Trouble at the Red Pueblo

by Liz Adair

  “I can’t remember. What about Amy?” Laurie considered. “Is she big enough? She’s stout but not very tall.”

  “She’d need the element of surprise for the blow to the temple,” Spider said. “After that, he’d be down, so it wouldn’t matter what size someone was while they were bashing in his skull.”

  “What about Tiffany?”

  “Motivation?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Laurie wrapped up the second half of her sandwich. “I can’t eat this right now. Let’s go up to Jack’s and get the whole thing out in the open.”

  “All right.” Spider loosely rolled his sandwich in waxed paper and picked up his soft drink. “You drive. You may not be able to eat right now, but I’m hungry.”

  They got in the pickup, and Laurie drove while Spider finished his sandwich. He crumpled up the paper and put it in the litter bag as she pulled in beside Jack’s yellow Mustang parked in front of the house.

  “Looks like he’s home,” Spider said. He took a hasty swig from his Pepsi, got out, and waited for Laurie. They walked together to the front door, and Spider rang the bell. There was no answer, and they could hear no movement inside.

  “Maybe he went somewhere in the pickup,” Laurie said.

  “Maybe he hasn’t come home from wherever he went on Sunday.”

  Laurie peeked through the sidelight into the living room. “We don’t know it was him there on Sunday. It could have been Amy.” She tilted her head. “Listen. Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Shh.” She held up her finger. “Did someone say, ‘Come out back?’”

  “I don’t know. We can try it and see.” He looked one way and the next. “Which way do we go around?”

  “This way.” Laurie led him across to a covered breezeway separating the house from the triple car garage. Tiles on the breezeway floor melded into the hardscape that covered most of the back yard, and they walked across it to the covered patio where they’d had lunch a week ago.

  “Jack?” Laurie looked around the shady area.

  “Over here.”

  They both looked toward the sound. Jack lay on a chaise lounge under a light fleece blanket. His eyes were sunken, and his skin had a grayish tinge to it. “Hello,” he said, holding out a trembling hand. “I didn’t know if you could hear me or not.”

  “Jack!” Laurie sat in a chair beside him and took his hand in hers. “Are you all right?”

  Jack moistened his lips with his tongue. “I could do with a drink of water.”

  Laurie looked up at Spider. “Here. Hold his hand. I’ll go get it.”

  Before Spider could volunteer for the errand, Laurie grabbed him, pulled him over, and sat him down in her place. Then she placed Jack’s limp hand in Spider’s.

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” She spoke over her shoulder as she trotted to the door to the living room.

  Spider looked at the hand he held and then looked at Jack, lying with his eyes closed.

  “You’re a good man, Spider,” Jack murmured. His eyes opened, and his lips curved into a half smile. “I was just yankin’ your chain every time I called you Spencer.” His eyes closed again, and the smile faded. “I’m glad to have some time alone with you. I’ve seen that you’re a good man to have around in difficult times, and what I’ve done is because of that, not because of Laurie.”

  Spider frowned. “I don’t understand. What have you done?”

  Jack licked his lips again. “Were you going to get me some water?”

  At that moment, Laurie came through the kitchen door carrying the soft drink cup that had been in the pickup with the rest of Spider’s Pepsi in it. “I rinsed it out,” she said to Spider as she carried it by. To Jack she said, “I thought it would be easier for you to drink out of a straw.”

  “You’re an angel,” he said, letting go Spider’s hand to take the cup.

  Spider took the opportunity to slip out of the chair. He motioned to Laurie to take the seat while he moved to one farther away.

  Laurie took the cup when Jack had taken a sip. She set it on a nearby table and smoothed back his hair. “What happened, Jack? Did you get sick?”

  “It’s a bad spell.” He spoke in a reedy voice, just above a whisper. “I get them every now and then. Part of the old problem.”

  “Who’s taking care of you?” Laurie looked around. “Where’s Amy?”

  “She’s not here.”

  Spider sat forward. “She didn’t perchance take the pickup and horse trailer and drive over to St. George on Sunday, did she?”

  Jack slowly rolled his head from side to side. “I did.”

  Spider scooted his chair closer. “You drove the pickup and trailer on Sunday? You musta been feeling better then than you are today.”

  Jack nodded. “It just about finished me off, but I made the trip to Vegas and back in one day. It’s hotter than the hubs of hell over there.”

  Spider and Laurie looked at each other. “Wait,” she said. “You weren’t going to St. George? You were going to Las Vegas?”

  “Yeah.” Jack reached for the water, and Laurie gave it to him. He lifted his head and brought the straw to his lips with a shaking hand. “I stopped for gas in St. George, but then I kept on going.” He lay back down but kept the cup, resting it on his stomach.

  “Why did you go to Las Vegas?” Laurie asked.

  Jack’s eyes rested on Spider. “Because of something Spider said to me Saturday morning after the pancake breakfast.”

  Laurie looked at Spider, and he raised his shoulders in an I-don’t-know gesture.

  “He said I needed to protect Amy from Austin Lee.”

  Spider’s heart sank. Oh, geez. What do you do when someone who’s dying confesses to murder?

  Laurie had the presence of mind to ask the next question. “How did you do that, Jack?”

  “I took her over to a mental health facility in the mountains outside of Vegas. Very posh. Very earthy. We took Taffy, and she’ll go out riding every day. They’re going to look at adjusting her meds, and they’re going to talk to her about healthy relationships.” Jack paused and took several shallow breaths. “I figure she can stay there a month or two, and by that time, Austin will have moved on to someone else.”

  Laurie took Jack’s hand. “Austin is dead. Someone killed him on Sunday.”

  Jack blinked. The half-smile returned to his lips. “Is that what the questions were about?”

  Spider wasn’t sure whether Jack was putting on an act or not. He certainly looked like death warmed over. If he had made a ten hour round trip three days ago pulling a horse trailer, he had gone downhill in a hurry. Or maybe he hadn’t been in the truck at all. Maybe that was Amy. Maybe Jack knew Amy had killed Austin, and he was trying to deflect blame. “What’s the name of the place where Amy is now?”

  “Mountain Hollow Residential Care.” Jack waved a weak hand toward the kitchen. “There’s a card with the information on the counter.”

  “Will they be able to vouch for the time you arrived?” Laurie asked.

  “They’ll tell Spider,” Jack rasped. “His name is listed as someone they can give information to.”

  Spider’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? Why?”

  Jack closed his eyes and didn’t answer. Spider waited a moment and then went to the kitchen. The business card was on the counter. Alongside it was a card for Lucky’s Horseshoeing in Hurricane. There were also cards for Southern Utah Hospice, Fordham Mortuary, and Major Smith, attorney at law.

  Spider took out his phone and bent over to read the Mountain Hollow information. He dialed the number, and a crisp-voiced receptionist answered. After giving his name, he asked what time Jack Houghten and Amy Scott arrived on Sunday. The receptionist put him on hold for a moment and then said that they arrived at noon on Sunday.

  Spider did some calculation from the time they were at the intersection. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not to find that Jack’s story held up. He slid the ca
rd to the back of the counter by the others, and on an impulse, slipped the farrier’s card in his shirt pocket.

  Then he returned to the patio.

  Laurie looked up as he stepped through the kitchen door. She said something softly to Jack and went to meet him. “I think we need to stay here with him,” she whispered.

  “What? Stay here with Jack? Why?”

  “Keep your voice down. He’s very weak, and he hasn’t got anyone to take care of him.”

  “There’s a card—”

  “Shh. Whisper.”

  Spider whispered. “There’s a card for hospice care on the counter. Call them.”

  “Spider!” Laurie opened the kitchen door and pulled him in, closing it behind her.

  Spider spoke in a normal tone. “I’m serious, Laurie. We’ve got a man in jail that needs our best efforts to find a way to get him out. What do we tell him? Oh, I’ve got to tend to my sick fourth cousin who, by the way, was well enough to drive ten hours three days ago?”

  “The man in jail needs Spider Latham’s best efforts. I’m not telling you to quit that. You’re the one Brick Tremain hired for the job, so go do it.” She put her hands on her hips. “But I’m staying here, and I’m taking care of Jack.”

  Spider looked down at her and smiled. “Dang but you’re cute when you go all righteous indignation on me.”

  He reached to pull her closer. She stepped back, though a smile was threatening. “Get that look out of your eye,” she warned, “because you’re going to be sleeping alone at the hotel while I’m sleeping over here.”

  Spider threw up his hands in surrender. “I’ll go get the bags.”

  “You might as well just check out and bring everything over. We’ll stay here for the next few days until—” She looked away.

  Spider gathered her in his arms, and this time she didn’t resist. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. He was just singing with you four days ago. Remember?”

  She sighed. “It seems like a lifetime ago. So much has happened.”

  “Yeah, and so much has yet to happen. We’ve got to pull a rabbit out of a hat.”

  They both jumped when Spider’s phone beeped. She stepped away, and he pulled it out and checked a text from Marshal Thayne.

  “He says he’s got the gate log,” Spider told her. “And guess what? Tiffany Wendt spent Saturday night in beautiful Defrain Estates.”

  THE NEXT MORNING found Spider watching the sunrise in his rearview mirror, intent on making it to Hurricane, Utah, before Tiffany Wendt had a chance to leave the el cheapo hotel where she was staying. The night before, Spider had talked to Tiffany’s friend in Fredonia. She said Tiffany had left the area, so Spider and Laurie had spent an hour sitting on Jack’s patio, calling a list culled from the Internet. Spider soon grew weary of asking the same question over and over, but Laurie persisted and found Tiffany at an older place in the downtown area. The motel name sounded familiar to Spider, and when he arrived, he recognized it as a place the basketball team had stayed when he was in High School. It looked like it had had minimal upkeep since that time.

  The red convertible was parked in front of room 105. Spider pulled in beside it and checked his watch. Eight o’clock. Tiffany was probably still in bed. Should he knock on the door or wait until she came out? What if she slept until noon? Better operate on his own timetable.

  He got out and walked to the door, noticing as he came closer that the bright blue paint was peeling from both the door and the doorjamb. He knocked and waited, but no one answered. He knocked harder and then rubbed his knuckles against his pant leg to take away the sting. After a moment he heard what sounded like something falling to the floor and someone called, “What? Who is it?”

  Spider didn’t answer but knocked again. He wasn’t going to have this conversation through a motel room door.

  “All right. All right. I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.”

  Spider waited a few moments more. He had just raised his fist to knock again when he heard the door knob turn. The door opened a crack.

  A tousled Tiffany Wendt peeked through with one mascara-smudged eye. “Do I know you?”

  “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I saw you at the museum in Fredonia when I was there talking to Matt Taylor.”

  “Oh.” Her disinterest was palpable.

  Spider edged the toe of his boot toward the crack in the door. “I’d like to talk to you a minute. Maybe I could buy you breakfast?”

  That seemed to be the magic word. The crack became larger, revealing a bare shoulder and Tiffany’s hand holding the bedspread wrapped around her. Spider kept his eyes on her face. “How fast can you get ready?”

  “Does breakfast depend on my speed?”

  “Yes. How about ten minutes?”

  She grimaced. “I don’t guarantee the results.”

  “I’ll chance it. See you in ten.”

  The door closed, and Spider sat on a nearby bench, enjoying the cool of the morning. He took out his phone, and as he did so, the farrier’s business card fell out. After picking it up, he stared at it, flicking it with his index finger as he considered. Finally, with no real reason to do so except a niggling in the back of his mind, he called the number.

  A woman answered and in response to Spider’s inquiry said her husband was the farrier, but he was gone until ten. Spider made an appointment, wrote the time on the back of the card, and sat back to wait for Tiffany.

  It took her fifteen minutes to dress, but the results were tolerable. She wore a pair of good-looking slacks and a turquoise blouse, with large hoop earrings of the same color dangling from her ears.

  “There’s a restaurant a block down the street,” Spider said when she emerged from the room. “Shall we walk?”

  She fell into step beside him. “What happened to your eye?”

  Spider touched the area around his cheekbone. He had forgotten to wear his sunglasses. “I fell afoul of Austin Lee.”

  She sucked in a breath and stopped in her tracks, staring at him with eyes as big as her hoop earrings. “Why did you say that?”

  She had grown so pale that Spider reached out and took her arm. “Because it’s true. He had somebody plant a bomb in the car I was driving. You need to be careful about the people you hang around with.”

  She shook his hand off and continued walking. “I don’t suppose you said anything when Little Earth Mother at the museum was dating him.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t around when that happened.”

  “You’re lucky.” She continued walking without saying anything until they reached the restaurant, but as he opened the door, she said, “You know he’s dead, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  Her eyes cut to the door, and Spider stepped between her and an easy exit.

  “I’m just interested in information. They’ve got Matt Taylor in jail for Austin’s murder, but I don’t think he did it.”

  “Matt? Kill Austin? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Obeying the sign that asked them to sit wherever they wanted, Spider chose a corner booth and slid in over the slick plastic upholstery. He picked up one of the menus that sat behind the sugar holder and gave it to Tiffany.

  “I think you might be one of the last people to see Austin alive. Can I ask you some questions?”

  “I remember you now,” Tiffany said. “You were at the museum when I came by to pick up Matt one day. Was that your wife that was with you? She could be a stunner, if she just wore a little more makeup.”

  Spider paused as the waitress took their orders. Ham and eggs for him, the same for her but with two orders of toast. And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

  “Okay,” Spider said when the waitress was gone. “Once again. Can I ask you some questions about Austin?”

  “You can ask, but I won’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

  “Well, oftentimes it turns out that it’s better to answer in an informal situation like now rather than be su
bpoenaed to have to testify in court. When that happens, you either answer, or you’re cited for contempt.”

  Tiffany unwrapped some silverware from a paper napkin. “Is that a threat?”

  Spider shook his head. “Statement of fact. I can almost guarantee that if Matt goes on trial, you’ll be called to testify.”

  “Because you’ll make sure of it?”

  “Because your name is in the guardhouse log as probably the last person to see Austin.”

  “Alive. You said before I was the last person to see him alive.”

  “Was he alive when you last saw him?”

  Tiffany gave a sly smile. “Oh, boy. Was he ever!.”

  “Tell me about when you left him.”

  “What’s to tell? We spent a beautiful night together. Makes me wonder why I spent so much time and energy trying to land the upright and chaste Matt Taylor.”

  “Trying to land him?”

  “Marry him.”

  “Why did you? You and Austin seem better matched.”

  She smiled and batted her eyelashes. “You think so?”

  “Yeah. So what was with Matt?”

  Tiffany leaned on an elbow. “I don’t know. I remembered him all these years, ever since high school. He seemed so in control, so manly. Always driving his pickup into the schoolyard like he owned the hills, but he’d come spend time with us lesser mortals. He was the strong, silent type, and I’d have given anything to be his girl.”

  “Did he have a girl?”

  Tiffany shook her head. “And now I know why. He hasn’t a clue about how to treat a woman. His idea of a great date is to drag her up a canyon to look at some rocks.”

  “But you remembered him, and that’s why you came back from California after your divorce?”

  “Yeah. First I looked him up on the Internet and found out he was single. Assistant Director of a museum. That sounded like a pretty secure job. Boy was I wrong.”

  “So why did you tell him you were going to donate all that money?”

  “I said that early on, when I was still seeing him through high-school glasses. It was an impulse. I wanted to help him, and the words just came out. Then I didn’t know how to get out of it.”

  “I imagine you were glad when Matt found out.”