“Lorina thought it was a leprechaun, too,” Morgan said. “A naked leprechaun. A customer who saw it had a more rational explanation. He thought it might be a domestic rabbit, except for the absence of long ears. And fur. When Ned saw it—”
“Wait. Who hasn’t seen it?” Kendall squinted as he stared across the dark pasture. “That is not a rabbit. I’d go out there, but it’s too dark.”
“Every time I try to snap a photo, it runs away.”
“Houdini doesn’t seem concerned,” Kendall said.
“Maybe he’s hoping to go partners on the pot of gold.”
“We need to catch it,” Kendall said. “A naked whatever it is will never survive the winter, if it manages to evade predators that long.”
“How do you catch a leprechaun?” Morgan asked.
“A trap.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t get to keep the pot of gold if you kill it.”
“Not a fur trapper’s type trap,” Kendall said. “I have two humane traps in the garage. I attempted relocating the raccoons that keep getting in the trash, but I never could catch them. What do you suggest for bait?”
“Peanut butter works for just about anything.”
“Let’s hope leprechauns like peanut butter, and give it a try.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Morgan drove down Hill Street to Bibi’s Bakery. Dishes drying in the rack in the apartment’s small kitchen seemed to confirm that Bernie had eaten dinner. Bernie had calmed down, Kendall had promised to run the shop and trap a leprechaun. Morgan’s relationship with Kurt was moving along nicely, and she was leaving in a few hours to meet her first grandbaby. All was right in the world.
As long as Morgan didn’t think about the Triceratops brow horn, or her dead neighbor.
On the drive to DIA Friday morning, Morgan told Kurt about the message from Eustace Day’s granddaughter.
“I don’t know what I can tell her,” Morgan said. “We haven’t learned anything new about the explosions.”
“If she was close to her grandfather,” Kurt said, “the entire scenario might not have shocked her. My guess is she just wants closure. Until we know how Eustace blew himself up—”
“Or was blown up,” Morgan interrupted.
“—none of this will be resolved.”
“I’ll try to call her while I’m in Sioux Falls.”
“You’re going to be busy,” Kurt said. “The mysterious demise of Eustace Day will be the furthest thing from your mind.”
“And you’ll be busy with your sons. Meanwhile, the trail goes stone cold. Unless his death has something to do with a Triceratops. And not just a brow horn.” Morgan told Kurt about finding the cigar box yesterday containing the certification for an entire dinosaur, and her running club friend Chuck’s information about Eustace Day and Uncle Caleb Yates’s feud.
“Interesting,” Kurt said. “Do you think the rest of the skeleton is at the rock shop?”
“While dinosaurs can be large, when they’re excavated they’re usually in bits and pieces. My uncle could have stashed it anywhere. If he even had it. The certificate may mean nothing.”
“If Eustace Day had the dinosaur, maybe that’s why he was killed. An entire Triceratops has to be worth a lot of money.”
“But my uncle had the papers. I doubt a person could sell it to a reputable dealer or museum without the certification.”
“Dr. Esteban might be able to steer us in the right direction,” Kurt said.
Morgan had taken a class that spring taught by Tony Esteban. He was conducting discrete surveys of her neighbor’s ranch in search of a rare gemstone, but so far had turned up nothing but quartz crystals and mediocre topaz.
“He’s a geologist, not a paleontologist,” Morgan said. “But he might know someone from the university who could look at the certification, and tell us if that’s real.”
“Leave that to me. Maybe I can dig up some info before you return.”
Morgan explained where she had hidden the cigar box in the shop office.
“But I don’t see how you’ll have the time,” Morgan said. “Between your campaign, visiting with your boys, and running a newspaper, you’ll be busier than me. I’m almost going on vacation. So do you have any plans?”
Kurt verbally listed potential activities. Target shooting, horseback riding, ATVing, hiking, canoeing, camping, gold panning, and more.
“It sounds like the greatest Boy Scout camp ever,” Morgan said. “Are you sure you can fit all that in?”
“I’m going to try. They’ll both be going to college this fall. I’ll see less and less of them.”
Morgan couldn’t disagree with that.
“The boys are nineteen,” Morgan said. “They might have different ideas about how to spend their summer vacation than panning for gold with their father.”
“Good point. I need to be cautious not to treat the boys like children.”
“What about driving?” Morgan asked.
“They have their driver’s licenses,” Kurt said. “It would certainly be safer driving here than in LA. So yes, that’s an option, although it’s not at the top of my list.”
“But it might be on theirs. What will they drive? You don’t have another vehicle.”
Kurt’s normally ruddy cheeks went pale as he seemed to contemplate the idea of teenage boys driving his vintage Plymouth.
“Maybe we could pick up a beater. The car only needs to last a few weeks.”
“Just be prepared to play some of this by ear,” Morgan said. “Teenagers can be opinionated.”
* * *
The flight from LAX arrived before Morgan’s flight to South Dakota. She fidgeted as she waited with Kurt.
“I’m not sure this is the right time to meet your sons,” she said. “I’ll have to head to my gate almost as soon as they arrive.”
“It’s important to me that they meet you,” Kurt said. “The week you’re gone will give them time to adjust to the idea that I have someone in my life.”
Or fume, Morgan thought. Teenagers were unpredictable, but she was pretty sure most didn’t appreciate the intrusion of a love interest in their parents’ lives.
For having spoken with such confidence, Kurt seemed nervous. He stood, paced to the window, then sat again, in endless repetition until the boys’ plane touched down. Morgan settled in for a long wait as the plane unloaded, but they must have flown first class.
“There they are!”
Morgan had seen their photos, so it was easy to pick them out of the crowd. Two handsome young men walked with their shoulders touching. One was taller than the other by half a foot. His build was athletic, if the sport was tennis or track. Morgan recalled his name was Jase. The shorter boy with broad shoulders like Kurt had to be his biological son, Burke. Morgan could imagine him wearing a football jersey. Jase’s blond hair formed a flat-topped Afro tower, adding a foot to his height. The dye job was obvious, and probably matched his movie star father’s hair color. Burke’s tightly braided dark hair trailed in swirls and lightning bolts across his scalp, the ends gathered in a thick ponytail.
They tilted their heads toward each other and whispered.
As Kurt approached they parted, declaring “Bam!” at the same moment.
Between and slightly behind them a woman posed, her arms open wide and her posture mimicking that of a game show hostess displaying a prize. That prize was apparently her.
Kurt’s smile melted into shock. Zulina Jones could have stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine, with professionally styled hair poofed into fanciful loose curls, and manicured nails painted the same tangerine as her tailored silk suit. A scarf that seemed to have a life of its own draped around her neck, accenting flawless ebony skin. She might have been ten pounds overweight, but it had gone to all the right places. Her designer stiletto sandal
s, also tangerine, brought her to the same height as Burke.
She minced across the airport carpeting toward Kurt. Morgan tried not to frown as the woman gave Kurt a busty embrace. The boys betrayed their youth in their excitement.
“Mom wanted to surprise you,” Burke said.
“I almost spilled the secret on the phone last week,” Jase said.
A few minutes of excited conversation went on, during which each boy glanced at Morgan more than once. They probably wondered who the strange woman was who was eavesdropping on their private reunion.
“It was nice of you to drop off the boys,” Kurt said, “but they’re more than old enough to travel alone.”
“I’m not just dropping them off,” Zulina said.
Her expression anticipated a joyful reaction, but Morgan noticed Kurt’s face going as pale as it had when contemplating teenagers driving his vintage automobile.
“Oh?” The one word sounded strained.
“I’m on hiatus,” Zulina said.
“The show was cancelled,” Jase said.
She waved a dismissive hand. “I expect a call any moment to work on Marshall’s next film.” She released the handle of her carryon bag and stepped away with the conviction that someone would snatch it for her. “What are we waiting for? I’m ready for some serious R&R in that little hamlet you call home.”
Kurt glanced at Morgan. She couldn’t read the emotion behind his expression. Other than turmoil.
“I want you to meet my friend Morgan.”
Three pairs of eyes turned on her, scrutinizing her with the expertness of people involved in the entertainment industry. Morgan felt frumpy in her department store attire of black slacks and a polyester print blouse.
“Hello,” Morgan said.
She extended her hand, which no doubt felt rough as pine bark against Zulina’s moisturized and delicately soft palm. Instead of tangerine-painted nails, Morgan had a rancher and rock hound’s blunt manicure.
“Ah.” Zulina looked from Morgan to Kurt and back again. “I see.”
Morgan could have sworn the woman looked down her nose at her. But maybe it just seemed that way because the stilettos gave Zulina a dramatic height advantage. When Zulina faced Kurt again, she managed to turn her back to Morgan, effectively shutting her out.
The boys were more polite, each shaking hands with Morgan and murmuring social platitudes. The discomfort was palpable.
“Well, let’s be off, shall we?” Zulina said.
“I’m sitting with Morgan until her flight arrives,” Kurt said.
Zulina raised one sculpted eyebrow. “I hope you don’t expect us to wait around the airport all day.”
“If you need to leave immediately,” Kurt said, his cheeks flushing a dangerous shade of red, “you can take a taxi to Golden Springs. It will cost over a hundred dollars.”
“Jeez, Mom,” Burke said, “we can stand to wait a few minutes. Besides, it’ll take that long to get your luggage from the baggage claim.”
Luggage? Had Zulina planned an extended stay in Golden Springs?
“How long am I expected to wait?” Zulina asked, her tone heavy with impatience. “Ten minutes? An hour? All day?”
“My flight leaves in forty minutes,” Morgan said, inserting herself into the discussion, “but I’ll have to head for security in fifteen. You never know how long—”
“I’ll be in the lounge,” Zulina said, cutting Morgan off. “The boys will come with me.”
Kurt reached for Morgan’s hand as Burke and Jase followed their mother.
“Fine,” he said to empty space. “I’ll meet you there.”
Morgan felt ridiculously happy to have Kurt holding her hand as they walked away from his glamorous ex-wife. The possessiveness of the gesture was just what her frayed ego needed.
“No warning?” Morgan asked.
“None.”
She believed Kurt. He looked shell-shocked.
“She’s never done anything like this before?” Morgan asked.
“When we first separated, and I was still living in California, she would show up for the occasional weekend. After a few days, she would get bored and head back to hob-nob with the Hollywood elite, hoping for a role in front of the cameras instead of behind the scenes. I can’t imagine why she decided to come with the boys this time.”
This time, Kurt’s ex had competition. However, Zulina not only knew her competition, she knew the competition was heading out of state, leaving Kurt vulnerable for a hostile takeover. Morgan wished she could change her plans.
“I’d better go.” Morgan stood. “Thanks for the ride.”
“I’ll be back to pick you up next Saturday,” Kurt said.
They hugged.
“I miss you already,” Morgan said into his shoulder.
Kurt held her at arm’s length. “You won’t think of me once after your grandbaby arrives.”
“And you’ll be busy with your sons.” Morgan held back the concern that he might be busy with his ex-wife, too.
She hustled through the security screening with the usual lack of grace. As she sat at her gate, jealousy rose like a bad case of heartburn. Her brother’s abrupt return from the Central American jungle had caused Morgan to cancel plans for a romantic weekend with Kurt at a bed and breakfast. Physical intimacy could not be relied upon to cement a relationship, and Morgan admired Bernie and Rolf’s resolve to save bedroom activity for their wedding night. Still, she regretted not staking her claim more firmly to Kurt’s affection. The proximity of a woman with whom Kurt had been intimate—while Morgan was nearly a thousand miles away—might be too much to resist.
As Morgan’s flight began boarding, she took sour comfort in one fact. If anything happened between Kurt and Zulina, Beatrice was sure to catch wind of it, and let Morgan know all the juicy details. Along with the rest of the population of Golden Springs.
When they had dined at the Hot Tomato, Kurt had insisted he had left his past behind. That was before his past walked off a plane and back into his life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
David picked her up at the Sioux Falls airport in a battered pickup truck that had belonged to her late husband Sam. Her son seemed unusually attached to the truck, perhaps as a remembrance of his father. But then, being a full time college student and summer-time construction worker didn’t leave much money for new trucks.
“We’re going straight to the hospital,” David said.
“Is Sarah okay?”
“She might be having the baby.”
David drove down Minnesota Avenue to the hospital on 18th Street. The trip was short, but Morgan had time to study her son as he stared out the windshield. He had gotten his brown eyes and dark, curly hair from Morgan, but there the resemblance ended. At age twenty-two, David was the image of a younger Sam, and what Morgan thought of as ruggedly handsome. His Minnesota Vikings T-shirt revealed arms solidly muscled from working construction, and his skin was deeply tanned. Morgan would have to remind him to use more sunscreen.
The closer they came to the hospital, the faster and more uncomfortably Morgan’s heart beat. She would be no help at all if she landed in a hospital bed. She attempted to calm herself.
The attendant at the information desk directed them to a waiting room. After exchanging hugs and greetings with her son-in-law Russ’s mother and aunt, they made awkward small talk to mask their mutual worry. Morgan felt out of the loop despite her many phone conversations with Sarah. Rosemarie Hemstad was happy to fill in the details. She was the sort of woman to whom taking charge came naturally.
David managed to nod off while seated in a boxy cushioned chair. An hour and a half passed before Russ entered the waiting room, looking haggard.
“False alarm,” he said. “I’m sorry, everyone.”
His mother leapt up from her seat to hug him. “
Don’t be sorry, Russ. Be glad she carried the baby full term.”
Sarah had not been in serious danger of losing the baby, to Morgan’s knowledge, but the pregnancy had not been entirely routine. When Sarah came into the room with her doctor, Morgan was shocked by how worn down she looked. Her blond hair sagged in a tangled ponytail. Dark smudges underlined her bloodshot eyes. Sarah had an athletic build. Pregnancy made her appear out of proportion, too thin to carry the load of a full term baby.
Doctor Gunther, a petite blond wearing oversized glasses, patiently explained why she was not admitting Sarah to the maternity ward just yet.
“Everything is going fine,” she said. “Sarah will be more comfortable at home for the next day or two—”
Sarah burst into tears. Several minutes passed while Morgan, Rosemarie, and Doctor Gunther tried to soothe Sarah. The doctor recommended ways to safely encourage the baby to get a move on.
“A soak in a warm bath does sound good,” red-eyed Sarah said.
When the doctor left, Rosemarie turned her attention from her daughter-in-law to her son.
“Have you eaten?” Rosemarie asked Russ. “And I mean recently, like sometime today.”
Russ didn’t answer. He looked like he couldn’t remember. The young man whose size and confidence made him seem capable of carrying the world on his broad shoulders appeared exhausted nearly to the point of tears.
“Why don’t you boys come with me and we’ll have an early dinner,” Rosemarie said. “Morgan, there are plenty of casseroles and what not in the fridge at their house.” She touched Sarah’s arm. “Unless you want to come to dinner with us?”
Sarah shook her head.
“I can’t leave Sarah,” Russ said.
“I’ll take her home,” Morgan said. “Go enjoy dinner with your mother.”
Russ looked reluctant, and Sarah seemed delicate enough to shatter into sobs again.
“It’s okay, honey,” Sarah said. “The doctor said it could be days.”
“You’re sure?” Russ looked from Sarah to Morgan.
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