Death at the Bar X Ranch

by Marlene Chabot

  “Ready when you are.”

  “All right. Extra-large fries, small coleslaw, a triple Milt burger with plenty of cheese and a chocolate shake.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Throw in a couple chocolate chip cookies too while you’re at it.” This working girl required more than a skimpy can of tuna and carrots to hold her over. Besides, I could always start my diet tomorrow. The cabbage one sounded interesting.

  Ten minutes later I paid for my order at Milt’s, traipsed back to the car and stuffed my tummy with the goodies. As soon as I dusted off the last remaining evidence of what I had devoured from my dressy pants and blouse, I fled to the underground parking at the Foley and dropped the Topaz off. I wouldn’t be using it to get to my second job.

  Wouldn’t you know just as I approached the building’s exit to take off for the optical store, my cell phone rang. Thinking it might be Mr. Singi calling to make sure I was still coming, I pressed answer.

  “Mary, I thought I should let you know one of my horses died this morning. I don’t think there was anything malicious about her death, but even so . . .”

  “Which horse, Reed? Was it the one that ate the steering wheel on my car?”

  The man stumbled with his reply. “No. Angel, the one you said you felt the most comfortable with.”

  “Yes, of course. The golden-colored quarter horse. I saw her only that one time when you had me work in the stable with Terry, but I inspected her stall after Sally died. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Yeah, it’s tough. I’ve had her for about five years now and planned to enter endurance races with her later this summer.”

  “When did you discover she had died?”

  “I didn’t find her. Terry did when he was making the rounds.”

  Terry? Hmm? Sally said someone had offered him a job, and he never seemed to be in the barn when I was. Maybe someone wanted Reed destroyed and hired Terry to help him or her. “What did Doc say?”

  “He said she hadn’t been dead long.”

  I rubbed my forehead. This mess at the Bar X was getting hotter by the minute. “Was Troy able to figure out what happened?”

  “Not really. Angel never had any underlying health issues.”

  I glanced at my wristwatch. Every second wasted on the phone would make it that much harder for me to arrive at work on time. “So, what’s the standard procedure when a horse dies, Reed?”

  My client didn’t answer immediately. “When the cause is unknown, like in Angel’s case, we usually ask the University of Minnesota’s Equine Center to figure it out for us.”

  “Is that what you’ve decided to do?”

  “Yeah. Terry offered to take the body there for me. I was too shaken up.”

  Terry again. If he did something to the horse, it would make perfect sense to get rid of the evidence when no one was around. “Look, Reed, you did the right thing by calling me. Angel’s death could be just a fluke, or it could have been planned by someone who is very devious. Either way, I feel we need to talk further. Is it okay to call you later? I’m on my way to another job right now.”

  “Sure, I ain’t going anywhere.”

  I was sweating profusely by the time I finally waltzed into the optical store and wondered if I was late or on time. My eyeballs swiftly focused on the nearest clock. Good. Five minutes to spare. Now, I swiped a tissue off a table and wiped my moist hands.

  Raj Singi came out from the room beyond the counter just then and greeted me warmly. “I’m pleased with your promptness, Mary. I told Kamini hiring a teacher was a good idea.”

  I let the comment slide. He didn’t have to know I was almost late. I extended a hand now. “Congratulations, Raj. How are Kamini and the baby doing?”

  “As good as can be expected,” he said displaying a proud smile. “We had a girl. That makes three.”

  “I suppose you were hoping for a boy.”

  “Yes,” he sighed, “but we are blessed all the same.”

  “She’ll make you proud one day.”

  Raj laughed. “I have no doubt.”

  A customer rushed through the door and interrupted us. “Sorry, I’m late for my appointment.” I recognized the woman. I had run into her several times in the laundry room at the Foley. She was impossible to forget. Every time I saw her she was color coordinated from the mound of her ratted hair right down to her toenails. Tonight, the two-hundred-pound woman’s choice of color was bright-yellow like a toy duck. Too bad the dark Star Wars tattoos covering both arms, the neck and one side of her face didn’t match.

  The optometrist didn’t flinch at the sight of the woman. Apparently, she had previous history here, or Raj was the type of guy who didn’t let weird sights distract him from his work. “Gertie. Let’s go back to the exam room, shall we?”

  “Sure thing, Doc.” She gave me a good hard look before she took off with Raj, but her eyes didn’t seem to register recognition.

  Since my boss hadn’t given me any orders before he took flight, I made myself busy with little things around the office, straightening magazines, picking up toys in the kid’s corner, placing frames back on the wall racks and restocking lens cleaner. It wasn’t until I was finished with my tasks that the phone rang for the first time since clocking in. Remembering what Kamini said about trying to answer the phone before the third ring, I scrambled to answer it.

  “Singi’s Optical, how may I help you?”

  The caller wanted to set up an appointment for next week. I could handle that. When I turned my back to the counter to search for available openings in the black, leather bound appointment book, I caught the reflection of the next person about to step into the store. Nat Newman? Was her appearance a coincidence? I shook my head. I doubted it. I had a funny feeling she was stalking me, but why? Maybe I was wrong about her. She was cozying up to Reed and thought I was too.

  I ended my conversation with the caller and quickly hung up. Then I put on the best surprised face I could muster and spun around. “Why, Nat, how nice to see you.”

  “Oh? Hi. I didn’t know you worked here. I thought you were just involved with horses.”

  I bet. I work a little here and a little there. Right now I’m filling in for the gal who’s on maternity leave. So, what brings you out this way? Do you have an appointment with Doctor Singi?”

  Nat Newman’s smile was full of charm. “No, I just happened to be at the bookstore down the block and noticed a screw had fallen out where the front piece and the earpiece are supposed to connect.” She whipped her glasses out of a soft covered case and showed me what she meant. What a lame excuse. If she had said her dog had got ahold of the glasses, I might have bought it. At least there would be teeth marks to prove what she said. She droned on like I required further explanation. “I would’ve tightened the screw myself, but I don’t carry those tools in my purse,” she neatly added.

  I glanced at the small straw purse hanging from her shoulder. “Not big enough, huh?” I joked. “Good thing we were close by.” I reached for her plain, brown plastic-framed glasses and looked for the company who designed them. “I don’t remember seeing you wear these. Are they new?”

  “Ah, fairly. I just have to wear them for close up.”

  What a bunch of hooey she was spewing. Even I know glasses can take a lot of beatings before a screw comes loose. “Well, why don’t you have a seat by the window while I go in the back and work my magic. There are tons of magazines to peruse.”

  “All right.”

  I went to the back room and searched for a tiny screwdriver. I found one by a sample card patients are asked to read from when picking up new bifocal prescriptions. It only took me a second to decide to check out Nat’s tale. If the lenses in her glasses were for close work, they would definitely magnify the words on the card at some point. I tested my theory. �
��Just as I thought,” I said under my breath, “the woman’s here to check up on me.” I put the card down now and then went about connecting the earpiece and frame, making sure not to strip the screw.

  Raj came looking for me now. “Mary, Gertie is done with her exam. I’m expecting another patient in about five minutes. Could you help her select some glasses when you finish up in here?”

  “Certainly.” I squirted lens cleaner on the lenses of Nat’s frame and wiped them dry. Then I strolled out front with them. “Here you go, Nat.”

  “How much do I owe you?” she asked as she skirted up to the counter.

  “No charge.”

  “So, will I see you again at Reed’s?”

  “Depends on him,” I said and let her draw her own conclusions.

  Gertie must’ve been listening to Nat’s and my conversation and assumed we were done. She moseyed over to where we were now, pressed her ample girth against the counter and waved a yellow polished finger in my face. “I knew you looked familiar. You’re the new tenant on the fourth floor who does private eye work.”

  Nat’s light-colored eyebrows arched severely. She appeared to be on the fringe of asking a question herself after hearing the stranger’s sudden revelation.

  Damage control was definitely in order. There was no way I was exposing my secret to anyone connected with the Bar X other than Reed. “Sorry. You’ve got that wrong,” I said as I squashed Gertie’s comment as swiftly as it came. “My brother’s the PI, but he’s out of the country right now.”

  “But, but,” Gertie muttered. “I was positive that’s what someone told me.” The guilty party she was referring to was Aunt Zoe obviously. There’s no way Margaret would have given me away.

  “Nope. I usually work with horses and teach, but the rest of this summer I’ll also be filling in for Kamini who’s on maternity leave.”

  Nat Newman snapped her purse shut now and then she peeked at her bulky silver watch. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a meeting down the road in fifteen minutes.”

  I waved her off. “Have a nice evening,” and then I directed my attention to the other woman. “Now, Gertie, what can I do for you?”

  The woman planted her thick hands on her chunky hips. “Look, honey, I just want you to know I don’t blame you for denying you’re a PI. I can smell a cop a mile away.”

  I thought about what she had just said. Nat Newman, a cop? Nah, she doesn’t fit the profile. “Gertie, I’m really not a private eye. Honest.”

  “Okay, have it your way. You probably aren’t licensed and don’t want to get in trouble. I understand these things. I did a short stint in the slammer myself. But if you ever can spare the time, my cousin’s in a dilly of a pickle.”

  Chapter 35

  After Gertie left, Raj had three contact lens patients waiting to see him, so I took advantage of the long stretch and began to think about how I was going to handle Clint. He needed to be taken care of first before I even allowed myself to worry about my client’s problems. My best option was to lie and tell him my boss hadn’t had a chance to work out my schedule yet. That would give Sergeant Murchinak more time to get back to me. I put down the National Geographic I had been reading and reached for the phone. It rang before I even had a chance to enter Clint Russell’s number.

  “Good evening. Singi’s Optical, how may I help you?

  “Mary?”

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “It’s Margaret Grimshaw.”

  “Oh, hi. I suppose you’re wondering how I’m doing?

  “Well . . .”

  “I don’t mean to brag, but it’s going great here.”

  “That’s nice to know, but that’s not why I called. Zoe ran into me in the hall and filled me in on your busy day. Sounds like you probably didn’t have time for my friend in Bloomington.”

  “Nope. I was hoping to get there tomorrow, but now something else has come up.”

  The elderly woman cleared her throat. “That’s all right, Mary. It’s all taken care of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I asked Tom if he’d mind stopping here on his way home.”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Now, now, it’s no problem. The two of us haven’t seen each other in a while, and he’s never turned down a plate of my lasagna yet. Just pop in as soon as you get home.”

  “But how will I bypass Aunt Zoe without her getting suspicious?”

  “Tell her I need to borrow a cup of sugar. Arrivederci.”

  Well, now it’s just you and me, Clint. You’d better answer the phone.

  “Mary, could you . . . Oh?” Raj said, “I’ll wait.”

  Darn interruptions. Just as I was setting the receiver back in its cradle, someone said, “Hello. Hopefully, it was Clint’s voicemail.

  “I didn’t mean to rush you,” the optometrist said.

  My eyes shifted to the bottles of lens cleaner sitting on the counter. They had been disturbed. “That’s all right. It was a wrong number.”

  *****

  When Raj’s last appointment for the evening called to cancel, he told me I could leave whenever I wanted to. Pleased to hear the news, I quickly tidied up and then ventured out into the cool night air. Just the way I liked my summer evenings. Too bad I couldn’t enjoy it. Mrs. Grimshaw and her friend were waiting for me, and I still needed to call my client back.

  The instant my hand tugged on one of the Foley’s heavy entrance doors my cell phone began to vibrate. I quickly jabbed a hand in my pocket, pulled out the phone and pressed answer without looking to see who was calling, like I had done earlier. This time I assumed it was my roommate. “Auntie, you don’t need to check up on me. I’m a big girl.”

  A masculine voice replied, “Well, I’m glad we got that straightened out. I certainly wouldn’t want to be dating a little girl.”

  It’s him. It’s him. I was so shaken up I almost walked through the lobby’s second set of doors. “Oh, my gosh. Sorry, Clint.” I found my key and entered the lobby.

  “Not as sorry as I am,” he rattled on, “You never called to tell me which day we could go bowling.”

  “Actually I did try, but I got interrupted.” I pressed the elevator button and hoped no one would be joining me when it arrived.

  “Oh, so that wasn’t a crank call I got?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, what day works for you?”

  I inhaled deeply and let out a heavy sigh. “I still don’t have an answer for you.”

  “Are you putting me off?”

  “No way. Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you have a boyfriend you haven’t told me about?”

  Not him too, I thought. Are all men cut from the same cloth?

  The elevator dropped me off at the fourth floor, but I didn’t dare finish this conversation in the apartment, so I got off and remained by the exit door. “As far as I know, there’s no one waiting for me around the corner, so if you still want to get together say so.” I kept my fingers crossed. It was imperative that I got under Clint’s skin. He held the key to something. I just didn’t know what.

  Clint backpedaled now. “Yeah, yeah. I just didn’t want anyone beating me up.”

  I released a nervous laugh. “You’ve got enough neighbors upset with you, so why would I want to send a henchman too?” Although if I found out he was a wanted man, I may have to.

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, Mary.”

  “Look, Clint, I put off calling you because I never got my schedule from my boss. He was too wrapped up in his work and his newborn baby. Why don’t we just plan to go Sunday evening?”

  “Sure, why not. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “Nope.”

  “Too early?”

&n
bsp; I cleared my throat. “No. I just thought it would be easier if we met at a bowling alley. You know, halfway between my place and yours. Less chasing for you.” And I don’t want you finding out where I live.

  “You got some place in mind?”

  “Yeah, how about Bowlarama?

  He hesitated long enough to Google it. “That’s in West St. Paul, right?

  “You got it. See you there.” I put my cell phone back in my pants pocket and rushed to my apartment.

  “Home already, Mary?”

  “Yes,” I replied short of breath, “but I have to dash over to Margaret’s. She needs a cup of sugar.” I took a couple deep breaths as I dropped my bag and purse on the table in the hallway and sprinted into the living room. “What the . . . ?”

  “Are you surprised?” Aunt Zoe asked. I didn’t respond. “I hoped you would be. The material’s just been sitting in one of my trunks all this time.”

  And that’s just where it should’ve stayed, I thought. “Moroccan isn’t it?”

  My roommate beamed. “That’s right.”

  The mutt jumped off the couch, raced over to me and whined.

  I know exactly how you feel. I stroked her head while I soaked in the redecorated room. Bright tangerine-colored sheer material softly cascaded down from ceiling to floor encasing Matt’s old couch. Matching striped fabric followed through on the couch’s enormous tossed pillows which were no longer on the couch but had been haphazardly delegated to the floor. The coffee table had been bedecked with Moroccan do-dads and placed between the couch and La-Z-Boy. And my beloved chair, well, it was draped in an outlandish shade of pink.

  “How did you get the fabric strung up?” I asked flatly not really wanting to hear the reply.

  “Our caretaker, Mr. Edwards. You know, I think I’ve really outdone myself, Mary.”

  I bit my tongue. “You sure have.” Good thing I’m going to Margaret’s. I can blow off steam there. “Well, I’d better get the sugar.” I left my aunt stranded on the couch, amid the Moroccan hubbub, ran down the hallway to retrieve the metal object tucked in my top dresser drawer and then traipsed to the kitchen to toss it an empty sugar bowl. Once I had what I needed, I marched out the door.