The Rowdy Coyote Rumble (Jackrabbit Junction Humorous Mystery Book 4)

by Ann Charles

  That was no shortcut. The Rowdy Coyote Motel was several blocks out of their way. That’s what Claire got for trying to make Kate feel better after facing off with Butch. She yanked on the cable, cursing under her breath.

  “Ease up there, Incredible Hulk,” Chester said from the other end of the rec room where he was feeding her the cable. “You about dragged me through the hole on that last pull.”

  “Sorry, Chester.” Claire let go of the cable for a moment and shook the stress out of her hands, rolling her shoulders a couple of times. “I’m just sick and tired of having my personal effects analyzed by Deputy Dipshit while I sit on a pee-stained cot behind cell bars.”

  Ronnie swallowed a spoonful of yogurt. “What were you doing with a condom in your jacket pocket anyway?”

  Chester snickered. “I’m bettin’ it had nothing to do with protecting your firearm in the water.”

  “If you remember,” Claire grabbed the cable and poked it through another stud hole, “you had my jacket, so I had to borrow one.”

  “From whom?”

  “Mom.”

  “Ewwww!” Ronnie made a gagging face. “Why would she have a condom?”

  “You’re lucky it wasn’t used.” Chester took the disgusting factor to the next level.

  “Chester!” Claire shot him a glare. “We’re talking about my mother here.”

  “Yeah, well you don’t have to listen to Carrera go on and on about her bazookas like I do. That’s Ford’s daughter, for shit’s sake. I’ve known her since she was in diapers.”

  Claire pulled the cable through the last hole and lined it up with where Chester had the junction box nailed to the stud. “There, that’s the last one.” She pulled off her gloves and stuck them in her back pocket.

  Chester joined her at the junction box. “Ford is gonna be pissed when he sees this wire.”

  “Why? We’re just replacing the old stuff, plus an extra outlet or two per wall.”

  “You paid too much for the wire.”

  Here they went again, round and round about money, and it wasn’t even his she was spending. Chester seemed to have been channeling Gramps since this construction project started. “What was I supposed to do? Run into Tucson? I had to pay what Creekside Supply Company wanted.” Jackrabbit Junction’s hardware store was pricey, but a hell of a lot closer than the big box stores in the city.

  “You could’ve driven to Yuccaville.”

  “It’s not much cheaper there.”

  “And you should’ve bought the 14/2 cable. I told you we didn’t need the 12/2 for in here.”

  “And I told you that if Ruby’s going to run an air conditioner, flat-screen television, and multiple fans and other electronic gadgets in the rec room, it’s better to be safe and get the wire rated for 20 amp circuits. I’ll cover the extra cost.”

  “With what money? You haven’t held down a full-time job in months. Did the tooth fairy stop by and leave you a mint under your pillow?”

  Correction—Chester was channeling her mother. “I have some money, damn it.” Not much, but enough if Gramps squawked.

  “You could always try bartering with condoms if you run short of cash,” the peanut gallery said from the kitchen doorway. “Butch has a bunch stocked up in the supply room at The Shaft.”

  Claire hit her sister with a smirk. “You would know.”

  With her cheeks pink, Ronnie backed into the kitchen and out of sight.

  “Why would she know?” Chester asked. “Because she works there?”

  No, because Ronnie and Grady had been caught screwing around in the supply room by Butch. “Something like that.” She tapped on the junction box. “Now quit giving me shit about the wire and get to work on this, or I’ll tell Mom you want to hear all about how Manny proposed to her again.”

  “Damn. That’s blackmail. You’ve been hanging around your grandfather too much.” He got out his wire strippers and got to work.

  Claire joined Ronnie in the kitchen, taking in how clean and tidy the place was. “You cleaned again,” she said, filling a glass with water from the tap and gulping it down.

  “A little here and there, that’s all.”

  Ronnie had a fetish for tidiness and organization that reared its ugly head whenever she was stressed about something. She must be worrying about the men her ex had sicced on her through his stupidity and selfishness.

  “So, what were you two doing last night in front of The Rowdy Coyote Motel?” Ronnie spoke quietly next to Claire. “Did it have anything to do with Room 9?”

  Claire set the empty glass on the counter and frowned at her sister. “What do you know about Room 9?”

  “Katie told me that the Polar Bear is staying there. We took a gander through a spyglass at his big snake.”

  Claire tried to process that last line. “His what?”

  “Big snake.”

  “Jesus, Ronnie. Were you spying on him while he was in the shower?”

  Her sister made a horrified face that was almost comical. “Not that snake.” She smacked Claire’s shoulder. “You need to stop spending so much time with Chester. He’s rubbing off on you.”

  Claire covered her eyes. “I know. I can’t look at a woman now without hearing his voice spouting some dirty comment in my head about her hooters or her sweet ass. I think I need someone to strip my brain down to the studs and rewire it with 20 amp wire.”

  “The snake I’m talking about is a rattlesnake.”

  “Who keeps a rattlesnake as a pet?”

  “That’s what Katie and I were wondering.”

  “I don’t want to even think about your sister right now.”

  “Katie feels horrible about you getting dragged to jail.”

  “Blah blah blah jail. That’s what I just heard.”

  “Stop being such a baby, Claire.” Ronnie moved closer again, her voice a whisper. “Grady told me last night that he got word from a friend in the sheriff’s department in Albuquerque that they found a body that had the Polar Bear’s calling card on it.”

  “The Polar Bear carries business cards?”

  “You’ve been sniffing too much plaster dust. Not business card, nitwit. The person was squeezed to death.” Ronnie glanced at the doorway then back. “Grady’s friend thinks the Polar Bear might be on his way here, taking care of business along the way.”

  Claire grimaced. “So, you think Kate’s loony-toon theory about that guy is right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you tell Grady about the guy in the bar?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because what if Katie’s guy is innocent? Just some biker dude who looks like he could have that nickname? I can’t condemn someone without some sort of proof. I know how it feels to get the rubber glove treatment. I won’t put another innocent bystander through that.”

  Good point. They needed more proof.

  “So what really happened last night? And don’t try to sell me that bullshit story you told Grady about trying to rescue a stray kitten from behind The Rowdy Coyote.”

  “Ask your sister.”

  “Katie was gone this morning when I woke up. She left a note on the fridge saying she got a call to substitute again today.”

  Wouldn’t the school principal just love to hear that their new substitute teacher was in the sheriff’s holding tank last night? “Kate was creeping around behind the motel, peeking in windows.”

  “You let our pregnant baby sister sneak behind a seedy motel in the middle of the night?”

  “No. I had to go pee. She went with me to an empty lot a short way down from the seedy motel to keep an eye out for creeps and meth-heads while I watered the weeds. The brat sneaked off when my pants were down, leaving me bare-assed in the dark.”

  Ronnie chuckled until Claire pulled on her ear. “Ow!’

  “By the time I got my pants up, Kate had already made her way behind the motel and was looking in windows.”

  “So, that’s why someon
e called in about a prowler.”

  “Yep. I managed to drag her back to Mabel and found Deputy Dipshit waiting for us. Kate took off running and everything went south from there until you showed up at the station with the Sheriff and Butch.”

  The sheriff had let Claire and Kate out as soon as he’d walked into the building, and Butch had kicked back in the waiting room while the Sheriff sorted out the whole mess with Deputy Dipshit and Kate. After Claire got her condom and other personal effects back, Butch had loaded the three of them into his crew-cab pickup and hauled them over to where Mabel was still parked in front of The Rowdy Coyote.

  Kate had ridden up front with Butch on the short trip, but neither had spoken a word. Ronnie had nudged Claire’s leg and raised her brows about the silence, but Claire was too pissed about having to wait in that damned cell while Deputy Dipshit gave her crap about her mother’s condom to care about Kate’s love life or lack thereof.

  “So, when do you want to go check out the Polar Bear’s den?” Ronnie asked.

  Claire snorted. “How about the day after never?” She headed back into the rec room. “As in if I never see The Rowdy Coyote Motel again, I’ll be a happy girl.”

  “What do you have against The Rowdy Coyote?” Chester asked, securing the receptacle he’d wired into the junction box. “I knew a bikini mud wrestler who lived there for a few months. Talk about dirty sheets.”

  “Yuck.” Claire grimaced.

  “The rest of the room was clean as a whistle though. The owner has a no-pets and no-smoking policy.”

  No pets. Claire glanced at Ronnie. Did that include rattlesnakes sunning in the window?

  The phone rang.

  Claire squatted down to pick up the pieces of wire Chester had snipped off. “You want to grab that, Ronnie?”

  “Dancing Winnebagos R.V. Park,” Ronnie said into the receiver.

  Claire stood and dumped the pieces into the waste bin. She looked over at Ronnie and did a doubletake at the sight of her sister standing there with her cheeks all pale, the receiver almost slipping from her grip. “Who is it?”

  Ronnie whispered, “He’s coming.”

  “Who?” Claire looked at her watch. Mac wouldn’t be here for hours.

  “The Polar Bear.”

  “What in the hell is she babbling about?” Chester said, stuffing the wire snippers in his shirt pocket.

  Claire walked over and took the receiver from Ronnie’s limp hand. “Hello?”

  Nobody answered. The line was dead.

  Setting the receiver back on its base, she frowned at her sister. “Who was it? The Sheriff?”

  Ronnie shook her head.

  “The FBI cowboy?”

  “He didn’t say,” she breathed more than spoke.

  “Well, what exactly did this mystery man say?”

  “He’s coming for you.”

  “Someone’s coming for me?” Claire asked. “Or did they mean you?”

  “I think they meant me.”

  “Nothing else was said?”

  Ronnie shook her head.

  “Did you hear anything in the background?” Chester asked. “Honking horns, barking dogs, strip club music?”

  When Claire shot him a glare, he added, “What? Am I the only one who makes phone calls from strip clubs?”

  “Do that trick that calls the phone back,” Claire told her, picking up the receiver and holding it out. When Ronnie shook her head, backing away, Claire punched in the numbers herself. The phone rang and rang and rang.

  And then someone picked it up.

  “Hello?” a woman answered. Ronnie had said it was a man who’d called.

  “Uh, hi. Who is this?”

  “You called here, honey. Who are you?”

  “Where is here?”

  “Dirty Gerties.”

  Claire covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Dirty Gerties,” she told them.

  Chester let out a bark of laughter. “I told you so.”

  “I’m Claire from the Dancing Winnebagos R.V. Park over in Jackrabbit Junction,” she said in the receiver. “Did you happen to see someone just make a call from this phone?”

  “Nope, but I was cleaning the john. This here is the payphone right outside the men’s room.”

  “Can you tell me if there are any guys sitting at the bar who might have just made a phone call?” Claire had been in Dirty Gerties only once, and that was to drag Manny and Chester out of there when they called claiming they were too many sheets to the wind to drive home.

  “There’s nobody at the bar. The club doesn’t open for business until three during the week. I’m part of the cleaning crew.”

  Claire thanked the woman and hung up, turning to her sister who had plopped down on a barstool as if her legs had given out. “There’s nobody there besides the cleaning crew.”

  “I always wondered who spit-shined that place. There’s mud everywhere after a night of bikini bouts.”

  “He’s coming for you,” Ronnie repeated the message. “Grady’s friend was wrong.”

  “About the Polar Bear being on his way here?”

  “Yeah, he’s not on his way. He’s already in Yuccaville.” Her brown eyes were wide when she looked up at Claire. “I need to get out of here and go far away.”

  “What in the hell is she yapping about?” Chester joined Claire at Ronnie’s side.

  “Calm down,” she told her sister. “We should talk to the Sheriff about this first.”

  “You’re right.” She jumped up. “I’ve got to get a hold of Mississippi.”

  “The state or the river?” Chester asked.

  “The cowboy.”

  “Did you hit her on the head with your hammer when I wasn’t looking?” Chester asked Claire.

  “Leave my hammer and me out of this.”

  Ronnie scooped up Ruby’s pickup keys from the bar. “I’ll be back.”

  Claire snatched the keys out of her sister’s hands. “Hold up. I need the pickup. I have to go to Yuccaville for some more supplies.”

  “Where are the keys to Mabel?”

  “No way! Gramps said only I could drive her.”

  Ronnie grabbed a set of keys sitting on the corner of the bar. “Fine. Chester, I’m borrowing your truck.”

  “Okay, but don’t wash the footprints off the inside of the windshield.”

  Without another word, Ronnie raced out of the room and slammed out through the General Store’s screen door.

  Claire turned to Chester. “My sisters are losing it.”

  “I’ve got bad news, girl. Your whole family is nuttier than squirrel shit.”

  Chester’s words to Ronnie about footprints made Claire wonder about his level of nuttiness. “Why do you have footprints on the inside of your windshield?”

  His bristly cheeks widened with a grin. “I had a stargazing date inside my truck with a snowbird the other night.”

  The Milky Way was amazing in the cold, clear desert night. “Did you show her the North Star?”

  “Nope. Before I could find it, she grabbed hold of my big dipper and knocked my boots right off my feet.”

  Chapter Eight

  I could use a stiff drink, Mac thought. He’d been working twelve hour shifts out in the desert southeast of Tucson so long now that he knew all of the lizards by their first names.

  The Shaft beckoned like Apache Spring on a hot, dry summer day along the Butterfield Stage Route. He pulled his rig into the parking lot, killing his engine under one of the orange lights. If he were lucky, Claire would be back at the R.V. park holding down the fort, because he had some business with Butch that she didn’t need to hear. Mac checked the half-full lot for Mabel or his Aunt Ruby’s pickup, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t find either.

  He did see Chester’s truck, though. Maybe he was on yet another date. Chester’s ability to hook up with women made Mac wonder if there were a witch doctor somewhere doling out Love Potion #9. How else could someone as bristly and crude as Chester score with woman aft
er woman?

  The slam of his pickup door echoed across the lot, fading into the dark shadows beyond the glow of lights. On the eastern horizon, the waning moon crested the Tres Dedos Mountains, spotlighting the jagged ridge from behind. The breeze rolling in off the prickly pear and greasewood dotting the valley’s alluvial floor had a chill tonight, biting through his thin flannel shirt and the T-shirt beneath it. He jammed his hands into his pockets and hauled ass across the gravel lot.

  The Shaft smelled like booze and bodies crammed together in too small a space. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and headed for the bar, taking one of the open stools between a pair of grizzly old guys whose attention was riveted to the flat screen television. Mac couldn’t see what had them so entranced, especially since he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of Eddie Rabbitt on the jukebox singing about driving his life away.

  Nobody was tending the bar at the moment, so he looked around for an available bowl of Butch’s complimentary peanuts. The sound of Ronnie’s laughter drew his gaze to the back of the bar by the pool tables. He did a doubletake when he saw her playing pool with a tall dark-haired cowboy who wore the whole Western garb—hat, Wranglers, and boots. All he was missing were spurs that jingle-jangle-jingled and Champion the Wonder Horse.

  Who was this new guy and hadn’t Claire said Ronnie and Sheriff Harrison were still an item?

  It’s none of my business. He turned his back and focused on popping peanuts.

  “Hi, Mac,” another familiar voice said from behind him. He swiveled again, taking in Kate’s flushed forehead, red eyes, and messy hair. Her left cheek had a dark pink crease and her shirt collar was stuck half in and half out. Damn. Pregnancy was taking a toll on Claire’s usually perfectly groomed blonde sister.

  “How are you doing, Kate?” he asked, tossing a shelled peanut in his mouth. “I hear you got another job.”

  Kate opened her mouth like she was going to reply, but then tears filled her eyes and overflowed down her cheeks. A sob croaked from her throat.

  Frozen, Mac sat palming the other half of the peanut shell wondering what he’d said. Before he could do more than gawk at Kate, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, almost knocking him off the barstool.