Cinco De Murder

by Rebecca Adler

  The steps began again, rounding the van to the other side. I inched back to the other side. My eyes had adjusted to the dark and the fireworks and in the distance the glow of flashlights and battery-operated lanterns. The footsteps stopped. They dropped to one knee. I tucked my head and slithered to the back of the van like a salamander.

  “Josie,” he whispered.

  I made it to the edge of the undercarriage and skedaddled out from under the van far enough to bang my head on the bumper.

  I hissed and rubbed my head as stars added to the rockets still bursting in the sky above. Before I knew it, he was on me. He grabbed me by the arm.

  “Let me go, you turd!”

  “Josie! Be quiet! It’s me.”

  My vision cleared. It wasn’t Frank the freak fireworks guy who had my dog. It was Lightfoot. Strong, dependable, Detective Quinton Lightfoot.

  Chapter 20

  On the Trail

  Those nasty tears—caused only by adrenaline—trickled down my face once again, and I silently cursed them and wiped them away. “How’d you know where to find me?”

  Lightfoot watched me closely. “You called Patti and she called nine-one-one.”

  “But I swear I didn’t. I barely managed to dial nine-one-one.” My voice came out high and screechy. “I called her on my way here, but she didn’t answer.”

  Keeping a careful eye on me, he slowly surveyed the scrub around us. “You can thank your pants. They dialed for you.”

  “But how did she know where to find me?” I grabbed his arm.

  “Breathe.” He placed his hand briefly over mine. “You told her you would be here tonight with your family.”

  “Oh, my God.” Suddenly I felt light-headed. “Give me a minute to catch my breath.” I was taking deep lungfuls of air and thanking God that he blessed my cell phone connection. I must have looked as overwhelmed as I felt.

  “Senora Mari was out in the parking area when I arrived.” He took my arm. “Steady. Don’t rush off. Take your time.”

  I wanted to scream with anger. “He wouldn’t let me out of that stupid van!” I began to cry in earnest. I refused to look at him. I didn’t want to see his reaction to Josie Callahan, reporter, losing it.

  He let go of my arm and put his arm around my shoulders.

  Any second, I was going to pull myself back together and go and find Lenny. Lightfoot’s arm was so steady, so . . . there. I turned into his chest, laid my head on his shoulder.

  “Uh, Josie?”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t move. I just needed to stand there with my head against his chest and share his strength.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I will be. Give me a minute.”

  It was time to go if I could just clear my head. “Quint?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you mind putting your arms around me for a minute?”

  I couldn’t take it back. And I was too overwrought to be embarrassed. I was thinking that I might need to apologize if I’d embarrassed him with my emotional outburst, when his arms came around me.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re always welcome.”

  I chuckled and found the strength I needed. I stepped away and his arms dropped. “Let’s go get this loser.”

  “Take it easy, slugger. Senora Mari asked me if I’d seen you. By the time I got to your aunt and uncle, they both met me on the way.”

  This didn’t make sense to me. Had I really been gone that long?

  “Did you see Lenny?”

  He held his flashlight up to make it easier to study my face. “No. Is he missing for the same reason you were hiding under this van?”

  “Frank has him. Threatened to kill him if I didn’t keep my mouth shut.”

  Lightfoot flashed the surrounding scrub and a distant mesquite tree. Only yuccas, cacti, and sand sage made an appearance. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he killed Lucky Straw and he wants to shut me up.” My brain was foggy.

  He frowned. “What do you know?”

  I tried to open the back of the van, but it was locked. “In here are explosives.”

  “Okay.”

  My brain sputtered. “You know . . . explosives and fireworks and extension cords.”

  Slowly he shook his head as if acknowledging that I’d finally lost my ever-loving mind.

  I hurried to the broken window. “Here’s where he locked me up and I broke out.” I reached inside and found the stun guns on the front seat. “And these.” I shook one at him.

  “A stun gun?”

  “You betcha, and he’s got three or four of them.”

  “And?”

  I wanted to scream, but a guy like Lightfoot gets riled up when you lose control. “And, don’t you see? He jolted Lucky with a stun gun. And he programmed the interruption in his pacemaker so the shock would scare him stone-cold dead.”

  In the near dark, I could still read Lightfoot’s disbelieving frown by the light of his torch. He cocked his head to one side. His ebony eyes locked on mine. “Maybe.” He gave a slow nod.

  “Frank kidnapped Lenny and threatened to kill him.” I wanted to shake the skeptical look from Lightfoot’s face. “Would a sane, law-abiding citizen steal my dog?”

  The fireworks ended. The crowd cheered. A coyote howled in the distance.

  “Come on.” Lightfoot turned away, heading toward the parking area.

  “Where are you going?” I refused to budge. “He’s got to be here.”

  “Trust me.” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along. “I have a feeling.”

  We hurried through the crowd as folks gathered their belongings. Some greeted us. Lightfoot nodded once and ignored the rest. Both of us jogged through the crowd, eyes peeled for any sign of Fillmore and a feisty long-haired Chihuahua in the crowd. Finally I spied Mr. and Mrs. Cogburn up ahead.

  “Mr. Mayor thought tonight’s show was fabulous. Isn’t that right?” Mrs. Cogburn asked.

  The mayor raised his brows. “Yes, yes. Superb. Never doubted you for a minute, sugarplum.”

  She smiled and pinched his arm. “You did too, you big fibber.”

  “Ow. Stop that.” He rubbed his arm enthusiastically. “Never. Except for the waiting around, it was perfect.”

  She pinched him again for good measure. “That built up the excitement. Didn’t it, Josie?”

  “Sure,” I said distractedly. “Have you seen Frank Fillmore? Did he come round to get his check?”

  “The man demanded cash.” Mayor Cogburn looked disapprovingly over his glasses. “What does he think I am? An ATM?” He cracked his knuckles.

  “When was that?” Lightfoot asked.

  “Exactly five minutes ago.” Mayor Cogburn turned to his wife. “Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

  “Why, yes, honeybun. You are so right. It was exactly five minutes. You hit it right on the button.”

  “You’re positive?” Lightfoot fired his question into their Chip and Dale routine.

  Shocked at his tone, they glanced at each other. “Yes.”

  “Lenny, you haven’t seen him?” I asked.

  The mayor harrumphed. “Why you’d bring him into the desert beats me.”

  Two dogs raced by, a schnauzer chasing a poodle, barking without a care in the world. Two older women meandered after them, both in coveralls, and one wearing a John Deere cap.

  “They went thataway,” Mrs. Cogburn called out gaily.

  “Excuse us.” Lightfoot tipped his hat and we were gone.

  “Where did he go?” I asked Lightfoot’s back as we hurried to his cruiser.

  “I think he’s hit the road.”

  “But the fireworks just ended. Wouldn’t he have to stay behind to make sure the fireworks went off without a hitch if he wanted his pay?”


  “Where’s your Prius?” The parking lot was already in an uproar, cars nearly backing into other cars and truck horns honking.

  “Crud. My keys are in my bag!” I’d left it next to my folding chair earlier, when I’d gone to check on the fireworks.

  “Where’d you park it?”

  “Um, over to the far left.”

  “Show me.”

  I led him past coolers on wheels and kids in pajamas. Country music blared from nearby trucks. Tejano music floated into the air as well from a nearby Expedition as two adults loaded sleepy children into the back.

  My mouth was suddenly dry as dirt. “It was here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Let me see that.” I grabbed his flashlight and searched the empty space where I’d parked, or so I thought. The marks in the gravel and weeds could have belonged to my car. Around us, vehicles crowded the road back to town and others lined up waiting to enter the flow.

  As I turned to give Lightfoot his flashlight, I caught a glimpse of something familiar at the edge of the grass. Lenny’s leash. I held it up for Lightfoot to see. “Look. I was right.” I wanted to find Frank Fillmore and throttle him until he confessed. I knew why he’d done it, but I needed the how. But first I needed my best friend, safe and sound.

  “Come on.” Lightfoot took off across the parking lot. We found his cruiser boxed in by the line of cars and trucks waiting to turn onto the road back to the highway.

  I slid into the passenger seat and clipped on my seat belt. “Will I get in trouble for sitting up here with you?”

  “You will be fine.”

  He snapped on his lights and hit the whoop on the siren. Behind us cars tried to move out of his way, some moving left and others moving right, but basically not leaving any room.

  “Hold on.” He threw the cruiser in drive and headed for the mesquite trees in front of us.

  “Hey!” I covered my eyes.

  A screeching sound of metal against bark filled my ears like King Kong running his fingernails down a giant chalkboard. Then we propelled out of the shoot like a bull at a rodeo, barreling through the grass, dodging large rocks and clumps of cacti until finally pitching down a shallow gulley and coming up onto the main road. He hit the siren for real this time, cut off the line of cars, whipped around the slow-moving traffic, and finally careened onto the gravel on the shoulder.

  “We’re going to blow a tire!” I clung to the back of the front seat like a tick to a deer.

  Riveted on the road, he said, “Any sign of the Prius?”

  I craned my neck, searching in all directions. “No, it’s pitch-black on either side.”

  His eyes narrowed. His hands gripped the steering wheel until I thought his bones would pierce his skin. “Hold on!” He spun the wheel to the right and gunned it down a red clay road I hadn’t even seen until we’d made the turn.

  “Where does this go?”

  “Tommy’s Pond.”

  Named for the actor who’d once lived outside of Broken Boot, Tommy’s Catfish Canal was a failed effort to build up the local economy. Oh, catfish and minnows still called it home, but the owner filed for bankruptcy and never came back. Locals still fished there, but they were taking their health in their hands. In the heat, algae levels would rise, making everything in the pond toxic. Or so I heard.

  “What makes you think they went this way?”

  He shot me a glance. “He flattened a clusterberry when he took the turn.”

  “What clusterberry?”

  “Never mind.”

  The road to Tommy’s Catfish Canal was as dark as the Marfa Lights pavilion on a Monday night. Stars shimmered in the sky, vibrating with a sound I could almost hear.

  “If you’re not so sure Frank Fillmore did this thing, why are you after him?”

  He shot me a look of disbelief. “He’s got Lenny, right?”

  “True.” Lenny wasn’t best buds with Lightfoot—not like Ryan. Lightfoot’s tribal bracelet glimmered in the light from the cruiser’s dash.

  We were silent for a while and then he glanced my way. “He’ll be okay.”

  Or Frank might kill him, the same way he’d murdered Lucky. I grasped for something to keep my fears at bay. “Those symbols on your bracelet . . . what do they mean?”

  He hesitated so long, I thought I’d only imagined speaking the words.

  “They are symbols of purity.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. Had he taken a vow of chastity? Why did I care?

  He studied my face. “It means my spirit is clean.”

  “Oh?”

  “What did you think I meant?”

  “Uh—”

  “Shh.”

  Up ahead a split rail fence went off to the left and right sides of the road. There was no gate. Hinges, but no gate. Not anymore. A sign remained on the fence post to the right of the dirt road we traveled. NO TRESPASSING. FISH AT YOUR OWN RISK.

  The headlights caught a metal building and a porta-potty off to the right. Lightfoot slammed on his brakes. What I’d thought was grass was actually the pond. I gulped. If I’d been driving we’d have driven straight into it. But then again, I’m always a much better driver behind the wheel.

  “No Prius,” I said. “Careful turning around. Don’t get us stuck in the mud.”

  He turned off the engine, killed the lights, and pointed with his right hand. His bracelet and wrist caught my eye. What was it about a man’s wrist that made me pause?

  “Over there, Callahan.”

  “Oh, my great-aunt Sammie.” The hood of the Prius peeked out from behind the metal building as if watching for us to arrive.

  “Don’t touch that door. He may be armed.”

  “Even if he had a knife. What’s he going to do? Throw it at us?”

  Lightfoot glared.

  “So he’s not a knife thrower in the circus. Maybe he was a SEAL or someone trained in hand-to-hand combat.”

  “Did he strike you as a SEAL?” I was struck by his tone of voice. Lightfoot was actually being sarcastic.

  “Now that you mention it . . . no.” Why would a man trained to kill other men use electronic shenanigans to kill someone? “He could have killed Lucky with electricity just to throw us off. Maybe he used stun guns and electricity to torture prisoners of war.”

  “Shh.”

  A coyote howl floated through the air, lone and spine-tingling.

  “Lenny’s out there.” My hand flew to the door handle.

  “No.” He grabbed my arm and held me tight. “Wait for Fillmore to make the first move.”

  I counted to ten, forcing my pulse to slow. “Not a talent I’m known for.”

  His eyes narrowed, he scanned the area in silence.

  “Unencumbered was the word I think you used.” My eyes were focused on the Prius, the metal building, and the surrounding area, but my mind was still curious.

  “Shh.” He dropped my arm.

  “You might as well tell me,” I whispered. “I’m going to keep asking.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” He paused, his eyes never leaving the scene before us. “I told you. I broke up with my lady.”

  I grinned. “You mean your girlfriend.”

  “Why people insist on using that term, I don’t know. She is neither a girl or a friend.”

  “But she was your . . . special lady?” I wanted to giggle with relief.

  “Yes.”

  “Ah.”

  Lightfoot leaned forward and I followed his gaze. At the corner of the metal building, a figure appeared at the far side of the Prius.

  “Do you see what I see?” A new surge of adrenaline poured through my veins.

  “Stay here.”

  “No—”

  “It’s not a request.” He turned the full force of those eyes
on me. “Do you understand me?”

  I nodded. “Stay here.”

  “And I want you to get down so he can’t see you.”

  “I could help.”

  “You could get yourself kidnapped again.”

  “Right.” He had a point. Things could go sideways.

  “And for pity’s sake don’t put a dent in her. She’s brand-new.”

  “Um, how will I know what’s going on?” There was a bright utility light shining from the corner of the metal building. “I’m not going to be able to read your lips if you should turn away from me.”

  He thought for a second, then he rolled down the windows an inch, no more. “That should help you follow along. Don’t forget. If you can hear us, we can hear you.”

  He reached up and turned off the cab light, and then he locked the doors and stepped into the night. “Frank?” His pace as he walked toward Fillmore was slow and easy. “It’s me, Detective Lightfoot from the Big Bend County Sheriff’s Office.”

  “What do you want? I ain’t hurting no one.” I could just make out Frank’s low, reedy voice. The Prius was parked between the two men.

  “I’m looking for Josie Callahan’s dog. She said something about you being the last person to see him.” Lightfoot’s voice was low and steady.

  “Last time I saw him he was out in the brush chasing after another mongrel.”

  “That so?” One step forward was all Lightfoot took.

  “Why such a big deal over such a small dog?” Fillmore glanced at the SUV, and I slumped back in my seat.

  I could see Lightfoot smile, by the light from his flashlight. “Crazy as it sounds, he’s a local celebrity.”

  “That so?”

  “Writes a blog about what’s going on in the town.”

  “Sounds like you might be a bit crazy yourself, Detective.”

  Lightfoot laughed again. “Not me. I imagine his owner, Josie Callahan, writes it.” He stepped to the front of the cruiser. “Either way, folks read it. He’s the town’s mascot, you might say.”

  “Isn’t that special.”

  A coyote howled and then another off to the right, closer than before.