Stone Cold Blooded (A Rock Shop Mystery)

by Catherine Dilts

  She charged up the broken fence, her handgun aimed at Quinn. The stubby mountain man stumbled backward. His hand snaked inside the buckskin jacket, retrieving a large revolver. Kurt approached them both, his hands raised in a calming gesture.

  “Hold on! Everyone’s upset. We don’t need to wave guns around.”

  “I’m not gonna shoot the creep,” Roxy said. “I just don’t want him getting away.”

  Morgan eased out of Sonny’s truck, Kurt’s gun clasped with both hands. Quinn seemed focused on the large angry woman in green and black face paint before him. Morgan dashed for the portion of fence still standing.

  “Quinn’s not leaving,” Kurt said. “There are too many witnesses. What would be the point?”

  “I have six bullets.” Quinn’s nasal voice went an octave higher. “More than enough.”

  The back porch light to Faerie Tales winked on. Piers stepped outside. His gaze swept from the fence, to Quinn’s stranded truck, to the guns held by Quinn and Roxy. He vanished inside, slamming the door closed.

  Typical.

  “You’d better be a good shot,” Kurt said. “Now you’ve got six witnesses.”

  A passenger car turned onto Hill Street, slowing when the driver saw the wreck.

  “Make that seven,” Kurt said.

  Buckskin Quinn swung the muzzle of his gun from Roxy to Kurt.

  “I’m not armed.” Kurt raised both hands.

  “Do you think that makes a difference?” Quinn asked.

  “Put the gun down and let’s talk,” Kurt said, “before this escalates into something we’ll all regret.”

  Roxy’s hands shook with rage, her gun wobbling.

  “He’ll regret killing Grandpa by the time I’m done.”

  Roxy fired, but the shot slammed into broken fence, not Quinn. He aimed at Roxy.

  “That fool Eustace was wasting the dinosaur by burying it in his backyard. It might as well never have been excavated. The horn was just gathering dust in a forgotten shop. I had to rescue the Triceratops from a second death.”

  Morgan eased closer, holding the gun with both hands. She remembered Del’s words, warning them on the shooting range to never aim at something you didn’t intend to shoot. Morgan aimed, the laser sight glowing red against the side of Quinn’s head.

  The passenger car flew into reverse, scattering gravel. Quinn glanced toward it. Roxy bent to grab a board, flinging it at Quinn. The instant he was distracted, raising one arm to deflect the board, Roxy tackled him.

  Quinn’s gun flew from his hand and landed in the Faerie Tales parking lot with a thud.

  Morgan lowered her gun, releasing the breath she had been holding for so long that she was light-headed. That was her excuse, anyway, when her knees went weak.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Only a week had passed. Life had returned to relative normality, despite the final frantic days of the campaign for City Council. Today was Election Day, and downtown Golden Springs was buried under an avalanche of red, white, and blue. Morgan added to the color scheme with her white Willard for City Council T-shirt with lettering printed in red and blue. She parked the Buick behind Bibi’s Bakery.

  The kitchen was in a state of organized chaos. Rolf and his teenage daughter worked together to cover two large trays of cookies with sheets of plastic wrap. Bernie put the finishing touches on a sheet cake using a tube of blue frosting.

  “Morgan, can you take a tray?” Bernie asked.

  Between tourist season and the election, there wasn’t a parking space to be had in the five blocks of downtown Golden Springs. They formed a parade on the wooden sidewalk, with Rolf and Bernie on either end of the sheet cake, and Morgan and Stacie each carrying a tray of cookies.

  “You must be happy to have that fossil back,” Rolf said.

  “The police are holding the brow horn as evidence,” Morgan said. “The Triceratops bones, too.”

  Although the brow horn had been recovered, along with the rest of the extinct reptile, neither Morgan nor Roxy Day was allowed to claim her property. The Triceratops was evidence in a case involving numerous charges against Buckskin Quinn, including the murder of Eustace Day and the kidnapping of Ned Alafare and Cleary Fontaine.

  “That stinks,” Bernie said. “After all you went through to get it back.”

  “Chief Sharp knows how important the brow horn is to me and Kendall. He’ll take good care of it until the trial is over.”

  “Are you going to sell it?” Rolf asked.

  “Roxy and I are confident we can interest a museum in the intact Triceratops,” Morgan said. “It’s worth a lot more whole than in pieces. By the time we get it back, we expect to have worked out a deal.”

  “Careful down the steps,” Rolf said.

  He and Bernie kept the cake level as they went down the three steps from the boardwalk to the street. Traffic was heavy, but slow. Cars stopped when they saw four people bearing baked goods across the asphalt.

  “What are you going to do with all that money?” Bernie asked.

  “Roxy was nice enough to offer to split it with me,” Morgan said. “We want to end the feud. An eighty percent intact Triceratops is worth a bundle. Enough to renovate the cabins Kendall and I bought. Roxy will have enough to start building a bed and breakfast.”

  “We haven’t been to her restaurant yet,” Rolf said. “The Wagon Wheel is a long drive.”

  “It’s worth the trip,” Morgan said. “The chef promised to stay if Roxy gives him a private suite in the B&B. You’ll agree that’s a small price to pay after you taste his cooking.”

  Anna propped open the front door of the Golden Springs Gazetteer. She was dressed for the occasion, not the August heat, in a red and white striped silk blouse with a navy A-line skirt. Her heels tapped on the wooden sidewalk as she maneuvered a folding sign into place.

  Willard Campaign Headquarters

  Kurt was pessimistic about his chances for election to the City Council seat. He had vetoed the plan to add Victory Celebration to the sign.

  “Almost everyone’s here,” Anna said. “You can put the food on that table.”

  Volunteers and supporters stood in animated clusters, holding disposable cups of cold lemonade or iced tea. Red, white and blue balloons wobbled on strings as an oscillating fan pushed the warm air. The goodie table swayed under the weight of potluck dishes. Bernie and Rolf added the sheet cake.

  “I’ll take that.” Bernie squeezed the cookie tray Morgan had been carrying onto the crowded table and pulled off the plastic wrap.

  Beatrice waved. “Over here, Morgan!”

  The gray-haired woman wore a blouse covered with an American flag print. Morgan sat on a folding chair next to Beatrice.

  “Tonight decides the future of Golden Springs,” she said.

  “I’m glad to see you here,” Morgan said. “I was beginning to wonder which candidate you supported.”

  “Erwin Sylvester made some strategic errors,” Beatrice said. “He didn’t care about those birds. When I discovered, er, when I heard on the news he opposed the sale of the old resort to those condo developers because he wanted to sell them his own property at an inflated price, I knew I couldn’t vote for him. I can’t stomach a liar.”

  So Beatrice had been the one to leak the information about Erwin’s financial interest in shutting down the condo construction to the Granite Junction Times. If it hadn’t been for that indiscretion, and Erwin falsely accusing Kurt of attempted murder, Golden Springs might have been swayed by Erwin’s message.

  “Kurt loves Golden Springs,” Morgan said. “He’ll do his best to preserve the town’s unique personality.”

  “He’ll have his work cut out for him,” Beatrice said. “With Sonny Day and his troop of invading loonies.”

  “Sonny dropped his plan to build the Center for Interstellar Diplomacy in
Golden Springs,” Morgan said.

  Which also meant he had no need for the cabins. Morgan and Kendall had snapped them up at a bargain price from the owner who was tired of the roller-coaster market for the decaying cabins.

  “That’s all well and good, but he should have been thrown in jail with that woman and Palomino Paul.”

  “You mean Buckskin Quinn,” Morgan said. “Sonny was only guilty of being blind to his employee’s shenanigans. He can’t afford to rebuild Eustace’s ranch now. He is sticking around long enough to help his daughter recapture the naked prairie dogs. That was the treasure Eustace left Roxy. A unique breed of prairie dog he developed, named Buried Treasure.”

  Beatrice shuddered. “What a gift. Rodents.”

  “Eustace developed the breed for medical experimentation, but Sonny talked Roxy out of that plan. It turns out the prairie dogs are worth two thousand dollars a piece to some pet enthusiasts.”

  “Oh, my heavens,” Beatrice said. “That’s even worse.”

  “Sonny fired Wenda, of course,” Morgan said. “The only jail time she’ll probably get will be time served. She didn’t have a record. She’s charged with conspiracy something or other, but I have no doubt she’ll land on her high-heeled feet. They couldn’t find Madame Cici, the woman who stole the horn and used it to knock out Cleary Fontaine.”

  Burke entered the newspaper office with a stack of pizzas, making him the center of attention for as long as the pizza lasted.

  “Young man!” Beatrice waved at him.

  Burke brought a pizza to their table. He wore a Prospector Pizza polo shirt instead of his usual Hawaiian shirt.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced,” Beatrice said. “I need to talk to you.”

  Beatrice would pry every secret out of the teen before the evening was over, given the chance.

  “I have to get back to work,” Burke said. “We’re crazy busy. Everyone wants pizza on election night for some reason.”

  Bernie, Rolf, and Stacie took seats across the table from Beatrice and Morgan. Stacie opened the pizza box and extracted a gooey, cheesy slice.

  “Surely you can spare a moment,” Beatrice said to Burke.

  “I’ll be back. I want to be with Dad when the results are announced.”

  “I’ll bet you’re glad that brow horn turned up,” Rolf said to the teen.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Burke said. “I was working all the hours I could get to make the money to pay Morgan for the horn.”

  “I told you that wasn’t your fault,” Morgan said. “Especially after we learned how Wenda set up the theft.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t fall for her,” Burke looked down at the table with a sheepish grin. “She was pretty cute, though. The up side is, I’ve almost saved enough money for a down payment on a car. If I’m going to college in Granite Junction, I’ll need wheels.”

  The crowd parted for a baby stroller. Kendall and Allie entered the increasingly crowded room with Marissa.

  “Where is Ned?” Bernie asked.

  “Camped out on the steps of City Hall,” Kendall said. “He’s waiting for the official vote count. It’s clear that Ned’s loyalty is with his grandfather.”

  “That’s as it should be,” Beatrice said. “The Sylvester family has been divided long enough.”

  “Sly and Gypsy are moving here permanently,” Allie said. “Ned can work for the rock shop year round if he wants.”

  “And surprisingly, he does want to continue working for us,” Morgan said.

  “He’s a brave young man.” Beatrice shook her head. “Imagine that Palomino Paul trying to force him to rob your shop.”

  Quinn had originally kidnapped Ned with the intention of coercing him to steal the horn from the shop. The teen had proved uncooperative. Quinn left Ned locked up while he was at the mineral show, then came up with the ransom scheme, perhaps as a distraction, or perhaps trying to raise money to buy the horn from Day. Quinn was only talking to his lawyer.

  “Where is Kurt?” Kendall asked.

  “In his office,” Anna said. “I told him he needed both an acceptance and a concession speech. With all the excitement last week, he didn’t get around to it.”

  “Erwin toned down his campaign rhetoric after his release from the hospital,” Beatrice said. “Still, the campaign turned into a tough three-way race. Sonny Day poured a lot of money into Piers’s campaign late in the game. Had I known about that, I would have kept an eye on him, too.”

  “I think Piers would have been suspicious if you’d joined his campaign,” Morgan said.

  Everyone laughed at the thought of the gray-haired church kitchen lady infiltrating the group of New Agers.

  “I was going to wait for Kurt,” Kendall said, “but I’d better speak now, before the results come in and the party begins. I have an announcement to make.”

  He and Allie stood, holding hands.

  “We’re taking a youth pastor position at a small congregation in Utah,” Kendall said. “The pay isn’t great, but they’ll reimburse me for classes I take toward a divinity degree.”

  “Utah?” Beatrice exclaimed. “So far?”

  “My parents are happy we’ll be living closer to them,” Allie said.

  Morgan jumped up and gave them both hugs.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she said with sincerity.

  “Save us a guest cabin,” Kendall said. “We’ll come back for lots of visits.”

  “You’d better.” Beatrice’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Hurry up and get that degree. I don’t think the new pastor at Golden Springs Community Church is going to work out. You’ll be here for your baby shower next week?”

  Morgan had only needed to mention the idea of holding a baby shower for Allie, and the church kitchen ladies had jumped into action.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Allie said.

  The time for the election results announcement came and went. Kurt joined his campaign supporters. He was too nervous for pizza. Finally, Ned rushed through the door, waving a paper above his head.

  “The results are final!”

  The room hushed as Ned read.

  “Erwin Sylvester, 1,098. Piers Townsend, 924. Kurt Willard, 1,228.”

  The volunteers and supporters erupted in cheers, tossing red white and blue balloons and confetti. Once the crowd calmed down, they realized how close the election had been.

  “Is there going to be a recount?” Beatrice asked.

  “Or worse,” Anna said. “A run-off election?”

  “Grandpa already said he’s not going to contest the count,” Ned said. “He wants to concentrate on family.” His grandfather might have lost the election, but the young man’s smile showed he had no hard feelings. Ned’s family was on the mend.

  “Sonny Day wasted his money,” Beatrice said. “Erwin finally came to his senses.” Beatrice grabbed Kurt’s hand and raised his arm like a referee declaring the victor in a boxing match. “And the best man won.”

  * * *

  The party ended before sunset. As the crowd thinned, the noise level in the room dropped. Anna and Kurt’s campaign staff wanted to begin strategizing immediately.

  Kurt held his hands up. “I need the evening to myself. We’ll start work soon enough.”

  With a pang of disappointment, Morgan headed for the door. Kurt hurried to her side.

  “I have to clear out the office and lock up,” Kurt said. “Are you staying at the rock shop tonight?”

  “I’m going to check on Adelaide and the foal,” Morgan said. “Then I’ll head to Bernie’s.”

  “I’ll meet you at the barn, then. Say, fifteen minutes?”

  He didn’t arrive for another thirty. Morgan had time to check the humane traps. Three more naked prairie dogs waited happily for rescue.

  Morgan deliver
ed the prairie dogs to kennels in the barn, making sure they had food and water. They held the creatures while Stormy Roxy Day repaired the habitat at her grandfather’s ranch. Sonny seemed content to let his daughter run the operation. Their reconciliation, while not complete, seemed possible.

  Morgan savored the shadowed quiet of the barn. The sun dropped behind the mountains, and darkness crept across the property. She rested her forearms on the half-wall to Adelaide’s stall, admiring the jenny and foal.

  Adelaide was proving to be a good mother, and Houdini a protective father. Angel was adorable and rambunctious. The donkey mane that on her parents was stiff as a bristle brush was soft on Angel, the black hair sticking up and giving her a punk rocker look.

  Gravel crunched under tires as Kurt’s vintage Plymouth pulled in front of the barn. After a bear hug and a brief kiss, Kurt studied Morgan’s face.

  “You don’t look happy.”

  “I am, Kurt.” She led him inside the barn to Adelaide’s stall. “Golden Springs needs you on City Council. I’m just afraid I’ll need to make an appointment to see you.”

  “If you move in, you could see me all the time.”

  “I’m an independent woman again,” Morgan said. “I’ll be moving back into the rock shop living quarters soon. Besides, shacking up would set a bad example for our sons.”

  “I suppose it’s too soon to make it legal.”

  Kurt had sort of proposed once before without using the M word. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready. Neither was Morgan. When he could actually say the words, then the time would be right.

  “Until then, you could help me with research,” Kurt said.

  “Oh?”

  Kurt grasped Morgan’s hand and pulled her away from the stall.

  “Roxy seems to think we’re business consultants, in addition to our private detective skills. She wants our help researching bed and breakfast businesses. You and I need to stay at a few to see what amenities Roxy should offer at hers.”

  Morgan pulled out her cell phone. She glanced toward the open barn door.

  “What are you doing?” Kurt asked.

  “Waiting for the inevitable interruption.”