Amanda looked to her right. All she saw was a very long, two-lane back road surrounded in places by thick woods and open fields in turn. She looked to her left and saw more of the same. “You're not upset with me, are you, love?”
Sarah wanted to be upset with Amanda for suggesting they get off the main road for a little sight-seeing adventure. But Sarah sighed, remembering that she had agreed to it and even supported the idea. After all, it was only Sunday and there was plenty of time to spare before her appointment with Mrs. Samton. Besides, she needed a long, open road to think on. “No, I’m not mad at you, June Bug. I agreed to leave Alaska early and drive to Los Angeles instead of flying.”
“I know, love, but it was my idea to have a road trip, just us girls,” Amanda replied guiltily. “We could be in Los Angeles right now, resting our tired feet in a luxurious suite and distracting our worried minds with delicious room service.”
Sarah looked at Amanda. Amanda's face was wrinkled with worry and guilt. “Oh, come now,” she said and patted Amanda's hand, “we can't let a little flat tire stop our road trip, can we? Besides, we know we're in Oregon, so we're not really lost, are we?”
“Well...yes,” Amanda agreed and gave Sarah a grateful smile.
“I admit that this little detour does have me worried,” Sarah continued. “But my worry is irrational. I'm anxious to reach Los Angeles, June Bug, that's all.” Sarah raised her eyes to the western sky. “I'm anxious to see Rebecca.”
“I can tell,” Amanda told Sarah in a caring voice. “I guess my nerves would be a bit frazzled if I was meeting with someone from a big movie studio. Do you have any guesses who it is?
Sarah bit her lip, reluctant to say the next part. “I didn’t at first. But Rebecca called me back with some…other news, and told me the studio name. J&P Brothers.”
“J&P Brothers is a famous studio!” Amanda’s eyes went wide with surprise. But she could see that her friend was not excited. It was clear that a sharp splinter was sticking into her friend’s heart. “Okay, spill the beans. I wasn't going to say a word, but look at you. You were okay up until this morning’s phone call from Rebecca. But you've been on edge ever since then. That's why I suggested this little detour, love. Not to cause trouble, but to help. I was worried about you and thought seeing a bit of lovely countryside might calm your nerves.”
Sarah glanced down the deserted road. There wasn't a car in sight. “I know you care,” Sarah promised Amanda and studied the landscape. “We may have to see some of this lovely countryside on foot.”
“We'll do more sightseeing a minute. Start talking,” Amanda ordered Sarah. “What did Rebecca say that has your nerves walking on a high wire, love?”
Sarah focused her attention on the front right tire. It was flatter than a pancake ran over by a steamroller. “I have a spare but can't find the jack...real smart, huh?”
“We'll talk about the jack later. Talk,” Amanda demanded. She reached out and took Sarah's hand. “Love, what's eating at you? What did Rebecca tell you?”
Sarah stared into Amanda's concerned eyes. Amanda wasn't going to back away. She dipped her head, drew in a deep breath, and said: “June Bug, a few years ago there was a murder at J&P Brothers studios. A young stuntman was found dead on a deserted back lot.” Sarah looked in the jeep’s window to check on Mittens. Mittens was sound asleep. “Jacob and Phillip Portland, the two brothers who own the studio...” Sarah paused and went silent.
“Don't leave me hanging,” Amanda begged. “Keep talking, girl.”
Sarah closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw the shadowy, deserted backlot filled with old buildings and dusty props, with the echoes of forgotten voices roaming on the wings of dry memories, never to be seen again. “Jacob and Phillip Portland became hostile toward the investigation,” Sarah finally continued. “The movie the stuntman was working was in trouble. The production cost was skyrocketing, the director had been fired and replaced, the main female actor was threatening to quit, and to make matters worse, the film wasn't poised to do well in the theaters. As a matter of fact, the film was predicted to be a complete flop. And the murder investigation threatened to hold the whole production up, for months. Because so much money had already been invested, Jacob and Phillip Portland were bound to replace some of the money they invested into the film, no matter how little.”
“Some is better than none, huh, love?”
“Better a seventy-percent loss than a ninety-percent loss,” Sarah explained and rubbed her shoulder. “In the end, Jacob and Phillip Portland finally pulled the plug on the movie and accepted their losses after the press had a field day over the murder.”
“A murder you were in charge of solving,” Amanda guessed.
Sarah nodded. “A murder I never solved,” she confessed. “The stuntman was strangled to death. No witnesses. No fingerprints. No weapon. No nothing. It was a clean murder.” Sarah cast her mind back. “I chased down every possible lead I could find but I kept firing blanks.” Sarah shook her head in disgust. “It seemed that Jacob and Phillip Portland ordered anyone who cared to be in show business to put a lock on their tongues. Eventually, I had to toss the case into the cold files and leave it alone.”
“And now the same studio that caused a stain on your career wants to buy your books,” Amanda said.
“The Portland Brothers must realize by now that the books they're about to turn into movies are written by the same detective who hounded their people over the death of an innocent man. Oh, I should have forced Rebecca to tell me which studio was wanting to buy my books when she first called me. I would have never dreamed a studio like J&P Brothers...” Sarah rubbed her eyes again. “Talk about irony. I'm selling books about murder to a studio that still has an unsolved murder on its hands.”
Amanda wasn't sure what to say. She saw the irony in the situation, but she also saw a deep worry in her friend. “Love, are you thinking…that the involvement of J&P Brothers is not a coincidence? That you're being lured back to Los Angeles as a ruse?”
“You read my mind well, June Bug,” Sarah told Amanda. “My gut knows that Jacob and Phillip Portland would burn a piece of paper with my name on it if they found it, never mind my books. I'm anxious to get to Los Angeles and get to the bottom of this mystery.”
“Do you think…Jacob and Phillip Portland might try and...kill you?” Amanda asked, her face clouded with worry.
Sarah looked up at the sky. “No,” she answered honestly. “The Portlands are businessmen, not killers. But something isn't right in Tinsel Town, June Bug, if they were able to silence those witnesses. My gut is telling me I'm being lured back into town under false pretenses.”
“So...does this mean you're not going to be a spoiled millionaire?”
Sarah hesitated to answer. She had been so excited at the idea of a studio buying her books. But now her excitement was replaced by worry and anxiety. “Right now, all I want to do is get to the bottom of this. Could it be there is absolutely nothing suspicious? Maybe. Then again, it could be that the file on this cold case has been reopened without me knowing, and that’s why they’re looking for me.” Sarah looked up and down the road, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “I thought getting off the main road would help me clear my mind. But being stranded like this is only making my mind work overtime.”
“It is kinda spooky out here, isn't it? I keep expecting to see some horrible creature walk out of the woods, or some hitch hiker wearing a creepy clown mask,” Amanda shivered. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and glanced around. “Can’t you just picture creepy banjos out in these Oregon woods? You don't think there's crazy people out here, do you? I mean, the last town we passed was a mere speck in the road...and that was a good ten miles back down the road, love.” Amanda tilted her head north.
“I'm going to go crazy if you don't stop filling my mind with images of scary clowns and whatnot,” Sarah fussed. “June Bug, this is Oregon. We're not being stalked by a bunch of crazy hillbillies playing banjos.�
�
Amanda wasn't so sure. But before she could state her opinion she heard a sound in the distance. She popped forward, threw her hands to her eyes, and peered north and spotted an approaching truck. “Please don't be a crazy hillbilly clown...please don't be a crazy hillbilly clown….oh, please don't be a crazy hillbilly clown playing a banjo.”
Sarah rolled her eyes and began waving her arms in the air. A minute later a blue truck pulled up to Sarah. An older black man stuck his head out of the driver's side window. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked in a tired, patient voice.
“A flat tire,” Sarah said and pointed at her jeep. “I have a spare but no jack.”
The old man frowned as if not having a jack was a philosophical problem they agreed on. “Ain't got a jack myself, either. Ain’t had a flat in over twenty years, though,” he chuckled. “So now I don't see no sense in carrying one around every place I go.”
Amanda looked at Sarah with worried eyes. “We can't get any cell phone reception out here, sir. Can you give us a lift into town?” she asked.
The old man chuckled again. “I can, but it won't do you no good. Old John will be closed up by now at the garage, he’ll be home eating his supper with Paula, his wife of...oh, I'd say... about forty years now, give or take a year. Paula sure can cook up a good chili but can't bake a cake to save her life. Shame, too.”
“Is there any twenty-four-hour towing assistance nearby?” Sarah asked in a calm voice. She knew becoming upset wouldn't do any good.
“Young lady, this here land you’re driving through surrounds the little town of Prate. Prate sits way off on its own, too. Ain't another town in twenty miles of here. Interstate is a good ways off, too. So, ain't likely you're going to get a tow truck this far out, especially with it getting to supper time.”
“My insurance covers twenty-four roadside assistance,” Sarah explained. “If I could just use your phone on the way into town, I could call—”
“Ain't got no phone,” the old man said apologetically, “and I ain't going into town. I'm heading home for my supper and a nice sit on the front porch.”
Amanda gave Sarah a desperate look. “We're stuck, then,” she said and threw her arms up in the air. “We'll just have to wait and see if another person comes by.”
“Ain't likely,” the old man told Amanda, peering out the window at her in the twilight. “This here is the old farm road. Not many folks live off this road. Those who do have enough sense to be home eating supper by now.”
“Then we're walking into town,” Sarah told the old man and offered him a gentle smile. “I have to be in Los Angeles by Wednesday, sir. I don't have time to wait. I'll put my legs to good use. Thank you for stopping.”
The old man stared at Sarah. He could tell by her eyes that as soon as he pulled off she would take off for town on foot. “It'll be mighty dark by the time you get into town,” he pointed out, troubled. “Town will be closed, too. The only payphone in town is outside the grocery store.”
Amanda was crestfallen. She looked at the man despondently and her eyes were caught by a small, carved wooden cross hanging from the truck’s rearview mirror. The old man saw her glance just then. He rubbed his chin, looked at Amanda and saw the gleam of hope in her eye, and then he rubbed his chin again. “Ain't right to leave two ladies stranded. No sir. If I did, my momma would tan my hide...if she could come down from heaven, that is.”
Sarah felt hope rise in her chest. “Then you'll give us a ride into town?”
The old man hesitated and then slowly rubbed his head. “I reckon my supper is going to be late tonight,” he said and tossed a thumb at the front seat. “You ladies crawl on in and I'll get my old truck turned around.”
“Oh, thank you,” Amanda erupted joyfully. She ran over to the old man, hugged his neck, and then kissed his cheek. “You're my hero!”
The old man blushed. “Ain't had a pretty lady kiss my cheek in years.”
Sarah smiled and quickly woke Mittens. “Come on girl, we have a ride.”
The old man spotted Sarah gather the sleepy husky pup into her arms. “My, my,” he said, “looks like we’re going to have a full truck tonight.”
Sarah quickly locked up her jeep and climbed into the front seat of the truck beside Amanda, with Mittens in her arms. The man’s face lit up with a warm smile, turned his truck around, and got it moving back toward town. The puppy looked at the old man and wagged its tail happily, as if it felt goodness in him and his old but sturdy truck. But Sarah couldn’t help but feel like a bad storm might await them in town.
Chapter Two
“Name is Nate, by the way. Nate Ringgold.”
Sarah leaned forward and glanced past Amanda at Nate. The old man has his left elbow stuck out of the driver's window and his left hand on the worn curve of the steering wheel. He was smiling, enjoying the late spring evening air that softly blew across his wrinkled face. It struck Sarah that Nate was at peace—at peace with himself, the world, and most important, judging from the cross hanging in his truck: the Lord. Nate didn't have a care in the world – except being late for supper, that is. Sarah felt an instant warmth and affection toward Nate and relaxed in the loving feeling peeking up from the ground in her heart and reaching for life. “I'm Sarah. This is my best friend Amanda. And the puppy is Mittens.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Nate smiled. However, behind his smile, his mind was mighty bothered. Something in Sarah's eyes was sure worrisome. Of course, Nate knew enough to never bother with other folks' business; that's another lesson his momma taught him. But Nate couldn't help but wonder what was bothering the pretty woman holding the little puppy. And what about her friend? The other pretty woman spoke like she was kin to King Edward or Henry or whoever might have been king of England back in the old days. The woman with the English accent had worry floating around in her eyes, too. Nate kept his smile up while his eyes checked the rearview mirror again.
Sarah read Nate's eyes. “No one is chasing us, Mr. Ringgold,” she said in a gentle tone.
Nate let out a chuckle. “You're good at reading old men,” he told Sarah. “Man can't help to wonder what you two ladies are doing way out here on this old farm road looking like two worried cats about to step into a room full of rocking chairs.”
“We took a little sightseeing tour,” Amanda jumped in before Sarah could speak. “I thought seeing some lovely countryside instead of a lousy highway might do us some good. I...kinda got us lost, you see. And then we got a flat.”
“Ain’t no flat on a strange road can make two people worry the way you are,” Nate said and eased off his smile. “Old Nate has been around for seventy-eight years. He ain't no fool.”
Sarah pulled Mittens to her chest and let the evening air blow in her hair. “Mr. Ringgold—”
“Call me Nate.”
Sarah looked down into the puppy’s sleepy face. Mittens raised her eyes and yawned. “Nate, I'm a retired detective from Los Angeles. I moved to Alaska to begin living a quiet life after my husband…divorced me. Long story short—”
“Long story short, my friend has been called back to Los Angeles because a major studio wants to buy her books and turn them into movies,” Amanda blurted out.
“Oh, Amanda,” Sarah moaned.
“Well, I'm proud that you're a successful writer, love. It makes my heart sad that you hide behind a pen name instead of letting the world know who you are. But I understand why, and—” Amanda paused as she realized she had put her foot square in her mouth. “And I just blabbed to a stranger who you are. Oh, love, I'm so sorry.”
Sarah patted Amanda's arm. “I know you care. And I doubt this stranger will try and track me down one day.”
Nate pulled the conversation into his mind and chewed on it. “Being a cop must mean you made a lot of enemies,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Sarah replied in a respectful tone. “That's why I write under a pen name.”
“Good enough for me,” Nate said and cleared the fog out of
the air only to bring in a rain cloud. “Seems like you got yourself some good news, but Old Nate don't see happiness in your eyes.”
Sarah stared at the open fields rolling past her on the right. The countryside was beautiful, calm and sleepy. Unfortunately, her troubled heart refused to be settled by the tranquility before her. I'm being set up, Sarah thought to herself and scratched Mitten's ears for comfort. “I think there might be...” Sarah paused and bit down on her lip, looking at Amanda for help.
“We think there's a trap waiting for us in Los Angeles and this whole buying-the-book deal is a scam. Or it’s the cheese to draw the mouse to the trap,” Amanda finished for Sarah.
“Is that right?” Nate asked and shook his head. “Someone down there in the big city still got a grudge against you, huh?”
Sarah was a little surprised at Nate's calm tone but not surprised in the least at his sharp mind. “Could be that way, yes,” she confessed. “I'm anxious to get to Los Angeles by Wednesday. I plan to arrive at the meeting location a little early and stake out the scene.”
“Smart woman,” Nate said and flicked on the headlights with his left hand. A set of dim but reliable headlights tossed out two beams of light into the air. Then he glanced into the rearview mirror again. He spotted a pair of headlights racing down the road. “Well now, seems like we have some company.”
Sarah spun around in her seat and spotted the headlights. Her stomach sank. “Take Mittens,” Sarah told Amanda. Amanda quickly took Mittens and watched Sarah retrieved her gun. “Nate, speed up,” she said.
Nate looked over at Sarah, saw her check the gun in her hand, and nodded. “Old Nate never did like breaking the speed limit, but he sure will now,” he said and stomped on the gas pedal. The truck roared forward.
“Maybe it’s just a bunch of teenagers out for a night ride?” Amanda said as her stomach tensed. “I mean, who in the world knows where we are, love?”
Chasing Shadows Page 2
