by Ann Charles
“Is this some sort of trap?” Claire asked Gramps.
“What are you talking about, child?”
“Be careful, Ruby. Gramps’s bite is worse than his bark.”
“Maybe you can call Mac,” Ruby passed the buck along with the letter and envelope to Claire.
“Good idea.” Gramps touched his wife’s shoulder. “We need to get packing if we’re gonna get out of here at dawn.”
Ruby nodded, her expression worried when it returned to Claire. “You sure you’re okay with us leavin’ you with a burned rec room wall and now this?” She pointed at the letter.
“Sure,” Claire lied without a twitch. “But I’d be even more okay if you waited and took Mom with you.”
Gramps scoffed, “Nice try.” He patted Claire’s head like he often did his damned dog and then headed toward their bedroom.
Ruby gave Claire a quick hug and a whispered, “Thanks,” before following after him.
“Looks to me like they’re leaving you with nothing but trouble.” Chester jammed his cigar back into the corner of his mouth.
“True.” She poked him in the shoulder. “After all, they are leaving me here with you.”
He swatted away her hand and waddled toward the kitchen on his bowed legs. “What’s for breakfast? I’m out of chili.”
Thank the breakfast gods for that. “You must have me confused with your maid. Check the fridge.” Claire grabbed the cordless phone off Ruby’s bar and went out through the General Store’s front door. Plopping down on the porch bench, she looked out across the desert.
She never tired of the view from Ruby’s front porch. Over in the valley, a dust devil zigzagged across the desert floor, dancing to its own tune. To the east, the Tres Dedos Mountains backboned the length of the valley. At the north end of the ridge, a chunk of granite known as the Middle Finger jutted up, pointing at the sun.
Arizona’s deep blue skies reminded her of summers up in the Black Hills; the occasional clouds were like huge ships drifting past on their way out to sea. More than anything, she loved the feeling of wide openness. No city pressing down on her, making her aware of all of her shortcomings on the career front.
She leaned back, taking it all in. Living among the tumbleweeds and coyotes made her feel an affinity with those brave souls of the Old West who dared to pass through this barren corner of the country, let alone set up residence.
A breeze rustled through the cottonwoods and desert willows down by Jackrabbit Creek and blew her way. The clean scent of baked earth was marred by the odor of freshly charred paneling, reminding her of all of the work she had to do while Gramps and Ruby were gone.
Her gut tightened.
Shit. There went her moment of Zen.
Moving further down the porch away from the pile of burned offerings to the electrical gods, she leaned against the railing and punched in Mac’s cellphone number. Their phone conversation last night had been shorter than she liked; he had been tired and she had been henpecked by Chester to be his partner for a couple of games of Euchre.
“Morning, Slugger.” Mac answered. “What kind of trouble are you getting into today?”
Claire smirked. He knew her way too well. “Let’s see. So far, I’ve played firefighter and put out a one-smoke-alarm blaze in the rec room with the help of your aunt. She’s a real pro with a fire extinguisher.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Are you serious? There was a fire?”
“The outlet right by the doorway to the General Store sparked a fire. I think it was tired of being surrounded by that crappy 1970s wood paneling.”
“Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah. We put it out before it did too much damage.”
“Good. So when are you coming home?”
“Uh, well, there’s a thing about that.” She shifted against the railing, her legs antsy to walk somewhere far from her current situation.
“What kind of a thing?” Mac sounded wary.
She tried to think of the best way to deliver the bad news and ended up going for a bumbling blurt. “Gramps and Ruby are leaving, and I sort of need to stick around until they get back. They want a break from this place. Well, more like from the people here than the actual place. Anyway, they asked me to take care of the R.V. park. And Jess. She doesn’t want to go. And now there’s the burned rec room. Gramps wants me to finish remodeling it. Chester’s going to help, although his version of helping is more like drinking beer and bossing me around while he sits on his bony ass. Mom and Manny are still in Tucson on their secret honeymoon that I told you about last night. We haven’t told Kate yet about that crazy mess. It’s Ronnie’s job. Speaking of crazy messes, I think Kate’s gone over the deep end. She’s dead set that she’s found the Polar Bear. And Ronnie isn’t far behind Kate. She threw litter out the window right in front of Sheriff Harrison, so I got pulled over. Lucky for me, she’s sleeping with him so I didn’t get a ticket. And on top of it all, Butch comes home tomorrow, so Kate’s a nervous wreck. She spilled three pitchers of beer last night, and I ended up staying to help Ronnie close again. Then this morning, I went out to the tool shed and found a javelina stuck inside. It must have squeezed in through that loose board in the back and couldn’t figure out how to get free. The damned thing peed all over the floor, so it stinks something awful.”
She paused to catch her breath and let her tongue rest.
Mac’s silence made her twist her T-shirt hem this way and that. “Mac? Are you still there?”
“I think my brain just self-imploded.”
“So, will you come back Friday and stay for the weekend?” She licked her dry lips, worried that he might be getting really tired of driving all of the way from Tucson to see her and start making demands about her returning home with him … or else. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“How?”
“Lots of nakedness?”
“Are we talking about you or Chester? Because I’ve seen Chester nearly naked, and it made me nearly blind.”
Chester had a sleepwalking condition that had earned him the nickname Flash Gordon back in the Army. Unfortunately, that was an ailment that hadn’t been cured with time.
“Me naked.”
“Hmmm. Tell me more.”
“Alone with you.”
“Tempting. What else you got?”
“Both of those first two conditions behind a locked bedroom door.”
“Locked, you say? Is there a no-interruption guarantee in the deal?”
“Sure, and I’ll throw on the tool belt as a bonus.”
Mac had a tool belt fetish that she didn’t question. In her trade as a handywoman, trading in gauzy lingerie for a loaded tool belt meant she could save money by killing two birds with one stone. Trust her boyfriend, the geotechnician who could name the different layers of rock making up the surrounding mountains, to have a practical side even when it came to his sexual fantasies.
“Are you trying to tell me that if I wade into that maelstrom you like to call good ol’ family bonding, you’ll have sex with me?”
“Yep.”
“Then you have a deal, Slugger.”
“That wasn’t so hard.”
“I’ll be sure to torture you plenty on Friday.”
“You could take Friday off and come sooner.” Mac had months of time off accrued thanks to his nose-to-the-grindstone mentality year after year until she’d come along.
“I’ll see what I can do.” She heard the sound of a garage door opening. “I still can’t believe Manny married your mother. You would have thought he saw enough bloodshed in the Army to last a lifetime.”
“Gramps keeps talking about more blood being shed when Manny gets back with Mom. He turns all red and starts huffing when he talks about how his friend cradle-robbed his daughter.”
Mac chuckled. “He’s one to talk. Aunt Ruby is only a few years older than your mom.”
“Oh, speaking of your aunt. She got a weird letter today.”
>
“Please tell me it’s not another solicitor threatening her.”
“Nope. All it said was, ‘You’re the proud owner of Humdigger mine.’ Both the To and Return addresses were the R.V. park. The postage stamp shows it went through Yuccaville’s post office.”
“Did you say Humdigger mine?”
“Yeah, not humdinger. Ruby was stumped by it. Said she’s never heard of that mine. Gramps suggested we talk to you.”
“Your grandfather actually wanted you guys to come to me? Is it raining frogs out there in the desert?”
“Maybe he’s been getting too much sun.”
“Humdigger,” Mac said, as if rolling it around on his tongue would spur answers from his brain. “I’ll see if I can find anything out about it after work tonight.”
“Maybe I can get Ronnie to visit the library over in Yuccaville, too.” The hometown of the long-running, super huge Copper Snake Mining Company, Yuccaville’s collection of mining records was one of the most extensive in the state.
“I have to go, Claire. The boss called a special meeting this morning, so I have to stop at the office before I head down to the project site.” Mac’s company was subcontracting on a new drainage system for a growing retirement community twenty miles southeast of Tucson.
“Okay. Call me if you find out anything.”
“Will do.”
“I’m good with phone sex, too, if you want to skip straight to that.”
His laugh was low and husky. “I always appreciate your colorful descriptions, but I want to enjoy the real thing.”
“If you change your mind, you know my number.” He knew how to ring her bells and whistles, too. “Be careful out there.”
“Always. Don’t touch anything that hisses or rattles, Slugger, and that includes your mother. Love you.”
He hung up before she could sputter that she loved him back. Those three little words were relatively new to her and her tongue got all shy whenever it was her turn to say them to Mac.
The screen door opened and Chester came out with what looked like a rolled pancake in his hand.
“What is that?” She pointed at his breakfast.
“A pancake wrapped around a stick of jalapeño cheese.”
Really? “Can’t you just eat a normal breakfast?”
“This is normal.” He pointed his pancake roll at the phone. “Who was that?”
“Mac.”
“What did Sweet Buns have to say about the Humdigger mine?”
“He’s going to look into it.”
“Did you tell him we’re running the park for a while?”
“We? Are you going to help clean toilets?”
“I figure I’ll play host and visit all of the campers. You know, make sure their needs are met.”
Claire slapped him on the arm. “You better be good while Gramps and Ruby are gone.”
“Damn it, girl, don’t take the fun out of it.”
“If you harass any of the female campers, I’ll confiscate your snowbird-spying binoculars.”
“Now you’ve taken the fun out of it.”
Chapter Four
The Yuccaville Library was a regular snores-ville this afternoon with only a handful of patrons roaming among the shelves.
Ronnie spared the librarian a glance on her way over to the spot where the computers with internet access were located. Even she was sleeping with her head tipped back and her mouth wide open like a baby bird.
The telltale clicking of knitting needles drew Ronnie over to the gang of old ladies hanging out in their usual circle. From an outsider’s viewpoint, the three appeared to be harmless retirees meeting for their weekly knitting bee. But Ronnie knew better. The Geritol gang could give the Dalton brothers a run for their money.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” she said, dropping into the chair next to Millie, their leader, who also happened to be Sheriff Harrison’s aunt. Oh, such wonderful irony. As a member of the notorious Morgan sisters, Ronnie felt a sort of camaraderie with Aunt Millie and her feisty friends. “You’re missing a couple of ladies today.” Usually there were five of them, but today only the three main players were present—Millie, Ruth, and Greta.
“I have a bone to pick with you, young lady,” Aunt Millie told her, poking Ronnie in the thigh with her long needle.
“I brought goodies to trade if you want.” Even though Aunt Millie and her friends no longer demanded bribes from Ronnie in exchange for time on the internet, Ronnie still brought glittery goods in case they had a change of heart.
“This isn’t about the Fair Trade Act.” That was Aunt Millie’s codename for the extortion racket she and her compadres had going on at the library. Aunt Millie pointed her needle at the computers. “What sort of trouble are you up to these days?”
Grady’s aunt knew too much about Ronnie for each other’s own good. “Just the normal black market stuff.” Ronnie tried to dodge her question. “Same as always.”
Aunt Millie and her crew had helped Ronnie back in September. Without their help, Ronnie wouldn’t have been able to figure out where the watch had come from. Nor would she have been able to ship it back before someone much more worrisome than the law came looking for the watch. Technically, Grady had shipped the watch back under a cloak of anonymity, saving Ronnie and her family from an even bigger heap of trouble than they were in already.
“Your eyes sparkle when you lie,” Aunt Millie told Ronnie. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“No, but thanks for the heads up. I’ll be sure to wear sunglasses more often.” Especially around Aunt Millie’s badge-wearing nephew and his x-ray vision.
“Now quit being smart with me. Cough up the truth or I’ll sic Ruth on you.”
Ruth was Aunt Millie’s second in command. She liked to joke about sharpening her knitting needles every night and delivered a wicked blow with her cane when push came to shove. This was the same Ruth who had left some bruises on Claire months ago thanks to said cane when the two had gotten into a scuffle over the length of time allowed on the library’s internet computers. Claire had not only taken a few hits from Ruth, but she’d also been kicked out of the library for six months, which was one of the reasons Ronnie was there today. Claire wanted information on a mine, and Ronnie was the only Morgan sister that Aunt Millie and her bruisers let inside their clubhouse.
“We know you’ve been deleting the cache and clearing the temporary internet files after every use,” Ruth told Ronnie without looking up from the cherry red sweater she was knitting. “We may be old, but we’re not computer fuddy duddies.”
Damn. She’d underestimated the old gals. “Maybe I’m just a clean freak.”
“Good try.” Aunt Millie pursed her lips. “Now you’re going to tell us what you’re really up to or else.”
“Or else what?”
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“What’s the hard way?” A cane beating? Ronnie really didn’t want to involve anyone in her diamond search besides Claire.
“I call my nephew and let it slip that Greta is helping you with your German again.”
Greta could read and speak German. She’d helped Ronnie translate a German article about Claire’s prized antique gold watch. One slip to Grady like that would have him sniffing around her for reasons other than sex on the sly. “Oh, you girls are good.”
“You bet your ass we are, Fräulein,” Greta said, sounding like Cloris Leachman in Young Frankenstein.
Ronnie knew when she’d met her match. “Fine. I’ll share, but only if you three promise to keep your lips sealed. Nobody, and I mean absolutely not another soul, needs to know about this, especially not Sheriff Harrison.”
Ruth’s shrewd gaze narrowed even more. “Or what?”
“I’ll have to jump the border and disappear for a long, long time.”
“Can we go with you?” Greta asked. “I’ve always wanted to sleep with one of those mariachi players. They’re so sexy playing their romantic music in those
fancy outfits.”
Aunt Millie’s face lit with a smile that made her eyes glow. Grady’s aunt had a penchant for danger. Maybe that’s where he’d gotten his desire to face off with criminals day after day. Millie leaned closer. “You have our word. Now spill.”
Ronnie glanced around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. The librarian still snoozed away. A mom and her toddler were looking at books in the kids’ section. Other than that, they were alone. Waving the three knitters in closer, she shared her tale about the diamonds hidden inside the fake glass eyeballs that she’d found stashed up under one of the camper trailers last month. She purposely left Claire’s name out of her story in case of retribution.
When she finished, all three sat back and resumed knitting, as if Ronnie had shared today’s weather, not some sordid tale about black market dealers and human “mules” carrying stolen treasure across international borders.
“Hmmm,” Aunt Millie said after several stitches. “It sounds to me like you could use some training to improve your investigational skills.”
“What do you mean? I’ve seen plenty of CSI shows.”
“CSI is fiction. If you want to learn from television, you need to check out Rockford or Columbo.”
“I always enjoyed Perry Mason,” Ruth said. “He had those dark piercing eyes.”
“I’m a Philip Marlowe fan hands down.” Greta sighed and patted her heart. “Bogart still makes my old ticker race.”
That could be dangerous at Greta’s age. She could blow a gasket.
“Why do I need training?” Ronnie dragged them back to the present day.
“You’ve been using words like ‘stolen diamonds’ and ‘diamond heists’ in your searches,” Aunt Millie said.
Ronnie’s jaw dropped. “How could you see that from over here?”
Ruth giggled and pointed at Greta, who pulled a pair of binoculars from her knitting bag.
“They’re Vortex Vipers.”
Greta would fit right in with Manny and Chester and their babe-watching binoculars. Ronnie shook her head in disbelief. “You girls should really go pro.”