Stone Cold Blooded

by Catherine Dilts

  Her long tunic and ankle-length skirt looked slept in, if the bed had been inside a Dumpster. The long black braid hanging down her back was a frizzy mess.

  “Have you seen Ned?” She kneaded her hands together.

  “Not today,” Morgan said. “But I haven’t been to work yet. He could be at the shop.”

  “Can you check, please?” Gypsy asked.

  “Ned came to the van late last night,” Sly said. “He told us he was going to be back before midnight. But he never showed up. That’s not like Ned.”

  Morgan remembered the panic she had felt the rare times David or Sarah had disappeared without informing her or Sam of their whereabouts. Ned’s parents might not be the most attentive, but they were clearly on the verge of hysteria now.

  “If he’s not at the shop, does he have friends he might have stayed with?”

  Sly shook his shaggy red hair. “Not that I know of. We’ve been searching the park. We’ve got everyone looking. We don’t have a phone. If you can call people, we’d really appreciate it.”

  They scorned technology, but were more than happy to take advantage of someone else’s electronics.

  “Please,” Ned’s mother said. “He— Ned’s all we have.” She erupted in tears, sobbing into Sly’s shoulder.

  “We’re really worried,” Sly said. “Especially after his grandfather was almost murdered last night.”

  * * *

  Morgan could tell it took every ounce of Kurt’s self-control to resist grilling Sly about the smoke-in, and whether it had been staged to support or destroy Kurt’s campaign for City Council. He managed to hold back. Partly, Morgan suspected, because Sly might reciprocate with his father’s accusation of Kurt for last night’s assault.

  After calling Kendall to confirm that Ned wasn’t at the rock shop, Morgan and Kurt accompanied Sly and Gypsy to the police station to report their missing child. Remembering how she could hear every word of Kurt’s recent interview, Morgan hoped to wait quietly in front of the deputy’s desk.

  “Deputy Parker,” Sharp said, “why don’t you take a couple chairs outside for these two folks?”

  Darn.

  “I need to finish packing for the mineral show,” Morgan said. “Don’t bother getting a chair for me.”

  “And I’ve got a newspaper to run,” Kurt said.

  They walked outside the cool, dim City Hall into bright sun. Morgan squinted. Two park hippies sat on the wide stone steps. They jumped up when they saw Morgan and Kurt.

  “What’s happening?” A sprite of a woman wearing a child-sized sundress clung to Morgan’s hand. She looked barely old enough to buy the marijuana scenting her paisley dress and tangled brown hair. “Did they find Ned? There’s nothing wrong, I hope?”

  “Ned’s parents are reporting their missing son to the police,” Kurt said. “There’s no news yet.”

  “When was the last time you saw Ned?” Morgan asked.

  Kurt pulled out his notepad and pencil and began jotting notes.

  “He was getting out of a late model truck,” the sprite said. “An older man with a bushy gray mustache dropped him off at the park. Ned helped me carry my groceries from the convenience store to camp. I had three bags, and they were heavy because there was a sale on vegetarian baked beans. Camping just isn’t the same without baked beans. Roasted marshmallows, too, but I don’t buy them at the convenience store because I’m vegan, and they only carry vegan marshmallows at the health food store. Ned carried the heavy bags. He is always so helpful.”

  Morgan glanced at Kurt. The flood of details was overwhelming.

  “So Ned was in camp,” Kurt said. “About what time?”

  “Seven?” the sprite said. “Seven thirty? I fixed dinner for myself, and whoever else was hungry. That’s the way we are in this camp.”

  Ned had dinner at the rock shop, but Morgan knew teenagers could have prodigious appetites. “Did he have dinner with you?”

  “No. I invited him to break bread with the rest of us, but he went to his parents’ van.”

  “He didn’t stay,” Morgan said.

  “Obviously.” The other hippie managed to get a word in. His T-shirt displayed a larger than life marijuana leaf. “Or else the little dude wouldn’t be missing now.”

  “Did you see Ned leave the park?” Kurt asked.

  “The last time I saw Ned, he was walking away from the campfire.” A little sob caught in the sprite’s throat. “Then late last night, or maybe it was early this morning, Gypsy came to my tent and asked me if I’d seen Ned. I suggested they go to the pay phone and call Ned’s grandfather. He talked about his grandfather all the time, so naturally I thought he might have gone there. But Sly told me Ned’s grandfather fell down the stairs. I hope he didn’t break his hip. Old people go downhill fast after an accident like that.”

  Erwin Sylvester was in his late fifties. Hardly prime years for broken hips.

  “Sly and his father didn’t get along,” the hippie guy said. “I hope Sly didn’t give the old dude a push.”

  “Do you think he would?” Morgan asked.

  “No!” the sprite said. “Absolutely not. Sly believes in peace and harmony.”

  The guy shrugged. “Anyone can snap, you know?”

  “Have you talked to the police?” Kurt asked.

  The hippie guy took a step back, as though preparing to flee.

  “No way, man. I’m not gonna turn a brother into The Man.”

  Kurt shook his head. “It’s time for a shift in your paradigm. You’ve got nothing to fear from the police, if all you’re doing is smoking weed.”

  “I don’t know, man,” the guy said. “People don’t like us much. The cops are probably looking for any excuse to put us down.”

  “All the more reason to help Ned by telling the police what you know,” Kurt said. “Think of it as good PR for your cause.”

  The sprite nodded. “And even if he’s wrong,” she said, handily dismissing Kurt’s premise, “we can’t think of ourselves at a time like this. We need to make the sacrifice for Ned.”

  As Kurt herded the two hippies up the steps of City Hall, he turned to Morgan.

  “I can handle this. You need to leave soon.”

  “Kurt, I can’t go to the mineral show with Ned missing.”

  “He’s probably just upset about his grandfather,” the sprite said. “Ned will be back.”

  “The little dude handles his grief in private,” the hippie guy said. “None of that ‘you gotta feel my pain’ teen angst stuff.”

  “They’re right, Morgan. Ned is an independent kid. He’ll turn up. You’ve been planning to attend this show for months. You need to go.”

  Once again, everything seemed to have gone crazy right before Morgan was scheduled to leave town.

  * * *

  “I’m having second thoughts,” Morgan told Cindy. “This isn’t a good time for me to leave.”

  “It’s never a good time.” Cindy lifted another tub into the rented trailer. “But you paid for your booth, and there’s no refund this close to the show. If we’re going to get our booth set up before eight tonight, we need to head to Denver pronto.”

  She could trust David to take care of the donkeys. He looked forward to male bonding with his uncle Kendall and Del. The Rock of Ages would get by, as it always did, whether Morgan was there or not.

  After the trailer was packed and hitched to David’s truck, it took an hour to load people, car seats, and luggage into vehicles. Riding with her were Allie, Marissa, baby Hezekiah, and Burke, who would keep David company on the drive back to Golden Springs.

  The send off party included Herb and the three Lyons’s kids who wouldn’t be going to the show with Cindy. David barely had time to clean up after work before gathering around the truck with his passengers. He insisted on driving his precious truck, towin
g the trailer to Denver while Cindy navigated. Nine-year-old Matthew and eight-year-old Ruth tucked into fold down jumpseats in the extended cab.

  Kurt pulled up with Jase. The newspaperman wore his heavy leather coat and fedora in the blistering heat. While his sons caught each other up on their adventures, Kurt placed a hand on Morgan’s elbow and steered her away from the Buick.

  “It took forever to gather the troops,” Morgan said. “If I wander off, they’re liable to scatter like a flock of startled pigeons.”

  “Let’s check Adelaide,” Kurt said.

  “She’s fine,” Morgan said. “I already said goodbye.”

  “Are you sure?” Kurt headed for the barn. “Maybe you should check again.”

  Morgan suspected Kurt wanted a private moment before she left for the week. His timing was off. They had a deadline for setting up their table. Morgan dug in her heels.

  “I don’t have time—”

  Kurt pulled his coat open, showing Morgan a glimpse of a shoulder holster, and the butt of a handgun.

  “Oh,” Morgan said.

  “Shall we?” Kurt held out a hand toward the barn.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  They stepped into the cool shadows inside the barn. Adelaide shifted her feet in the straw, swinging her tail lazily at flies.

  “I don’t do subtle,” Morgan said. “You could have told me you needed to talk to me in private.”

  “I didn’t want to announce to the entire world that I brought your gun for your trip.”

  “Oh.”

  Morgan tried to keep her emotions out of her expression, but Kurt must have read her surprise.

  “You don’t want it?”

  “I don’t think I’m ready,” she said. “I need more time.”

  Kurt looked disappointed, and a little hurt. Morgan touched his sleeve.

  “I’m scared by the responsibility,” she said. “Besides, Cindy will have her gun, and she’s more experienced with firearms than me.”

  “I thought, after you received your license. . . ” Kurt reached inside his coat. He removed the Smith and Wesson from one of the many pockets. “It’s a gift.”

  The first gift of significance Kurt had given her. He held it out, so Morgan accepted it, cradling the weapon with both hands.

  I really know how to muck things up, she thought.

  “It’s an amazing gift,” she said. “I love it. But I don’t want to be one of those people you see on the evening news who accidentally shoot themselves in the leg.”

  That earned a smile from Kurt.

  “When I get back,” Morgan continued, “I want to do more target practice with you, until I gain more confidence.”

  She held the gun out to Kurt. When he took it, she folded her hands around his.

  “I was afraid I’d made a wildly inappropriate assumption.” Kurt watched Morgan’s face. “You do want to keep it?”

  “Yes. Lock it up in your safe. I’ll be ready for more lessons when I get home.”

  “My first lesson as a gun owner is that I’m going to have to come up with a different arrangement for summer.” Kurt returned Morgan’s gun to a pocket inside his leather coat. “The PIs in the old movies never sweated this much.”

  His comment reminded Morgan about their conversation with Roxy Day, who was convinced she and Kurt were experienced investigators.

  “I promised Roxy I’d ask around about Eustace and Uncle Caleb at the mineral show. I’m not sure what to ask.” Morgan shook her head. “I can’t believe we let Roxy talk us into this.”

  “We’re not being paid. We can quit before we go any further. But I will admit I’m curious.”

  “What if that certificate means there really is a Triceratops that’s supposed to be attached to the brow horn? That Eustace and Uncle Caleb fought over it? Someone at the show might know. Where do I start? I can’t just ask people if they know about a secret dinosaur, or whether Eustace was murdered.”

  “People love talking about themselves,” Kurt said. “Get a conversation going, and it’s amazing what they’ll tell you.”

  “Is that how you get the scoop for the Gazetteer?” Morgan asked.

  “More or less.” Kurt reached for Morgan’s hand. “I’m glad Burke is riding to Denver with you. Zulina is flying home tomorrow, and she might have talked him into leaving with her and Jase. Now I’ve got a chance of keeping him here the rest of the summer.”

  Score: Morgan, one, Zulina, zero. Morgan fought back an elated grin.

  “You couldn’t convince Jase to stay?” Morgan asked.

  “Zulina wrangled an audition for him,” Kurt said. “It’s a bit part in a soap opera. And I dodged a bullet. Because Chief Sharp doesn’t want me to leave town, I was able to gracefully decline Zulina’s request to drive them to DIA. Well, maybe I wasn’t too graceful about it.”

  “The timing is interesting,” Morgan said. “I thought Zulina was here for the summer.”

  Or longer.

  “Her sudden change of plans doesn’t have anything to do with me being a suspect for attempted murder,” Kurt said. “In addition to Jase’s opportunity, Zulina claims she was offered a film role. Knowing her penchant for exaggeration, she’s probably auditioning for the role. In any event, she booked herself a limo to the airport when I told her I couldn’t leave town.” In an abrupt change of subject, Kurt asked, “Is David a good driver?”

  “Burke is riding with me on the trip up,” Morgan said. “And David drove most of the way from Sioux Falls to Golden Springs.”

  “Right,” Kurt said. “That’s much farther than Denver to Golden Springs.”

  “Burke will be fine. Once he sees the wonderful world of rocks and minerals, he won’t be lured back to the dull, ordinary glitz of Hollywood.”

  Kurt laughed. Then his expression turned serious.

  “Be careful.”

  A vehicle horn sounded, interrupting their brief kiss. The caravan set out. Men folk and children waved goodbye from the front of the rock shop. Like a Conestoga wagon train, the two vehicles rolled out of the parking lot and down Hill Street, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

  * * *

  When they neared the Denver city limits, they lost sight of the truck and trailer carrying their navigator Cindy.

  “I thought I knew the way by heart.” Allie squinted through the windshield at the array of road signs directing heavy traffic on the eight lanes of interstate highway. “I’m not sure which exit to take.”

  “There’s a map in the glove box,” Morgan said.

  Allie unfolded the Colorado map to the Denver street view.

  Burke laughed from his perch between the two baby seats. “Now that’s old school. Don’t you have GPS?”

  “Have you noticed the age of my car?” Morgan asked. “We’re lucky to have seat belts and headlights.”

  “Give me the address of the hotel.”

  In an instant, Burke had his phone giving navigation instructions over its speaker. They arrived at the motel with no wrong turns, pulling to a stop in the parking lot beside David’s truck.

  “That’s amazing,” Morgan said.

  “Your phone gives directions, too,” Burke said. “Whoa, are you sure this is the place?”

  When Morgan saw the motel, she wished she hadn’t trusted Cindy’s lodging selection. But she could see the coliseum from the motel parking lot, and the husband and wife management team knew Cindy and Allie. Burke prowled the modest lobby, probably wondering where the bellhop was hiding.

  “Wow.” He glanced at Morgan, apparently realizing she was watching him. “Nice,” he said without conviction. “Very Western.”

  Low-rent and shabby around the edges perhaps, but the motel was definitely family friendly. The two connecting rooms were spacious, clean, and had mini fridges and microwaves.

 
After unloading suitcases, two portable cribs, and food coolers from the vehicles, their noisy troop headed to the arena.

  “We need to drive this time,” Allie said, “but the rest of the time we’ll walk.”

  Morgan, Hezekiah, Allie and Marissa rode in the Buick while Cindy drove. Matthew and Ruth clamored to ride with David and Burke to the coliseum. An attendant assigned them parking spaces.

  “Over there’s where people can camp.” Cindy pointed. “You get free electricity, but there’s no water hookup.”

  Red plastic chain sectioned off an area of asphalt parking lot packed with everything from humble cab-over campers on the beds of old pickup trucks to luxurious fifth-wheel trailers.

  “They’re closer to the coliseum,” Cindy said. “Right in the middle of the action. But we’re not all that far staying at the motel.”

  David parked in their assigned pull-through space.

  “What should we unload?” he asked.

  “We need to get everything from the bed of your truck to our spot inside the coliseum,” Cindy said.

  David and Burke tugged off the tarp while Cindy and Allie tucked their babies into cloth slings and strapped them across their chests. The young men pulled out a dolly and loaded three heavy plastic bins marked “set up,” then bungee-corded them into place. Morgan lifted one end of a surprisingly heavy roll of canvas while Matthew got the other end. The rest of their crew carried cloth camp chairs, folding tables, and lighter bins.

  They waddled through the parking lot, stopping often to adjust their awkward loads. A wide asphalt aisle divided two rows of outdoor vendor displays, housed under heavy canvas canopies. On some, the sides were tied closed, concealing the geologic wonders within. Under others, Morgan could see people laboring to set up tables, speaking in English or Spanish. Morgan heard another language she thought perhaps was Russian.

  After running the gauntlet of tempting treasures, they reached the back entrance. The open double doors could easily accommodate trucks hauling trailers full of livestock.

  A man rose from his wooden folding chair as their group approached. The slacks of his brown security guard uniform bore a sharp crease. He exuded authority with his dignified posture. Cindy presented the guard with a printed email displaying their registration number.