“Do you think that O’Neal woman made it to the hotel?” Lightfoot asked under his breath.
“Beats me, but someone should check on those kids. They shouldn’t be on their own.”
His brow lowered. “Is that what she said?”
“No.” I shrugged. “She said they were with their mother, but at one time or another, she’s claimed to be their mother.” The woman was crazy.
“I’ll have Pleasant check it out.”
Senora Mari came flying out of the kitchen. “¡Vámonos! Your food is getting cold. If they send it back, you’re paying for it, not me.”
Lightfoot and I exchanged amused glances before heading back to our designated roles. Not for the first time, I longed to be free to sit down and share a pleasant dining experience.
After delivering the specials to Ellis and Lightfoot, I returned with another order for the bartender. The flow of customers had started to slow. Two of my tables had paid and no other customers had taken their place.
Our new bartender looked at me with eyes round with surprise. “I overheard what that cop asked you. Is that lady in some kind of trouble? Is she a wanted criminal?”
“No.”
“She asked me for the ladies’ room, but she never came back.”
“Anything else?”
“She left her purse.” From behind the bar, he retrieved one of those African-looking shoulder bags.
“Let me see that.” I took it from him. “I need one frozen with salt and a top-shelf margarita on the rocks with a sugar rim.” The restaurant was closing at nine o’clock. From previous experience, we knew that our customers would all be out at the fairgrounds for the fireworks by then. “I’ll take it to the hotel and leave it at the front desk.”
He shrugged. “Okay.” He proceeded to fix my drinks with one eye on the soccer game. And even though I watched him closely for slipups, he made no mistakes.
When he placed the drinks on my tray a minute later, I had to admire his skills. “Thanks,” I said loudly to his back as he stood mesmerized by the game.
Startled, he turned to me. “You are very welcome, Miss Josie.” He smiled a truly dazzling smile before giving me his back once again.
Keeping a skilled bartender in a town our size was difficult. Who was I to demand his undivided attention? What I should be concerned about was the location of Dani O’Neal. She’d told one too many lies. If she was at the Cogburn Hotel, then I was the next Miss Agave Queen.
Chapter 17
Fireworks
After dropping Dani’s bag at the hotel, I hurried out to the fairgrounds. The breeze was cool and the stars were bright as planets. Hanging close to the Earth like ruby red Texas grapefruits. Fort Davis to our north and Big Bend National Park to our south were official dark-sky preserves, which meant their tourists got the most stars for their buck. However, the night sky beyond the city limits of Broken Boot was no slouch. Very little spillover from Alpine and Marfa affected the blanket of celestial beauty that hung perpetually in our desert sky. The only disturbance to this peaceful backdrop was a parking lot full of cars, trucks, motorcycles, folding chairs, Igloo coolers, cooking grills, and an ice cream pushcart full of sparklers and other small-time fireworks.
In the distance, Frank Fillmore had built a platform and filled it with row upon row of rockets and missiles along with more complicated pieces of equipment, which hopefully meant his show was going to be a real doozy—one that I could honestly brag about on the town’s web page.
Out in the field of scrub just beyond the parking area and a far distance from Fillmore’s launching platform, folks had set up folding chairs and camp stools, all pointed toward the focal point of the evening’s entertainment, the thirty-minute fireworks display. This was around the rocks and cacti and in spite of the pebbles, mesquite, and tumbleweed.
Young and old, humble and rich, they’d come one and all to celebrate Cinco de Mayo.
“Happy Cinco de Mayo, Abuela.”
With an aggravated shake of her head, Senora Mari lifted her chin. “Not a celebration in Mexico, this Cinco whatever. Loco Americanos.”
“True, but we’re a ton of fun. Sí?”
She cast her eyes toward the sky. “If you say so.” She waggled her hand back and forth.
“Yip,” Lenny said.
Three dogs from across the field answered with opinions of their own.
“What about dancing in the parade?” I asked. “You know you enjoyed that.”
Shrugging in her usual way, she said, “Perhaps, but the chili cooking. No joy.”
“I have your chair, Mamá.” Uncle Eddie passed us, loaded down with chairs and a cooler. “Jo Jo, you have the flashlight?”
“Got it.” I’d brought the largest Maglite we owned, the better to kill snakes and millipedes with while waiting around in the dark.
“Help, the candle’s falling.” Aunt Linda went by with two citronella tiki torches, a camp torch, and a watermelon.
Lenny retrieved the candle in his mouth, tail wagging, so cute and proud of himself. “Thanks, buddy.” Aunt Linda gave him a grateful pat on the head.
I took it from him, laced my arm through Senora Mari’s, and lit the path for the three of us.
“Snakes will bite someone tonight, just you wait and see.” I was afraid Senora Mari had seen too many old-timey Westerns again. Snakes in the desert at night, sounded like a no-brainer. But snakebites were rare in Texas. A person had a better chance of being struck by lightning than being bitten by a rattler or any other venomous snake. “We couldn’t hold the fireworks on Main Street?” Aunt Linda called over her shoulder.
“Just think what happened over in Badger County; two children were bitten by snakes at a picnic last summer.” Senora Mari had rattlers on the brain.
“Where were the badgers when they needed them? Why call yourself a badger if you’re not going to kill a snake?” I asked with more than a touch of sass.
“Shh.” Uncle Eddie hissed. “Mamá, someone will hear you. Think of those parents.”
I glanced at her. She glanced at me. The corners of her mouth turned down dramatically, like one half of a comedy-tragedy set of masks. “Shoddy parenting.”
“Shh,” I warned. “There but for the grace of God.”
“God didn’t make them poor parents.”
Finally my uncle found a spot that was flat enough, empty of obstructions, and wide enough for the four of us plus Lenny on his six-foot leash, which would keep him from sticking his delicate nose into the picnics of other feast-strewn blankets.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted Felicia Cogburn, Mrs. Mayor, and her husband, gesticulating energetically, their faces smiling in that way they had of disagreeing before the mayor’s constituents. She glanced toward the fireworks and back to the parking lot. The lot was now full to overflowing, trucks and cars alike were plowing into the scrub, creating spaces where none had existed before. Hopefully, one or two of the trucks had their winch attachments ’cause some of these folks were going to be stuck.
We set up our chairs and plunked down into them as if we’d done a month’s worth of dishes, or at least Senora Mari and I did. Uncle Eddie, on the other hand, set up the camp stove and went back for the propane. “He knows we’re here for only a couple of hours, right?”
“Why ask why?” Aunt Linda said with a laugh, as she made her way back to the F150. I hadn’t seen them pack the truck, but I should have known. If anyone could turn a simple outing into a food fiesta, they could. Sure enough, my aunt returned with a card table which she set up, complete with tablecloth, basket of napkins, plastic red, white, and blue plates, and the watermelon. She even produced Dr Peppers and cheese sticks.
“You going to cut that with your teeth?” Senora Mari asked with a grin. She cared for Aunt Linda, her daughter-in-law, deep down, but on the outside she enjoyed giving her the what f
or.
“Nope.” Uncle Eddie produced a long, serrated knife and carefully, without tearing through the paper tablecloth, sliced the snake melon into rings of delicious, cold sweetness.
“Josie!” Mrs. Cogburn was making her way toward me in a hurry, snaking her way through the brush, only once stumbling on a rock. “There you are!”
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
A deep frown blazed across the middle-aged beauty’s forehead. “You can find out why the fireworks are late.”
The mayor arrived only a second behind. “Josie’s not on duty, honey bucket.”
I’d never heard Cogburn use that endearment, and it was plain as the narrowing of her eyes she didn’t care for it one bit. Made me wonder if it was an intentional jab. Made me wonder if he’d had one too many celebratory beers.
“She doesn’t mind helping when there’s work to be done.” She patted my shoulder. “Do you, hon?”
“Yip.”
I glared at Lenny, but he merely smiled.
“How can I help?” I stood, trying not to sigh at my short-lived downtime.
“Find that friend of Linda’s—Frank what’s his name—and ask him when he’s going to get this show on the road.”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Senora Mari asked.
Mrs. Mayor rolled her eyes. “Well, I sent Mr. Mayor, but he came back empty-handed.”
“He wasn’t there.” Mr. Mayor’s smile hit the road, leaving behind an ugly slash.
I glanced at Uncle Eddie, who looked at me hopefully. He needed so badly to stay on the good side of the town council and Mayor Cogburn. How could I refuse? “Sure,” I said.
“Yip, yip, yip.”
“Oh, sweetie puppy likes the idea.” Mrs. Cogburn bent down and patted Lenny’s head.
“Yip,” Lenny complained, not impressed by his new nickname.
“Let’s go, Lenny.”
“Thanks so much, Josie. Folks are getting restless.”
I stole a moment to observe the crowd around me. I couldn’t say they were restless. I heard a guitar strumming, kids playing, a baby crying, the sound of savory meat over an open fire, and most of all the sound of laughter and warm conversation.
“Be back in a minute.”
Lenny and I made our way, weaving through the crowd, barely avoiding others’ vittles. At one picnic blanket, Lenny rose on his hind legs and begged for a spare rib. At another, he begged for a drumstick. Finally I scooped him into my arms. “Enough. Or I’ll have to start calling you Tubby.”
It took much longer to walk from the demarcated viewing area for the crowd than it first appeared it would. Instead of one football field, it was more like three. I refused to complain. Couldn’t I always use the exercise? Frank must have sweet-talked the fire marshal. How else could he have set up fireworks in a field? But then again, it wasn’t a grassy field in the hills of Kentucky. And truth be told, it wasn’t a no-burn season either.
After a few mesquite scrapes and a stick from a prickly pear cactus, we made it as far as the Fillmore’s Fireworks van. In the distance, the crowd had faded into the haze. The final wisps of sunlight disappeared into the midnight and azure blue of the sky. The stars were no longer grapefruits, but low-hanging friendly spirits. Twinkling, vibrating, watching over us with the strength of the long-departed and the one spirit that set them in place.
The van windows were dark. Lenny pulled me up short and took a whiz on the back tire. “Yip.”
“Good boy.” What else could I say? My boy knew how to take care of business and mark his territory. Past the van, the Maglite illuminated the platform another fifty feet on. Lights had been mounted to the ground so that the crowd wouldn’t focus on the secondary source of light.
I could hear the crickets and locusts whittling away on their hind legs. It was a beautiful night, perfect for the end of our holiday celebration. I didn’t know where Frank had gotten himself off to, but I seriously doubted the crowd minded the lateness of the hour. I took Lenny in my arms and cast my light into the scrub on either side. I was wearing my boots, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Just because I couldn’t see them didn’t mean rattlesnakes weren’t on the prowl for mice and rabbits all around us.
“Grr.” Lenny’s body tensed in my arms.
The hairs on my arms stood to attention. “What is it, Lenster?” I whispered.
First one and then two heads appeared in my peripheral vision, off to my right. I swung the light in that direction. It was the coyote brothers. “Yah, yah, yah.” I’d never been on a cattle drive, but I’d seen a movie or two.
Lenny strained against my arms, growling, yapping, and threatening his distant cousins.
“You can forget it. You’re not going to wrangle with any coyote. Haven’t you heard it’s better to pick on somebody your own size so no one gets hurt?” Without giving myself time to reconsider, I spread one arm wide and ran at the remaining coyote. “Git, git, git! Yah!”
They took off at a trot and disappeared into the brush. I waited. I counted to thirty as the night grew darker all around us. The crickets and locusts grew louder, and in the grass I heard the slither and crackle of small creatures below my line of sight.
“Come on,” I said to Lenny, “Let’s get out of here.”
The van was still dark. I flashed my light in the front window. A curtain had been pulled across the breadth of the cargo area behind the front seats, neatly separating the contents from view. It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out that Frank slept out here. Despite the hour, I decided to knock just in case he’d taken a nap—unlikely—or got caught up in an extremely long and involved phone call—highly unlikely. I was desperate. Though Uncle Eddie wasn’t in charge of the fireworks per se, a magnificent show of lights would put a nice cap on the Cinco de Mayo festivities. And any positive review of the weekend would include a mention of the winners and a favorable nod to his first chili cook-off.
“Frank?” I tapped on the driver’s door with a knuckle. “Yo, you in there?” I asked playfully. Best to keep things light and breezy.
I glanced across the wide expanse between the van and the waiting crowd, the darkness deepening to a deeper shade of midnight. Walking softly, I led Lenny to the other side of the cargo van, a better vantage point when it came to seeing if someone, namely Frank, was on his way to or from the launch platform. “Where do you think he made off to?”
A sudden thought had me turning toward the crowd again. Perhaps he was at the porta-potty. When a guy’s gotta go, he’s gotta go—chemical outhouse or no.
“Yip,” Lenny urged quietly.
“You’re right. He’s probably at that platform with all the fireworks on it.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement. An orange tabby slithered out from behind the curtain into the beam of my flashlight, gifted me with a surly look, and climbed onto the dash and front window of the van. She kept her eyes focused on mine as she bathed first one paw and then the other.
“Yip, yip.” Lenny wasn’t impressed.
I hoisted him up so he could get a better look at the proud feline.
“Yip.”
“Yes, I know, she won’t look at you. Don’t worry, she’s just playing hard to get.” Lenny placed his front paws on the window and whined.
“So where’s your owner, Tabitha?” She turned her back on us and continued washing. After a few more licks of her tongue, she raised herself languidly from the dash, disappeared behind the curtain, immediately returned to stand on the center console, and then disappeared again.
“What if she’s like Lassie? Trying to get our attention? What if Frank’s hurt in the back of the van and she wants us to rescue him?” Hadn’t I read somewhere that cats could do that kind of thing? “Come on, Lenster.” We walked around to the back of the van, where I promptly tripped on a long, round object that turned when I stepped on i
t, almost causing me to do the splits as my front foot began to roll away from my back one. “Son of a nutcracker!”
“Yip.”
“I’m okay,” I groaned. “Old Frank needs to be more careful.” At first glance, the van’s rear doors appeared to be tightly closed, but when I looked again I could make out a slight gap.
I picked up the cylindrical object and started to toss it inside. When I opened the van’s rear door, the interior light came on. The object in my hand was a fireworks missile of some type, a familiar cone at one end and three wings at the other. The van itself was far from empty. A bedroll was propped against the cargo door behind the driver’s seat. Beside it was an iron skillet filled with a knife, fork, spoon, salt and pepper shakers, and a can opener. Crates of fireworks—rockets, fuses, several boxes with bright labels indicating mine cakes, and a dozen or so extension cords were crammed into every available inch. I gently placed the red missile in a box in the corner, close to the rear door. That’s when I noticed the crate beneath it. A yellow hazard tape was attached. WARNING: VOLTAGE MAY CAUSE ACCIDENTAL DEATH.
My curiosity got the better of me. I lifted the first box out of the way and discovered three stun guns in the smaller crate beneath. The air in my lungs evaporated.
“Yip, yip,” Lenny said.
“You’re right. This whole thing’s made me jumpier than a frog in a toaster.” I forced my lungs to draw breath.
“What do you think, Lenster? You think he stole these?”
“Yip.”
“Me neither . . . but it’s mighty suspicious.”
If I truly thought that a stun gun had killed Lucky Straw, I’d have danced a jig at the discovery of not one, but three of the weapons in Frank’s possession. Tonight’s encounter with Dani O’Neal had changed my conclusion.
I no longer had to worry that Uncle Eddie could be blamed for Lucky Straw’s death. No faulty wiring, or even a mishap with an extension cord, could’ve caused his death. And why had the murderer tossed the stun gun into Lucky’s chili? Easy. He, or she, wanted the sheriff’s department to think the stun gun had interfered with his pacemaker. Once it was proven the stun gun couldn’t have killed him, the officers would assume the blow to the head was the cause of his demise. Only Ellis refuted that theory almost immediately. The head injury certainly caused significant blood loss, but not Lucky’s death.
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