Tripp narrowed his eyes at Madrone. “I didn’t like him and I didn’t want his development here, but I didn’t want him dead.”
“Less than two hours ago you told me his death was a blessing,” Madrone said, her expression defiant.
“And were ready to thank me for getting rid of a land grabber,” Gabe added in her support. To soothe things over, he said, “I’m sure you were still in shock. His death does make things easier, though. You have a guess as to what will happen with Mountain Shadows?”
Tripp directed a cold look at Gabe. “No. Haven’t speculated. Still in shock.”
“Guess I’ve had a little more time to think than you. Plus I knew the guy in school. Once an ass, always an ass.”
Flicker burst into tears, gasping out loud, ugly sobs. She grabbed Gabe’s arm. “Gabe, you can’t think that. Everett was a dear, sweet, strong man.” Someone kicked Gabe and he flinched. He looked across the table at Madrone. She tilted her head to the side and jerked it. Instead of asking about her tic he sighed. He rose, rubbing Flicker’s hand on his arm. “Why don’t we take a walk, Flicker? I think it will help you relax and it will give you a chance to tell me about Everett as an adult.”
He didn’t glance at Tripp as he walked away with his partner’s girlfriend. This was his opportunity to learn what she knew about Everett Poulsen and his relationship with her, with Tripp and with the other guides in training. Madrone better appreciate the risk he took.
* * * *
Gabe steered Flicker toward a clearing behind the casita studded with saguaro and cholla and mesquite and the huge boulders so common in this desert. It would take a lot of bulldozers a lot of hours to clear space in this rugged land for homes. Maybe now it would never happen. Tucson and Benson and all the other little communities around here now populated with trailer parks, Walmarts and gated communities were once as pristine as this. He shuddered.
“You must be having a terrible time, having found Everett and all.” Despite her thrown together appearance, Flicker smelled of some exotic cologne, like one the students in Gabe’s classrooms favored. She patted his arm. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
The idea is for you to talk to me, for me to draw you out. “Not much to say. It was pretty grim. Pretty ugly. Someone must have hated the guy.” Not to mention me.
She shook her head and the long ponytail whipped into Gabe’s eye. “It’s hard to imagine. Just the other day he was so alive, so vibrant.” She took in a quick breath.
“You mean Thursday night, at Tripp’s party?” Oops. Not good to fill in the blanks for your suspect.
She looked into the distance, avoiding Gabe’s eyes. “Yes, I guess. I might have seen him the next day, at Tripp’s?” The way she phrased her statement, as a question, was like a toddler testing the water temperature at the beach. “Was he . . . dead when you found him?”
“Very. No chance of saving him. Must have happened hours before. God knows why he came out here.”
She looked directly at him. “It is—was—his land. He felt strongly about the development. You know, about making it good for nature and all.” She paused. “I don’t think he trusted Tripp.” A crooked smile lightened her expression. “But who in their right mind would?”
Maybe his girlfriend? “I’m puzzled you know that much about Everett. Had you known him long?”
A coy glance preceded her answer. “Known him? Do we ever know another person?” She moved closer to him, drenching him in the flowery musk of cologne. He sniffed to forestall a sneeze. “For example, I don’t know much about you, Gabe.” She drew out his one syllable name in a weird, breathy way. “But I’d love to learn more.”
Madrone would pay for wishing this on him. He took a breath. His time with Flicker was an assignment, uncomfortable, granted, but important. He realized that by turning his question back on him, she’d avoided answering. “I’m boring,” he said. “Had you known Everett long?”
Flicker moved to a big flat rock that overlooked the desert to the west. She lowered herself to it and dangled her legs over the side. She patted the rock. “Come sit by me. These boots are not made for walking.” She giggled.
He levered himself down, sitting about a foot and a half from Flicker. She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. She leaned back on one elbow, the move causing her breasts to jut toward him. He inadvertently licked his lips and Flicker smiled. “Now what was the question?” She leaned toward him, causing her blouse to gape. Her tongue mimicked Gabe’s lip licking, but much more slowly, with sensuous intent.
Gabe’s skin heated. Other parts also paid attention. “About Everett. You seem so distraught over his death. Had you known him long?”
She smiled. “I don’t pay attention to length,” she said. “It’s the intensity of the experience that moves me.”
Gabe swallowed. Beam me up, Scotty. Anywhere but here. When the time lapse extended to minutes instead of seconds, he choked out, “But about Everett? You two were close?”
“Everett has passed from this life plane. I’m more concerned with the living,” she said. She inched closer to Gabe, laid her hand on his thigh. “I can feel your pain. I’m here, if you need me.” He had little doubt about what other than his pain Flicker wanted to feel. He had no clue what his next move should be, except inflict a slow painful death on Madrone if he made it back to the crew with his honor. And his pants.
“And Tripp? Tripp says he was Everett’s friend. He must be hurting?” His voice was pitched about two scales higher than normal, his vocal cords giving away the tension he struggled to hide.
Flicker flipped a hand in the air. “Oh, Tripp. He’s invulnerable. I doubt he’s ever experienced the pain of loss. He’s in this life for Tripp and Tripp alone. And your blessed eco-touring company. That he’d miss.” She stared into the distance. “Everett cared about this land and his vision for it. But he also cared about people.” Another long pause. “Especially the unimportant ones.” The muscles in her neck twitched, small random movements.
He straightened and ventured to put his hand on his leg. Big mistake. Flicker grabbed it, twisted her body on the rock and pressed herself into Gabe’s body, in a move so fast, so smooth, it had to be the result of much practice. He leaned away from her. Another mistake. Flicker twisted her body and scootched upward to press herself onto his chest. She pressed against him until he fell back on the rock. His head struck it, hard. Ow, ow, ow. Holy cow, what’s next?
Flicker moved until she was on top of Gabe. She pressed her lips to his gaping mouth. That’s what was next. He closed his mouth, so she pressed against sealed lips, but his unreliable body wouldn’t take long to respond to her sensual attack.
HIs cock stiffened. Not long at all, dammit.
He grabbed Flicker by both shoulders, tightened his stomach muscles and pushed her upward. “We can’t, we shouldn’t,” he gasped.
Flicker’s hand moved to his penis and stroked it. “We can. We should. It’s what people do after a death. Celebrate life.”
Gabe thrust Flicker forward, gripping her shoulders to prevent her from falling off the front of the boulder. “Tripp is my partner. I can’t betray his trust.”
“What I do is none of Tripp’s business. He need never know.”
“Believe me, he’ll know. I’m a terrible liar, and a worse actor.” He scooted sideways. A desert spoon leaf end stabbed his arm. “Flicker, you’re a desirable woman who has experienced the loss of a dear friend. But I’m not the person you should seek comfort from.” He couldn’t sound more like a prick if he tried.
Gabe felt the tension ease from Flicker’s shoulders, heard her heavy exhale. He released her shoulders and stood, wary of the pain of his erection still encased in his jeans and the stiffness of his thighs. When things settled themselves, he offered her a hand to rise. He pulled her to standing, but she kept her distance. Thank God.
She gave him a tiny smile. “You’re a good man, Gabe Ramsay. The kind that’s hard to find.” She turned and wa
lked back toward the casita.
God. First Jesse, then Flicker. If they only knew, he was not good at all.
Gabe dabbed at the back of his head, came away with a little blood. Would OSHA consider this an on-the-job injury, or did he need a license to pry first?
Gabe trudged back, realizing that he had learned little from his close encounter with Flicker Watson. Had that been her intention? Except . . . what was that she’d said about Everett? About unimportant people? With malice, if he had any read at all on Flicker.
When Gabe returned to the clearing in front of the casita, he saw Flicker leaning against Tripp, talking into his ear. Telling Tripp that Gabe had come onto her? All Gabe needed. He shifted his concern from that problem to the more immediate one of the sheriff identifying the murder weapon before Gabe discovered a viable alternative suspect.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: One Guide's Still Missing
O n his way into the casita, Gabe passed Jesse, sitting on a rock to the side of the clearing, reading. It was late afternoon and soon the sun would fall behind the mountains.
Kate was still out there. Had she become disoriented when she stormed off in anger after arguing with Frances? Or did she simply not notice the huge, colorful balloon? If she didn’t return soon, Gabe would have to report her absence to the sheriff. But should he report the argument between the young woman and her grandmother?
He had to find Frances. Before he entered the small building he heard angry voices. He paused in the doorway and could see Madrone and Frances nose to nose—or rather, nose to breast, considering the contrast in the two women’s height. Gabe stood as still and silent as he could, not wanting to slice into the heavy emotion that wafted from the women.
Madrone ran her fingers through her hair. “And just when do you plan to tell the sheriff about your fight with Kate? It’s nearly dusk, Frances. She should have returned by now.”
Frances turned away from Madrone, her arms crossed. “I am well aware the day will soon die. But who knows what kind of trouble she’ll be in once she gets back here?”
“Trouble? Trouble? There is so much more trouble out there—“ Madrone swept one arm to the side—“than you can imagine here. Snakes, scorpions, javelinas, coyotes, hidden mines, cliffs that drop off God knows how far. When someone’s in an emotional state they’re not wary. Wary’s what keeps you safe.”
“Thanks a hell of a lot for that detailed list of dangers. I’d like to think that my granddaughter has enough savvy to keep herself safe.”
“Then trust her enough to believe she wouldn’t kill Everett Poulsen.” Gabe speculated on the emotion behind Madrone’s blunt words. Had she once mistrusted someone close to her?
In the extended silence, Gabe imagined he heard each woman’s breaths, even though they were across the room.
Then Madrone blew out a long, noisy breath. No imagination needed. “Please, Frances. It’s getting later, soon will be too late to call out Search and Rescue. No matter what you fear Kate may have done, let’s get her back here, in one piece, to face whatever comes next. With you to help her make it through.”
Frances’s next words came out so low Gabe could barely make them out. He stepped farther into the room and heard her mumble, “As if she’ll let me help her tie her shoes. The girl’s got a temper that takes donkey’s lives to cool down.” She clapped, and Gabe jumped in alarm. “But you’re right. Gabe, let’s go see the sheriff. And Tripp, if he’s out there somewhere.”
Gabe’s face flushed red. “I just came in to see what was . . . ” No matter how he put it, he was spying on them.
The two women laughed. Madrone strode to him and hugged him lightly. “Stealthy, you are not,” she said.
“Good thing we already finished the feminine hygiene conversation,” Frances said.
Gabe smiled limply. “Go easy on me, you two. I’m a survivor of an encounter with Flicker.”
Madrone giggled. “Wish I’d been a squirrel on a nearby rock.”
“Wish I’d been hiding under said rock. The woman never quits.”
Frances chuckled. “Woo hoo, Gabe-boy. Has your innocence been compromised by that wicked woman?” She took Gabe’s arm. “Not sure who I dread facing most, the perceptive sheriff or raging Tripp. Stick close to me.”
“You’ve made the right decision. I’ll be right beside you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: The Search Party Convenes
T hey encountered Tripp first and he surprised them. When Frances told him about her argument with Kate—not explaining its cause—he merely said, “Last light is in just under two hours. We better organize a search now.” The three of them set off to talk to Sheriff Idle.
As soon as he’d heard from Frances, the sheriff instructed them to gather their team so he could address them. When all of them stood together in front of the casita, he spoke. “From what I’ve gathered in my interviews so far this afternoon, Kate O’Shea is a fiery and emotional young woman, knowledgeable about the desert and prone to dramatic gestures. Anyone care to deny that assessment?”
No one did, although Frances cleared her throat, swallowed and stayed silent.
Gabe knew about regret: regret about not speaking up, regret about angry words that cannot be unsaid, fists thrown in rage. He also knew about consequences.
He moved closer to Frances and kept his voice low. “Listen, I feel uncomfortable not sharing what you told me. People are heading out on a rescue mission and they all need to know the whole story and why you hesitated to tell everyone about the fight. With details. It’s too late for secrets.”
She grabbed his forearm and dragged him into a corner while everyone stared at them. “But what if the sheriff decides she’s the best suspect and that she’s on the lam and won’t let us go after her? I know Kate. She’ll always face the consequences of her rash actions. That’s why I’m scared. Not to mention the total humiliation of airing our soiled linen in public.”
Whatever that means.
“What are you two whispering about?” Tripp called. “Are you forgetting it’s your granddaughter who’s causing this uproar, Frances? After some stupid family disagreement?”
Frances moved away from Gabe to face the group. “The thing is, it wasn’t just a family disagreement. Kate took off in a rage after I informed her that Everett Poulsen is—was—her father.”
Silence fell like a horse blanket thrown over their heads. Had Frances farted long and loud, the shocked silence couldn’t have been more profound. Actually, the team had become inured to Frances’s deadly farts.
Eventually the sheriff spoke. “And this was not something you felt I needed to know as part of our investigation?”
“This was something I feared would lead you to conclude that my granddaughter was your most likely suspect. And I know that can’t be true.”
The sheriff looked profoundly sad. “Unless you killed Everett Poulsen yourself, you can’t be certain. No one knows what someone in a desperate rage will do. I have seen horrific things done by humans to those they claim to love. And you can’t say she loved the man.”
“I was also afraid my confession would delay the search. Which it already has. Whatever you think of her,” she let her gaze move to each person in the room, “I know that Kate would come in and confront whatever awaited her if she were able to. Something’s happened. We need to find her.”
“Except that it’s just like Kate to be out there meditating about what she’s done and why the world is against her.” This condemnation came from Heather Begay and surprised Gabe with its judgmental tone.
When everyone turned to stare at her, she said, “What? You all knew her. She’s pretty spoiled and pretty self-centered, even if she’s a lot of fun to be around. I’m just telling it like it is. Not that I wish her any harm.”
“Whoa. Harsh,” Ben said. “Whatever she did or didn’t do, if she’s in trouble, we gotta help her out. She’s one of us now.” He turned to Tripp. “Right?”
“The question of which of you pass
ed or did not pass the final portion of our program is the furthest thing from my mind right now. Poulsen is dead and Kate appears to be missing. I suggest we deal with those issues.”
“Pompous prick,” Jesse muttered beside Gabe. Gabe struggled not to smile. His partner did need to lighten up.
The sheriff moved in front of Tripp in a subtle step in the dance of power. “Ms. O’Shea has made a judgment error regardless of her reasons. Nonetheless, we need to find her granddaughter. I suggest you head out in teams of two and that Mr. Chasen set your directions. He’s obviously done a lot of work before this scavenger hunt and knows the territory. Ms. O’Shea, please remain here with me in camp. You are too emotionally involved.” Gabe saw Frances stiffen and open her mouth to protest, but she was stopped by a finger to her lips. Madrone’s. The sheriff continued as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction but he had. Little escaped his notice. “You can take over Ms. Hunter’s cooking duties. I expect you all to return by dark and I hope one team will be accompanied by Kate O’Shea. Dinner will then be served. Ms. Hunter, please take a few minutes to tell Frances what you planned for an evening meal. Mr. Chasen, the search is in your hands.” Before Tripp could speak, the sheriff held up a hand. “I want all of you to remember that I am in the midst of a murder inquiry. If any of you recall information that might be of help, please do not discuss it with your search partner but wait until you can relay it to me or one of my deputies.”
“Just be safe and remember that you may be partnered with a murderer.” Madrone directed her aside to Gabe, standing on her right, but since the sheriff had fallen silent and Tripp had not yet begun his instructions, the group was quiet for once. Everyone heard. Madrone blushed and threw her hands over her face. Ben chortled and Gabe joined in. Might as well laugh it off.
Murder, Sonoran Style Page 10