Stripped Bare (25 page)

I shook her and banged her head against the cold glass and her eyes lost that love-light, started to bug out, and her tongue thrust from her mouth. Then the pickup sprang from the road and crashed into the giant cottonwood, because I hadn't stopped it before I throttled Roxy.

Even my fantasies were out to get me.

I took the spur in the road, around the main headquarters. The cookhouse sat behind the barn and a row of aging cottonwoods. My phone vibrated in the cup holder between me and Roxy. I reached for the glow and noticed twelve missed calls. Since I'd heard no “cat-erwauling,” I must have accidentally set it to vibrate.

I punched Answer. “Hi, Louise.”

“Ruth! Ruthie!”

I waited.

“Hi, Kate. Where have you been? I called out to the ranch and Jeremy answered. Who does he have out there? He better be careful. He doesn't need any more wild seeds running around.”

The one-story, clapboard cookhouse sat a hundred paces from the barn. Pristine windows reflected my headlights.

“Ruthie! I swear, she disappears when I need her.” The sound of Louise's furious chopping told me she was cooking supper. “There you are. Run down to the basement and get me a quart of tomatoes.”

Roxy studied her nails in light from the dash.

“Pastor Steve called. Today, please, Ruth. He can't get ahold of Roxy. Get me an onion while you're down there. Oh, and see if there's any peaches. I told him to go ahead and have the Lutherans bring the desserts, and the Catholics will do salads. The UCC can bring finger sandwiches.”

A person had to run gate on Louise's phone conversations. You opened the gate to let some sentences in, closed it to let others out, and when all was done, you studied the bits you had caught in the corral and tried to make sense of it.

Louise chopped and chattered. “I'll end up in the loony bin. Dad's on the train. Mom wants them to play Gregorian chants and recite the ‘Desiderata.' I can't get in touch with Carly, and you're not much better. I suspect you're avoiding me.”

Nothing got by Louise. “I'm talking to you now.”

“Thanks, Ruth.” To me: “I'm making authentic Hungarian goulash from a recipe I found in
Cooking Light
. But I don't have paprika. You think I can substitute a touch of chili powder? It calls for celery, but Dutch's didn't have any. I didn't have time to thaw a roast, so I'm using hamburger. But it ought to turn out yummy. I'll freeze some for you.”

Delicious. “Thanks.”

“Anyhoo, the funeral home called me and needs the suit to bury him. They want someone to pick out the illustration for the pamphlet. I didn't know what to tell him.”

“Just a sec.” I lowered the phone. “The funeral home needs a suit and decisions on the pamphlet.”

Roxy gave me a stricken look. “No. I can't do that. It takes me back to Brian.” Her voice tipped toward that hysterical scale I hated.

“Who's there? Who are you t— Is that Roxy? Oh, no. Do not tell me you're with Roxy.”

I wished I could see Louise's face. “Yeah, Roxy is here.”

The chopping stopped. “Don't do anything stupid. She's not worth it. I mean it. She's the kind that will sue if you break her nose.”

If I thought breaking her nose would help, I'd take the chance. “Don't worry. We're working together to find Eldon's killer.”

It sounded like she dropped a pan on the stove. “What?”

I made fake static noise, not expecting to deceive her. “Bad signal. Bye.” I punched off her tinny protest.

With that out of the way, I scanned through my missed calls. Ted, Sarah, Diane, Sarah again. Several local numbers I assumed were people trying to get the latest scoop. Ted, Ted.

Roxy reached for the door handle and I held up my hand to indicate one minute. I called Jeremy and got a quick update. We'd had four calves, one cow was in labor now, and all was well.

Roxy and I climbed from the pickup, and I walked around the grill to stand with her, looking at Rope's house. The yard light on the barn pushed back full night. Smells of roasting meat mingled with the calving lot odor.

She patted her flat stomach. “I'm starving.”

Yeah. Starving. She'd probably wolf down two saltines and a whole carrot stick. My stomach turned over.

I glanced at the barn. The old-fashioned wooden structure had the typical barn roof. Painted red, with white trim at the hay loft and doors and the Bar J brand outlined neatly above the double doors into the main section, the barn acted as a divider between the headquarters and the cookhouse.

Nat and Rope had lived in the cookhouse since they were married. Nat kept the yard green, if not lush. A chain-link fence separated it from the dirt and gravel where ranch pickups and trailers lined up next to the fuel tanks on their stilts. A gate and a door gave access to the corral and the barn, respectively, so Rope could make his way as easily to the barn as anyone at the headquarters. The corral at the end of the barn opened into the calving lot behind Eldon's house, as it did at Frog Creek. A two-lane road looped to the outside of the calving lot, linking the two houses.

I'd been in the Bar J cookhouse during brandings, when Glenda was alive. The front room looked like a miniature version of an old church basement. A long cafeteria-style table filled the center, with a collection of old, mismatched chairs lining it. This is where Nat would feed the hay crew and ranch help on cattle-working days. The kitchen and the family's living room were through the open doorway at the back of the house. I assumed bedrooms were down a short hall.

We started across the dirt ranch yard toward the house. A country song erupted from Roxy's purse. It was one of those whiny women singing about true love. I avoided country music—not easy in Nebraska—so I couldn't identify the song. In one movement, Roxy jerked her purse from her shoulder, located the phone in a pouch, and had it to her ear before it rang twice. “Yes.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear. “I'll be there in a second,” she whispered to me.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who was on the phone. I didn't want to hear her sweet-talk my husband, using some kind of code so I wouldn't know what they meant. I planted my feet and put my hands on my hips, sending a threat I fully intended to carry through.

Roxy rattled, “Can't talk.” She slid the phone back into her bag.

We continued up the walk.

If Eldon was reluctant to spend money on the headquarters house, he seemed even stingier with the cookhouse. It needed a coat of paint, and several of the spindles on the porch railing needed replacing.

I banged on the front door. It was one of those century-old wood frames that didn't seal completely, with glass panels in the front, the caulking chipped and falling out. Paint peeled from the metal knob and from the plate that held the old-time keyhole, which had probably never felt the turn of a key. A frilly fake-lace curtain on the inside blocked all but the outline of Nat approaching.

Roxy's phone sang again. She glanced at the display, frowned, and turned her back to me. “This is Roxy.”

Nat opened the door. She stood squarely in the doorway, blocking most of my view of the inside. She bit her lower lip and shot nervous glances beyond me, taking in Roxy and the pickup. “Oh, my. Kate Conner.”

She said it loud, as if announcing it. Maybe Rope lurked in the living room at the back of the house.

“Is Danny here?” I asked.

The question rattled Nat further. “No. It's a … He's in town. Play rehearsal.”

I strained to see behind her and she wiggled into my way. “You picked him up this morning?” I went on.

She hesitated, as if trying to remember. “Yes. No. He was already in school when I got back to town. Everything is fine. It's okay.”

I doubted anything was ever okay for this nervous wreck. “Can I come in? I need to ask you about the land Eldon gave to Danny.”

Behind me, Roxy added a definite tease to her voice. “I'm surprised to hear from you.”

Nat shifted from foot to foot, her eyes constantly scanning behind me. “I don't … I can't really…” She let out a long breath. “Leave us alone. Please.”

She must really be afraid. It wasn't fair to put her in a dicey situation. “Can you tell me where Rope is? I'll go talk to him.”

Her hand shot up to her mouth. “No.”

Roxy startled me by putting a hand on my arm. She frowned and listened intently, then answered, “You're on your way now?”

Nat and I watched her.

After a few seconds, Roxy responded, “Of course. That's perfect.”

More male rumbling from the phone, then she hung up and looked at me. “Change of plans.” She pulled me away from the door.

Without waiting, Nat pushed the door closed. The curtains ruffled, then stopped moving.

I let Roxy tug me down the sidewalk. “What change?”

“You have to take me home.”

“I what? No. I'm not your chauffer.”

“The wind will wreck my hair, and I don't want to get mud and cow poop on my boots.”

“That's not my problem.”

“You'll want to be there, anyway. This is part of the investigation.”

Everything she did chapped me. “Who was on the phone?”

“That was Glenn Baxter. He's on his way to my house.”

 

21

I carried the smell of roasting meat with me even after we'd loaded into the pickup and backed out of Rope's yard.

Roxy yanked down the visor and fluffed her hair. “It'll have to do. I won't have time to curl it.”

Ted should see Roxy all flustered in anticipation of meeting another man. A prospect who could provide her with more than Ted ever would. Financial potential beyond her dreams. Ted should know the depths of her shallowness.

Ted loved me. I believed that. Last Sunday, I was stacking the dinner dishes in the strainer. We don't have a dishwasher. It's just another of the luxuries my siblings take for granted. I try not to covet their appliances, but I hate doing dishes by hand. I especially loathe drying. I played a Jenga game with the glasses, plates, and bowls; if I lost, all the dishes would tumble from the counter and smash on the floor. That wouldn't be a big loss to anyone, since I was still using the hand-me-down Corelle with the little green flower border I'd inherited from Aunt Twyla.

I had balanced a saucepan between the sink and the dish strainer. The back porch door swung open and footsteps behind me announced Ted's arrival. I concentrated on creating my tower of ice cream bowls on the edge of the dinner plates.

Ted wound his arms around my middle, pulling me into his warm body. “It's Sunday and we've got the whole place to ourselves. Let's find a sunny spot and see what comes up.”

I was embarrassed that my immediate response was to catalog when I'd last checked the pregnant cows, whether any were calving, what I should get done before sundown. To my credit, I didn't say any of that out loud. But I didn't respond with immediate enthusiasm.

He nuzzled my neck. “It's a day of rest, but we don't have to rest all day.” He pulled me closer and rubbed against my backside, just in case his reference had been too subtle.

It hadn't been. I pushed against him, feeling that tingle, even after eight years and the exhaustion of calving season. I glanced out the window. It was one of those amazing early spring days that, for a few hours in the high afternoon, can feel like summer. No wind, bright sunshine.

I set the bowl in the sink and turned into his embrace. “Let's go.”

I wasn't surprised when he led me to a grove—well, it was a windbreak of cedar trees—where he'd spread a thick, soft blanket. He'd picked a handful of wildflowers and even opened a bottle of chardonnay.

Last Sunday. Damn it. Only a week later, he was lying in Roxy's bed.

I shot Roxy a crusty look, but she was still busy primping in the mirror. It took a minute to drive to the back of the barn so I could take the trail road to Eldon's house. This path, barely big enough for a motorized vehicle, was a shortcut between the two yards and ran along the calving lot.

“Don't go through there. It's bumpy and muddy. We're trying to let it heal over, and no one is supposed to drive on it. But Danny uses it all the time.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He's a delinquent.”

At least we agreed on one thing. I turned the wheel and pointed us back up the road between the headquarters and the cookhouse, heading toward Roxy's castle. I slowed when we passed Eldon's house. It hadn't changed in the two days since he'd been shot, but somehow it looked abandoned and haunted. Tracks led from the side of the house to the calving lot.

We continued the hundred yards to Roxy's obscene monstrosity. It was two stories but seemed bigger, with the first floor's cathedral ceilings. Giant logs acted as porch pillars, contrasting with a red brick facade. Windows covered most of the walls, some with arches. Several steps led to the spacious front porch, where a half dozen willow branch rockers and chairs invited nonexistent visitors.

It rivaled any house in Diane's upscale Denver suburb. Diane pulled down big bucks as a banker, so I wasn't surprised she could afford this luxury. No telling how Brian had finagled the money out of Eldon, but there it stood, a testament to Roxy's acquisition skills. Houses, husbands, ranches—was there no end to her talents?

Headlights shone behind us and Roxy jogged up the walk to the porch. “You greet him. I've got to pee.”

Sure. I'll be the downstairs help—take his coat, offer him sherry, and tell him the mistress will be down soon.

I followed Roxy up the stairs and across the porch. The porch light flashed on, as did small yard lights along the front walk. The windows glowed bright, one by one, presumably as Roxy ran through on her way to the bathroom. Though I'd seen this house plenty of times when I brought Carly out here or picked her up, I'd never been inside.