosing around Eustace Day’s ranch?”

  “We might have been neighbors, but there’s a quarter mile of empty space between our ranches.” Morgan was glad someone agreed with her break-in theory, directing the charge of incompetence away from her and Del. “What does Day’s death have to do with the rock shop?”

  “Eustace and your great-uncle Caleb used to be in business together,” Chuck said. “Maybe whatever happened to Eustace had something to do with your uncle, too.”

  “You and Vonne don’t live in Golden Springs,” Bernie said. “How do you know about Eustace and Caleb?”

  “I volunteer for the Granite Junction library,” Chuck said. “I worked on a documentary film about Pine County history for the library a few years ago. The goal was to interview old timers before their stories were lost. My role was to read questions prepared by a camera-shy historian, and encourage people to talk. I was amazed at how many of the same families that originally settled this area are still around. Even the same old relationships, for good or bad, have been maintained for generations.”

  Morgan didn’t doubt Chuck. She had witnessed in her brief residency in Golden Springs how the past never really faded.

  “I’d like to see the film,” Bernie said.

  “You can check it out from the library,” Vonne said. “It’s really quite entertaining.”

  “Was my uncle in your film?” Morgan asked.

  “No,” Chuck said. “The filming began after he passed away, and by then Eustace had gone around the bend. He ran the director off his place with a shotgun. Although Caleb and Eustace didn’t make it into the film, I heard second hand the story about them digging up dinosaur bones to sell to museums and collectors, until they had a disagreement.”

  “I don’t remember Uncle Caleb talking about his neighbor,” Morgan said. “I was in my twenties when he passed away, but I would have remembered him mentioning a feud.”

  “And now Eustace is gone, too.” Vonne leaned her elbows on the heavy wooden table. “So what happened up there Monday?”

  Morgan worked her way through the events carefully, omitting only one detail. Her friends might doubt the rest of the story if she mentioned the naked leprechaun.

  “Chief Sharp is probably right that Eustace blew himself up,” Chuck said.

  “And if he did,” Vonne said, “maybe Golden Springs can rest easier knowing he’s no longer a threat.”

  “On the other hand,” Bernie said, “if he was murdered, that means a killer is still out there somewhere.”

  “Not somewhere,” Morgan said. “Right next door.”

  * * *

  At the shop Wednesday morning, she and Del did inventory and found nothing missing.

  “Hey,” Del said. “Look at this.”

  Morgan leaned close to examine the Triceratops brow horn display case. The round lock protruded from a strip of metal that looked like a tiny saw blade. Not exactly high security, but apparently it did deter burglars. Fresh scratch marks showed bright against the dull metal of the aged ratchet and lock.

  “Someone tried to get into the case,” Del said. “Kendall must have scared them off when he got home.”

  As if on cue, Kendall came through the door from the adjoining living quarters and into the shop, dressed in a well-worn suit and tie. He had trimmed his beard, and slicked back his wild curly hair into a discrete ponytail.

  “Anything missing?” he asked.

  “No,” Morgan said. “The key to this case was in the cash register tray, and Del locked it in the office last night. Someone tried to break into the brow horn case.”

  “It does look that way.” Kendall rested his hands on his knees and squatted slightly to study the fresh scratches. “And you’re sure neither of you left the front door open?”

  As Kendall looked from Morgan to Del, he seemed silenced by their scathing looks.

  “Okay.” He raised his hands in surrender. The cuffs of his blue shirt peeked out from his jacket sleeves. “But if someone could break into the front door, why couldn’t they get in the case? I would think that skill set would work on any type of lock.”

  “Should we call the police?” Del tugged on his bushy gray mustache, a sure sign he was either deep in thought, or upset.

  “Nothing is missing,” Morgan said. “I hate to bother Chief Sharp when he’s dealing with that mess up the hill.”

  “Did the donkeys sound the alarm last night?” Del asked. “They usually raise a ruckus when strangers come on the property.”

  “No,” Kendall said. “We didn’t hear anything. But maybe the intruder, if there was one, gave up before we came home.”

  “I wish the donkeys could talk,” Morgan said. “They might have seen whoever it was.”

  Ned crossed her mind. The donkeys might not have brayed at the teen, since he had fed them that evening.

  When Allie entered the shop carrying the baby, Morgan’s maternal instincts kicked in. Allie was possessive of the four month old, as Morgan had already learned, so she folded her arms to keep from reaching for Marissa. Soon she would have a grandbaby to fuss over. Maybe. Morgan had already purchased a plane ticket for a Friday flight, just two days away, anticipating the birth of her grandson. Her daughter Sarah’s due date had come and gone.

  Kendall checked his wristwatch. “We’ve got to go.”

  Morgan was itching to ask where, but she knew her brother wouldn’t tell. He seemed to enjoy being mysterious. She follow
ed the family to the converted carriage house garage.

  Family.

  She was grateful Kendall and Allie had finally adopted a child. Maybe it would mellow him out in other aspects of his life. Morgan certainly wished her relationship with her brother could be less contentious.

  “Kendall, about the cabin.”

  “That’s a done deal.” He pulled open the doors to the garage. “I can’t make you send it back.”

  “There are several more cabins,” she said. “I think we should get another.”

  “Can we talk about this later?”

  He opened the driver’s door on an old beater someone from the church had donated to the couple. Allie was still buckling Marissa into the car seat, so Morgan plowed on.

  “We can’t afford to let this opportunity pass by.”

  “What opportunity? It’s just another expense.”

  “Have you looked at the books since you got back? Did you know we have books now?”

  Kendall buckled his seat belt. “I’ll admit you’ve done great things with the shop, Morgan. But I think we need to put our money and energy back into the business, not side projects.”

  “I need a place to stay, Kendall. The cabin will save me paying rent. I can’t live on Bernie’s sofa forever. And don’t suggest I move back to Sioux Falls.”

  Kendall started the car. Allie placed her hand on his arm.

  “Kendall, don’t keep your sister in the dark.”

  He shared a look with Allie that Morgan thought smacked of conspiracy. Then he looked in Morgan’s direction, not meeting her eyes.

  “I understand this has been difficult for you,” Kendall said. “I know it’s unfair to ask, but please wait before sinking money into more cabins. I need another week or two.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Another week or two. Morgan wondered what he meant as she watched her brother drive away. Did she dare get her hopes up that he was planning to relocate his family, enabling Morgan to return to the rock shop living quarters? Although with a burglar on the loose, and her next door neighbor’s questionable demise, moving back in was a tad less desirable.

  Business kept Morgan from dwelling on her uncertain future. When Ned arrived, full of earnest enthusiasm, Morgan felt guilty for suspecting him of attempted burglary.

  “I haven’t talked to my brother yet about a permanent position,” Morgan said, “but you can work today if you’d like.”

  “I’ll take whatever I can get,” Ned said. “A high percentage of teens are unemployed. I’m fortunate to have this opportunity.”

  Ned looked scruffier than the previous day. The white shirt wasn’t so white now, and the cuffs were turned up several times to his elbows. The wide tie was wrinkled. Smudges that looked like campfire charcoal darkened his cheeks. And yet his boy band hairstyle was still tidy. Perhaps every hair had been permanently shellacked into place.

  “Would you like to clean up?” Morgan asked. “The restroom is stocked with soap and towels.”

  Ned’s cheeks flamed bright red. “I wasn’t able to get into the bathroom in time this morning.”

  Morgan reached under the counter for an angel donkey T-shirt. In January, the donkeys had been credited with a miraculous rescue during a blizzard, and had become local celebrities.

  “You can have this free, if it fits.”

  “Cool.” Ned smiled, then locked himself in the tiny restroom.

  From his transformation several minutes later, Morgan suspected the teenager had taken a bath in the sink. When she used the facilities herself, she noticed he had left the small room tidy.

  Although business was steady, people seemed more interested in learning what had happened up the hill than in shopping. Morgan fielded questions with vague answers, while Del steered conversations to stories from his cowboy days. She wished she had befriended one of the families that lived in the cul-de-sac. Then she might learn why official-looking vehicles continued to kick up dust on Hill Street. She supposed nosiness was not a good basis for friendship, although it seemed to work for Beatrice Stonewall.

  That’s who I need to call. If anyone had the inside scoop on Eustace Day, it would be Beatrice, the hub of the Golden Springs gossip wheel.

  Morgan didn’t have time to call that afternoon. Kendall had not returned by closing time, so it was up to Morgan to feed the donkeys. Ned helped, anxious to see the donkeys again, now that he knew they were celebrities. He marked the feeding schedule on the clipboard with his initials. Hardly the behavior of a potential burglar, Morgan thought. After their chores were completed, Morgan groomed Adelaide while Ned clambered up the ladder to the loft. She enjoyed the comfortable silence. So much of life was flooded with noise, human made for the most part. The sounds of the barn were gentle. The soft thump of Adelaide shifting her hooves in the thick bed of straw. Ned rustling around in the hayloft. The summer breeze stirring the leaves on the aspen trees outside.

  “Ready to go?” Morgan called to Ned.

  “I guess so.”

  Morgan didn’t want to break the spell, either, but she had things to do. On the short drive down Hill Street, Ned’s stomach growled so loud, Morgan could hear it above the sound of tires crunching on gravel.

  “Can you help me pick up pizza for the campaign meeting?” Morgan asked. “There might be a slice in it for you if you carry the boxes.”

  “Yes!” Ned said. “I’ll do just about anything for pizza!”

  “You should call your parents and let them know you’ll be late.”

  Ned stared out the window. “They’re not expecting me back until dark.”

  “If you were my kid, I’d want to know where you were.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. But Mom and Dad are at the park, and they don’t believe in cell phones. They think they give you brain cancer, although I have yet to see a definitive medical study proving that.”

  “I’ll run by the park on the way to the pizza parlor.”

  “That’s okay—” Ned began, but Morgan cut him off.

  “I insist.”

  Morgan waited in a parking space while Ned ran across the grass to the huddle of people near the bridge. It hardly looked like they’d moved since the previous day. Most of them wore the same clothes, and sat on the same blankets and camp chairs.

  Ned showed his mother his new angel donkey shirt. He handed his mother a bundle consisting of his dress shirt and tie, then pointed toward Morgan’s car. His mother waved, and Ned ran back to the car.

  “She said it’s okay.”

  Golden Springs was a small town, and safer than most, but still, Ned’s mother’s parenting skills seemed a bit lax.

  Prospector Pizza had the order ready, and Kurt had already paid for it out of his campaign fund. Morgan was certain there was more pizza than volunteers as she and Ned carried the warm boxes into the newspaper office. She was pleasantly surprised when she entered the room dominated by a huge oak table. More than two dozen people worked elbow to elbow.

  Ned seemed dazzled by all the red, white, and blue. Campaign posters, literature, buttons, bumper stickers, and a fresh stack of “Willard for City Council” T-shirts printed with Kurt’s trademark fedora crowded the table. Kurt squeezed his way past a cluster of people stuffing envelopes to give Morgan a quick hug.

  “Kurt, I’d like you to meet Ned.”

  “Welcome to the Golden Springs Gazetteer,” Kurt said.

  They shook hands.

  “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “Ned helped me carry the pizza,” Morgan said. “I told him he could have a slice.”

  “Help yourself,” Kurt said. “There’s plenty. Are you old enough to vote?”

  “Not yet,” Ned said, “but you can bet I will as soon as I can.”

  Kurt snagged a flag-emblazoned paper plate. The two loaded their plates with pizza and side
dishes volunteers had provided. No Golden Springs event was complete without a potluck. Anna entered the room, dressed in a tailored navy suit with a red, white, and blue silk blouse. She set a box of postcards on the table.

  “Morgan, can you help with these?”

  Morgan began affixing address labels and stamps to campaign postcards. Ned found an empty chair and concentrated on his pizza and soda pop. Morgan had a feeling they were both rare treats for a kid with granola-head hippie parents who seemed more interested in hanging around the park smoking dope than raising their son.

  Anna clapped her hands.

  “We’re hitting the streets soon,” she announced. “If you didn’t sign up for a neighborhood walk, you’re done for the day. We’re locking up the newspaper.”

  “Take some pizza with you,” Kurt said.

  As volunteers gathered their casserole dishes, Ned sidled up to Morgan.

  “May I take some pizza home?”

  “Sure,” Morgan said.

  She grabbed the last unopened box and handed it to Ned.

  “A whole pizza?”

  “If you don’t take it, Mr. Willard might change his mind about taking me to dinner tonight.”

  “Do you want a shirt?” Kurt held up a Ned-sized campaign shirt.

  Ned shook his head. “My grandpa wouldn’t like that.”

  “He doesn’t like politics?” Kurt asked.

  “It’s not that,” Ned said. “He likes politics, but he’s got an opinion about City Council.”

  “Maybe I’m glad you can’t vote, then.” Kurt said it with a smile, as though he and Ned were in on a joke together.

  Morgan found it disturbing that Ned’s grandfather might be backing one of Kurt’s opponents, and his grandson had just spent two hours behind the scenes of Kurt’s campaign. Hopefully Ned had been focused on food, not strategy.

  Morgan dropped a smiling teen with a whole pizza at the park. The munchie crowd still lingering around the bridge would make short work of it, but Ned had wolfed down his share at campaign headquarters.

  Before she reached Kurt’s townhome, where the campaign walk was to begin, Morgan’s cell phone chimed. She pulled to the side of the street and dug her phone out of her purse.