by R. P. Dahlke
Pearlie butted in. “Did you marry Galen Coker too?”
“Oh, no, dear. After Ed burned those paintings, he up and died on me. I felt so guilty I just closed up the house, locked his fancy little race car in that barn, and took his body home to Texas.”
“There’s a picture of Galen Coker’s house on your mantel,” Pearlie said.
“Galen built that house because he wanted me to leave Ed and marry him. I was young and in love with him, but I wouldn’t have left my husband and I told him so.”
“You always said I should marry a handsome brown-eyed man,” Pearlie said. “Did Galen have brown eyes, too?”
“Yes, dear, and he sure was handsome, as well as passionate and poor. But Ed loved me too, in his own way. Trouble is, I was angry at his destruction of the paintings right up to the day he died, and I never got to tell him how much I loved him. I’ve had to live all these years with that regret. Now tell me, have they caught that poor girl’s killer?”
“Not yet,” I said, looking at Pearlie. “But your granddaughter has been hired by Galen Coker’s son to look into it.”
“Oh, no,” Aunt Mae said. “Pearlie Mae Bains, you promised!”
Pearlie flinched at the dismay in her grandmother’s voice, jerked the receiver out of my hand and clicked off the speaker to have a private chat. “Now Granny, I’m a grown woman, and you know I been working on gettin’ my license. Yes, okay, it’s not legal yet, but just the same—Yes’m, I will,” she said, and handed the phone back to me. “She wants to talk to you.”
Aunt Mae sighed. “Lalla dear, I never came back to the Arizona property because there were so many painful memories. I really thought if it was yours, that you could make new ones. Good ones. But now it looks like that place is cursed for you as it was for me. You should just sell it.”
“Please don’t think like that, Aunt Mae,” I said. “This property and the Bugatti are more than I ever expected.”
Pearlie grabbed the phone out of my hand. “That’s all well and good, your gift of the property to Lalla, Granny,” she said, “but that race car shouldn’t be …. Yes’m, I know. Yes’m, I’m sorry.”
Pearlie tucked her chin to her chest, resembling a defiant ten-year-old. I knew how that lecture went; my father was famous for them. It usually started with my impetuous behavior, and ended with how my need to do as I pleased was only going to come back and bite me.
Surprisingly, Pearlie’s cloudy expression broke into a sunny smile. Her glance slid over to me, then back to listen to her granny. “Oh? Okay, that’s … I know, Granny, thanks. I love you, too. Yeah, I’ll tell her.”
“What was that about?” I asked.
“Granny said to keep her posted on what happens in the murder case and whatever you want to do with that race car should be fine with me.”
I would’ve thought that was all of it, except she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
“What else did she say?”
“I got a lecture about envy and greed, but the upshot is, you have to let me drive it until it’s sold.”
My very wise great-aunt Mae was doing her best King Solomon, granting Pearlie what she desired most, driving the Bugatti in exchange for helping find the killer of the granddaughter of a man she once loved.
Hopefully, Pearlie wouldn’t kill herself in it.
Caleb and my dad were amused.
“Well, I’m not surprised,” my dad said. “She was a beauty in her day, you know. You favor her, Lalla. Of course, Pearlie’s got her granny’s money sense.”
I watched mixed emotions slide across my cousin’s face. Pearlie didn’t know whether to bristle at the notion that she wasn’t the beauty in the family or blush at the idea that she was good with money.
“And,” she said, unable to let go of her good mood, “I’ve got my Granny’s luck at blackjack. Too bad we’re so far away from Vegas.”
I patted her shoulder. “There’s an Indian casino near Tucson if you get the urge.”
Pearlie primped at her blond shoulder length curls. “I’m more of a Vegas kinda girl, if you know what I mean.”
I certainly did. Pearlie always insisted on staying at the high-end casinos where she could rub elbows with professional gamblers who flattered her ego and flattened her pockets.
“I think it’s interesting that Mac Coker has ties to a crime family in Chicago,” Pearlie said.
“He may be on the shady side of the law,” Caleb said, “but he’s clean of any convictions and his alibi stands. Now, Julio Castillo is a much better fit for the crime. Detective Tom is confident his former compadres are thick with the Mexican cartel and that shipment matches his recent visits to his girlfriend.”
“But, Caleb, Julio has a perfectly good reason to be there. He’s engaged to Reina.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t take advantage of his girlfriend’s living arrangement,” he said. “Julio will be arraigned on a murder charge tomorrow.”
I looked at Pearlie. She nodded, indicating I should tell him. “We know about Julio’s arrest, Caleb, but we think Homicide should also consider Jason Stark.”
“Why?” Caleb asked.
Pearlie huffed. “Because Jason Stark is sleeping with the police chief’s wife.”
“Where’d you hear that?” he asked.
“The beauty parlor, of course,” Pearlie said, warming to her subject.
“And what’s that got to do with the murders?” he asked, taking out his notebook and jotting down the connection.
“It’s possible that the chief’s wife suspected him of cheating,” I said. “Darlene told us that the chief kept a police radio in his personal car and the story is that he took a detour to Bethany’s home because he responded to a 9-1-1 call. We think Darlene followed him to Bethany’s, found him in another woman’s bedroom, whacked him over the head with something heavy, and then terrified of what she’d done, got Jason to help her cover it up.”
“The mine pit,” Dad said, “would be a place no one would think to look.”
“Because the whole town knew the chief was leaving for his annual fishing trip,” I said. “They might find his car, and people would think he’d wandered off and died, but they would never find his body.”
Caleb shook his head. “There’s only one problem with your theory.”
“What?” Pearlie and I asked.
“Jason Stark couldn’t have carried a twenty-pound sack of potatoes down those stairs. He’s on full disability from the Navy. He hurt his back in a night jump.”
“Then how does he deliver all those heavy sculptures?”
“A hoist and a lift fitted to his truck, I checked.”
So that was why we never saw him sitting. He admitted using prescription drugs, and the pot he championed probably helped with the pain.
Not one to let go of a perfectly good scenario for murder, Pearlie said, “Okay, then maybe the police chief found out about the affair with his wife, and went there to confront Jason and Jason killed him and used that fancy hoist to dump his body in the mine pit.”
“It could’ve happened like that,” Caleb said.
“Will you tell Detective Tom?” I asked.
“About Jason Stark and the police chief’s wife? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To get this killer?”
“Well, yes, of course.”
“Uh-huh. Just asking, ‘cause for a minute there, I thought you were going to say you and Pearlie were going to interrogate Jason Stark on your own.”
“Oh, no,” Pearlie said. “He’s not likely going to want to talk to us again.”
Caleb shook his head and put the notebook away. “Again?”
Pearlie crossed her arms. “Yes, we talked to him.”
“Anything else?” he asked, his glum expression indicating that we were one strike away from going out.
Seeing a way to lighten the mood, I said, “Well, this will amuse you, Dad. Remember that annoying deputy? The one you nicknamed Deputy Dumb-Ass? His last name isn’t Abe
l, it’s Dick,” I said. “So from now on you can call him Deputy Dick.”
My dad hooted. “I’d feel sorry for him if he weren’t such a dumb-ass.”
“Well,” Pearlie said. “We may not have solved this case yet, but I’m hungry. How ‘bout I make lasagna for supper?”
My dad rubbed his hands together. “Sounds great. I’ll grate the cheese.”
Dinner was easy. My dad was happy with another excellent meal, and Pearlie was pleased to know that she could drive the Bugatti until I sold it.
When my cell phone rang, I answered. It was Suzi calling as promised. I caught Pearlie’s eye as she was clearing up from dinner. She nodded, the message being that she would expect a full report.
When I hung up, I decided that Caleb should hear this as well and went into the kitchen. “I have something new to add about the dead police chief.”
Pearlie, Dad, and Caleb left their kitchen duties and gathered around the table. When we were all seated, I said, “That was Suzi on the phone. She works at the beauty parlor that the police chief’s widow owns.”
“I remember,” Caleb said. “You came back with the Dolly Parton hairdo.”
“Well,” I said, automatically reaching up to make sure it was now nothing more than a bad memory. “Suzi decided we should also know that the chief had a vicious temper and whenever he was in a mood he took it out on Darlene.”
Caleb nodded. “I don’t suppose she reported it.”
“Suzi said Darlene didn’t think she could count on the police to do anything but turn a blind eye. He was the police chief, after all.”
Caleb said, “The sheriff’s department probably wouldn’t say anything either, not unless it’s connected somehow to the man’s murder.”
Although his answer frustrated me, I understood. He had to go on proof, and so far, we didn’t have any.
No one batted an eye when Caleb swiped a bottle of very good J. Lohr Chardonnay and pulled me out through the patio doors.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said.
“I hope it’s a good one. I’ve had enough unpleasant ones for one day.”
He took my hand and led the way up a winding staircase to a wide veranda on the flat roof of the house. He opened the gate on a low metal guardrail.
“Hey,” I said. “Where did this come from?”
“I discovered it today.”
Caleb had set up a side table with a hurricane lamp, and a futon with pillows and blankets.
“I thought we’d sleep out here tonight,” he said. “Do you like it?”
The sun was setting and lavender shadows were gathering over the valley. It was also cool enough to enjoy watching the stars come out and get some much needed privacy.
“Yes, I like it,” I said, hugging him.
We stretched out on top of the futon, sipped our wine, and watched the night come alive with the sounds of distant birds.
“The air is so nice this evening. But then it’s September. I wonder if the winters are cold.”
“Detective Tom said it can snow but it usually doesn’t last. Still,” he pointed to the Huachuca Mountains to the west, “the snow line seems to stay at seven-thousand feet during the winter.”
“Did the detective have anything else to say?”
“About the chief’s wearing dress slacks instead of waders and a vest? Or that Jason Stark is seeing the chief’s wife? Sorry, but none of it will make a case for murder.”
I swirled the wine around in the glass. “Strangers saw Bethany as a young woman with a birth defect, yet the people who knew her don’t even mention it. Instead, they talk about how helpful, kind and thoughtful she was.”
I was trying to cut loose the itchy notion that he wasn’t telling me something. I should be used to it by now. He was a cop.
I reached over and lightly bit his shoulder. “Give it up, will you?”
Caleb growled and threw his long body over mine, his icy blue eyes glittering ominously.
“Do that again, and I’ll have to spank you.”
I shivered. This was the Caleb Stone that could turn suspects into babbling informants, but it only made my heart speed up and the heat of desire flush my body. Finding the first snap button on his new western shirt, I popped it and then another until there was enough room to wiggle my fingers in and lay my hand on his warm bare skin close to the steady beat of his heart.
“I forgot to shave.”
“You’re fine.” I grabbed his head and pulled him to me in a passionate kiss. And for the first time since he’d arrived we didn’t have to suppress our enthusiasm.
~~~~~~~~~~
When I could catch my breath again, I pulled the sleeping bags over us against the night air and added some wine to our glasses.
“About the police chief … “
“Don’t you ever get tired of talking about murder?”
“This is too close to my family for me to stop talking about it.”
“All right,” he grumbled. “Jason Stark might’ve been having an affair with the chief’s wife, but the police chief was fooling around too.”
“Before or after Darlene took up with Jason?”
“Who knows? Law enforcement is hard on marriages, you know that, Lalla.”
“You’re making excuses for the man?”
“It doesn’t make cheating acceptable, but I’m telling you how other officers might see it. Unless his philandering turns out to be directly related to this case, his obituary will state that the man was killed in the line of duty.”
I put my wine onto the floor and snuggled up close. “Okay.”
Seeing I was through talking about the case, he asked, “Do you like it here?”
“You mean besides the body or two in the neighborhood?”
His chuckle said I had him on that one. “Have you thought about keeping the place?”
“I dunno. Would you like to have this as our Arizona getaway?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“On if we’re ever going to get hitched.”
“I’m still wearing my ring,” I said, letting the diamond sparkle in the dim light of the hurricane lamp.
He took my hand and rubbed a thumb across the ring. “Was it a mistake, coming here?”
I reached over and cupped his face between my hands. “No. Don’t say that.”
“Then how about Vegas?” he asked. “We could tie the knot on the way back to California.”
“I guess.”
I felt his body tense against mine. “Don’t overdo your enthusiasm.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that we’ll be doing it without all of our friends.”
“You had your chance at a packed house. You ran off, remember?”
Cold feet hadn’t been Caleb’s problem, it was all mine.
With the darkening Arizona night, several things became as clear as the stars overhead. Even though I hadn’t bothered to leave so much as a goodbye note, Caleb Stone wasn’t the kind of man to give up on us. But a man can have only so much patience, and if this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, it was time for me to make the commitment and stick to it.
I breathed in his familiar fragrance, a mix of man smell and his lemony aftershave.
“We will get married, my darling. In Vegas if you like, and soon, I promise.”
Then I kissed him and let the rest of my doubts fade into the dark.
.
Chapter Twenty-six:
With the sun peeking over the mountains behind us, Caleb and I reluctantly rose from our makeshift love nest and followed the scent of coffee wafting up from the kitchen.
Pearlie, yawning sleepily, lifted her cup in mock salute. “How was the honeymoon suite?”
“Great,” I said. “Where’s my dad?”
“He’s outside looking for his new dog. What’s up with that?”
“It’s a stray,” I said. “He’s coaxing it with table scraps.”
Dad’s last dog was already
old when he came to live with us and when he finally had to put down his little buddy, he vowed never to have another pet.
“What happened to the goat?” Caleb asked.
“After Bruce climbed up on Shirley’s new Prius and left neat little hoof dents on it, the goat went to live with a local farmer.”
Caleb set about foraging in the cupboard for sugar. I glanced at his nice tight butt in his fitted jeans and blushed at the memory of our nighttime antics. Last night we’d behaved like a couple of teenagers and it felt wonderful. Today I was rested, renewed and energized. Caleb, on the other hand, was ravenous.
“Shall I make breakfast?” he asked, taking eggs and bacon out of the fridge.
“We’ve got more problems than who’s gonna cook,” Pearlie said.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Reina Schmidt is in the hospital from an overdose.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Jason said she was on medication.”
“Who called you?” Caleb asked.
“Julio Castillo used his one phone call at three a.m. this morning,” she said.
Since she made no bones about her feelings toward him, Julio must be desperate to reach out to Pearlie. Yet, he might’ve also noticed that Pearlie wouldn’t refuse to help if Reina needed her.
“But why you?” Caleb asked.
“He wants me to go see her,” she said, glancing to see if I wanted to add anything.
Caleb’s brows rose a notch. “You haven’t been taking night classes to become a lawyer too, have you?”
Pearlie sniffed. “It’s just a hospital visit, that’s all.”
“Okay, then I’ll hurry breakfast,” Caleb said, cracking an egg into the frying pan.
While Caleb was distracted with his meal preparations, I invited Pearlie to follow me into the living room.
“I hate the thought that she’s so miserable she would try to kill herself,” I said.
“I hate it when people throw me a curve ball,” Pearlie grumbled.
I saw her point. Why would Julio Castillo ask Pearlie for her help when he so clearly disliked her?
“It’ll be okay,” I said. “With a little luck, she’ll be hooked up to some happy juice and we’ll get her to tell us what’s really bothering her.”