State Fair (25 page)

We finished at almost the same time. I slipped on my sunglasses and a Farm Supply ball cap and waited until he pulled out of the gas station. Then, crazy as I knew it was, I decided to follow him. I’d never have attempted it in my own purple truck, but I was counting on the fact that he wouldn’t recognize Dove’s truck. I kept a car length between us as I followed him onto the 101 freeway north. We went over Rosita pass and I held my breath until we passed the Santa Margarita exit. At least he wasn’t on his way to Maggie and Katsy’s ranch. That would have made me call Hud. He kept at a steady seventy-five miles an hour until he reached the first off- ramp for the town of Atascadero. He exited without signaling, but I was far enough behind that it was no problem to follow.

Once we started driving down El Camino Real, Atascadero’s main drag, I had to be more careful. It didn’t appear he suspected anyone was following him, but I tried to keep a car or two between us. We drove past the county park and the old Carnegie library, an almost exact copy of the building that held San Celina’s historical museum. He made a right turn into a neighborhood of older homes with huge oak trees shading the bumpy street. It was the type of neighborhood duplicated all over the United States with neat front yards filled with bicycles, scooters, rosebushes and decorative house flags.

He stopped in front of a blue and gray bungalow with a deep front porch. Again, I was fortunate that he was so intent on his destination that the small red truck driving past didn’t even rate a glance. I drove to the end of the street, straining to see in my rearview mirror who came out of the house. No luck. The wooden screen door blocked the person from view. I turned right and circled the block. Did I dare drive past again? I shoved my braid underneath my cap. The disguise was lame, but it was all I had.

I turned the corner, making a note of the street name—Warner—and drove past the house again. Except for an ancient blue El Camino in the driveway and a child’s tricycle on the front porch, there was nothing that distinguished this house from the others. Like many of the houses, an American flag flew from the front porch. With a pen I found clipped to the sun visor, I wrote the address on my palm. I couldn’t risk driving by the house again. Posted at the street’s entrance was a Neighborhood Watch sign. Some concerned citizen might call the cops if I continued cruising the neighborhood.

“That was a great big waste of time,” I said out loud, driving back to the interstate. A half hour later I arrived home greeted by my hungry dog. Scout’s expression was definitely baleful.

“Sorry, boy,” I said, making his dinner. “It won’t happen again. Well, it probably will, but you’ll forgive me, right?”

In the living room, I took off my boots and socks, then phoned Hud. No answer at his home phone, so I tried his cell.

“Ford Hudson,” he said, his breathing labored. Music tinkled in the background.

“You sound like you’ve been trying to move a mountain.”

“At . . . the . . . gym. Tread . . . mill. What’s up?”

I propped my feet up on the coffee table. “I followed Dodge Burnside this evening.”

There was a long pause. “Why?”

“We were getting gas at the same time and, well, it seems dumb now, but I thought maybe I could find out something.”

I swear I could hear him shaking his head. “You’d really like it to be this dude, wouldn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“This may be hard to believe, but I honestly don’t care
who
did it. I just want them caught.”

I wiggled my toes, considering his words. “I don’t believe that. I think you have a preference about who will go down for this crime.”

His laugh filled my ear. “Go down for the crime? Ranch girl, you and your aunt are really a twosome. So you followed your
perp
. Where did it lead you?”

“Okay, nowhere. I mean, he went somewhere, but it was a perfectly nice neighborhood in Atascadero. There was a tricycle on the front porch. A normal, everyday house. I did write down the address. Do you want it?”

“Why not?” he said, giving a dramatic sigh. In the background I could hear the music more clearly now—“Can’t Touch This.” Maybe somebody was trying to tell me something.

“Call me if it pans out.”

“Don’t even think about turning in an expense report,” he replied, and hung up.

“Nyah, nyah,” I said to the phone just as Gabe walked into the living room.

“Who’s the lucky recipient of that razor sharp wit?” Gabe asked, setting down his brief case.

I hesitated just long enough for a small frown to appear on his face.

“Benni, what’s going on?”

I placed the phone in its base. “Detective Hudson. And before you go all Ricky Ricardo on me, hear me out.”

He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, his expression suspicious.

“Sit.” I pointed to his leather chair. “Don’t say one word until I finish.”

He’d been married to me long enough now to heed that command, though I could feel his urge to argue.

I told him what I’d done the last hour. “Then I gave Hud the address. He said he’d look into it.”

Gabe was silent a moment. During my explanation he’d been methodically stroking Scout’s head. He inhaled, then let it out slowly. “I’m not happy about this.”

I shrugged. What else was new?

“Tell me this. Why do you insist on doing things that could possibly bring harm to you? Or people you love?”

“How could my following Dodge Burnside cause my family any harm?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Dove’s truck?”

I shook my head. “Even if Dodge had noticed me,
which he didn’t
, he wouldn’t associate the truck with Dove.”

“Except for her personalized license plate.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

“Okay, you’re right. It was stupid and thoughtless. But nothing happened. He didn’t notice me and it was basically a waste of my time.”

He gave a half smile and pulled his off his tie. “What progress we are making in our marriage. You actually agree with me.”

I pointed a finger at him, giving him a full-on smile. “And you didn’t lose your cool. Good boy. Double biscuits.”

Scout’s ears perked at the last word.

Gabe laughed, balled up his tie and threw it at me. It fell short and I chucked a throw pillow in his direction. He was getting ready to return it when the phone rang.

“I hate this,” Hud said before I could say hello.

“Hate what?” I said.

“You being somewhat right.”

“About what?”

“That address you gave me? It just so happens to be the residence of the unofficial leader of our very own little North County white supremacist group. You know, that one I told you about. Well, apparently they’ve recently even given themselves a name—WBU—White Boys United.”

“Say that again. I just want to enjoy it for a moment.”

“White Boys United?”

“No, the part about me being right.”

G
ABE AND I ARGUED OFF AND ON THE REST OF THE EVENING about the possible consequences of my impulsive surveillance. Well, not argue, since neither of us were actually mad. We had come a long way in our relationship.

“I’ll say it one last time. I don’t feel good about you being so involved,” Gabe said, slipping between the bedsheets.

I folded back our summer quilt, draping it over the footboard. “And I’ll repeat again that I can’t help but be involved. I found Cal’s body. I’m friends with Jazz, Katsy, Maggie and Levi. You’re involved too. You adore Maggie.”

“Yes, I do, but I also understand when something is my job and isn’t.” He turned on his side to look at me.

I climbed into bed, picking up the book on my bedside table. “How about I promise not to follow Dodge or anyone else suspected in this case ever again?”

He turned back over and turned off his bed lamp. “That’s a start.”

I leaned across the bed and kissed the snarling USMC bulldog tattoo on his upper back. “I love you, Friday.”

“Querida,
you’ll drive me to the whiskey bottle, but I love you too.”

The next morning while drinking my first cup of coffee, I called Katsy and Maggie. I’d thought about calling them last night to tell them about Dodge’s visit to his nefarious friend, but Gabe and I agreed that it would not make them any safer by knowing that information right before they went to bed.

“They are about as hyperalert as they’re going to be,” he’d pointed out.

He was right, but I still worried about them.

Katsy answered the phone on the second ring, her voice sounding tired. “Morrison ranch.”

“Hey, Katsy. You sound as exhausted as I feel.” In the background I could hear Maggie singing to the dogs.

“Bad night?” she asked.

“Just restless.”

“I hear you. Even Bess and Harry never settled down last night, kept barking at every little noise.”

“Actually, I’m glad they were so vigilant.” I told her about following Dodge and what Hud found out. “I was going to call you last night, but Gabe thought it might make you all more nervous and, really, I’m not sure what it proves.”

Katsy make a disgusted sound through the phone. “Proves what we already knew, that Dodge Burnside is cow manure and so are his friends.”

“At least it’s one more piece of information Hud knows.”

“Jazz left early this morning.”

“What? You mean to work at the fair?”

“I mean she went back home. She didn’t want to stay so far away from her friends or her dad. She said she’d be fine.” Levi and Jazz lived only a short distance from the fairgrounds, in an older section of Paso Robles.

“Maybe she will. At least the police can get there fast if there is trouble. I assume that Levi and Jazz are getting extra patrols.”

“I think she’d be safer out here, but like Maggie says, I don’t always understand why people find it isolating out here. I guess I’m a bit of a loner, but I feel better when there aren’t so many people around.”

I wondered about her and Levi. He was a pretty gregarious guy, loved being around people. That was one of the things that made him such a great fair manager. But opposites were often attracted to each other and managed to thrive. Gabe and I were a perfect example. People gave odds of our marriage lasting about a thousand to one. And here we still were, still married and happy. At least most of the time.

“Anything I can do for you?” I asked.

“Just be there when we need you, girlfriend. Preferably with a loaded shotgun.” We both laughed, but knew she was only half joking.

I poured myself a second cup of coffee and called my gramma.

“What?” Dove answered the phone with a bark. She was always a little grouchy during fair time when, like a freshman Cal Poly student, she never failed to over-schedule herself. Her moodiness became worse as the fair wobbled its way toward the final day.

“Dove, it’s your favorite granddaughter.”

“Sally? How are things up north in Cody? You comin’ for a visit, sweetie pie?”

“Ha-ha. I know you’re busy so I won’t keep you. Just checking to see what Aunt Garnet wants to do today.”

“She’s staying home. Says she’s tired.”

“Oh.” That certainly freed up my day. I should feel relieved, but I’d gotten sort of used to Aunt Garnet tagging along. “
Is
she sick?”

“She
said
tired.” Dove’s tone informed me there’d be no more discussion of the subject. “You’re free. Do whatever it is you do.”

“Okay,” I said carefully, recognizing I was on shaky ground. “Is there anything I can do for you besides take your truck in to get the smog certificate?”

“That’s it, honeybun,” Dove said, her voice softening.

“We’ll connect today sometime and exchange trucks.”

“I’ll be at the fair all afternoon.”

I hung up and stared out the kitchen window until Gabe walked in dressed for work.

“We’re out of coffee,” he said, pulling on his suit jacket. “Want me to pick up some on the way home from work?”

“We need butter too.” I continued staring out the window.

“Dog food?” he asked.

“I buy that at the Farm Supply. We’re okay until the weekend.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, picking up his briefcase.

I looked over at him. “Do you think the Paso police have a special watch out for Levi and Jazz’s house?”

“There’re likely patrolling it more. Probably aren’t staking it out. At this point, it doesn’t seem warranted.”

I nodded, knowing that it was really all anyone could do.

He came over to me, brushed a strand of wild, morning hair from my face. “Sweetheart, I know you’re worried, but until something actually happens, you know the police can’t do anything.”

I touched his freshly shaved cheek. He looked like he hadn’t slept well either. “Is everything okay at work?”