by Leena Clover
“Where’d you go away?” I asked.
“I joined the Army after High School,” Cam said proudly. “Sounded like the only way I could get out of shoveling manure for the rest of my life. Can’t ask a man to not die for his country, you know?”
This was some twisted logic, but I guess he really hated the horses.
“I’ve been in the Middle East for the past few years. Then I got hit.” He pointed to his leg. “My appraisal is coming up. They’ll probably put me out to pasture.”
“You’ve done your bit,” Tony exclaimed. “You should be proud.”
“Well, I’m barely thirty with my life stretching ahead. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
“Hey, Cowboy!” Becky snorted. “I bus tables and do dishes for a living. You are born with all this, and you’re crying like a baby?”
She swung her arms around, turning in a wide circle, as if making her point.
“I know I’m luckier than most. But this was never meant to be mine.”
We waited for him to continue.
“My brother Jordan, he put a lot into this ranch. This whole dude ranch thing was his idea. He wanted to do weddings, for God’s sakes. And Pammie fanned the flames.”
Cam was getting riled up. That was just what I wanted.
“What’s wrong with the resort business? We’re having a good time here.”
“Too much work. And too much kissing ass. I’m not cut out for that.”
“And your brother was?” I probed.
“Oh, Jordan was a ninny. He never raised his voice at anyone, never lost his temper. The ranch hands took advantage of him. So did that young chit he was going to marry. She found her meal ticket all right.”
“You mean he was marrying a gold digger?” Becky asked. “Why do you rich people always think that? Maybe she was really in love.”
“Has your brother gone somewhere, mister?” Jeet asked.
He could look like a cherub when he wanted to.
“Yes. Up there!” Cam pointed to the sky. “He’s dead!”
We tried to act suitably surprised. We offered our apologies. And Cam drove us back for our hay wagon ride.
Chapter 9
The wagon ride was fun. It almost made me forget what we were there for. One of the wranglers gave us a brief spiel on how to handle the horses. Cam offered a ride on the gentlest mare.
“You can just ride in the corral. You don’t even have to go on the walking trail. One of the men will hold the bridles and lead your horse around.”
I was debating whether I wanted to risk life and limb to impress Cam. Tony and Jeet were jeering, calling me lame and some other not so nice names.
“Oh, oh!” Cam said under his breath.
We looked up to see Pamela striding toward us. She was walking fast, with a sense of purpose. Her cheeks were flaming and her mouth was set in a grim line.
“The dragon’s breathing fire!” Cam warned.
Pamela pointed a finger at me, a few feet before she reached us.
“You. Meera Patel! I thought your name sounded familiar.”
I acted innocent. I sensed we were about to be pushed out pretty soon.
“Hello Pamela! We’re having a wonderful time.” Becky gushed, trying to ease the tension.
“Yesterday, when you checked in, I was focused on getting you settled. I checked what you wrote in the book today.”
“And what did they write, sister?” Cam smiled.
He had thawed a bit toward us.
“You’re from Swan Creek.”
She stared at us. Apparently, being from Swan Creek said it all.
“So?” Tony asked.
“Swan Creek!” Pamela said meaningfully, turning to Cameron.
He had a light bulb moment and his mouth tightened.
“And that’s not all. I dug out an old newspaper. You’re the one that found our Jordan.”
Pamela sniffled and pointed her finger at Becky next.
“You and her! It’s all in the article.”
“Well, well, well …” Cam’s voice had twisted in a familiar snarl.
“Thought you’d snoop some on the grieving family, eh? How much are you making out of this. A few hundred? A thousand?”
“Nobody’s paying us, you idiot!” Becky burst out.
“I don’t care,” Pamela shrieked. “You are leaving. Now. Get your stuff and hand over your keys in the next 30 minutes.”
“Wait …” I called out. “What about lunch?”
Neither of the Harris siblings gave us a ride so we walked back to The Lodge. I drove the LX to our cabin and we packed up.
“Do you think we can just not leave?” Jeet asked.
He got his answer. There was a loud knocking on the door and Pamela stood on the porch, her hands folded.
“I’ll take your keys now,” she thrust out her hand.
We piled into the LX and hightailed it out of the Triple H. It was 1:30 and we were starving. But none of us dared to stay behind. I had spotted the shotgun in Pamela’s golf cart and no one wanted to argue with it.
“I’m starving!” Jeet complained as soon as we cleared the ranch property and merged onto the highway.
“We’ll stop at the next available place,” I promised.
All the activity had made us all hungry. We had healthy appetites on any day. The fresh air, the cold and the early start to the day made us all long for a hot meal.
Tony pointed to a sign for the country store we had stopped at earlier. It promised homestyle cooking. I pulled in and we were seated. The place was small but well kept. Wooden tables and chairs looked well worn but were gleaming with polish. Lemon polish by the scent of it.
An older woman came and asked us what we wanted.
“Will ya’ll have lunch, or just a snack?”
“Lunch,” we chorused.
“We got through our roast,” the woman apologized. “I can fix some chicken and dumplings for you.”
We nodded and the woman went inside. She came back with a basket of cheddar biscuits and steaming split pea soup.
“This should get you started,” she smiled.
The space was a bit drafty, without central heating. Luckily, our table was placed near a wood burning fireplace.
“What a waste!” Becky groaned. “Why couldn’t that Pammie have read the register a day later?”
“I was actually enjoying myself,” Tony admitted.
“We did learn something, though,” I pointed out.
“Like what?” Tony and Becky asked.
“Well…we confirmed Jordan was indeed a rancher. An innovative one at that. He had many ideas and a lot to look forward to.”
“He didn’t poison his own pie, you mean,” Jeet smirked as if pointing out the obvious.
“I don’t think we ever considered suicide an option,” I told him, “but you’re right. We can eliminate it for sure.”
“What else?” Tony asked.
“He must be well to do, with such a big ranch to his name.”
“We don’t know that he owned the ranch,” Becky pointed out. “Just that he put in a lot of work there.”
“Yeah, yeah!” I said irritably. “There were three siblings, at least three that we know of. Their father’s around and seemed pretty active. Jordan built this resort from the ground up. Pamela wants the resort. Cam, for some reason, doesn’t want it. We don’t know what he wants to do with the land, but he doesn’t like the horses.”
“That’s quite a bit of information, once you sum it up that way,” Tony agreed.
Becky’s eyes widened. “And Jessica! You remember that girl by the pond? I’m sure that was her. I wanted to tell you right then.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
“I’ve seen her many times, Meera,” Becky stressed. “Trust me.”
“So what’s she doing on the ranch?” I mused.
“Maybe she just misses the dead guy,” Jeet supplied.
We took a moment to think it
over and sobered. Maybe Jessica felt closer to Jordan at the ranch.
The lady brought out our food then and we tucked in. The drive back home was quiet. Tony drove and I dozed on and off, along with Jeet.
“What are you doing back so early?” Pappa demanded as we knocked on the front door.
Motee Ba’s car was missing and we figured she was out with her friends. Pappa had been taking his afternoon nap in front of the TV.
“We got bored and decided to get back,” I told him.
Pappa tapped his cane, muttering to himself. I heard the words ‘spoiled’ and ‘waste of money’ but I decided to ignore him. We couldn’t tell him the real reason we were back anyway.
Jeet locked himself in his room and we went into mine. Becky and I slid under the covers, trying to warm up and Tony sprawled on the chair in the corner.
“What do we do now?” I began.
“Did you find it odd that the ranch still took our reservation?” Tony asked.
I looked at him inquiringly.
“Well, it’s barely a week since they lost their son. Shouldn’t they be shut down? What are they doing, serving meals to people, entertaining them.”
Becky sat up straighter.
“And it wasn’t just us. There were those women too. I could get it if our booking was old and they were honoring it. But we called two days ago, remember?”
“Some people prefer to stay busy,” I said lamely. “Maybe that helps them deal with the grief.”
“Grief?” Becky smirked. “That Pamela wasn’t grieving at all. She called her father senile, remember?”
“What about that guy, hunh?” Tony asked. “He was too flippant.”
“Maybe they need the money. Some people don’t turn away paying customers.”
I tried to give them the benefit of doubt.
“A month after the fact, I can agree to all your arguments, Meera,” Tony said seriously. “But not in a week.”
“So do you think any of these could be involved?” I asked outright.
“My money’s on that Pamela. Shriveled up old prune.”
Becky had taken a dislike to the woman. That much was clear. Tony disagreed.
“I pick Cameron. He can probably use a gun, and very well. He seemed bitter.”
“But Jordan was supposedly poisoned,” I objected. “I don’t see a soldier using that as a weapon.”
“What about Jessica?” Becky reminded us. “Cameron called her a gold digger, remember?”
“What was she doing getting engaged anyway? Isn’t she too young?” I mused.
“She’s getting her doctorate. She’s the same age as us, Meera. Maybe older. People do get married in college, you know.”
There was a sudden silence as we all digested this.
Tony cleared his throat.
“It’s OK!” he held up his palm. “It’s bound to come up sometime or the other. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me.”
Tony’s marriage is a subject as painful as my mother. Probably more. These are the two things we avoid talking about at all costs.
I buried my head in my pillow. The maze was getting more twisted.
“Check this, Meera,” Tony said. “We have a list of people who were closely related to Jordan Harris. There may be more but this is a beginning.”
“Yeah,” Becky pointed on her fingers. “Old man Harris, Pamela, Cameron and Jessica. And that Norma woman we never saw.”
“Well, let’s not forget the ranch hands either,” I insisted. “Maybe one of them had a beef with Jordan. Maybe they argued over money, or had a falling out. There’s too many people on that ranch.”
“I agree,” Tony said. “But let’s concentrate on the people closest to him for now.”
“We really need to talk to Jessica,” I said.
“She may be at school tomorrow,” Becky said hopefully. “Or maybe she won’t be back until after the Thanksgiving break.”
“I’ll walk over there tomorrow and try to talk to her,” I offered.
“I can fill Sylvie and Jon in on what happened,” Becky added.
“Did you notice those two women?” I asked Tony.
“What women?” he spread his hands wide.
Tony hardly ever notices any girl above the age of 25.
“How old do you think Pamela must be?” Becky mused. “She looked old, didn’t she?”
I shrugged.
“Old and bitter,” Tony said. “I wonder if she’s one of the H in Triple H. Or if there’s another one.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, land generally passes to the son, or sons. It all depends on when the ranch was named.”
“You’re such a chauvinist,” I complained.
“It is what it is,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “All I’m sayin’ is, we don’t know.”
“Maybe Harris is her married name?” Becky speculated. “She could be a widow.”
I shut my eyes and lined up all their faces in my mind. Pamela had the same sharp aquiline nose of the old man. Her blue eyes were a bit cloudy, but they were the same shade as Cam’s.
“Nah!” I shook my head. “I think she’s a Harris by birth.”
Becky yawned and that set us all off. Tony and Becky left and I gave in to an afternoon nap.
I sat at the kitchen counter, sipping Chai with Motee Ba later that evening.
“Any progress?” she asked simply.
“Yes and No,” I said. “We know more than we did before.”
“That’s always good,” Motee Ba nodded sagely.
The phone rang and we suffered yet another setback. Sylvie was on the phone, sounding frantic. Motee Ba was trying to calm her down.
“They just sealed the diner,” she told me after she hung up.
She was slightly out of breath, and a few beads of perspiration mottled her brow.
“What do you mean, sealed? Who can do that?”
“The Health Department,” Motee Ba spat. “Or whatever they are called in Swan Creek.”
“But why?” I cried out.
“Someone reported rats. So now they are going to search the place for rodents and for any toxins lying about.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I was in shock.
I knew how troubled Jon and Sylvie already were. This was going to be worse.
“You need to step up your efforts, Meera,” Motee Ba pointed out the obvious.
Chapter 10
I spent most of Sunday sleeping and reading. That’s pretty much all you can do after gorging on Motee Ba’s mutton curry. It was the only bright spot in an otherwise dreary weekend. Motee Ba had invited Jon and Sylvie to come over, but they had opted out.
The campus was quiet, it being Thanksgiving week. Most locals head home, and others have flights out sometime in the week. The international students stay put, unless they receive an invite from some American they have befriended. Dead Week, that dreaded week before the exams was looming, and kids were huddled at tables all across the library. Last minute group study sessions, project reports and exams were being discussed.
I caught a break around 11 and walked over to the engineering building. I had done some digging around on the college network and found Jessica had office hours at this time. I located her office and knocked on the door. I half expected someone else to be subbing for her.
“Come in,” a voice called out softly.
I entered and came face to face with a young girl. I had never met her before so there was no way to tell if this was indeed Jessica.
The girl was about my age. Her face was scrubbed clean, devoid of makeup. There were purple patches under her eyes, which were slightly swollen. Judging by the pile of Kleenex on her desk, she’d been indulging in a sob session.
“Are you Jessica?” I asked.
She nodded.
“You were at the ranch earlier, right?”
I was glad she got to the point. I had no idea how I was going to explain my presence in her office.
> “Pamela’s still fuming. Why were you there anyway?”
I sat down.
“We just wanted to meet you and offer our condolences.”
“That’s bull.”
She was blunt even in her grief.
“It’s like this. I work at Sylvie’s, you know, the diner over on the highway?”
“I know the place,” Jessica said simply.
“Sylvie and Jon are like family. My friend Becky works there full time. I just play around with recipes.”
“What can I do for you?” Jessica asked with interest.
“People are talking. They are saying Sylvie’s pie killed your boyfriend. They’re losing business.”
Jessica had a faraway look in her eyes. I wondered if she had tuned me out. I cleared my throat, hoping to get her attention.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“I promised Sylvie I would help her.”
“Are you some kind of detective?” she asked curiously.
“Not really,” I blushed. “It’s like this. Earlier this year, I was trying to find a missing girl. Just by chance, I also solved a murder.”
Jessica sat up straighter.
“Are you the one who found Prudence Walker’s killer?”
I nodded.
“Sort of.”
“You must be good.”
I shrugged. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had stumbled upon the culprit last time while looking for a missing Indian girl. This time, I just wanted to clear Sylvie’s name.
“I just want to help Sylvie. And we figure the only way to do that is find out what really killed Jordan. Or who did.”
“You think the family’s involved?” Jessica asked cannily.
“I don’t know. I’m not saying they are. But talking to them seems like the first step.”
A tear rolled down Jessica’s face.
“He was a good man. My Jordan. He didn’t deserve this.”
I saw a window of opportunity.
“Would you be willing to help me?”
“Any way I can,” Jessica said eagerly. “Ask me anything. I’ll do my best to answer your questions. And I’ll tell you everything there is to know about Jordan Harris.”
“You realize I have to consider you a potential suspect too, right?” I asked. “It’s just part of the process.”
