Legend of The Lost: (Z & C Mysteries, #4)

by Zoey Kane

  “It sure is. Now you won’t question me when Lulu says I can’t come over for poker.”

  “You got my total support, man. No questions asked.” He raised his hand as a vow, shaking his head.

  Zo felt a presence behind her, and the next thing she knew, somebody pushed her into the pit. She got up and looked down at her body, covered in mud. She felt the cold, goopy stuff dripping down the side of her face.

  “Mom!”

  Another woman splashed into the mud. A man’s voice yelled out, “I saw her push you, ma’am! So I pushed her. Now you can get even!”

  The culprit was Marlene, her fresh sunburn making her about as red as a cartoon devil. White circles in the shape of her sunglasses framed her crazed eyes. She stood up and pulled her muddy sun hat down tighter around her head, apparently ready to launch herself at Zo.

  “Now wait, Marlene! This is no way to act,” Zo said, putting up her hands.

  That didn’t deter Marlene in the slightest. She actually rubbed her hands together with eager anticipation at the opportunity to fight.

  The emcee came running over with a cordless mike. “Ladies and rednecks! I just heard we got a grudge match going on over in the mud-wrestling pit. You won’t want to miss it!”

  Marlene’s smile broadened.

  “I know, Marlene—you’re going to get me and my little dog too.”

  “You got this coming,” she said through her teeth. “It ought to take you down a couple of pegs. You should start dressing for your age. You really need to accept the fact that you’re in your forties.” Marlene shifted weight from one foot to the other, anxious for the attack to begin.

  “Fifties!” Zo corrected her.

  “Whaaat? Liar!”

  “Marlene, some people naturally have small waists and nice legs, even into their seventies. All you have to do is lay off those maple bars.”

  The psycho rushed her, but Zo stepped to the side, holding out an arm for a clothesline to the throat. It worked. Marlene went down. Zo reached to help Marlene up, but Marlene would have none of it, and jerked away.

  “This isn’t over!” the muddy woman said hoarsely, acting like she was about to leave the mud pit.

  Zo was ready to take her trophy, when Marlene gritted her teeth again, her face looking like it was dipped in milk chocolate, offset only by the outraged whites of her eyes. She charged at Zo, and at just the right moment, Zo lifted her, holding her at the waist, high up. Right then, somebody at the nearby karaoke stand started singing, “Now I… had the time of my life, and I owe it all to youuuu.”

  The crowd roared with laughter as the two women inadvertently re-enacted the special moment at the end of Dirty Dancing.

  Marlene wiggled and slapped Zo’s hands. Zo lost her strength, and the two splashed down into the mud.

  “This is better than HBO!” someone hollered.

  Marlene came at Zo again, holding her arms forward like Frankenstein. Zo responded by whacking an arm aside, grabbing her around the shoulders, and, like a cowboy hog-tying a steer, twisted her body over in the mud. When Zo backed off to give Marlene a chance to get up, Marlene got up all right, and ran at Zo again, screaming all the way.

  “Get ’er, Mom!”

  Richard stood up with wide, interested eyes, his thumbs wedged into his front pockets.

  Zo grabbed Marlene’s wrists and swung her around in a circle like a whirly-gig, but muddy hands made for a slippery grip, and she quickly lost hold of the hateful woman, sending her skidding into a corner of the pit.

  “TAG TEAM!” Marlene yelled as she high-fived a big woman who was chugalugging a beer.

  The woman threw the bottle over her shoulder, letting it land where it may, despite the bystanders behind her. It was one of the banshee wrestlers that had already gone before, still covered in mud. “Yeah!” she yelled. “There is hell to pay!”

  “Tag me, Mom!” shouted Claire, desperately reaching out.

  “I don’t want you hurt, darling,” Zo called back, not taking her eyes off either woman.

  “Whaa-whaa-whaa,” yelled the banshee, pretending to cry. “Your poor widdo baby!”

  “Excuse me a minute.” Zo changed course and tagged Claire. “You know who to get!”

  Claire yanked her boots off and jumped in, swinging a leg behind the knees of the blond, ponytailed, muscle woman. Muscle Woman’s knees collapsed and down she went on her fanny, sending up a wave of mud. The banshee reached over and pulled Claire’s feet out from under her, and down Claire went.

  Marlene yelled, “Partners!” and was about to tag Richard. But when she saw the terror in his eyes, she yelled, “You wimp, Richard!” and tagged the redneck standing beside him.

  A good ol’ boy ran right over to Claire. “My name is Dwayne, little lady,” he said as he grabbed her around the waist into a bear hug. “I ain’t gonna dunk ya. I’m just gonna hug you up a little, heh-heh-heh.”

  Sudden scene change. There was Brooks, staring down Dwayne, nose-to-nose. Claire reached over and tagged him, whereupon Brooks shoved a handful of mud in his face. Then he took him by the arm and flipped him over his shoulder into the mud bath.

  Zo yelled, “GANG WRESTLE!” and everyone jumped into the pit. The mud was on! “Dueling Banjos” began playing over the loudspeaker.

  There was a woman standing in the pit, unsure of what to do. Zo tapped her and pointed to Marlene. “There is your target.” Then Zo placed a handful of mud into the palm of her hand and said, “Go get ’er.”

  The eager woman leaped right over and rubbed her handful of mud across the unsuspecting Marlene’s face.

  Zo stepped out of the pit. “Claire! Get Brooks’s attention and come on!” The next thing she knew, she was tapped on the shoulder and a trophy was being shoved into her hands while the audience cheered.

  Meanwhile, the momentum increased in the mud pit. Marlene was in a throat-to-throat choke-hold with the woman she tagged. It didn’t appear that any rules were being followed anymore.

  Brooks and Claire joined Zo, all three covered in mud. Brooks asked, “Are we having fun yet?” They laughed over how positively layered they were in earthy goo.

  Claire wiped some mud off her face while saying, “Oh, Mom! That was awful! Poor you! I know you can’t wait to clean up.”

  “Don’t do it, lady! Wear your mud and your win proudly!” yelled a woman who was standing nearby.

  “Yeah!” went up a cheer.

  “Okay! I’ll do it!”

  “Yeah!” went up another cheer.

  The three slogged their way over to the hotdog stand, mud and all, because they were unusually hungry, again.

  Captain Daniel approached. “Woman take big dive into low-water lake. Have you been frog hunting amongst unfortunate lily pads?”

  “Daniel Walks-With-Secrets, I have been a warrior today against the wicked.” She pointed to her trophy, proudly.

  “I,” he said, patting where his heart was, “sense that.”

  He was his usual gorgeous self in a light brown cowboy hat with a silver band.

  Zo teased, “Should you be wearing what I’ve always called a cowboy hat?”

  “All I said to the man at the bar was ‘Give me your hat or your scalp.”

  “I believe you,” smiled Zo.

  He moved closer to her ear. “I want to take you in my arms…”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I want to heal you of your many wounds, great warrior woman. Mud on you doing strange, magic things to me. You looking… sexy.”

  “Hee-haaw-hee!”

  “Roy!” Zo was surprised, but there he was, standing behind her with a long-toothed grin.

  Some people walking by said hi to the well known mule.

  Brooks said, “Everybody knows Roy. He’ll be okay. I’m going to leave him out. He can meander around. People like him.” It was Brooks’s turn up. He ordered a jumbo-sized popcorn and set it down at a nearby table to add salt. Roy went right over and began carefully chewing mouthfuls, taking hi
s time.

  The foursome spooned and squirted the condiments onto their jumbo dogs. Wet napkins were used to wipe the mud off their mouths so they could eat. They found an empty table under shade, and relaxed, including Roy. Daniel just smiled beside Zo as he took big bites, placing the trophy between them. Claire and Brooks started their own private chit-chat, keeping their eyes fastened on each other.

  “I want to ask you about something,” Zo said, turning to Daniel, setting her hotdog down on her napkin. “I found a feather in Goldstrike’s stall the other night when Brooks was hit over the head.”

  Daniel’s lips went straight, and his eyes were serious. “Yes?”

  She opened her clean purse—clean because it flew out of her grasp when she got pushed into the pit— and pulled the feather out. It was black with some golden flecks throughout. “Here it is. Quite pretty. Isn’t this the Keelywot tribe’s feather they wear in their headdresses? I saw Dennis the Dentist wearing the same kind.”

  “It is,” he said, his lips still straight. “That’s from the Arizona Raven. Very beautiful, majestic bird.”

  “Hmm. How does it get that golden look?” Her finger grazed over its velvety surface.

  “Keelywot secret.” He winked, and took a bite of his hotdog.

  “Why would this be found in Goldstrike’s stall?”

  Daniel swallowed hard and stared over their tablemates’ heads as if thinking it over, then he shrugged. “Beats me. Look around the festival—you’ll most likely find a few vendors selling them as souvenirs.”

  Zo wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Captain,” she said, “there was an Indian man outside my room last night, peering in, and wearing two of these feathers in his hair.”

  Daniel set his hotdog down, his dark eyes looking her over in obvious concern.

  “What was he doing?” she asked. “And why was there a feather in Goldstrike’s stall?”

  “Okay,” his face lit up with a broad smile, “I don’t know why there was a feather in Goldstrike’s stall, but I assure you I will ask around. I would like to know, myself.”

  Zo picked up her hotdog and took a big bite slathered in mustard. His answer didn’t totally satisfy her. It felt like he was just telling her what she wanted to hear so she’d stop asking questions.

  After finishing the rest of her food in silence, she said, “The dogs were sooo good! I give! I have to go shower off before I can be comfortable.”

  “Mmm,” Claire agreed, with her mouth around a straw, sucking the last little bit of root beer from the bottom. “Good idea. I’ll go with you.”

  “I live close by,” Brooks said, “so I’ll do the same and put on fresh clothes.”

  Daniel handed Zo her trophy and a slip of paper with his cell phone number. “Okay, then. I’ll take the mule back to his stall. Let’s all meet up in the lounge and we can decide what to do from there. Call me when you’re ready.”

  They all thought that was a good idea. Daniel picked up Roy’s popcorn and the mule followed him gladly. On their way out of the festival, Zo and Claire got distracted by a shooting competition, so they stayed a bit longer to see who’d win at best marksman.

  As the Kanes were nearing their bedroom’s door, Claire said, “Oh, Elena dropped a shoe. I’ll get it.”

  Zo was turning the key of their door when she heard, “Mom, you better come over here, now…”

  It was Elena’s shoe holding the door open all right, but Elena’s foot was still inside it. The rest of the old woman lay within the room, her head surrounded by a pool of blood.

  TEN

  “Who would do that to a sweet, little ol’ lady?!” Zo exclaimed, looking aghast.

  Elena’s eyes were open, fixed, with no reflection of life left in them.

  Claire felt for a pulse. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. She’s obviously gone…”

  “I’ll call Daniel.” Zo took Claire’s phone and dialed as she carefully stepped over the body. The room was small, but well decorated in comparison to their own, with a patchwork quilt over the full-sized bed, a bookcase filled with Scottish romances, and pretty, lace curtains over the window. One thing was out of the ordinary, however. A Bible was open, and faced down on the carpet. Zo picked it up and flipped through the pages, stopping at the back. She ran a finger from top to bottom, and a look of surprise crossed her face.

  “Hello?” Daniel said when he answered his phone.

  Zo said without hesitation, “Elena’s been murdered.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In her room.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  They waited, hoping no one would venture into the hallway before Daniel could get there. Zo showed Claire the Bible. On the last page was a family tree with names written in cursive. Zo pressed a fingernail next to the name Julia Thomas. “Look familiar?” she asked.

  Claire moved an eyebrow in consideration. “No, should it?”

  “Yes, she’s the lady-friend to a German by the last name of Waltz.”

  Claire paused a finger on her chin, thinking. “I still don’t get it.”

  “Jacob Waltz, the legendary owner of The Lost Dutchman’s Mine.”

  “I knew that.”

  “It’s rumored that he made Julia a map to find it. The genealogy penned by Elena shows she is Julia’s great granddaughter. See?”

  “Oh my goodness! So someone shot her over this? Some greedy prospector?” Claire’s voice was raised in anger.

  Zo set the Bible back down on the nightstand and sighed heavily, spotting keys next to a lamp. She picked them up and put them into her pocket, discreetly. Daniel arrived just then with Brooks trailing him. He went immediately over to Elena and squatted, putting fingers on the side of her throat, checking for a pulse. “I’ve already called the ambulance,” he explained to everyone.

  Yes, Elena was officially declared dead. An investigation began. The EMTs came, and put her onto the gurney. They covered her body and face and rolled her out.

  Late that evening, the four of them sat in a corner booth in the lounge. “A lot of funny stuff goin’ on around here,” Brooks said, putting his arm around Claire.

  “Yes,” agreed Zo. “You know, our room was ransacked. Somebody was obviously looking for something.”

  Claire said, “Do they think we have a map to The Lost Dutchman’s Mine?” She twirled the ice in her root beer with a straw, tinkling it against the glass.

  “Why would anyone want to search our room? We never claimed to have any maps. Unless it’s because our room is across from Elena’s. But that’s a bit of a stretch.”

  Brooks and Daniel sat still, listening.

  “Then there was that horse theft,” Claire added.

  “Yes, and the murder of a murderer, over at the Box Caves…”

  “Let’s not forget that clunk on the head Brooks got.” Claire smiled.

  Brooks leaned his elbows against the table and tiredly said, “Maybe I’m pretty lucky to be alive, considering how the bodies are starting to stack up.”

  Daniel said, “Well, I think it was a common thief who broke into your room, looking for any valuables. It happens more often than anyone would like to believe in these resorts. I’m sure you two are entirely safe.” He took a sip of his beer and leaned back, looking at Zo with simmering eyes. “I’m liking what I see.” Then he sat up and looked around the room as if suddenly sensing something.

  “What?!” Zo asked.

  He leaned in and said warmly in her ear, “Isn’t this about the time that crazy mule usually interrupts us?”

  The kitchen staff began moving tables against the walls while a couple of men rolled up the rug to the opposite end, leaving the floor bare. Mellow music came on with the announcement to “Enjoy a little dancing!”

  “Should we?” Daniel asked.

  Two other couples beat them to the floor, and started dancing. Daniel folded Zo into a nice, slow, moody dance. Some men, she thought, are so rigid, but Daniel fits like a soft glove around m
e. She leaned against his shoulder and happily let him lead her.

  “Wow,” he said, breaking away. “I’m hearing a drum.”

  “Maybe it’s your silver cuff.”

  “What?” Daniel pulled back. “What makes you say that? I was thinking it might be my heart.”

  “That’s what I’d prefer it was.”

  He pulled her back into an embrace as they continued the dance. “You know, you are like warm maple syrup to me. But tell me more about why you mentioned the silver cuff. This time, mine.”

  “Because, as I mentioned at the dance, ever since I found it, I sometimes hear a low beating of drums. So does Claire.”

  “Why don’t you take it off and see if that solves the problem?”

  “Let me look at yours instead, dear Daniel.” Zo tried to remove his cuff, but it wouldn’t budge.

  He was now looking at her with unspoken words behind his eyes. “Only I am allowed to take off my cuff.” Then he smiled. “That’s why I’ve had it for so long, and never lost it.”

  “Okay,” she said, trying to lighten the moment. “You take off mine.”

  He looked away and licked his lips, as if trying to think of what to say. “I would rather take off your shoes. I also have a foot fetish.” He grinned widely, obviously joking.

  Zo couldn’t think of anything to do except laugh. She looked over at Brooks and Claire who were leaning into each other, talking softly, and smiling.

  “I think Mom and I would like to go riding again, just to be out and around.”

  “Okay,” Brooks said. “I’ll have Roy and Goldstrike reserved for you two. What do you think—after breakfast, about eleven o’clock?

  “You know us too well.”

  Pretty soon, the ropes-and-picks prospector, Tim Moomey, and his guys entered with raucous laughter as they moved two tables close together by the bar. Being loud as usual, the volume of the music had to be turned up, and after Zo and Daniel returned to the table, she decided to stuff some torn bits of cocktail napkin into her ears to muffle it. However, she could still hear the people who were talking next to her.

  Twenty minutes went by and Jed Hatter and his crew entered the lounge, laughing. “Hey, Tim!” one of them called out to the rough-looking bunch at the corner table. “Find the mother lode yet?”