Electric Blue

by Nancy Bush

  I’d put a call into Cynthia before we left, explaining with no enthusiasm about my trip to central Oregon. She cut off my whining with a recap: “You’re going to a mountain retreat with a wealthy, handsome guy who’s nice to you. You’ll probably have good weather and good food. His son’s there, but the son has accepted you, and you get to take your dog.”

  Okay, she was right, but I couldn’t completely capitulate, so I told her about Dwayne and Violet. If I’d been expecting commiseration, I was sorely disappointed. She said, “What’s the deal? You can have somebody but Dwayne can’t?”

  “That isn’t what this is about.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  I tried to. I really did. But the answer escaped me. Or, more accurately, I didn’t want to dig too deeply into my own feelings and then relate them to Cynthia. It didn’t matter in the end because she’s often better at reading between the lines than what’s written on the page. “You’ve got a thing for Dwayne,” she marveled at the end of my recitation.

  “No.”

  “That’s why you can’t get into Jazz.”

  “Cynthia—”

  “Are you seriously going to deny this?”

  I grimaced—and buckled. “It’s just so messy. In fact this whole ‘case’ was messy, and I’m not usually so obsessive about tying up every last detail, but I live for a sense of completion.”

  “You’re changing the subject. We’re talking about Dwayne.”

  “I don’t want him, Cynthia,” I said. “But then, I don’t not want him.”

  She snorted in amusement. “You are in so much trouble.”

  “Dwayne’s with Violet, and if I go to the Purcell ranch, I’ll be faced with it.”

  “I do not believe Dwayne is with this Violet person.”

  “You haven’t met her.”

  “I’ve met Dwayne. I do know what you’re feeling,” she added in a sidebar. “He just doesn’t jump into relationships. You know that. If he’s hanging around with Violet, it’s either a temporary feel-good, or he’s doing it for other reasons. So, ask yourself: do I want him, or do I not want him? And give yourself the right answer. I had to do that with Ernst. I did not want him. Not really.”

  Cynthia’s words both encouraged and worried me. I wondered what was going through Dwayne’s mind. The problem was every time I saw him with Violet I wanted to turn my eyes away and simply skeedaddle. It was too hard and took too much energy.

  I took a stroll around the grounds just to relieve my own dissatisfaction. The trees had been cleared from a large area directly surrounding the house, and two-to-three inch chips of pine bark and small rocks had been arranged as a ground cover. Hardy wildflowers grew along the edges, and everything was overlaid with the red dust. There was a three-car garage angled off the side of the house, and farther back, where the drive continued around the back side of the house and led into the trees, was a building that looked like it could house large equipment. I could only see the building’s west side; its north faced Black Butte—the small mountain, so thick and dark with trees that it appeared black. Not far from the Purcell home was Black Butte Ranch, a resort with several golf courses, swimming pools and horseback riding. No doubt about it, I was in cowboy country. Luckily, we were close to the town of Sisters, named for the nearby Three Sisters Mountains. About another hour farther was the city of Bend, which actually had strip malls and national fast-food restaurants. If I had to I could jump in the Volvo and make a run for it.

  Dwayne and Violet arrived just as I was returning to the house. There was much oohing and ahhing over the house from Violet, more of a quiet visual inspection by Dwayne.

  I made it my mission to cut Dwayne from the herd—please note the ranch parlance—and have a talk with him about Violet. Cynthia’s words had made an impression and I wasn’t feeling quite so distressed.

  I caught up with him on the back porch as Violet went upstairs in search of rooms. He was still holding a duffel bag and he was drinking in the sight of the grounds, trees and sky as I let myself through the screen door.

  “What are we doing here?” I whispered.

  He slid me a look. “We’re having fun.”

  “How will I know when it starts?”

  And then Violet yelled from somewhere upstairs. “Hey! There’s somebody living here.”

  Dwayne and I looked at each other and headed inside together.

  We all stood inside the narrow bedroom at the end of the hall. It was the smallest and though I’d looked at all the rooms, mostly out of nosiness, it hadn’t appealed to me because out of the six bedrooms along the upper floor, it was farthest from the bathroom. Violet, apparently, shared my nosiness, although she’d taken it a step farther and thrown open the closet. There were men’s shirts and slacks lined up on hangers and a large suitcase on the floor filled with miscellaneous boxers, socks, shaving supplies, etc. Several pairs of shoes were tucked in the back.

  Dwayne said to Jazz, “Know whose these are?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t know anyone was staying here.”

  “Maybe they’re not an invited guest,” I suggested.

  Violet said, “Whoever it is, they’re pretty tidy about things. Not your average squatter.”

  “Maybe somebody just left the stuff here,” Logan said, losing interest quickly. He headed back to his room and Binkster trotted after him.

  I gingerly opened the shaving kit. There was moisture inside. “This has been used recently.”

  Dwayne examined the man’s shoes. “Size ten.” He took a look at the pants and shirts. “He’s about my size.”

  “Not one of my brothers,” Violet said. “Garrett’s too fat, and James is too fragile. Possibly Roderick?”

  “Or Benjamin?” I suggested dubiously.

  We left the mystery for the moment. Violet made noise about trying out the hot tub and I left her to convince Dwayne, though it looked like it was going to be a hard sell. Jazz was still fighting his headache. He knocked back a couple of tablets of a prescription painkiller and apologized about having to lie down for a while. I told them I might run into Sisters.

  We’d parked our cars to the side of the house in a gravel-filled area next to the garage. I was unlocking my car door when my attention snagged at the thought that there might be a vehicle parked inside. I went through the side door, the “man” door, and discovered two cars, a white sedan and a red Dodge truck. The third bay was empty.

  Hunh, I thought. I tried the cars’ doors but they were locked. I walked around them. They had current Oregon plates and they were washed and clean. I suspected one, or both, belonged to our mystery guest.

  I left the garage and walked back to my car. I don’t know what made me look, but I gazed down toward the large outbuilding. The man door was cracked open.

  It hadn’t been that way the last time I looked.

  I walked down the dusty lane toward the building. Upon closer inspection, it was aluminum-sided with a metal roof. It was definitely some kind of utility building. I peeked inside the door and my gaze met tree trimmers, blowers, axes, gas cans and various and sundry clippers, hedgers and weed beaters. There was another car parked at the far side with a dust cover over it.

  I’d barely absorbed this when a man suddenly stood up and looked at me. I squeaked in surprise and he was just as taken aback. He held a wrench in one hand. I realized he’d been tinkering with some equipment on the floor. I hadn’t seen him because he’d been shielded by some waist-high shelving that had been erected in the center of the building. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Jane Kelly. We’re staying at the house?” I hitched a thumb back in the direction I’d come.

  He had to be our mystery guest, as he was about Dwayne’s height and weight. He was nice looking with even white teeth and a comfortable way about him. His hair was light brown, his eyes anywhere from blue to brown; I couldn’t tell from where I stood.

  “Oh, yeah? You’re a guest of the Purcells, huh,” he said, settin
g down the wrench and wiping his hands on a rag he pulled from a back pocket of his jeans. He walked toward me, hand outstretched. “I’m Chris.”

  I shook his hand. “You work here?”

  “I’m actually staying here temporarily. Don’t worry, the Purcells know. I’m married to Camellia.”

  The penny dropped. “Chris Denton,” I said.

  “You’ve heard of me.” He pulled back a little and made a face. “All bad, I’m sure.”

  “I’m just surprised you’re here.”

  “Well…if you know my name you probably know my circumstances. Cammie and I split up, although she wants to get back together.”

  I thought about Chris’s family Number Two and wondered if he were seriously considering it. My brows lifted. “Is that a possibility?”

  “Not really. Although Kayla and I had a fight. She kicked me out.” He half-laughed, sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “So, Cammie said I could stay here awhile. Figured I might as well get things running while I was at it.” He gestured around the room.

  “I see.”

  “I can move my stuff out of the house. No problem.”

  “No, it’s okay. We’re just here for a few days.” It didn’t sound like Cammie had cleared this decision with the rest of the family, but it didn’t matter to me. I wondered if she knew we were all here.

  “She said she’s coming over, so I was thinking about leaving anyway.” Chris said. “I don’t want another scene. She gets kinda mad.”

  I nodded, not wanting to go into how Dwayne had said much the same thing. “Is your car one of those in the garage?”

  He glanced toward the vehicle under the tarp. “No, that’s Cammie’s. She racked it up last winter in the snow and just parked it.” He snorted. “She’s not much of a driver.”

  “I meant in the garage by the house.”

  “Oh, the truck’s mine. I think they just leave the car here.” He hooked a thumb in the direction of the house. “How many of you are there?”

  “Five, and a dog.”

  “I think I might head into Bend,” Chris said, putting his tools away.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “When Cammie starts screaming, it ruins it for everyone. She kinda thinks now that Kayla and I are fighting that she and I can just go back the way it was, but it’s not that way. I was out of there before Rosalie came along. Cammie, she kept talking me into trying again and again. But as soon as I met Kayla, there was no going back. I’m not saying I haven’t screwed up, I have, but Cammie planned on getting pregnant. She set that up.”

  “I understand you have two girls, Jasmine and Blossom.”

  “Yeah, that torqued Cammie but good. Jasmine’s Kayla’s middle name, so that’s why we chose it. Didn’t have anything to do with that flower thing the Purcells got going.” He looked a little shamefaced as he added, “But, yeah, I suggested Blossom ’cause I was so pissed off over her setting me up for that pregnancy. I know.” He lifted his hands. “It takes two. I was stupid. I just wanted her to calm down, y’know. So we slept together and then bam, Rosalie. She’s a cute little bug, but I can’t go back to that. I just can’t.”

  I said lightly, “I was under the impression you were, well, living off some Purcell money.”

  “No, ma’am. Unless you count the money Cammie gave me originally to lure me back. But I sent her back every dime. Now, she’s kinda given up on that. She’s spending most of her energy getting a piece of the pie for Rosalie, which is fine by me. I made the mistake of telling her I was kicked out, so she offered up this place and I took it, even though I knew better. But she didn’t come over right away so I thought maybe she’s just being a friend after all, no strings attached. I didn’t know then that Orchid had died and Cammie was just too busy to show.”

  He held the door for me and we walked into the late afternoon sunshine together. Chris was pretty easy to be around. It amazed me he’d ever hooked up with Cammie in the first place, but then there’s no accounting for whom we pick for love.

  Violet had apparently been unable to convince Dwayne to join her in the hot tub, but she was lying in the bubbling froth, her eyes closed, a satisfied look on her face. Opening one eye, she gave Chris the once over. “Our mystery man?”

  “This is Chris Denton, Violet. Cammie’s husband.”

  “Really. What are you doing here?”

  I left him to fill her in on the details. Something was tugging at my brain but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I went in search of Dwayne, thinking maybe talking to him would bring it to mind. I couldn’t find him immediately, so I ducked my head into Logan’s room. Binkster wagged her tail at me, panted, and came to circle around my legs. I petted her as I asked Logan, “Have you seen Dwayne?”

  “I heard him say he was going for a walk.”

  That didn’t really sound like him. “Okay.”

  “Want to play Fissure with me?” he asked eagerly.

  “Maybe later.”

  I wandered back outside. Chris was standing by the hot tub and Violet had turned on the charm. It seemed to be second nature with her, though Chris didn’t appear to be interested.

  I finally caught up with Dwayne by the outbuilding. He looked like he’d come from a trail toward the back. “Hey,” I called, jogging to catch up with him. “Chris Denton’s here.”

  Dwayne’s eyes shot past me. “Where?”

  “Back at the house. Does he know you were the investigator Cammie hired?”

  “Doubt it. He the one living in the house?”

  “Yeah, Cammie gave him the okay. How long have she and Chris been split?”

  “Probably from the day they said I do,” Dwayne said with a snort. “That’s been one long bad scene. She just decided she wanted him, and that’s all she wrote.”

  “She’s hardly mentioned him.”

  “Yeah, well, her brain’s always working on a plan. Glad I don’t have to deal with her anymore.” Dwayne glanced at the outbuilding. “What’s in there?”

  “Equipment. Basic outdoor maintenance stuff. Oh, and Cammie’s car. One she wrecked.”

  “Yeah?” Dwayne squinted. “What’s it doing here?”

  “I don’t know, I guess she just hasn’t fixed it yet.”

  I looked toward the house, hearing the sound of my own words still hanging in the air. That was what was bothering me, I realized. The car.

  Dwayne said, “Someone’s pulling in.”

  I heard the engine. From where we were the front drive was blocked by the house. “It’s Cammie,” I said, my voice sounding odd to my ears.

  “Damn,” Dwayne said, taking off at a fast clip toward the house. “If she sees me and Chris, she’s bound to jump to some conclusion that’ll set her off.”

  I let him go. Instead of following I reentered the equipment garage, walking briskly to the tarp-covered car. I folded back the heavy sailcloth from the front end. It was a Range Rover, similar to the one Cammie drove now. Same color. Maybe even the same year. Only this one’s right headlight was broken out, the fender crumpled back to the tire. The hood was buckled and there was green paint along its bumper and streaked across the fender.

  I looked inside the front window. On the floor was a box of candy canes, the peppermint sticks broken and crumpled.

  I backed up as if burned. I reheard Logan’s voice in my mind, telling me someone was trying to kill him.

  It had been Christmas when Orchid first told Logan he would inherit…Christmas when Logan had bragged about being the one to inherit it all.

  Cammie wanted everything for Rosalie and Logan stood in the way.

  She attempted homicide twice.

  Cammie…

  I ran for the front of the house, the side door banging shut behind me. Cammie was just stepping out of her car, her face a dark cloud as she gazed at Dwayne, who was approaching to talk to her. Chris was standing in the open bay of the garage, next to his truck. Cammie gazed at him, then at Dwayne, then at me, running toward them.

&nbs
p; She climbed back behind the wheel of her Range Rover and started it up. I could picture Cammie driving from the scene of the crime to the Black Butte house, then driving the white sedan “house” car back. It could be done in one night, if necessary. She’d then bought another Range Rover, just like her damaged one, and made the switch somewhere in the intervening months.

  If anyone happened to go to Black Butte, the car was there, but that was a chance she had to take. She’d hidden the damaged vehicle in the equipment garage, and I doubted anyone knew it was there but Chris. She’d gambled that he might realize what it was, but she was desperate to reconnect with him as well. He was wrong. Cammie wanted everything for Rosalie, yes, but she also wanted everything for herself and that package included Chris. And so far she’d been right: she’d had to tell Chris the car was hers but he already thought she was a terrible driver, so she spun the plausible lie about slipping in the snow. It simply wouldn’t occur to him that she’d run Jazz’s car off the road to try and take out Logan. He might not believe it now, but I knew it as if she’d whispered the truth in my ear.

  “Dwayne!” I yelled.

  He’d stepped back as Cammie threw the Range Rover in reverse. I wondered for a moment if she was about to shoot out of the driveway backward.

  Her face was grim through the windshield. She’d seen the direction from where Dwayne and I had come. She knew where we’d been. She had to know what I’d seen. She thought Dwayne knew, too.

  I started running. My legs felt like ice.

  Chris yelled something. He stepped forward, waving at her. He was puzzled by her actions, worried probably that he hadn’t vamoosed before her arrival.

  I stopped short at the front of the house, breathing hard. “Dwayne,” I called again, but I didn’t have a lot of voice. He glanced over at me.

  And then she threw the vehicle in drive and hit the gas. The back wheels spun for half a beat, then the Range Rover jumped forward, charging like a roaring beast straight at Dwayne.

  “Dwayne!” I screamed as he dove to the right. Cammie twisted the wheel and came at him full bore.

  He almost made it but she rammed forward. She caught him a glancing blow. His shoulder slammed into a tree. To my utter horror, she backed up to make another run at him. I was racing forward but I was too far away. Dwayne staggered a bit as Cammie punched the accelerator. The vehicle bumped forward over a stump. I screamed again as it burst forward, jamming him against the bole of a tree. His body jerked and fell over the hood.