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

by Ann Charles

  “Hit me again, spud-knuckle, and I’ll tell the Sheriff you locked Deputy Dipshit in his jail.”

  “You won’t either.” Kate sighed. “I wish you and Ronnie would stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

  “We’re trying to protect you.”

  “Well, knock it off and tell me the truth. What is it about this Dory guy that has you two freaked out?”

  Claire stopped for the last light on the way out of Yuccaville and scowled across at her. “Someone killed the mule.”

  “You mean the woman in prison, right?”

  “No, Kate, I mean the old mule Ruby keeps out behind the tool shed.”

  When Kate threatened to punch her again, Claire came clean. “Yes, I’m talking about the woman Ronnie took those diamonds from.”

  “That woman who tried to shoot Mac in the mine?”

  “Yes. That woman. They stabbed her twenty-three times with a shiv while she was locked up in prison.”

  “What’s that have to do with Dory Hamilton?”

  “The prison where she was killed was the Gila Flats complex.”

  Kate’s mouth opened. “The same one Dory has been calling.”

  Claire nodded, hitting the gas.

  “So you think Dory is connected to that woman’s death?”

  “If not, it’s one hell of a coincidence.”

  Kate sat back in her seat. “And Dory was the one who called Ruby’s and said someone was coming for Ronnie.”

  “Bingo.”

  As the Yuccaville city limits shrank in Kate’s side mirror, the weight of this mess pressed on her, making her stomach tighten. She reached over and squeezed Claire’s shoulder. “I promise I won’t let anyone hurt either you or Ronnie.”

  Claire gave her a troubled smile. “What does that mean?”

  “Detective Kate is on the case.” Dory Hamilton was going to wish he’d never heard of the Morgan sisters.

  “Oh, God.” Claire frowned out the windshield. “Now I’m really worried.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “This is a big mistake,” Chester told Claire that afternoon as she rolled out the final stretch of underlay material over the vapor barrier she’d spread out on the rec room’s subfloor. Freshly back from a beer run to the kitchen, he sat down on one of Ruby’s barstools with two unopened cans of beer in hand. “Your grandfather isn’t going to like this cheap-ass flooring.”

  “First of all,” Claire stood, brushing her hands off on her jeans, “it’s not cheap. I made sure to get a high quality, very durable, drop-lock bamboo laminate.”

  “Laminate,” Chester said with a sneer, cracking open one of the beers. “It’s not even hardwood.”

  “Second,” she walked over and grabbed the beer from him, “I’m not concerned if Gramps likes it or not, only his wife.” She took a gulp and made a face. His taste buds must have been long dead from all of that chili con carne if he enjoyed that nasty, bitter shit. “Jeez, that tastes like crap, Chester. You need a new tongue.”

  After sticking said appendage out at her, he snickered. “No can do. This one has too many good memories attached to it.”

  A wheezy-sounding laugh came from Manny, who sat on the barstool next to Chester. “Remember that time we met those three spicy ladies from Ipanema and you wiggled your tongue around between their—”

  “Beep!” Claire interrupted what undoubtedly would have been yet another X-rated tale of debauchery. Four in one afternoon was plenty. “No more old stories of loose women.”

  “How about some new stories of tight asses?” Chester’s eyes danced with mirth as he cracked open the other beer.

  “How about we get back to work so I can slap the first layer of paint on tomorrow?” She handed the open can of beer to Manny and then grabbed the half-inch, square molding spacers that came with the flooring.

  “Party pooper,” Chester said, jamming his smoldering cigar into his mouth. “What makes you think Ruby will like this cheapo floor?”

  Claire pulled the utility knife from her tool belt and cut open several of the boxes of bamboo slabs. “After all of the scrubbing and vacuuming she’s done thanks to you boozehounds tracking in the whole damned Sonoran desert every time you come over, I think she’s going to be happier than a dog with three balls.”

  “A dog with three balls,” Manny repeated chuckling. “That reminds me of a dancer your grandfather and I met in Bangkok.”

  “You did more than meet her that night according to Ford,” Chester said to Manny. He pointed his cigar at Claire. “You’ve misplaced your feelings.”

  Huh? Misplaced? “I don’t think so. Let me check.” She patted her back pockets. “Nope, I have them right here, Mr. Pain-in-the-Ass, exactly where I left them after putting up with your bitching and moaning about the lousy job I did installing those can lights and ceiling fans yesterday.”

  “Good one, bonita. I should be filming this,” Manny said, toasting her with his beer. “You two could have a show on that home and landscaping channel.”

  Chester crossed his arms over his chest, giving her the stink eye. “You say that you have Ruby in mind when you’re making these remodeling decisions, but if you really believe that you’re lying to yourself.”

  “That’s not true.” Claire re-crossed her arms. “I’m trying to make choices that will make life easier for her.”

  “No, you’re making choices that will make this place more comfortable for you. If you were truly concerned about Ruby’s feelings, you would be calling her each day to ask what kind of lights and flooring she wants, or if she wants the walls white or tan or whatever color of green it was you picked out.”

  Claire hesitated. She’d told herself she was doing this as a belated wedding gift, but was Chester right? Did she really have only herself in mind? She did think that Ruby would like this type of floor better than … OH! MY! GOD! She covered her mouth in horror. “I’m being like my mother, aren’t I?”

  “Un poco,” Manny said, making a pinching gesture with his fingers.

  “More than that but with a lot less bitchiness.” Chester swigged the last of his beer. “When your grandfather gets home next weekend, make sure you tell him that I had nothing to do with those lights and this floor.” He let out a belch and then set the can on the bar. “Now what do you need me to help with next?”

  Should she take the flooring back? She grimaced at the opened boxes, and then decided she might as well finish what she’d started and make it up to Ruby via free labor if she hated it. Onward ho, then.

  “Who’s better on your knees, you or Manny?” She’d grabbed two pairs of knee pads, one of them for her.

  “Knee work is Carrera’s specialty,” Chester said, his smartass grin punctuated with his cigar. “He spent half of his time in the Army on his knees. How do you think he made it from private to sergeant so fast?”

  Manny’s laughter echoed off the freshly primed walls. “For that, amigo, I’m going to tell Cherry over at Dirty Gerties how you fantasize about her in a Cat Woman outfit and a little white apron making molasses cookies for you.”

  “Watch yourself now, Carrera, or I’ll tell your fashionista wife that you secretly love the color pink and want her to rosy-up your wardrobe.”

  Lordy-be, it was going to be a long afternoon.

  “Chester,” Claire interrupted, “will you take the golf cart back to the tool shed and grab Ruby’s miter saw? I left the key in the ignition.”

  As Chester hobbled out through the back door, she turned to Manny. “Here,” she tossed him the other set of knee pads. “Let’s get this floor done. I have a lot to do before Gramps and Ruby get home.”

  “The place is looking muy bueno, chica.”

  She thought so, but now she had her doubts. “Chester would disagree with you.”

  “Thomas wears plaid socks with pinstriped boxers. What does he know about decorating?”

  Manny had a point. Claire had seen Chester in clashing boxers and socks more times than she’d have liked.
But at least she hadn’t seen his bare butt, unlike her new stepfather’s.

  Speaking of asses: “Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s still sleeping off last night’s cognac-fest.”

  Still? Criminy. Claire laid out several slabs of bamboo on the floor, staggering them as she made a pattern. She contemplated how to phrase her next question and in the end went right to the point. “Manny, have you thought about why Mom is drinking so much lately?”

  “Sí.” His knees popped as he slid down onto them and began to help her line up the bamboo planks. “I think about it each night as I watch her pour drink after drink, and then later as I undress her and put her to bed.”

  She frowned at him. “What’s going on with her?” She worried her lower lip. “Are you two getting along okay?”

  “Tu madre is having a midlife crisis.”

  Midlife? Wasn’t she about ten years too old for that? “You sound as if you know that for certain.”

  “It’s what she told me on our way back from Vegas.”

  “She said that to you?” At his nod, she asked, “Why did you two get married so fast?”

  “She wanted to show up your father.”

  “What? And you agreed?”

  “Sí. At my age, when a beautiful younger woman throws herself at you and begs you to marry her, you either run the other way as fast as your old legs will carry you, or you jump on the horse and ride off into the sunset with her.”

  “Please tell me you made her sign a pre-nup.”

  “Your mother will be well taken care of now, whether I’m in the picture or not.”

  “Why would you do that for her?”

  “I didn’t do it for her.” He took her hand and patted it. “I did it for your grandfather and you girls. You all have been in my life so long that I think of you as mi familia. Marrying your mother simply made it official.”

  Claire’s mouth fell open. “Manny, you shouldn’t have done that for us.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, chica. I’m no martyr. I find your mother muy bonita.” His eyes twinkled. “And when she’s alone with me, she’s very attentive.”

  Claire winced.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t mean in bed.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Although she is a wild cat between the sheets.”

  “Manny,” she warned, “remember Gramps’s number one rule for family members?”

  Manny snorted. “Your grandfather needs to lighten up.”

  That was putting it mildly, but she wasn’t finished fishing about her mother, so she switched back to Deborah’s problem. “Do you think this drinking thing with Mom will pass?”

  Manny nodded. “Divorce can cause ripple effects long after a relationship stops thrashing and finally drowns. Right now, tu madre is using alcohol to cope with big changes in her life that have her scared. Eventually she’ll tire of the hangovers and learn how to get a grip on her fears. When that time comes, we’ll see if this rebound marriage of ours works.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “Then we go our separate ways.” He handed her a slab of bamboo. “Only I’m not going anywhere, so she’ll have to be the one doing the adios-ing.”

  As odd as their whirlwind courtship and marriage had seemed initially, she liked having Manny in the family. She leaned over and gave him a hug. “Manuel Carrera, I’m very proud to call you my stepfather. Thank you for marrying my mom and looking out for all of us.”

  “De nada,” he said, but then he blushed and looked away.

  The telephone rang.

  She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek, and then headed over to answer the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Slugger, how’s the rec room coming along?”

  “In spite of all the beer drinking and dirty jokes, we’re getting closer to being done.”

  “Chester is on a roll, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she looked over at where Manny was securing a bamboo slab against the molding spacers. “And now he has a cheering section.”

  She took the phone through the General Store and out onto the front porch.

  “You mean your mom actually let Manny leave her side for once?” Mac asked.

  “She’s in bed, still hungover.” Claire lowered onto the top porch step. The wind wasn’t so blustery on this side of the house with only a periodic breeze whipping her hair around. The full sun warmed her head and shoulders, keeping her from shivering.

  “Again? That sounds like it’s becoming a problem.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. How’s Tucson?”

  “Lonely. I miss your smile along with the rest of your body. How are your sisters?”

  “Freaking wacko.” She filled him in on Kate’s latest confrontation with Deputy Dipshit in his monster truck, which led to telling him about the phone number for the Gila Flats prison complex being on Dory’s cellphone multiple times.

  “That’s the same prison where they took the other mule who got stabbed to death,” he said.

  “I know. Now we’re trying to figure out if Dory is in cahoots with whoever killed her.” She spent the next few minutes catching Mac up on the theories and worries she and her sisters had been tossing around lately, along with how Dory had acted so suspicious when she’d confronted him.

  “Claire Morgan, you’re going to be the death of me. Please, no more confronting anyone on your own who might be dangerous to your health.”

  “I wasn’t on my own. Kate was with me.”

  He cursed under his breath. “Kate is temporarily out of order, and you know that. Taking her to an informal interrogation is asking for trouble.”

  “If I didn’t take her, she threatened to go after him on her own.”

  “And do what? Jump on his back and pummel the hell out of him like a wild woman?”

  She chuckled. She’d actually witnessed that very scene up in Deadwood last month, only Kate had used a rubber hand to wallop the crap out of the insulting dickhead. “She thinks she’s Rambo now, I swear.”

  “Maybe you should let Sheriff Harrison know about Dory and get him involved.”

  “Maybe.” But the thought of knocking on the Sheriff’s door gave Claire the shudders. There was so much around this R.V. park she didn’t want the law knowing about, things that might make them shut down the place and cart in the trouble-sniffing dogs and metal detectors. The more she learned about Joe’s criminal past, the more she was afraid of what illegal treasures he’d buried. “I’ll see what Ronnie thinks.”

  “Don’t let Kate have a say. With the way she’s heading, she’ll land all three of you in jail, and that’s a lot of bail money.”

  “I’d reward you for springing me.”

  “Oh, yeah? How?”

  “Well …” There was a voice in the background, then a beeping sound followed by the growl of a diesel engine. “Are you still out on the job site?”

  “Yeah, it’s going to be a late night. We hit some snags today.” The beeping stopped. “Listen, Slugger, the company wants me to give them an answer about the promotion by Friday.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the porch post. After much thought and angst and going back and forth over the last few days about his job and their future, she had an answer. “I think you should take it.”

  “What?” he asked over more beeping and racket in the background.

  “I said,” she raised her voice, “I think you should take the job promotion. It’s what you’ve been working toward for years.” The commotion on his end quieted. “It’s what you want,” she added at a normal level.

  Silence came from the other end of the line. After several seconds, she checked the digital screen on the receiver to see if she’d lost connection, but the seconds were still adding up on the call.

  “Mac? Are you still there?”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “What about me?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Cheer you on.”

 
; “From Jackrabbit Junction?”

  She closed her eyes, shutting out the vast valley in front of her. She didn’t want to look at the landscape she’d come to hold dear or think about how in the cold light of dawn when the sun first hit the desert, the frost that was sprinkled over the ground sparkled like a field of diamonds.

  “I’ll go wherever you go, Mac.”

  More silence played through the line. This time she waited for him to break it.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said, his voice quiet, serious. “You want me to take this promotion and you’re willing to go along with me, flying all over the place, not seeing your sisters and grandfather for stretches of time?”

  “I sure am.” She did her best to sound upbeat about it, too, while wondering how soon she’d have to leave Jackrabbit Junction and her family.

  “Okay, Claire.” But he didn’t sound too convinced. “I’ll go ahead as planned.”

  She’d have to play it up when she saw him next, convince him her heart was in this with him. “When are you coming back here? Thursday or Friday?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Let me see how things go here tonight and tomorrow.” Someone honked on his end of the line. “Damn, I gotta go.”

  “Call me tomorrow when you have a chance.”

  “I will.” With a quick “love you” he was gone, the line truly dead this time.

  She opened her eyes and stared out beyond the dust devils swirling across the valley between the Dancing Winnebagos R.V. Park and the Tres Dedos Mountains. Maybe she could take a picture from Ruby’s porch or several shots at different times of the day. Then she could take her favorite place with her to pine over while she sat in hotel room after hotel room, waiting for Mac to finish with work each day.

  She took a deep breath of the fresh desert air, wishing she could somehow take that with her on the road, too.

  “This is going to work,” she told the three wrens perched on the bird feeder Gramps had hung off the side of the porch.

  It had to, because as much as she loved spending her days in Jackrabbit Junction with her family nearby, there was one thing she had come to love even more—being with Mac.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon Ronnie’s butt was temporarily planted on a barstool at The Shaft while she took a short break, waiting for Gary to finish filling a tray with the corner table’s drink order. The sight of the Sheriff pushing open the swinging doors leading back to Butch’s office and waving at her to join him made her blink in surprise.