Dang Near Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 2) (21 page)

Forty-Nine

Sunny stood in front watching Sam and Rickoff load George, Monty and Currin Dowdy, handcuffed, into the back of the sheriff’s cage car. Deputy Cranton leaned against a second patrol car, watching.

I walked over to Sam. “Another deputy took Herb to jail,” he said. “He’ll come back later and drive Bertha to retrieve her Jeep.”

Sunny, still wearing one of Bertha’s backpacks, motioned me over. He sidled close, pulled a crumpled piece of paper from an outside pocket of the backpack and spoke to me in a low voice. “Look at this. I found it in Vicki’s cabin. She’d left me a hurried note, but I thought she meant to say more, so I searched her cabin.” He smoothed the paper out for me to read.

Dearest Sunny,

In case we never go to the Caribbean together, use this however you wish. It comes with all my love forever.

Vicki

Windward Islands Bank, Ltd., Saba Island,

Dutch Caribbean. Account #0746.

It was the same number Vicki had scribbled on the note I found. I’d called a Saba Island bank, inquired about opening an account and asked the bank clerk to read me a sample account number. Having studied business and worked at banks came in handy, even though it numbed the mind. Vicki had scribbled her account number at Saba’s Windward Islands Bank.

I handed the note to Sunny and squeezed his hand.

“I’ve got one more thing to do,” he said, “before I go to San Antonio.”

He probably wanted to commiserate with Vicki’s parents. I hoped he could convince them Vicki’s note meant she intended for him to have her Caribbean funds.

Sunny walked over to Sam, handed him a different note and whispered in his ear. Sam passed the note to the sheriff. The Sheriff and deputy loaded up the three sleazebags to take them to Bandera County Jail.

As the sheriff started the car, Wayne Rickoff walked up with his pistol holstered.

Sunny opened the door to the back seat where the cage separated losers from the law officers in front. He slipped off his backpack, reached in and tossed an open burlap sack into the backseat. The sheriff and deputy drove off with their cargo.

As the car rolled over the cattle guard at the entrance, we could hear the men in the backseat screaming. Monty yelled the loudest.

Sunny and Sam howled with laughter. Wayne Rickoff doubled over laughing. He looked a lot better when he smiled.

Fifty

As we turned toward the main gate, we saw Bertha and Ranger walking toward the corrals, talking.

“I bet they’ll be real careful who they hire,” Sam said.

“I predict Bertha goes on a strict diet,” I said.

We told Sam the girls’ plans for the Hill Country spa.

“I’ll have Bertha tell Marshall Darren about their plans,” he said. “That should enhance the ranch’s value and boost Bertha’s income. With Darren on her side, Bertha should be able to keep the property.”

“Will she be able to re-drill the water well?” I asked.

“Darren thinks the water board will grant her a drilling permit.”

We mused in silence as the road curved toward Bandera.

“Wayne Rickoff sure seemed different by the time we left,” I said.

“When he got to use his skills for something good,” Sam said, “his fury drained out. He asked me what training is involved to become a police officer.”

Meredith sat in back with sound buds in her ears, listening to the villains’ taped confessions. We weren’t far from Bandera when Sam reached across the seat and grabbed my hand. “I have a sudden, overwhelming craving.”

“Really?” My eyes grew wide. My heart beat faster.

“I think we need a Bubba Burger.”

Meredith and I passed on that option.

We descended through the hills. The highway was still wide, but instead of mesquite, yucca and cenizo, homes dotted the hillsides. We were back among gas stations, roadside restaurants and billboards. The landscape had changed. I wondered if people ever would.

Sam stopped at Meredith’s condo and hauled her bags inside. She was eager to start working on her articles.

He drove to my bungalow on Burr Road, and we carried my suitcases inside. After he set the last bag down, he cradled my shoulders and looked at me. “I almost lost you again.”

I nodded.

“I don’t want to lose you, Aggie. I know that now.” He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. We stood, savoring the moment. It was wonderful being with him without worrying who might be watching or who might harm us. I didn’t have to worry about hiding clues or gaining his trust.

He kissed my cheeks. My lips. My neck.

I looked into his eyes. “Sam, there’s something I…”

“Don’t say anything. We’ve come a long way. But we have a long way to go. You and I both know that’s true.”

My eyes started to fill.

“For now,” he said, “let’s enjoy being together. There’s plenty of time.”

He gave me a long, lingering kiss. My resolve melted. All I wanted was to cling to him.

He backed away, grasped my shoulders, pecked me on the nose and left.

Maybe he suspected the truth and didn’t want me to confirm it. Maybe he needed time to get used to the idea.

I sighed. I’d have to confess the secret that he’d reared my beloved daughter. Someday.

But we had time. Plenty of time.

Fifty-One

I stood still until I heard his car pull away. Smiling, I picked up a pile of mail from where it had landed on the floor. I flipped through and stopped at an envelope. It didn’t look like a letter to Dear Aggie, yet the handwriting was familiar. I ripped it open.

Dear Aggie,

I wondered whether I’d have the chance to thank you. Yesterday, I remembered what happened. I was awake when he came in. We talked and talked—so much to catch up on. We kissed and promised never to be apart.

My parents, standing in the doorway, had heard us talk about healing, about going to college, and about our desire to help kids. They gave us their blessing.

We’ll honeymoon on Saba Island. In September, we’ll enroll in school. Sunny also sends his love.

Vicki

About the Author

Nancy G. West’s poem, “Time to Lie,” was featured by Theme and Variations and broadcast on NPR. For three years, she wrote Book Shelf, the book column for
San Antonio Woman
magazine as well as articles for other publications.

But a funny thing happened as she finished
Nine Days to Evil
, her award-winning novel of psychological suspense,
Shakespeare
, and nonstop-action. A supporting character, Aggie Mundeen, with her wry sense of humor, took over West’s consciousness and demanded that West write a book about her…or maybe a series. The result,
Fit to Be Dead
, was 2013 finalist for the Lefty Award for Best Humorous Mystery. Next came
Dang Near Dead
, and West is currently at work revealing Aggie’s third and fourth romantic mystery adventures. Aggie is pleased.

In Case You Missed the 1st Book in the Series

FIT TO BE DEAD

Nancy G. West

An Aggie Mundeen Mystery (#1)

Aggie Mundeen, single and pushing forty, fears nothing but middle age. When she moves from Chicago to San Antonio, she decides she better shape up before anybody discovers she writes the column, “Stay Young with Aggie.” She takes Aspects of Aging at University of the Holy Trinity and plunges into exercise at Fit and Firm.

Rusty at flirting and mechanically inept, she irritates a slew of male exercisers, then stumbles into murder. She’d like to impress the attractive detective with her sleuthing skills. But when the killer comes after her, the health club evacuates semi-clad patrons, and the detective has to stall his investigation to save Aggie’s derriere.

Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon

CLICK FOR FIT TO BE DEAD

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