The creamed coffee in my stomach curdled as a vision of Marc being sent to prison erupted in my thoughts. How ironic that the thing I’d presumed to be the problem of his past was now becoming a real possibility in his future. Where were we to turn?
“Have you prayed about this?”
I lifted my shoulders and let them drop. “I have been for the past couple hours and it feels as if my words are bouncing off the ceiling. How could God have allowed us to come back together only to have us possibly be ripped apart?”
She picked up her Bible and flipped through the pages. “You know as well as I do that nothing with God is an accident. This was going to happen, with or without your being at Rescaté. God wants you here, maybe to give Marc the support he needs, or to help him dig out the truth so justice can be served to the right person.”
She placed the glasses that had been hanging around her neck on her nose. Listen to this, ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!’”
The words from Ecclesiastes seeped into my being. How many times had I used them in the past to encourage friends who were struggling? I needed to be there for Marc to lift him up. I reached for the Bible, and Kitty handed it to me. I read the words she quoted and the following verses. “It also says that two fighting against a foe can prevail and three is even better. With God in there with us, we can beat this.”
My aunt beamed. “I think we need to pray.”
Fifteen minutes later, feeling fortified spiritually, I stood. “That book on poisons you were reading the other day. Did you find any that emulate heart attacks?”
“Cyanide. I remembered that it’s the one that was used in those killings down in Chicago. There were other poisons, but cyanide seemed the one most easy to get. The substance is put in rat poison, and they use it to develop film.”
I huffed. “Who develops film anymore. Isn’t it all on digital?”
“I bet there are some die-hards around. I still have a Brownie upstairs somewhere.”
Somehow I knew that she didn’t mean something you bake in an oven, but I bit back the question on the tip of my tongue. “Time to get serious. I need to call Chief Bronson. I know you told him about the person in the orange cap running me over that morning. Did you mention the conversation I overheard before my interview?”
She pressed her lips into a pout. “I’m such a ditz. How did I forget that?”
“Doesn’t matter, but he needs to know. I’ll be on the kitchen phone.”
I almost wished the chief were out chasing down a speeder on Canoga Lake’s only major road. Unfortunately, the cop who answered the phone put me right through. I used the first minute or two of our conversation to introduce myself as Kitty McPiper’s niece and the interim chef at Rescaté.
After agreeing with him that Aunt Kitty was indeed a very nice woman who was involved in every fundraiser that benefited the lake and village, I cut to the chase. “In light of your investigation into Ramón Galvez’s death, there’s something I need to tell you that may shed light on the situation.”
The chief cleared his throat. “And what would that be?”
His clipped tone annoyed me, but I had to keep my cool. I raised my chin and launched into a blow-by-blow report of Ramón’s telephone conversation.
“Then the next morning at dawn—”
“Ms. Love, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but the team and I are on the case and gathering the evidence.”
“But what I heard could be important. Can it be a coincidence that he had an angry conversation with someone who he could have been blackmailing? The person had to have a source of money—likely a lot of money—and he or she may have killed him? Maybe with the pills I found in his bedroom, which were stolen from the Rescaté kitchen.”
I paused for a quick breath and charged ahead, afraid he’d interrupt if I gave him opportunity. “It’s possible those pills contained the same poison that killed Mr. Galvez. And the person who took the pills is also the same person who plowed into me the morning Ramón died, then tried to run me down with a lawn mower yesterday.”
A cynical chuckle came through the connection. “Sounds to me like you’ve been watching too many police shows. Thanks for the call, um, Ms. …”
“Love.”
“Yes. Love. I got another call coming in.”
A click sounded in my ear. I pressed the off button and slumped against the wall. If the man intended for his brusque attitude to put me off, he had another thought coming.
By the time I met Marc for lunch at Popeye’s Restaurant in Lake Geneva, I had several pages of notes in a steno pad tucked into my purse. The hostess settled us at a table with a view of the Riviera and the water. After she left with our drink orders, I tossed the notepad on the table. “There’s the info I gathered. What did you find out?”
He glanced around the crowded dining room then leaned over the table. “Maybe we should talk later.” He pointed at the window with his thumb. “Outside, away from ears.”
I nodded and slipped the pad back into my hobo-style handbag.
Neither of us ate much of our burgers, and when we stepped outside, it was a welcome relief from the loud conversation and music.
“Let’s walk over to Library Park. We can talk there.” Marc took my hand and intertwined our fingers. A perfect symbol of what God had shown me that morning. A bond, woven together by His presence. We’d beat this thing.
“So, what did you learn?” I finally asked as we passed in front of the prairie-style library off to our right.
“I spent nearly two hours digging through Rescaté files, but couldn’t find anything that showed Candy had been manipulating the records. Bob either. I think that theory is shot down. The volunteer data shows Ana was assigned a key card the same year Ramón started working there. I presume he gave her an apartment key without noting it. And, I was surprised to see that Isabel was given both a key card and pass key to the apartment two years ago when she was here visiting. He was out of the country, but she apparently used his apartment as home base. Neither were turned in after the visit.
“And with Ana’s seeming connections to money and Isabel’s marrying into wealth, Ramón could have been blackmailing either woman.” I glanced at him. “Question is how do we find out if that’s true?”
A long silence fell between us.
“So what’s in your notepad?”
I pointed at a park bench. “Let’s sit.”
Over the next several minutes, I showed Marc my notes on cyanide and speculations on timing for Isabel to have made the trip to Canoga Lake from Chicago and back that morning without missing a beat. I also read my jotted quotes from my fruitless conversation with Chief Bronson.
I flipped the notebook shut and looked at his glum expression. My heart all but broke. “Marc, don’t lose hope. The chief is a small-town cop, feeling like he’s about to score big. But we’re going to prove you didn’t do it. We have to.
He settled his arm over my shoulders. “I don’t deserve even a minute of your support after the way I treated you.”
I stretched my arm across his chest and kissed his cheek. “Hush. That’s all under the bridge. God’s done a healing in you and me both. We’re not looking back, but ahead. It’s time we had some fun. Karl mentioned he’s in a rodeo at the fairgrounds in Elkhorn tonight. Do you want to check it out?”
That evening, wearing Kitty’s pink boots, and her authentic Stetson I had no idea she owned, I answered Marc’s knock at the door.
He caught sight of my outfit and flashed me a grin.
I pirouetted. “Don’t you think it’s a bit much? Kitty dressed me.”
His trademark smile threatened to undo me. “If all the women at rodeos look like that, I wonder how the cowboys pay attention to their work.”
I laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” I stepped back an
d checked him out. He wore jeans, but the navy polo, light windbreaker and Packers cap did not say rodeo. I loved him anyway and let him pull me into his arms for a hug.
He brushed my lips with a kiss. “You lost your hat, pardner.”
“Ah right don’t care ‘bout that mister.” I pushed the Stetson aside with my foot as he leaned in to plant another kiss on my nose. A giggle came from behind me and he looked up. “Hi Kitty.”
I turned. My aunt stood in the door, grinning like a proud matchmaker. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’m just enjoying seeing you two back where you belong.”
I stepped out of Marc’s embrace and snatched the hat from the floor. “Want to come with us tonight? I’ll even give you back your boots.” I glanced at the pink toes peeking out from under my jeans.
She pushed away from the door jam. “Nope. Tonight’s your night. Go and enjoy. I have a movie I’ve been dying to watch.” She walked away.
“Guess that settles that.” Marc opened the door. “Let’s go. Elkhorn is a good half-hour’s drive.”
At Marc’s vehicle I stopped walking. “A thought occurred to me while I was in the shower. Is it safe for you to go to something like this?”
“I was thinking the same thing, but about you. The police are only watching me. You’re the one who was attacked by the guy on the mower.”
I considered his words. “No one is going to bully me into staying home. But maybe we should stop seeing each other until this is over. I don’t want you being hurt.”
Marc’s face contorted as he released the lock with his key fob. He yanked the door open. “I don’t think either of us will get hurt sitting in the bleachers at a rodeo. Too many witnesses.”
I slid onto the passenger seat. That much was true, but we still had to make the drive over to the fairgrounds and back.
In spite of Marc’s bravado, as we sailed down the highway I kept checking the road behind us, almost waiting for headlights to bear down. When the fairgrounds parking lot came into view, tension left my stick-straight body. At least for the next couple hours I could relax. I hoped.
Marc had called Karl earlier, and he said he’d meet us at the gate. We scanned the milling crowd. Karl had always been easy to spot being the only one wearing a cowboy hat. Here half the people had them on.
“April, Marc. Here I am.”
I turned as Karl ambled up wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt with the names of several companies embroidered on the sleeves. As we walked along the back of some bleachers, a pungent odor assaulted my senses, transforming me back to high school summers when LeAnn and I went horseback riding at a nearby camp. We were more interested in the boy that led the trail rides, and when he quit working there, we stopped the rides and spent our money on movies instead.
“The contestants have a special place for families and friends,” Karl was saying. “It’s the best viewing for the bucking events. I want to take you guys behind the chutes before you go to your seats.”
Behind the chutes? Was that like going in the pits at NASCAR? We followed the bull rider around the end of the bleachers.
Ahead, several calves stood in a small pen. Next to them, horses munched on the grass in another pen. “So where are the bulls?” I asked.
Karl tipped his head to the left. “Over here.”
We walked with him until he stopped in front of a large pen. My gaze flicked from one horned animal to the next. These were the bulls Karl always boasted about riding? Although large, not one displayed flaring nostrils, and none pawed the ground.
Disappointed, I turned to Karl. “They don’t look very mean.”
He laughed. “Don’t let them fool ya. They know what to do when they get in that chute. See that black and white dude over there in the corner?” He pointed to one of the larger bulls whose horns reminded me of elephant tusks. “That’s Rough Rider. My ride to first prize tonight.”
“That’s the way, Murray. You need a positive attitude to get on one of those bad boys.” Marc looked at Karl, respect written all over his face. He placed his hand at the small of my back. “Well, hon, you want to find our seats?”
I almost flipped at him calling me hon in front of Karl. We may have reconciled, but we still needed to keep our relationship under wraps. If he heard the euphemism, Karl didn’t react. He was probably too busy telling himself what a wonderful bull rider he was.
“The bull riding is the last event,” Karl said. “Wish I could sit with you and explain stuff, but I guess you’ll figure it out. I need to catch someone before the rodeo starts. Can you find your seats okay?”
Behind us, a man’s voice called out “April!”
I startled, and was about to turn when Marc grabbed my elbow. “I’ll look.”
I obeyed his whispered direction and loved him for his bravado in my defense, but I stepped out of his grasp and angled myself enough to see a cowboy hug a young woman wearing jeans and a cowboy hat.
Karl chuckled. “That’s April Dunning. Best barrel racer on the circuit.”
I forced a laugh. “I wondered who else here knew me.”
We assured Karl we were fine and he strolled off, passing by my namesake now deep in conversation with her cowboy friend.
“Well, he’s a little full of himself, isn’t he?” I grabbed Marc’s hand as we walked toward the bleachers.
“Just self-talk. I did the same thing before football games back in high school. I bet inside he’s nothing but nerves. Getting on the back of one of those brutes takes a lot of guts.”
“Thanks for explaining. I wasn’t liking Karl so much at the moment.”
Off to our left, I heard someone say Karl’s name. I looked over. Huddled under a building built on stilt-like poles, several guys decked out in chaps and cowboy hats, passed folded bills to Karl. As though sensing my stare, his gaze met mine and I held it. Time halted, one second, two seconds, then three—
“Earth to April,” Marc tugged on my hand. “Let’s find our seats.”
I jerked my gaze away from Karl and let Marc guide me toward the bleachers. Over the past several days I’d convinced myself I misunderstood Karl’s phone call that I’d overheard, but now I couldn’t deny it. Gambling was bad enough, but gambling on your own event? Had Ramón been blackmailing him? Did he make enough betting on small rodeos to pay off a blackmailer? Maybe he didn’t have the money, and that’s why he got rid of the blackmailer. He was about the height of the orange-capped person . . . but was he the same height and build of the mower operator? Hard to say.
My bottom hadn’t been settled on the hard bleacher more than a couple moments when a deep voice barreled out of a loudspeaker above our heads, welcoming everyone.
I scanned the cowboys standing on a catwalk behind the chute area. Karl wasn’t there. What was he doing? Squirreling away the cash he collected?
I felt a tug on my elbow. A woman’s soprano voice warbled the Star Spangled Banner through the PA system. I jumped to my feet. Enough speculating on facts I didn’t know. I needed to get a grip. The National Anthem ended and the announcer followed up with a prayer for the event. He’d barely uttered “Amen,” when a chute gate opened.
A gray horse with a cowboy on his back jumped into the arena. He leaped one way, and then the other, each time the rider leaning further back. How the guy stayed on without a saddle was beyond me. A horn blew, and a couple more men on horseback came up along side the horse and helped the rider get off his mount. A tricky deal since the horse was still bucking.
I tried to pay attention to the calf roping events and trick horse riders, but all I wanted was to find Karl. Ask him what he was thinking. If he did kill Ramón and was framing Marc, he needed to do the right thing and turn himself in.
Intermission came and Marc convinced me I was hungry.
At the food stand, he gave our order for hot dogs and drinks then leaned down so I could hear him over the din. “You’re awfully quiet. Having a good time?”
I shrugged. “Just in a mellow mood I guess.”
“Still worried about us being stalked?”
Should I tell Marc about Karl’s gambling? Tricky question now that Karl reported to him. If the cowboy had nothing to do with Ramón’s death, I wanted to help him with his gambling problem, not cause him to lose his job. Until I knew better, I needed to keep quiet.
I shrugged. “Just wish this whole business was over and we could move on.”
The guy behind the counter handed Marc our orders and we headed to our seats. The hot dog hit my stomach like a dead weight, but I was able to keep it down with the soda. I only wanted the evening to be over so we could go home. After a women’s competition called barrel racing came the event we’d been waiting for—bull riding.
“In Chute One we have Karl Murray of Canoga Lake, Wisconsin.” The voice crackled through the speaker overhead. “A local boy who’s destined for the NFR finals if he keeps up his winning streak. He’s got his work cut out for him tonight with Rough Rider. Let’s give our home state cowboy some encouragement.”
A huge whoop erupted from the stands.
The chute gate opened, and the black and white bull Karl had showed us earlier leaped into the arena. Looking smaller than life on top of the animal, Karl sat straight, his left arm raised in the air. The bull’s backend bucked up at the same time he turned, then on the next jump turned the opposite direction. Ropes of snot spewed from his nostrils. The man next to me cheered. The horn blew, and Karl leaped to the ground. He ran to the side and climbed the fence while a couple guys in crazy get-ups cajoled the bull toward the open gate. The ride was over before it got going.
“That was a 91.25 ride tonight, folks.” The announcer’s strong voice filled the air. “Karl Murray has raised the bar for the other bull riders. He’s going to be a hard one to beat.”
Karl emerged out onto the dirt as a cloud of confetti drifted down from a container affixed to the top of the fence gate. He raised his hat to the crowd and waved. Even in the lights he managed to find me and hold my gaze. A shiver ran down my spine.
Chapter 38
Against Kitty’s protests that I shouldn’t drive to work alone, I arrived at Rescaté on Monday without a problem and began gathering ingredients for muffins. With Marc’s and my relationship restored I should have been walking on air, but how could I after what I witnessed with Karl? I had stuck with my decision to not mention the gambling issue to Marc. If the guy had an addiction, he needed help and not an appointment with the unemployment line. I hoped that my decision didn’t come back to bite me later.
Thyme for Love (Cooking Up Trouble Book 1) Page 19