Stone Cold Case

by Catherine Dilts

  “Thanks, Mr. Cooper. How much is it?”

  “I can’t charge you,” Chase said. “You’re practically family.”

  Gayle gave Chase a hug. Morgan could see the effect her innocent embrace caused him from the blissful look on his scarred face.

  “Thank you! I hope we get to come to your art store before I have to go home.”

  “Jade’s Aspen Gold Art Gallery,” Chase said. “Mrs. Iverson knows where it is.”

  A pink and white striped awning shaded the front bay window of the bakery. Silk banners decorated with bright appliquéd flowers flapped from flagpoles on either side of the glass-paned front door. Under “Bibi’s Bakery,” in loopy pink script, a sign in the window read “closed.” Bernie unlocked the door.

  “We have the place all to ourselves,” she said.

  Gayle ran to the bay window and sat at a bistro table covered with a pink and white striped tablecloth. Stacie followed.

  “How cute!” Gayle said. “I wish we had a place like this in Topeka.”

  Morgan noticed how Stacie absorbed the older teen’s comment, her eyes seeming to survey the pink stripes and ruffles that dominated the décor with renewed respect.

  “Thank you, Gayle,” Bernie said. “But if we sit out here, people will think the bakery is open. We’ll have to sit in the kitchen.”

  Morgan knew Bernie’s upstairs apartment was too small to accommodate seven people. Plus Mr. Whiskers, her enormous fluffy cat, might take offense at the invasion of his domain. The men grabbed chairs and carried them to the kitchen, where Bernie cleared off an island work station. She heated three different soups, and warmed mini loaves of bread.

  “This is delicious.” Rolf slid his arm out of the sling so he could attack the soup and bread more efficiently.

  “Your mom is a great cook,” Farley told Stacie.

  “She’s not my mother,” Stacie snapped. Then her tone softened. “But she is a great cook.”

  Morgan noticed Bernie wince as she turned away. She seemed deafened to Stacie’s little nuggets of positive comments.

  After the dishes were in the industrial dishwasher, Bernie turned everyone loose on the day’s leftover pastries and desserts. What they didn’t consume, Bernie would donate to her church’s soup kitchen. While the men and kids sampled the baked goods, Morgan had a chance to talk to Bernie. They moved to the far side of the kitchen. Bernie perched on a tall stool, while Morgan leaned against a stainless steel counter.

  “I didn’t like how Chase latched onto Gayle,” Morgan said. “Her aunt Carlee was older when she disappeared, but it’s amazing how much Gayle resembles her.”

  “From what you told me,” Bernie said, “Chase was never involved with Carlee. She and Jade were inseparable practically from birth.”

  “All we know is what we read in the newspapers from that time, and what we’ve heard from people who were there. People’s memories can have gaps, or repaint the picture entirely.” She thought of Jade’s commercial paintings, and how he freely mingled flowers that rarely shared space in the natural world. “Should I warn Gayle? Or her mother?”

  “I think Camille has enough to handle right now, and they’re not going to be in town much longer. Besides, your church ladies aren’t going to let that family out of their sight.”

  “It only takes a moment,” Morgan said. “For heaven’s sakes, I turned her loose in a crowd of strangers!”

  “And she happened to find Chase, and nothing happened. I think you’re stressing out, Morgan. Lighten up a little.”

  Morgan’s cell phone rang.

  “We’re almost back to Golden Springs,” Beatrice said. “Can you bring the kids to my house?”

  “Camille doesn’t want her children to meet their grandmother?” Morgan asked.

  “Today was a good day.” Beatrice had to be sitting right next to Camille in her rental car, so perhaps her words were more positive than the situation warranted. “But Gerda is worn out. There’ll be plenty of time in the next few days for the kids to meet her.”

  When Morgan dropped the kids off, Beatrice glared at Kurt, but invited him inside. Gayle unwrapped her blown glass vase to show her mother and Beatrice.

  “Look what I made at the rock show.”

  Farley pulled a baggie of damp rubble out of his jeans pocket. “I panned for gold! Can we come back this summer, so I can really pan for gold? Like in a creek?”

  “We’ll have to talk to your father about that.” Camille glanced at Morgan. “He’s on a business trip. He travels a lot.”

  Dark half-moons of exhaustion shadowed beneath Camille’s red-rimmed eyes. She looked older than her thirty-four years. Morgan tried to see past the slouched shoulders and added pounds to find any resemblance to the beauty her older sister had been, but Camille had obviously struggled with a lot of stress in the past sixteen years. With an alcoholic mother, perhaps her entire life had been a struggle. When Beatrice offered coffee and cookies, in true kitchen-lady style, Morgan and Kurt declined.

  “It’s been a long day,” Morgan said, “and we both have to work in the morning.”

  “It was kind of you to help Morgan out by driving her around,” Beatrice told Kurt, her words not exactly brimming with sincerity.

  “Thank you so much for taking the kids with you,” Camille said. “I’m sorry to have imposed on your day off.”

  “My sons are both in California,” Kurt said. “I miss them. It was a pleasure to spend time with Farley and Gayle.”

  Beatrice walked them to Kurt’s car, parked at the curb of the narrow, sloping street.

  “Thanks again. Both of you. Camille and Gerda couldn’t have had the conversation they needed with the children around.”

  “The kids seemed to enjoy the rock show,” Morgan said. “And we ran into Rolf and Bernie. He has a daughter a little younger than Gayle. They hit it off.”

  “I’m glad they had a good day,” Beatrice said. “The rest of the week might not be as pleasant.”

  “It has to be difficult for the kids,” Kurt said, “dealing with all the adult drama over an aunt they never knew.”

  “Speaking of drama,” Morgan said, “I ran into Lorina Dimple at the rock show. She asked about Del, but I don’t get the impression he’s interested in her.”

  Beatrice placed her hands on her hips. “I sincerely hope she’s not trying to get her hooks into Del again. That woman—Well, I know a lot about Lorina Dimple, but the things I have to say wouldn’t be fitting coming from a Christian lady’s lips.”

  Beatrice pressed her lips together, attempting unsuccessfully to stem the tide of juicy gossip.

  “I’ll just say this,” Beatrice continued. “Lorina got her comeuppance. She left Del to play Jezebel with a married man, expecting him to leave his wife for her. She was just his plaything for a season. I wouldn’t wish evil on anyone, but there is some satisfaction in thinking she might have been hurt as bad as she hurt Del. People play with fire when they toy with others’ hearts.”

  Beatrice raised an eyebrow and glared at Kurt briefly. He returned her singeing look with a smile.

  Morgan discussed clues and hunches with Kurt on the short drive up Hill Street, including Professor Esteban’s confession that he had discovered ammolite on his van’s floorboards. Kurt shared her concern about Chase’s interest in Gayle.

  “If Chase killed Carlee,” Morgan said, “then some of the clues make sense. He knows where to find elephant-head flowers. He could have given the ammolite necklace to Carlee. Professor Esteban said the ammolite had an adhesive, the sign of an amateur. Chase makes art glass now, but he might have tried his hand at making jewelry sixteen years ago.”

  “We’re missing something,” Kurt said. “Motivation. And the means. What have we learned? Mia’s relationship with Jade didn’t start until a few years after Carlee disappeared. Chase wasn’t in high school at the same time as Jade and Carlee. How would Chase have come into contact with her?”

  “I’ll invoke the principle of small
towns. They had to move in some of the same social circles, participating in local events or bumping into each other on the sidewalk.”

  “Okay. You have a point.” Kurt pulled into the Rock of Ages parking lot. “You have company.”

  “Del has company. That’s Barton’s truck.”

  “Oh?”

  Morgan thought she detected a trace of jealousy in that one short word, combined with Kurt’s raised eyebrows.

  “I think Barton wants to adopt Del. He hangs around him a lot.”

  When they stepped out of Kurt’s vintage car, the dog raced up to Morgan and jumped on her, smearing muddy paws down her khaki slacks.

  “Dog! Down!”

  Dog lowered himself to the ground, cowering from her loud words.

  “Now you’ve scared him.” Kurt rubbed the dog’s head. “You might consider taking him to obedience school.”

  “Big Foot might take him back,” Morgan said.

  “When he gets real dog food here,” Kurt asked, “and not the dredges of the local Dumpsters? I think you’re stuck with him.”

  Morgan looked down at her ruined slacks. “Now that I’m all dirty, I might as well check on the donkeys. Would you like to come with me? You did request Del and I use the buddy system.”

  “Sure. I’ll be your buddy.”

  They hiked across the parking lot to the barn. Houdini and Adelaide munched contentedly in their stalls.

  “Del must have beat me to it,” Morgan said.

  “So is that the ladder to the loft?” Kurt asked.

  “Yes. The infamous home of Sasquatch. I think I can make it livable for my son David this summer. Want to see it? I won’t even charge you admission.”

  “Sure.”

  Morgan motioned for Kurt to precede her up the wooden ladder. She followed, her climb awkward with one bandaged hand. Kurt reached the loft, then helped Morgan up. Late afternoon sun filtered through gaps around the loft hay-loading door, making ordinary dust motes dance like flecks of gold. The loft smelled strongly of hay and mildly of donkey.

  “What college kid wouldn’t enjoy living in a barn loft apartment?” Kurt asked. “If your son doesn’t take you up on it, maybe one of mine will.”

  Morgan laughed.

  “What?” Kurt asked.

  “It just seems funny, talking about our grown children. When Sam and I met, our conversations were entirely different.”

  “Hopes and dreams and all that heady stuff?” Bitterness tainted his words.

  “I think our marriages must have been very different,” Morgan said.

  “Oh, I think most start in the same place. But I don’t want to ruin the moment dredging up the past.” Kurt looked around. “Were you thinking of making the entire loft an apartment?”

  “I still need space to store hay. I was thinking half the loft would easily work for a summer apartment.”

  “No heat that way?”

  “Colorado summer nights can be cold. We’d have to arrange for some kind of heat. Something really safe, with all these combustibles around.”

  “What about plumbing?”

  Morgan pushed her fingers through her dark curls. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”

  “Planning’s overrated.” Kurt reached for Morgan’s hand. “Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.”

  Kurt pulled Morgan closer.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  * * *

  Morgan hadn’t decided whether she wanted to resist or not when it was obvious Kurt was going in for a kiss. She didn’t find out. The sound of boots clomping across gravel alerted them. Morgan stepped away from Kurt as Del and Barton came inside the barn.

  “There you are,” Del said. “I saw the car out front of the shop.”

  “I was telling Kurt about our idea to make an apartment up here.”

  “Barton has some other thoughts on that topic,” Del said. “But we can talk about that over some elk stew.”

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Barton said. “I used your slow cooker. There’s plenty for everyone.”

  Morgan didn’t mind at all that Barton had cooked dinner for Del.

  “We already had dinner,” she said.

  “I could make room for elk stew,” Kurt said.

  Dog accepted the dinner invitation with much less grace than Kurt. He leapt and danced, nearly tripping Morgan, until he was invited inside. Dog lay beside Del at the kitchen table, snuffling the linoleum politely when crumbs or bits of elk hit the floor.

  After the dishes were cleared, Del tapped a spoon against his water glass.

  “As you know, I’ve been concerned about how we’re going to fit all these people in here when Kendall and Allie come home, and then David and who knows who else shows up this summer. Then Barton came up with an idea, right after he put a foot through my trailer roof.”

  A sheepish look was visible through the forest of Barton’s whiskers. “That trailer’s a total loss. Think I finally convinced Del of that fact.”

  “What’s your idea?” Kurt asked.

  “Those old cabins next to Gerda’s garage,” Barton said. “They’ve been sitting empty for a decade. I heard talk they’re planning to level that lot and build condos. The owner might let those cabins go for a reasonable price.”

  “You think they’d survive the move?” Kurt asked. “There must be a reason the place closed down.”

  “I don’t know what condition they’re in,” Barton said.

  Morgan envisioned a row of cabins sitting in the space Del’s trailer currently occupied. Gingham curtains hung in every window, and half-barrels of flowers sat by every door.

  “We can find out,” she said. “Kurt and I have news, too, but it’s not good.”

  Morgan told about their trip to the rock show, and learning that Professor Esteban had not only found ammolite in his van, but had gone to the dugout to search for more.

  “He had already figured it out,” Morgan said, fudging the facts a bit, “so I showed him a sample of what we found.”

  “What did he have to say?” Barton asked.

  “It’s from jewelry. But he couldn’t say for certain what the source was. Canadian or local.”

  “That is bad news.” Del tugged at his mustache. “Half of Pine County must know about the ammolite.”

  “There’s more,” Morgan said. “Lorina Dimple knows about it, too. She stole a baggie of ammolite chips from my bag when I had my wreck.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Del muttered.

  “She gave it back, with a warning. The Coopers will try to jump any ammolite claim.”

  “There’s no point,” Barton said. “No claim can be made. That’s an off-limits area.”

  “That’s good,” Morgan said. “Then there should be no danger of fortune hunters tearing up the Temple Mountain trail.”

  Barton shrugged. “Or thieves and amateurs will invade who’ll do lots more damage than a commercial operation.”

  “Unless the area is rezoned,” Kurt said. “The government might make exceptions if enough pressure is exerted. There’s a lot of tax money to be made off a producing gem mine.”

  “And Jade Tinsley is running for City Council,” Morgan said.

  The rest of the evening involved speculation about the Cooper family’s malevolent plans to monopolize ammolite mining, the Kruger family’s ongoing tragedy, the cabins, and the location of the mountain man. Morgan was glad Del and Barton were around to ward off any more attempts at a romantic moment from Kurt. Not because she didn’t want the attention. Because she suspected she did, and wasn’t ready to face the consequences a romance would have in the small mountain town.

  Monday morning, Chief Sharp called.

  “I got a report from Kruger’s Auto Shop. I owe you an apology, Mrs. Iverson. Your driving was not at fault. The bleeder valve was open just enough to let the brake fluid leak out slowly. When enough fluid was lost, the brakes failed.”

  “Is that what happened to Gerda’s brakes?”

&nbs
p; “Yep. Same thing.”

  Morgan closed her eyes, gripping the checkout counter for support as her head spun.

  “Why?” Morgan asked, even though she knew the chiefwouldn’t have an answer.

  “I’ll have to make some amendments to that accident report. I’d like you to drop by when you have a few minutes. Maybe around two?”

  Being vindicated never felt so bad as when the explanation made things so much worse.

  “No sign of the mountain man?” she asked.

  “He hasn’t shown his face, or should I say his beard, since you caught him in your barn Friday night. Of course, he might not be the one who opened your bleeder valve. I just hope he hasn’t left the area.”

  Or worse, Morgan thought, been killed by the person who did tamper with her brakes.

  Morgan stayed busy enough the rest of the day to keep her mind off her troubles, until she left Del in charge to walk to town and talk to the chief. Next she went to the car rental shop and picked up a vehicle to use until her Buick was either repaired or relegated to the junkyard. When she came back, Del went to work packing up his trailer. Beatrice dropped by just before closing time.

  “I’ll start with the good news,” Beatrice said.

  “Uh-oh,” Morgan said. “Which means there’s bad news?”

  “First, the bake sales were a success. We raised seven hundred and fifty dollars for Kendall and Allie’s plane tickets at the mall, and another three hundred at the church.”

  It would take a few more bake sales to bail them out of whatever trouble it was they’d gotten into.

  “That’s great.” Morgan hoped she sounded grateful.

  “Don’t worry,” Beatrice said. “Five anonymous donors kicked in the rest.”

  Beatrice handed Morgan an envelope thick with cash.

  “I’m guessing you know who they are.”

  “If I told you, then they wouldn’t be anonymous.”

  “So what’s the bad news?”

  “I’ll have to start at the beginning.”

  Beatrice launched into a tale with plenty of extraneous details about taking Camille, Gayle, and Farley to the hospital. This was the first face-to-face meeting of the children and their grandmother, so there was plenty of high drama. Then Beatrice left Camille and brought the children home with her. They walked to Bibi’s Bakery for a late afternoon snack. Morgan was growing weary of the story until Beatrice finally got to the point.