by Sue Hardesty
"But it's a collectible!" Loni retorted in defense.
"Then put it on a shelf."
"You don't mind the fairy carrying it," Loni had answered. "So what's the problem?" Overwhelmed by painful memories of the playful Maria, Loni stared out at nothingness.
Suddenly she jerked awake, aware that she had gone to sleep, and nearly conked herself silly on the steering wheel. "Crap!" She got out of the SUV and stomped in circles around a catclaw bush, carefully avoiding its catclaw shaped thorns. Sweat rolled down her face and the back of her shirt.
Returning to the SUV, she took a swig of water and poured some into a thermos lid for Coco, dodging her turkey drinking. She soaked her hair with the rest of the water and shook like a dog.
Loni had fished out another tamale and was leaning back against the SUV hood peeling off the corn husks when Bobby's slow drawl bounced against her ear from the shoulder radio. "Burn victim at the old Caulwell farm on the southwest corner of Victor and 85."
"When did a burn victim become a police problem?"
"Well, guess it's not. Ambulance is picking up the kid. What it is, though, is the theft and destruction of property. Kid lit a match trying to steal gas out of a tractor. Got a bad barn fire now."
Dumping out the still-hot coffee, she flung the tamale into the brush for a coyote to find and jumped into the SUV. Lights running and siren blaring, the SUV sped toward the farm. No one was around to get out of her way, but it was something to do.
She could see the glow of the barn five miles away. Oh, man! A hay fire was impossible to put out. She had seen a fire bury itself deep in a stack and smolder for weeks before it flared up and burned all over again. The last haystack fire she helped fight was caused by a lazy farmer who baled and stacked too green. Or maybe he didn't want to farm anymore. He took the insurance money, sold the land for half of what is was worth, and moved to Alaska. Said he'd rather freeze to death than burn in hell a day longer.
The yellow glow danced behind a silhouette of cottonwood trees. Loni herded traffic around the volunteer firefighters as they fought the flames, pulling the hay apart with iron rakes and pitchforks. Lucky for them, the farmer was too poor to have a big stack, but it was still after the sun rose before the worst of the fire was out.
Bone tired, Loni answered questions from early morning passersby on their way to work, mostly about the boy. "Yes, he's still alive." "Yes, the burn was pretty bad, but he's alive." "No, he was by himself." "Don't know why Boyd wasn't with him." "I'm good. And you?" "Yes, he's alive." "Don't know." "Yes."
The sun was rapidly rising when the firefighters finally packed up to leave. She called in one last time to see how the boy was.
"Not good," Bobby reported. "Won't be able to light matches again, they say. Might not see the flame again, either."
Glad to leave the smell of smoke and wet ashes behind, Loni was on the outskirts of Caliente when Bobby's voice crackled. "Clinic called about a gunshot wound. Need a report."
"Any deaths?"
"Didn't say," Bobby said laconically.
"Where are the detectives?"
"In with Chief. He said to send you."
Wondering why everybody was at work so early, Loni parked by the emergency entrance. The woman at the desk on the phone wore a nametag that said "Chelsa." She covered the phone and whispered, "Gunshot victim?"
Loni nodded, recognizing her from high school. She had the same short, light-brown kinky hair and cheerful expression. She never had an unkind word for anyone, not even for that piece of shit she started dating in Loni's senior year, Brad Taylor. He was a cocky bully, one of James's cohorts and Loni's personal nemesis. Loni wondered if they ever got married.
When Chelsa hung up the phone, she said, "I heard you'd come back. Good to see you."
"You too. It's good to see a friendly face," Loni said. "So where's the gunshot victim?"
"Third curtain." She pointed to a corner of the large room.
"What's her name?"
Chelsa handed Loni the file. Loni cautiously opened a slit in the curtain. "Is it okay if I come in?" She recognized the heavy set, fiftyish bleach-blonde as the bartender at the Volcano Bar and Eatery, a spot on Old Highway 85 that used to be one of the stage stops.
She was lying on her back with a bandage wrapped around her leg above her knee. Smeared mascara smudged under her eyes made the circles even darker. Her uncovered leg was propped up on pillows. A lightweight warming blanket pulled up to her chin was tightly bundled around the rest of her body except for one hand that she used to restlessly click the remote control from channel to channel on the TV. Loni stood at the end of the bed until the woman snaked her other hand out of the blanket and pulled off her headphones. She continued to avoid Loni's eyes as she kept clicking and staring at the TV.
"Chastity? Want to tell me how you got shot?"
"Not really."
"Why is that?"
Chastity put down the remote and sighed. "I shot myself."
"Really? Accidentally?" Loni waited. This should be interesting.
"Well, no. I decided to commit suicide, so I shot myself in the leg first to see if it would hurt."
Loni hoped she could keep a serious face. "Did it?"
A chagrined expression crossed Chastity's oval face. "Like a mother."
"Still thinking about it?"
Chastity turned toward Loni for the first time. "Not today."
Loni gave her a "Need Help?" card from her shirt pocket. "My cell number is on the back. If you need someone to talk to or any kind of help, please call me."
Chastity ignored her and went back to clicking the remote as Loni laid the card on the table.
Loni stopped at the desk. "Did you find out why she shot herself?"
"Nothing new. Her boyfriend left her for a young thing."
"She been with him long?" Loni asked.
"Yes. They tended bar together at the Volcano. Been there for years."
"Anybody picking her up?"
Shaking her head, Chelsa frowned. "I'm getting an ambulance to take her home."
"Can I keep this file?"
"Sure. It's your copy."
"How many gunshot wounds have you gotten this year?"
"Deliberate or accidental?" Chelsa grinned.
"Both."
"This is our second suicide attempt. The first one was successful." She thought a minute. "Only one accidental. Last week these two guys were white wing hunting. He said his dog shot him." Chelsa paused a few seconds and laughed. "At least, I think it was accidental. He was such a crybaby I was ready to give the gun back to the dog."
Loni felt her mouth drop open. Chelsa reached over and closed it. "He said he propped his shotgun against a tree. His golden retriever was so excited about the hunt it jumped up and fell on the gun. The guy thought the dog caught a nail on the trigger and the gun fired as it went down."
"Oh shit, oh dear! What kind of damage?"
"Lucky for him the buckshot just grazed his butt. Had to dig out a few pellets."
"Chelsa!" Lu rushed in. "You got a gunshot here?"
"Whoa. It's not an emergency. She's just needs a ride home."
Lu inspected Chelsa and smiled. "I was scared your asshole ex showed up shooting." Chelsa beamed. Lu finally noticed Loni. "We gotta stop meeting like this."
Loni's gaydar pinged, and she teased back. "It's your fault, you know. Disasters follow you like Pigpen's cloud."
"Maybe, but I usually get there in time to help. What's your excuse?"
Sighing, Loni shrugged in agreement as she picked up her folder and walked out of the clinic.
* * *
Loni left her SUV in the police lot and walked into the station, Coco at her side.
"So?" Lola sounded worried as she looked at Loni with those deep emerald eyes. "How'd it go with Agnes."
Loni's face took on a serious expression. "She said she'd meet you later for a showdown."
Lola's face fell. "Really?"
Loni laughe
d. "No, it was fine. She said to tell you how sorry she was for the misunderstanding. Said she'd come by and apologize. I'm getting back at you for not warning me about her weird clothes."
Lola snickered. "Wild, huh? She's one of those people who leaves bad taste behind wherever she goes."
"Remind me not to follow her then." Drawing herself tall to face Chief, Loni asked Lola to keep Coco out of sight behind the counter. "Which reminds me. I need to sign out some samples of drugs to train Coco."
"Like what?"
"What do you pick up the most?"
Lola shrugged. "Maybe pot, coke, meth, some mescaline."
"Any opium or Ritalin?"
"Rarely."
"Okay, how about some pot, coke, and a couple of buttons." Loni ticked them off on her fingers.
"You're gonna have to return them."
"Maybe."
Loni smiled at Lola's stern look. "Think I'll give you drugs with that smart mouth, think again, sister."
"I'm not your sister." Loni saw the snide expression in Lola's eyes. "Nor your brother, or father, or mother, or uncle, or aunt, or lover, or..."
Blushing, Lola interrupted, "Okay, okay. See me tomorrow." She ducked her head and bent down to coo at Coco. "Such a sweet girl you are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are."
"Judas." Loni sighed. "Does everybody talk to animals like that?"
Lola grinned. "You want me to keep her or what?"
"Got it."
Loni tailed Chui and James into Chief's small conference room next to his office. Or what Chief called the conference room. Loni stepped into a long, narrow room with no windows and painted the usual prison green. Rickety chairs of unknown ages and colors lined a long, thin missionary table, none of them comfortable or even stable.
She found herself sitting next to Tully. He was so close to her that Loni could feel his breath. Smell him, too. God! She hated the smell of garlic, especially in the mornings. What was it with all that garlic? Across from her, Chui kept bumping her with his boot. She wanted to move away, but Carl sat on her other side, penning her in. He frowned as he sat the briefcase lying open in front of him. All dressed up this morning in a crisp clean tan suit and brown striped Arrow shirt with a plain tan tie, he was quite a contrast to Chui's wrinkled cotton T-shirt and worn Levis. Chui hadn't shaved and looked like he had slept in his clothes.
She glanced around at James, sitting beside Chui. James stared arrows at her. He had his mother's round face, but it's too bad he doesn't have her sense of humor, Loni thought as she turned away. Avoiding all the stares, she watched the fan on a shelf at the end of the room as it oscillated with jerks and screeches in a feeble attempt to move the dead air. Otherwise the room was quiet. She missed the dark humor that bounced back and forth when cops got together in her other job.
"Come on, people, let's get started," Chief demanded as he sat in his rolling plush chair with his back to the closed door. He had his usual large, ugly bolo tie on. Loni had an almost uncontrollable urge to giggle at his tight face as his eyes darted around at the room with no place to light. "Okay, Carl."
Carl stood and removed a stack of papers out of his briefcase, all in slow motion. He handed it to Loni. She took the top sheet and passed the rest on. "Here's what we know."
Loni read the page until the rustling of the papers and chatting settled.
"I'm sure you've already heard, but Todd Barclay died last night. We think it's the bad meth." Carl's eyes teared. "His mother went in to wake him for school this morning. He had such promise, an exceptional artist."
Loni hadn't heard that. How did everyone else know and she didn't?
"Great right end," James butted in. Everyone stared at James until he squirmed. "Well, he was."
"Another thing, and we don't know if it's related. Got a stabbing death. Young man name of Perry Abbott. Anybody know him?"
Heads shook all around the room.
"Had a load of pseudoephedrine in the trunk of his car. Mexican license plates. I'm looking into this one." Carl confronted Chui. "Hear anything about a source from Mexico?"
"Not yet."
"Have you tried?"
Chui jerked up ready to fight Carl. "You doubtin' me?'
Carl didn't back down. "Talk to Rosie yet?"
Chui squirmed. "She don't know nothin'."
"You talk to her?"
"You got a reason I should?" Chui said belligerently.
"It was only a question, Chui," Carl replied. He stared down at his notes, then back up at Chui. "Guess we won't know until you do, will we? I'm sure you'll find time for it."
Carl continued around the table. "James, what did you find on the plane?"
"You didn't tell me to look at the plane. You said look at Loni's report. My dad still has the plane. Want me to go take another look?"
"What did Tully tell you?"
James turned to Tully. "You know anything?"
"Nope."
"Didn't think so." James turned back to Carl. "He doesn't know anything."
"What'd you find out at Rene's home airport?"
James shrugged. "Flight plan said he was going to San Diego. Made the flight plan for home but never got there."
"No shit," laughed Tully.
Carl frowned at him. "Rene's wife have anything to say?"
Tully held on to his belly. "Do that today, boss. First thing."
Carl stared at Tully.
"I'm already out the door. See?"
"After that, talk to Todd's parents. Find out where he was last night."
Tully finally nodded.
No one said a word.
"Guess this here meeting's over then." Chief pushed his chair out the door toward his office.
In her hurry to get out, Loni almost slammed into Chief as he blocked her way. "You got nothing more to say to Jim Filbright, got it?" he said menacingly.
"Got it, Chief." Waiting until his body rolled into his office, she rushed to pick up Coco. As she reached Lola's counter, Tully gripped her arm, complaining. "How come you sent all that stuff to Phoenix without me lookin' at it? You made me look bad."
"You don't need any help from me," she retorted.
Lola handed Tully one of the lollipops she kept for the little kids. "Here, big boy. Suck on this." She turned to walk away, and Tully patted her butt. Knocking his hand away, she snapped. "Tully. That's one!"
"How about two? I can do that again."
"Listen, toad vomit. Think about that old joke before you pat my ass again."
"What old joke?" he said, perplexed.
In exasperation, she turned to Loni. "You tell him. I'm too busy to waste my time with assholes."
Loni laughed. "You tell it. You'd do a better job."
Admiring Lola as her arm-waving set her bangles into musical motion, Loni watched her look Tully in the eye. "This newlywed couple's in a buggy pulled by a mule. The new wife keeps talking a blue streak. The mule stumbles, and the man flicks him with his whip and says, 'That's one.' The wife keeps right on. The mule stumbles again, and the man says, 'That's two.' Ignoring him, the wife blathers on. The mule stumbles again. 'That's three.' The man grabs a shotgun out from under his seat and shoots the mule dead. Really pissed off, the wife turns to him and says, 'What did you do that for?' He turns to her and says, 'That's one.'" Lola paused. "You listening, Tully?"
"Not a problem, Lola. You got no gun," Tully said sardonically.
Lola unlocked a drawer and pulled out a gun. "Tully, that's two."
Laughing, the men who had collected to hear the joke scattered.
Quietly, Loni said to Lola. "Is Tully really that dumb?"
Lola leaned back, studying Loni. "I wouldn't turn my back on that one. I think he's smarter than he lets on."
"Street smart?"
"Shrewd. In his eyes." Playing with the stacked bracelets on her wrist, she considered. "When he thinks somebody's watching, I swear he deliberately finds ways to make himself look bad."
"Maybe he's lazy."
/> Lola was quiet a minute. "I don't think so. Ask him sometime for computer help. Can't be lazy and know what he knows."
