Santiago grunted something at Donna and grabbed her wrist. He picked up the knife again and pointed it at Duncan.
Donna’s voice was squeaky now.
“Come on, Duncan, we have to do what he says or he’ll kill us, too. You do know how to fly that thing, don’t you?”
Duncan nodded slowly.
“Walker’s going to pay for this.” He dabbed at his wound. “He just left me here alone with the mess. Just because I wanted to call the Sheriff. And we had reservations for Tosca at the Sydney Opera on Wednesday!”
Santiago waved the knife as he spoke to Donna again, pulling her toward the outside door.
“Don’t call the Sheriff or he’ll kill both of us!” Donna said. “He’s all, ‘if he can’t have me, nobody can.’ So stand where he can see you.” I heard her whimper as Santiago shoved her on the path that led to the helipad.
Marva and I stood in silence at the open door, watching the three of them parade down the path.
“Do you smell smoke?” Marva said. “Oh, shit, maybe the kid did set the old place on fire. The Rancho Grande is only over on the next hill.”
I smelled fire all right.
“We’ve got to figure out how to get help. If they’re locked in the Hole in the Wall—nobody will find them!”
“I know where the key to that room is hidden. I’m going to the Rancho.” Marva spoke in a matter of fact voice.
“In your car? That will take forever with punctured tires, if it makes it at all. They’ll be dead by then…” I stopped as my voice was drowned out by the roar of the helicopter engine starting up.
“Like I said, Duncan has horses,” Marva shouted. “Cross-country is the fastest route, anyway.” She reached in her bag and tossed me her car keys. “Here, good luck trying to get that car to move.”
“A horse?” I stared at the grinning Marva with shock. “You’re going to ride a strange horse over the mountains in the dark? Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Wise? Of course it’s not wise. Especially since the place is bound to be full of Sheriff’s deputies, and I’ve got twenty thousand dollars in ill-gotten cash on me, but I’m shit-faced drunk, so I’m not likely to do anything wise, am I?”
I watched Marva run out into the night. I could see a plume of dark smoke coming from across the canyon.
On the helipad, the chopper began to rise, a dark shadow on the moonlit sky.
Out in front, I managed to get her car’s motor running. It lurched a few feet and died again. I realized I was going to have to walk all the way down the mountain. In the dark. In clown shoes.
I set out along the dirt road, flanked by scrub oak and chaparral. With every step, I prayed that Marva would make it to the Rancho Grande on time.
I couldn’t read my watch in the dark, but I estimated I’d been walking more than two hours when I finally saw a beam of light through the gnarled old oaks. My feet felt as if they were encased in cement and my whole body ached, but I trudged toward it, praying I was seeing headlights shining from the main road.
The light quickly grew brighter, and I realized it was coming toward me: a vehicle with one light. My head started to pound. Walker Montgomery. In the Lexus with a shot-out headlight. Probably coming back to pick up Duncan after having punished him with temporary abandonment.
I ran back to a stand of oaks I’d just passed. Probably covered with poison oak, but it would be a place to hide. But as I ran, the toe of one of the huge Nikes caught on something: a big tree root. I almost regained my balance for a moment as the car roared closer.
Then I fell forward—into dusty, rocky dark.
Chapter 34—THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE DENTALLY CHALLENGED
As I lay face down in the dirt, the first thing that made its way into my consciousness was an unpleasant smell coming from somewhere above my right cheek. My left cheek, pressing against the dust, felt raw and sore.
“She’s breathing!” said a familiar voice.
I managed to get an eyelid open, and saw, out of the corner of my eye, a familiar, gap-toothed smile.
My dentally-challenged biker friend.
His face was illuminated by the blue light from the cell phone he held to his ear.
“How soon can you get an ambulance up here?” he said into the phone. “Looks like she took a bad fall.”
My palms hurt. So did my head. I tried to roll over. Something covered me—heavy and smelling like leather.
“I’m okay,” I tried to say. “The Rancho Grande. There are people locked in there. It’s on fire.”
“She’s wasted or something,” the biker said into the phone. “She don’t remember shit.” He clicked off the phone and laughed. “County Fire has everything under control now. What did you do, fall off that horse?” He leaned down and peered into my eyes.
“I’m okay. I just tripped. These stupid shoes…” I tried to turn over again.
“Hold it! My brother says you’re not supposed to move. You got a head injury, so we gotta wait for the paramedics. Falling off a horse can fuck you up bigtime. You gotta lay still.”
There was dirt in my mouth. I felt like throwing up. I searched my brain for words.
“How did you find me here?”
“That crazy old lady, Mitzi—she called my brother Daryl earlier tonight from the Saloon, talking about how Walker Montgomery and some airhead took your car keys. Daryl found Mitzi, but not you, and he didn’t have the manpower, so I volunteered to check out the Fowler ranch. It’s kind of an open secret around here that Duncan Fowler and Walker Montgomery are a twosome.”
He adjusted the leather jacket that covered me, and patted my back as if he were soothing an infant. My head felt wooly and his voice seemed to drift away. I almost could have gone to sleep if it weren’t for the sound of that siren…
I woke on a hard bed in a noisy room that smelled of medicine and flowers.
“Hello, darling.” Plantagenet stood above me with a huge bouquet of roses. Silas loomed behind him.
“Our cowgirl is awake,” said Silas.
I could see Gabriella Moore and Mitzi Boggs Bailey next to him. Mrs. Boggs Bailey was carrying a bouquet, too.
“Are you all right?” she said, giving me a big smile.
But I couldn’t answer—or even smile back. My head felt unattached to my body and my mouth wouldn’t move right.
“Don’t try to talk. You’re on some heavy-duty meds,” said Plantagenet
“Daryl Sorengaard sent his brother Dirk to get you on his motorcycle, because I called 911,” said Mrs. Boggs Bailey. “Daryl answers the phone when I push the button for 911. But only when I use my cell phone.”
“A little system we worked out with Officer Sorengaard to keep the 911 line from getting jammed,” Gabriella said with a grin. “I set up a button on her phone that goes to the sheriff’s substation in Solvang instead of the County 911 dispatch number.”
“Alberto—and the others? They’re okay?” I tried to sit up.
“Don’t.” Plant put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got a mild concussion. But they say you’re in amazing shape considering you fell off that horse.”
“I didn’t fall off a horse. I just…”
Then I realized—Marva must have made it. She got them out. They thought it was me.
“Nobody’s upset you stole that mare,” said Gabriella. “They found her in a pasture near Duncan’s ranch—she’s just fine.”
“The Rancho. The fire…”
“Don’t worry about my old place,” Gabriella gave a resigned laugh. “The kitchen’s in bad shape, and there’s a lot of smoke damage in the rest of the service wing, but the Rancho has survived worse. The insurance will cover it. The important thing is that nobody got hurt.”
“Nobody?”
Gabriella squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry hon. He’s just fine. Rick’s quite the hero, you know—getting Santiago to confess to killing Toby, then keeping the kid from killing himself.”
So if Rick escaped, where
was he?
“I rode a horse, too,” said Mrs. Boggs Bailey. “Jonathan Kahn and me got arrested by the Indians.”
“Jonathan? Is he here? Don’t let him take any pictures…” I pushed through my semi-conscious fog and tried to reach up to my bandaged face. I felt something on my cheek, and something else on my forehead.
“Darling—” Plant looked pained. “I’m afraid Jonathan did get some video. He was on his way back to the Rancho early this morning when you were riding off after rescuing everybody. It’s brilliant footage, actually. You look fantastic against the background of the fire. We could practically hear the ‘hearty hi-ho Silver.’ It made all the morning news shows. You looked so fabulous in that black satin trench with all that décolletage, and those adorable jeweled flats. Dr. Manners is a national heroine. Should translate into a lot more readers for the column.”
I tried to explain. “The Doctor was Marva.”
Plant squeezed my hand. “Yes, marvelous, darling.”
I’d have to explain when my mind was working better. Now it was jammed with images: Walker with his wounded arm, and all those guns. Duncan, Donna and Santiago on their way to Mexico in the helicopter.
“Donna,” I managed to say. “She’s in danger. Santiago…”
“Santiago isn’t a danger to anybody any more,” said Gabriella. “He’s in custody. He did kidnap Donna—along with Duncan Fowler. Santiago tried to make Duncan fly them to Mexico in his private helicopter. But Duncan kept circling this area until they ran out of fuel. He made an emergency landing in the parking lot of the Pea Soup Andersen’s. Then he confessed Ernesto’s murder to a whole busload of Japanese tourists. Real dramatic. Kahn and his crew got that on tape, too.”
“A cowgirl hero, a kidnapping and a celebrity confessing to murder. That should put Kahn’s ratings through the roof,” someone said in a gravely voice.
The curtains that surrounded my bed parted and Rick appeared.
“You’re all right!” I tried to reach for him with my bandaged arms.
“Yes. Captain Rick’s all right,” said Mrs. Boggs Bailey. “Handsome, too.”
Rick laughed. “I’m fine except for this sandpapery throat from breathing smoke. They’re keeping Alberto for observation, but Miguel and me, we checked out okay. I can’t say the same for Walker Montgomery. He’s being treated for a gunshot wound. And Fiscalini just told me Luci Silverberg has filed kidnapping charges against Montgomery. Seems he kidnapped her from her hotel room and kept her in the trunk of his car for hours, until she finally jimmied the lock open with one of her boot heels.”
“I’m sure there’s a great book in it for her.” Gabriella said. “Now we’ve got to check on Donna. When she came in she seemed pretty delirious—talking about being locked in a wine vault with two Manners Doctors.”
“We need to go, too, darling,” Plant said. “Silas has a memorial service planned for Ernesto this afternoon.”
Mrs. Boggs Bailey’s phone rang from her tote bag.
“Sorry, I gotta get this,” she said as she bustled out the door after Gabriella. “It might be Jonathan Kahn. He’s gonna put me on his show.”
Rick shook his head as Mrs. Boggs Bailey left, eagerly talking into her phone. “I still hate those things,” he said.
There was something I had to ask. I fought the drug fog and managed to make the words: “Did you really stomp on that man’s iPhone, the way it looked in that video?”
Rick shrugged. “I admit to prying it out of his hand. The stomping was an accident.” He gave me an enigmatic look. “Did you really let an outlaw biker think he was going to get an evening of “discipline” from you as a reward for your rescue last night?”
“I did not.” I laughed. “He’s a nice man, actually.” I reached for Rick’s hand. “You’re not hurt? Really?”
“I’m fine.” He squeezed my hand and leaned down to kiss my good cheek. “The docs say you will be, too. They’re all amazed at how minor your injuries are after falling off a horse.” He looked into my eyes. “But that wasn’t you, was it? On that horse? The hallway at the Rancho was smoky, but I got a pretty good look at the person who unlocked the door for us. No way are your, um…feet that big.”
I laughed, looking down at my chest.
“Right. That was… somebody else. Somebody very brave. But me, I just tripped. An ordinary fall. That’s what I am. Ordinary. A wimp. Not some superhero cowperson.”
“If cowboys were superheroes, Mexicans would rule the world.” Rick gave me his goofy grin. “We kind of dominate the stoic, itinerant agricultural worker market these days.”
I thought of poor Santiago, trying to be some kind of cowboy hero, but getting it so wrong. “Well, it’s good you speak such good Spanish. You got Santiago to confess. How did you know it was him?”
“A bunch of little things he dropped in his conversation—like gang signals that he didn’t get quite right—started me thinking he could have done that graffiti in the bar. It looked like the work of a wannabe. Then when he started asking if I had ‘permission to court’ you, and he told me about trying to get Miguel’s permission to court Donna, I put together what might have been his motive. I didn’t count on him pulling a knife and threatening suicide, though. Things got a little hairy.” He leaned down and kissed me again. “But your mystery heroine saved the day, so it’s all okay.”
“Yes. I wish I could be half as brave as she is.”
I wondered where Marva was now.
I hoped she was scheduling her operation.
About the Author
Anne R. Allen is the author of five comic mysteries debuting in 2011 with two publishers: Popcorn Press and Mark Williams international Digital Publishing.
Her titles with MWiDP include: THE GATSBY GAME (October 2011) GHOSTWRITERS IN THE SKY(October 2011) and SHERWOOD, LIMITED (November 2011.) These titles will also be available in paper from Popcorn Press.
Two other mysteries, FOOD OF LOVE and THE BEST REVENGE originally published in the UK by Babash-Ryan, debuted in the US with Popcorn Press in 2011.
Her short fiction also appears in the SAFFINA DESFORGES PRESENTS Kindle Break anthologies #1 and #3, and her work appears in the INDIE CHICKS ANTHOLOGY (Oct 2011) as well as GENRE WARS (2009) and NOTES FROM UNDERGROUND (2010) from the Literary Lab.
She has a popular blog she shares with NYT bestselling author Ruth Harris. She is also working on a self-help guide for writers with PAY IT FORWARD author Catherine Ryan Hyde.
Anne is a graduate of Bryn Mawr College and spent twenty-five years in the theater–acting and directing–before taking up fiction writing. She is the former artistic director of the Patio Playhouse in Escondido, CA and now lives on the Central Coast of California.
Anne can be contacted at [email protected].
Cover art: Covers of THE GATSBY GAME, GHOSTWRITERS IN THE SKY AND SHERWOOD, LTD by Laura Morrigan at Covers by Laura http://www.lauramorrigan.com/Laura_Morrigan/Cover_art.html. FOOD OF LOVE cover by Meghan Derico at Derico Photography https://www.facebook.com/pages/Derico-Photography/328515456648. THE BEST REVENGE cover by Katheryn Smith at Popcorn Press http://www.popcornpress.com
Other Titles By Anne R. Allen You Don't Want To Miss
To purchase any of these titles, in all formats available, please visit http://indiebooksunited.com/authors/mystery/anne-r-allen
About The Gatsby Game:
This novel offers a possible solution to a real unsolved Hollywood mystery—the death in 1973 of David Whiting during the filming of the Burt Reynolds’ movie, "The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing". Whiting was found dead in the motel room of the actress Sarah Miles. It destroyed Sarah Miles' career and her marriage.
When Nicky Conway meets Fitzgerald-quoting Alistair at a Princeton mixer in 1969, she falls for his retro, Jazz-Age charm. But she discovers he’s a con man obsessed with his own “Daisy”—British actress Delia Kent. After Alistair manipulates Nicky into nannying for Delia’s daughter on the set of aHollywood film, Delia finds Alistair dea
d in her motel room. Local police can’t decide if it’s accident, suicide—or murder, in which case, Nicky is the prime suspect.
Includes a foreword by UK best-seller Saffina Desforges ("Sugar & Spice")
Praise for The Gatsby Game:
"In The Gatsby Game, Anne R. Allen blends a perfect combination of witty, sharp narration, a plot that won't let the reader go, and nuanced characters that evoke our caring. A genre novel that artfully transcends its genre."
Catherine Ryan Hyde, best-selling author of "Pay It Forward" and "Love In The Present Tense."
"Dark, twisted chick lit with a side of laughter. Plus celebrities, murder and and a smart-mouth nanny."
Ruth Harris, NYT best-selling author of "Modern Women", "Decades" and "Husbands & Lovers".
"An antidote to school-text classics. Chicklit for brunettes."
Saffina Desforges, best-selling author of "Sugar & Spice" and the "Rose Red" crime thriller series.
About Sherwood Ltd.: (A Camilla Randall Mystery)
Sherwood.
The name immediately conjures up images of Richard Greene, Michael Praed and Russel Crowe. Or maybe that sly fox in the Disney version.
Only, in Anne R. Allen's latest rom-com mystery the fox is a coyote and there's no Robin Hood.
Or is there?
In her usual inimitable fashion Allen peels back the layers, one hilarious subplot after another, until you just never know what's real and what's not. Rather like the Robin Hood legend.
When the Manners Doctor, Camilla Randall, flies into Robin Hood airport with a designer suitcase in one hand and a book contract in the other she thinks she's leaving all her problems behind and is about to start a new life in merry England. Of course, life is never that straightforward for the Manners Doctor. Especially when she finds herself living in a warehouse full of smutty books!
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