“So, Keith, any new gossip about that explosion?”
“Oh, plenty. Rumors fly around little towns worse than a swarm of mosquitos.”
“Sheriff Buckman told me the second body was a woman.”
“Yeah—you didn’t hear? It was Sophie Tucker.”
“Oh my gosh.” I could feel the blood drain from my face. I set my sandwich down. “Was she mixed up with the drug thing? I can’t believe it.”
“They don’t think so, but people are sayin’ Rory was. Nobody really knows for sure. And the scuttlebutt is that maybe she was out there because she and Rory were ‘involved.’”
“Like, sleeping together?” I was having a hard time getting my mind around any of this. “Rory, the man who hated Sophie’s father because of some long ago banking scandal? Now he’s sleeping with Bud’s daughter?”
“Crazy, ain’t it?” Keith started wiping the counter even harder. “Course I don’t know how much truth there is to it. People start talkin’ and next thing you know, they’re treatin’ it like fact.”
Sophie dead. And if she was involved with Rory Daniels, she sure hadn’t given the slightest hint about it. I should have picked up some little clue when I’d mentioned him to her. Skepticism crept in.
But if Sophie wasn’t involved with Rory sexually, and she wasn’t involved in the drugs, then what was she doing in the mine with him when the explosion happened?
Keith moved behind me to clear the recently vacated table. He carried the dishes to the kitchen while I chewed thoughtfully on my sandwich.
“Keith?” I asked, taking a last bite and saving a few pieces of the bread for Rusty.
“I’m right here,” he answered, bringing two wrapped sets of flatware to reset the table.
“You mentioned something to me once about geology.”
He raised his head and gave me a lazy grin. “Yeah.”
“Well, I got the feeling that you’ve got a lot more education than you let on around here.”
“Ahh . . . that.”
“Yeah. Want to let me in on it?”
He shrugged. “Book learnin’s okay,” he said. “Got me a fair amount of it. But your quality of life is more important. I chose this life. Lot more fun than what I left behind.”
“Know much about the geology of New Mexico?” I asked.
“Some. Ain’t the same as in East Texas, but I know a little.”
“Are there any valuable mineral resources in the Albuquerque area?”
“Albuquerque? Gosh, I don’t think so.” He went behind the counter and picked up the pitcher to refill my tea. “There are significant oil and gas deposits in the state. In fact New Mexico is first in coal production for the country. Most people don’t know that. But those things are all located in other parts of the state. I don’t know of anything like that in the Albuquerque area.”
I noticed that he had slipped back out of his down-home hillbilly accent.
“What could there be, down in the north valley of Albuquerque, that would make a piece of land really valuable?” I pondered.
“Well, the valley areas lie along the Rio Grande Rift,” he said. “Now, up north a bit, and even into Colorado, you’ll find these little pockets of thermal heat that come near the surface here and there.”
“Thermal heat?”
“You know, like in those hot springs places like Ojo Caliente and such.”
“And this would be valuable?”
“Maybe. Could open a nice mineral spa and get rich people to drop a lot of money there. If there was enough pressure, someone might be able to harness the energy for a thermo power plant.”
“Really.” I placed my leftover bread crusts in the center of my paper napkin and twisted the edges of it together. Someone who knew a lot about geology, someone who might have government money behind him for the development.
A pickup truck pulled up outside and two ranchers got out.
“Thanks, Keith, you may have just given me a motive.”
The bells on the door jingled as the two men walked in.
“Hey, fellas,” Randel greeted. “You betcha, Charlie-girl,” he said to me. “Ain’t no problem.”
I walked out to the car, carrying my small napkin-wrapped gift for Rusty. He gobbled the bread crusts as if they were the last ones in the world. As I pulled out of the dirt parking area I could see Keith inside, fingers snagged into the edges of his red suspenders, joking with his two new customers. Interesting man.
I hadn’t planned on spending this much time being sidetracked on my way to Phoenix, but as long as I was, I decided to stop in at Sheriff Buckman’s office to learn more about Sophie’s death. His car was parked out front when I arrived.
“You didn’t tell me the woman killed in the mine was Sophie,” I accused once I was standing across from his desk.
“Yeah, I did,” he answered, not looking up from the folder he was writing in. “Left a message on your machine this morning.” He looked up at me. “What—you didn’t get it? I thought that’s why you were here.”
I didn’t go into details about my planned trip to Phoenix.
“No, I was just having lunch at Keith’s place and he told me.”
“Bet he also told you that the rumor’s all over town that she and Rory Daniels were having a fling.”
“Well, yes, he did.”
“Dammit! It’s so frustrating the way these things get going. Worse than a damn wildfire.”
“So they weren’t?” I knew my instincts weren’t totally off.
“Look,” he said, coming around the desk and closing the door to his private office. “Only a couple people in this office even know this. No, Sophie and Rory weren’t involved—not in that way—trust me on that.”
He rubbed his temples gingerly. “We’re close to having some answers, and I just hope that’s the end of it.” He lifted his head. “I can’t tell you anything more now, but I don’t want you saying nothin’ around town.”
I still wasn’t satisfied but I assured him I wouldn’t.
I walked out to my car feeling down. Poor Sophie. Despite the fact that for one brief period I’d considered her a suspect in her father’s death, I’d liked her. She’d still had that independent cowgirl spirit that’s been completely bred out of city kids, bred out of a lot of country kids today too, unfortunately. I started the Jeep and hit the road.
Three people dead in White Oaks and I still didn’t have Willie McBride.
When I came to a stop at the four-way intersection in Carrizozo I glanced in my rearview mirror. A midnight-blue sedan had stopped behind me. I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was off. The pair in the front seats certainly weren’t from around here. Even at a glance her heavy makeup and his shoulder length wavy hair told me they didn’t fit with the cowboy set I’d become acquainted with here in southern New Mexico. And the car was shiny clean—one short drive down any of our dirt roads would have fixed that.
Tourists, probably. I pulled through the intersection and when they didn’t turn off I reduced my speed so they could pass me before the road narrowed to two lanes again. They didn’t and I eventually sped up to my own comfortable pace.
It was mid afternoon by the time I reached Las Cruces and I realized I had hours to go yet before I’d reach Phoenix. I stopped to grab a quick burger and place a call to the motel where we’d stayed before, guaranteeing a room for late arrival.
“Ready?” I said to Rusty, tugging at his leash. I’d walked him to a dirt lot beside the hamburger place and he was completely entranced with all the new smells he discovered there.
It was already way past my bedtime when I reached the outskirts of Apache Junction. I spotted the exit to my hiking trail and whizzed on past it. A decent night’s rest was in order before I started anything strenuous. In Mesa I exited at Power Road and pulled into the same parking spot I’d used the last time I was here. Rusty waited in the car while I checked in and followed me excitedly as I carried our things into the room.
“Yeah, it’s fine for you to jump around with all that energy,” I told him. “You slept on the back seat the whole way.”
I pulled out my notes with phone numbers of the places that might rent me a horse but it was too late to call anyone tonight. I’d spent the past six hours thinking about my plans for finding Willie, so there wasn’t much else to do now but brush my teeth and go to sleep.
The sun shone as a brilliant outline against the blackout drapes when I opened my eyes. Rusty sat at my bedside, resting his large head on the sheets.
“What?” I groaned. “Do I have to take you out before I’m even awake?”
He danced toward the door, verifying that his urge to pee was more desperate than mine.
“Okay, okay.” I pulled on the clothes I’d taken off the night before and slid my feet into my walking shoes without benefit of socks.
Clipping the leash to his collar I let him pull me down the hall to the outside entrance and we dashed across the sidewalk and the chipped-rock landscaping. Thank goodness he’d given me time to put on my shoes.
The air was warm already, promising a hot day ahead. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was already after eight. I better get started.
“C’mon,” I urged Rusty, tugging him away from a fascinating oleander bush.
Back in the room I dialed one of the stables Dick Chambers had recommended. Line busy. Dialed the second one and a man with a rusted voice answered. I explained that I wanted to rent one of his horses to go up into the Superstitions.
“Much ridin’ experience?” he asked.
“Some, but not very recent.” I didn’t admit that I hadn’t been on a horse since my high school days. I’d been a reasonably decent horsewoman then; surely it would come back to me.
“Then I’ll have to send a guide with you,” he said.
“Guide?” I hadn’t counted on having another person along.
“Can’t have you getting thrown and my horse running loose out there in the rocks. She’d die of heat stroke, for sure.”
“I’d planned on spending a night or two out, and I really don’t want to spend them with a strange man. Do you have any women guides?”
“Well, no. My cowboys are all real gentlemen, though.”
I finally convinced him to let me go alone, provided I left him a credit card number and authorized him to charge it for the value of the horse if I didn’t bring her back. I didn’t mention that he’d also have my vehicle as hostage. Surely a nearly new Jeep was worth more than his precious horse.
I got directions to his place and told him I’d be there within an hour.
“Sheesh,” I said to Rusty after I hung up the phone.
I showered and re-dressed, putting on my hiking boots and smearing sunscreen on everything that was left exposed. I rechecked my equipment and fit everything except the sleeping bag inside the duffle. I hoped Mr. Cowboy’s horse could handle a person plus a little bit of gear. I made sure my maps and GPS were near the top of the bag.
Rusty trotted along beside me to the parking lot. I wrestled the duffle and sleeping bag while I used my key to open the back hatch of the Jeep.
“Okay, hop in,” I told the dog, opening his back door once I had the gear stowed.
For some reason I glanced across the parking lot as I was opening my own door. One row over and four or five cars down from mine sat a midnight-blue sedan. The bright yellow and red New Mexico plate caught my eye. An electric shock of fear shot through me. The odds of a couple of tourists being at the same intersection at the same time in Carrizozo then ending up at the same motel as mine in another state in a metropolitan area of three and a half million people were staggering. Impossible, I’d say.
I scanned the windows facing the parking lot. Sheer drapes covered them all, revealing nothing.
My mind shot back over the trip. How many stops had I made along the way? How had they followed me without my seeing them? Especially once I hit city traffic after dark. Paranoia crept in. A transmitter of some kind. They could have attached it when I stopped for food in Las Cruces, perhaps. I reached into my glove compartment for a tire gauge.
Pretending to check tires, I ran my hand around the wheel well of each. Behind the right rear I found it—a tiny black plastic thing with a strong magnet on the back. I pulled it loose and noticed that a small red light on it was blinking with slow regularity, like an evil eye winking. Without thinking, I reached out and stuck it to the underside of the car next to mine, a white Cadillac.
Deal with that, suckers.
I got back into the Jeep and started it. I was backing out of my slot when I looked up and saw the man with the long wavy hair walking toward the blue car. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second. Oh, shit. Had he seen me move the transmitter? I thrust the Jeep in gear and raced out of the driveway without looking either way. In my rearview I could see him running for his car.
Rush hour traffic was well under way. I caught up with a pack of cars that were doing nearly sixty on the forty-five limit boulevard. A couple of rash moves later I was well within their midst. It isn’t easy making unsafe lane changes, speeding, and keeping your eyes on the rearview mirror at the same time. I took a couple of unnecessary turns, winding my way through a small residential area, watching behind me all the time. After I was pretty sure I’d lost him I consulted my map again and took a course that would lead me east past Apache Junction.
The stable consisted of a rustic wooden building and a couple of corrals containing a dozen or so horses that appeared content to chew on the wisps of hay sticking out of the wooden trough at one end of the pen. A shiny blue pickup truck with a white horse trailer hitched to it was parked at the right hand edge of the dirt parking area.
“Hi, you must be Charlie,” said the man who came out of the wooden building. He looked like his voice had sounded on the phone, kind of rusted out in places. “I’m Bert.”
“Okay if I leave my car there?” I asked. I’d backed into a spot where the vehicle would be shielded by the building from anyone driving down the road. I hoped my pursuers were good and lost by now but that paranoid feeling had tracked me all the way from the motel. What if they’d been able to listen to my phone calls—they could know exactly where I was headed.
Bert nodded assent and we went inside and transacted a little paperwork. “I’ll let you take Molly. She’s a nice gentle mare, but not so old that it’d take you forever to get there. And she’s good around dogs. Smart to take you a dog along.”
“Thanks.” I showed him on the map roughly where I was going and told him I had a cell phone with me.
“That’s fine if you can get it to work,” he said. “Half the time them things don’t do so good in the mountains. Might have to find yourself a high spot.”
“Now this is where you say you started before?” he said, indicating the trailhead I’d shown him on the topo map. “Okay, here’s where you are now. You’ll want to take the trail from our place, right to here.” He drew a thick line on my map with a pencil. “That’s gonna tie you in with the one you were on.ound
I studied the map for a minute. Today’s route was longer than the original one but not by much. And it tied in to the main trail before the point where I’d need to be watching for Willie’s markers.
We went out to the Jeep, where I retrieved my duffle and sleeping bag while Bert singled out Molly, a trim palomino, from the crowd of horses and led her out of the corral. She nudged at me with her velvety nose and I stroked her forehead.
“Don’t look she’ll have no trouble makin’ friends,” Bert said. “She’s a good un.”
I reached into the duffle and pulled out an apple I’d snagged from the motel’s free continental breakfast and cut a chunk off it with my pocketknife. Mollie took it gently with her teeth and crunched at it. Just to keep peace I cut a smaller chunk and gave it to Rusty. Each of them got one more piece before the apple was gone.
Wiping the juice off my hands and knife onto my jeans, I stashed the knife
and pulled out the GPS. The horse turned her head to look at it, hoping for more treats, and I showed her it wasn’t edible.
“Whatcha got there?” Bert asked.
I showed him how I programmed in our current location. “Now I can find my way back here from anywhere.”
“Well, I’ll be danged. Heard of them things but never seen one before.”
He helped me strap my pack behind the saddle and he seemed a bit more at ease with our deal when I swung my leg over Mollie’s back.
“I’m hoping to be back by tomorrow evening,” I told him. “But I may decide to stay out an extra day or so. I’ve got food for four days.”
“Okay,” he said, turning to go back inside.
“Bert?”
He turned around.
“Listen, some guy and this lady with way too much makeup were hassling me at my motel this morning. I don’t think they could’ve followed me here, but if anybody comes around asking where I’ve gone, don’t let them know you’ve seen me, okay?”
“Sure thing,” he replied easily.
“Long as he’s got that credit card, he probably doesn’t care what I do,” I said to the horse and dog after Bert had disappeared.
I was right about my riding abilities coming back quickly. It felt a little awkward for the first few minutes but Molly was compliant and easygoing. From the stables we headed down a short dip through an old wash. The trail was clear as it came up the other side and within thirty minutes or so we’d connected to the main Forest Service trail.
Overhead, a thin layer of clouds filtered the sun’s hot rays, cooling the temperature just a little. Willie’s markers were easier to spot this time, since I knew what I was looking for, and by noon we’d reached the point where I’d decided to turn around the last time.
“Let’s stop for some lunch.” I needed to get down and stretch my legs as much as I needed food.
My hip joints creaked as I swung down off the horse. “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna be feeling this tomorrow,” I said to Rusty as I looped Molly’s reins around a branch in the shade of a tree with widespread lacy leaves.
Reunions Can Be Murder: The Seventh Charlie Parker Mystery Page 17