Dove in the Window (36 page)

“But what kind of people feel good about hurting other people?”

He turned to me, kissing both corners of my mouth gently. “That,
querida,
is a mystery to everyone but God.”

The next day, Saturday, I was up and dressed before Gabe had even cracked open an eyelid. For a change.

“What’s the rush?” he asked. “You are not, I repeat, not riding in the Heritage Days parade.” He sat up in bed and watched me attempt to braid my hair in front of my vanity table’s mirror. Though a little past my shoulders now, it was still too short to do anything except make a stubby braid. I undid it with a grunt of irritation, bent over, and brushed it hard, not caring if I ended up with hair as big and curly as a Texas beauty queen’s.

I flipped my hair back and said, “I heard you the first time you growled your orders yesterday, Sergeant Friday.”

He smiled serenely. “Just wanted to clarify. Where are you going?”

“First I’m meeting Isaac at Blind Harry’s for breakfast. Then we’re going to watch the parade from Elvia’s office window. The rest of the day I’ll spend at the museum. It’s going to be a busy one. We close at five though, so everyone can go to the fiesta. I may take time to go by the rodeo grounds and watch the cow plop contest. I have square number thirteen. Guess that means I won’t win.”

“I bought two but I don’t remember their numbers. I assume someone somewhere has a record of it.”

“Probably. What’re you doing?”

“Eating a leisurely breakfast. Reading the newspaper. Then I’ll just probably wander around downtown and check on things. I’ll be wearing my beeper, so call if you need anything.”

“How about I meet you for dinner? Six o‘clock at the fiesta? In front of Lupe’s tamale cart, wherever she decides to park it?”

“Sounds good. Stay alert. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t, I repeat, don’t close up the museum by yourself. Maybe I should assign someone to stay at the museum, even though we’re stretched to the limit.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Not on your life, sir. Permission to leave, sir.”

“Woman, your smart mouth will be the ruin of me yet.” He threw a pillow at me, which I dodged, laughing at his slow reflexes. I’d already partaken of my morning caffeine.

I blew him a kiss.
“Hasta la vista.”

Isaac was waiting for me at Blind Harry’s, where it was more crowded than usual for a Saturday morning. His face was sober and hard this morning, and I noticed a few people staring at him hesitantly, as if they recognized his face and were working up the courage to approach him. His expression obviously kept them from it, and I wondered if he’d developed that forbidding persona on purpose. It occurred to me for the first time what a burden fame could be, especially when the everyday problems of life made a person desire anonymity so they could suffer without being judged. He clutched a mug of black coffee in his monstrous hand as if he thought someone would snatch it from him. I bought a couple of blueberry muffins, a cup of coffee, and joined him.

“Bad night?” I asked, sitting down across from him.

His eyelids drooped slightly, his voice a hoarse whisper. “It hits me at the oddest times. I’ve been through this before. You’d think I’d have remembered what it was like.”

I nodded in understanding.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the wooden table. “So, what are you up to today?”

“My orders from the CEO are to lie low. Gabe’s feeling a bit tense about the bathroom incident Thursday night. He thinks we’re being just a little too successful about—excuse the pun—flushing out Shelby’s killer. He’s afraid that next time the person will actually try to hurt one of us.”

He rubbed his thumb over the edge of his mug, a thoughtful look in his dark eyes. “He’s more concerned about you than me, I’m sure. But he’s right. I feel incredibly guilty about getting you so involved. You’re physically an easier target than me, and this person is obviously a coward.”

“You did not get me involved. I got myself involved. And you have no reason to feel guilty. I would be doing this whether you were here or not. And you called it right when you said this person is a coward. So far all they’ve done is play silly little tricks. Believe me, I’ve experienced worse.”

He gave a sheepish smile and picked up a muffin, slowly breaking off a piece. “There’s something else that impels me to ask you to do what Gabe requests. I received a lecture from your grandmother last night after the fingers of gossip reached out to the ranch with news of your little incident Thursday night.”

“And you still have ears?” I asked, laughing.

He touched one ear and smiled. “They’re singed, but still functioning. She’s nervous because this person has picked you to harass.”

I laid my hand on his. “Don’t worry. I promised Gabe I’d be careful today and I will keep that promise. But I have a real feeling that this is all going to come to a head soon. If it’s any of the people we suspect, they aren’t professional killers, and I think their guilty conscience will compel them to show themselves sooner or later.”

He shook his head doubtfully. “I’ve been on this earth a lot longer than you have and I don’t share your belief that justice eventually triumphs. Some people just plain don’t feel guilty. I’m going to echo your husband now and urge you to be very careful.”

“I said I would. Do I need to sign it in blood?” I asked, trying not to sound exasperated.

“No, just your word is sufficient. Dove told me about the last few escapades you’d been involved with, and, to quote her, ‘Lord knows she’s got a head as hard as a coconut, but even she can’t take another head injury.’ ”

I laughed and stood up, picking up my coffee and muffin. “I’ll wear a helmet, okay? I promise, promise, promise that I’ll be careful. Now, are you coming with me to watch the parade? I’ve got a very
safe
bird’s-eye view from Elvia’s office window.”

He shook his head no. “I’ll watch it from ground level. Better pictures from there. Then I’ve got an appointment out at the Wheeler ranch today. They’re letting me tag along and snap a few pictures.”

“Letting you?” I teased. “You have to know they are probably thrilled out of their minds to be included in your book. Are you going to the fiesta? It’s in the field near the rodeo grounds.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Dove and I will see you there.”

“I’ll look for you. A little inside tip. Try Lupe’s tamales. They are like manna from heaven.”

“I’ll make sure to sample one.”

I headed upstairs to Elvia’s office, where there were already ten or eleven people laughing and eating off the fruit and croissant platter on her credenza. Elvia, as usual, was on the phone, probably tracking down a lost shipment of books.

Emory, who was gone before I was up this morning, was drinking a cup of espresso over by the window. I walked over and tickled his side. “Hey, cuz, you must’ve rose with the chickens this morning.”

He smiled down at me. “I’m trying to give you and the
señor
as much privacy as I can. Besides, I had a lot of things to do to get ready for tonight.” He glanced surreptitiously at a sour-faced Elvia. Obviously the person on the other end of the line was not telling her what she wanted to hear.

“She’s actually going through with it,” I said. “I don’t believe it.”

He set his tiny espresso cup down on a nearby table. “Ought to smack you for that, sweetcakes. You were selling me goods you never expected to deliver.”

I smiled innocently at him. “Just using a technique taught to me by the master manipulator himself. Let’s not forget the time twenty-five-some-odd years ago when you promised the two older Shanley boys a new carburetor for their pickup. They showed up at our ranch two hours after you were on your way back to Arkansas.”

“That was different. They were going to beat the crap out of me. I was desperate.” He grinned at me. “Worked, though.”

“Don’t be too sure,” I warned. “Rumor has it that they heard you’re back in town and they’re hunting you down for payment.”

“Not to worry, Albenia Louise. I have a platinum American Express card. A few beers, a couple of steaks, and they’ll be right as rain.”

“And a new carburetor if they’re still miffed?”

“Whatever it takes to save my precious hide.”

“Like I said, I learned from the best.”

“Also, I haven’t forgotten that you’re paying for this.”

“A hundred bucks, that was our deal. Bill me.”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

We crowded to the window when the strains of San Celina’s high school marching band started playing the always popular “76 Trombones.” Like all small town parades, the San Celina Heritage Days parade was extremely long on enthusiasm and a bit short on professionalism. Most of the floats consisted of trucks decorated with a mixture of home-grown roses and mums and handmade tissue paper flowers with a few spangly, semiprofessional-looking floats left over and refashioned from San Celina’s Mardi Gras parade. There were a lot of costumed people on horseback and every high school marching band in the county as well as accompanying drill teams. When I saw my dad and my uncle Arnie ride by dressed in 1880s western clothes, I hung out the open window and called to them. Daddy turned and waved at me, throwing me a big smile. At the same time, I caught a glimpse of Roland Bennett across the street, watching the parade from the offices above his gallery. The hateful look he gave me froze the words I was getting ready to shout at them. I moved away from the window, more unnerved than I wanted to admit.

When the parade was over, I drifted over to the combination espresso/coffee machine, where a scowling Elvia was holding a small black espresso cup.

“Did you cuss those people out good?” I asked, deciding against the espresso and settling for a plain cup of coffee.

“This is the second time Random House has shipped my order to some horror bookstore in Massachusetts called Black Harry’s. They won’t do it again.”

“I’d hope not. Are you ready for your date tonight?” I was taking my life in my hands by asking, but as usual my curiosity got the better of me.

“He sent flowers and candy to Mama,” she said, her voice dripping scorn. “She’s already buying bride’s magazines.”

I sipped my coffee. “You could do worse.” Now I was really asking for it.

Her scowl deepened. “One date,
amiga,
and I use that word
friend
loosely. Then I’ll drop him off at the train station myself.”

I looked at her over my coffee cup. “Don’t forget the best part of marrying Emory. You and I would be related. About ten times removed, but cousins nevertheless.”

“That’s supposed to be an incentive?”

I grinned and wiggled my fingers good-bye. “Have fun.”

At the museum I was kept busy helping with tours and answering questions. There wasn’t one minute I was alone, which I patiently informed Gabe each of the five times he called.

“Would you quit worrying?” I said the last time he called at about four-thirty. “I’ll be closing up in a half hour, and D-Daddy and a bunch of other people are here and will remain here while I close up. I’ll see you in front of Lupe’s cart at six o‘clock.”

“Better make it six-thirty,” he said. “I’m having a quick briefing with my field sergeants at five-thirty, and it may run longer than I anticipate.”

“Okay. By the way, I didn’t get away to the cow plop contest. Did you see it?”

“Number fourteen won, though it was debatable for a moment with a slight overlap problem. The judge actually had to measure length and width.”

“Just my luck. Oh, well. See you at the fiesta.”

I was locking up, with D-Daddy fiddling with something on his little Toyota pickup, when Olivia and Bobby drove up. Surprised that they were back together, I watched Bobby step down from the high cab and walk toward me. Involuntarily I stiffened when he reached the hacienda’s long porch. It was dark already, and the lone, yellowish porch light hardened his angry face.

“I’ve got something to say to you,” he said.

I looked over at D-Daddy. Frowning, he reached into his tool chest and picked up his Sears Craftsman hammer. I held up my hand, assuring him things were under control.

“What’s that, Bobby?” I asked.

“You’ve been asking questions about me and Olivia.”

I didn’t answer, but couldn’t help wondering what they’d heard. And from whom.

His voice shook slightly. “That stupid little rich girl did nothing but cause trouble since she came. Maybe we’re all better off without her, so why can’t you just let things be?”

I gave him a steady look. “Because, Bobby, someone murdered her, and that’s wrong.”

He touched his Stetson nervously. “There’s no proof it’s murder. She could’ve just fell. That’s what everyone’s saying.”

“And what about Kip? He just fell with his head in the creek?”

He let out a string of Spanish curse words that were very familiar to me, having grown up around Elvia’s brothers and being married to Gabe.

“Watch your mouth, Bobby,” I said when I recognized the Spanish word for whore. “I don’t take that kind of abuse in English or Spanish.”

He glared at me. “You’re just harassing us ‘cause we’re Mexican. You’re assuming if there’s violence involved, it must be us hotheaded
Mexicanos.
You’re just like that
pendejo
brother-in-law of yours.”

“And you are full of crap, Bobby Sanchez. First, Wade isn’t my brother-in-law, and second, in case you missed it, I am married to a man who’s half Mexican. And, believe me, I know better than anyone that violence comes in all races, creeds, and colors so you can take that attitude and—”

D-Daddy interrupted my tirade. “You okay,
ange?”
He caressed the heavy hammer in his calloused hands. Bobby frowned at him. Through all of this, Olivia stared blank-faced at me through the truck window.

“I’m fine, D-Daddy,” I said. “Bobby was just leaving. Right?”

He spit on the ground and whipped around, saying something inaudible to Olivia when he climbed in the passenger side of the truck. They peeled out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel and dirt.

“You been snooping again, eh,
ange?”
D-Daddy said, shaking his head.