Bittersweet

by Susan Wittig Albert

  “And I’m an only child,” China said ruefully. “So maybe I get to lose twice the sleep. You think?”

  They were silent for a moment, reflecting on this, then China said, “So tell me about this deputy sheriff, Mack. This wizard guy who knows how to fix loose vacuum hoses in a Toyota.”

  Mack giggled, then blushed. “There’s not much to tell, actually. Ethan—his name is Ethan Conroy—is nice, and he’s interested. At least I think he is.” She thought of that kiss and her heart raced. “I don’t know him very well yet, though. So I guess maybe I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  China was regarding her thoughtfully. “Sometimes it happens fast. You’ve been going out with somebody else, maybe a couple of somebodies, but you keep finding out that they’re not what you thought, they’re not important enough to take up your time and soak up your energy. And then this person happens along and you just know, right away.”

  Not important enough. Mack wondered whether China was reading her mind. But she only said, “Was it like that with you and Mike?”

  “Sort of. I mean, yes, I knew. I’d had enough men in my life to know that McQuaid was the right one. But I put up a fight. I loved being with him, but I thought I didn’t want to be a couple. And after we finally agreed to be a couple, I loved that, but I thought I didn’t want to be a married couple. On principle. Nothing against McQuaid, just some silly rule I’d made for myself, insisting on having my own life, making my own decisions, as a single woman.” China rolled her eyes. “Now, looking back on it, I want to say something like, ‘You idiot! What did you think you were waiting for?’ I shouldn’t have wasted any time. I should have dived into it, the minute I was sure. Life is too short.”

  “I’m nowhere near the point of diving into anything,” Mack said with a sigh. “And I have no idea how Ethan feels.” But then she remembered that kiss again, urgent and demanding, Ethan’s body pressing urgently against hers, and the desire she had felt and couldn’t conceal. She flushed. Maybe she was ready. Maybe she knew, but she was unwilling—or afraid—to admit it.

  China reached across the table and squeezed Mack’s hand. “Well, don’t dally. That’s all I’m saying. Trust yourself to know. And to be right.” She paused. “Do you have much in common?”

  Mack had to smile at that. “Well, we both have heelers, which is pretty interesting, because that’s a breed that doesn’t appeal to a lot of people. And Toyota trucks. And we both like our eggs over easy. Oh, and turtles. He even recognized my Texas map turtle.”

  China chuckled. “Well, that settles it. Turtles. You two are obviously meant for each other.”

  Mack’s smile became a laugh. “And horses,” she added. “His is named Buddy Holly. He had another one once, named Willie Nelson.”

  China forked up the last of her pie. “This guy obviously has the right musical credentials—for a Texan, that is.”

  That brought another laugh. “He asked me to go riding with him,” Mack added, “when we can find the time. Which might be kind of a challenge, between his shifts and mine, and both of us on call.”

  “Sounds to me like a totally exceptional guy,” China said, and her smile widened. “I guess I can stop worrying about your love life and concentrate all my worry on my mom. But do keep me posted on developments.”

  “I will,” Mack promised. After a moment, she added thoughtfully, “Kind of a coincidence, both you and Amy Roth here today. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, and a little unsettling, too.” China licked her fork. “I got the idea that Amy wasn’t at all happy to see me. I wonder if she and Chris have something going on.”

  “Something going on? You mean, romantically?”

  “Just wondering.” China pushed back her plate with a sigh. “Amy already has a partner, back in Pecan Springs. They’ve been together for several years. I like both of them, very much. I’d hate to see their relationship break up.”

  “Ah,” Mack said, understanding. “I’m sure you know her better than I do. I didn’t get that kind of impression, though. From something Sharon let slip, I got the idea that the three of them are in on whatever-it-is together. Like maybe planning some sort of surveillance activity. I gave them the standard caution against interfering with lawful hunting.” She twisted her mouth. “But they’ll probably do it anyway. I won’t be surprised if I got a call from some pissed-off hunter—or if Chris or Amy calls to complain that somebody intentionally winged their drone.”

  China was playing with her fork. “Surveillance activity? Like what?”

  “Like spying. They could park along a road adjacent to somebody’s deer blind and fly it—to harass the hunter, if nothing else. And they just might happen to catch somebody doing something illegal. Chugging a couple of beers, for instance. It’s against the law to drink when you’re out hunting.”

  “And then what?” China asked, both eyebrows raised.

  “Exactly,” Mack said dryly. “And then what? They can’t make an arrest or even detain a violator. They can report what they see through the Game Thief tip line, but by the time one of the wardens got there, the evidence would likely be gone. Whether the surveillance video would be admissible in court is anybody’s guess.”

  “You’re right on that count,” China said emphatically. “I’d argue against it.”

  Mack pushed her lips in and out. “Of course, if the legislature approves the bill that’s currently under consideration, Chris’ drone will be grounded. But Parks and Wildlife will be able to fly them. For patrol or habitat study or anything else.” She smiled wryly. “Who knows? Maybe every game warden will be equipped with one of these things someday, like our binoculars and cameras. So instead of patrolling by vehicle, we’ll just put up one of these drones. It’ll save time, save gas, and help us nab poachers and such.”

  “Interesting,” China said, but Mack got the idea that she wasn’t enthusiastic about that kind of wholesale surveillance in the hands of a law enforcement officer. Her friend still thought like a criminal defense attorney.

  “Speaking of violators . . .” China fell silent for a moment. “Remember Sue Ellen? The other guest at dinner yesterday?”

  “Sure,” Mack said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. She’s Jack Krause’s wife, isn’t she?”

  China folded her arms on the table. She looked troubled. “She is—although she says she’s filed for divorce. Do you know him?”

  Mack glanced quickly over her shoulder. A couple of women had come in, but they were seated on the far side of the room, out of earshot. From the kitchen came the muted sound of people at work. There was no one to overhear.

  “Yes, I’ve met him,” she said. “He’s the assistant foreman over at Three Gates, the biggest game ranch in the area.” She paused. “Wasn’t Sue Ellen working there?”

  “Uh-huh. What do you think of him? Confidentially.”

  “I was afraid you were going to ask me that.” Mack sighed. “Well, to tell the truth, he reminds me of a bully who loved to pick on me, way back in seventh grade. It’s nothing I can put my finger on exactly. But you know how it is when that happens. You don’t get an accurate fix, because you’re remembering as much as you’re seeing. I may have the guy all wrong.”

  “I don’t think so,” China said soberly. “Sue Ellen is wearing bruises. She says he caused them. Actually . . .” She leaned across the table, lowering her voice. “Actually, I’m worried about her, Mack. She left the house yesterday evening as we were finishing dinner. She didn’t tell Mom where she was going. And she didn’t come back. Her sister, Patsy Wilbur, works at Jennie’s Kitchen. I mentioned it to her while we were working on the garden this morning, and she was really concerned. She said she told Sue Ellen she needed to get away from her husband and stay away.”

  “Did you try calling her cell?”

  China shook her head. “I honestly thought she’d be there this m
orning when I got up. Patsy said she’d try to reach her. But there’s something else.” She paused, frowning. “I may be talking out of school here, Mack. On the other hand, it might be something you need to know. About those fawns.”

  Mack was immediately alert. “Those fawns?”

  “Right. The fawns you were telling us about at dinner yesterday. The ones you thought might be stolen.”

  “What about them?”

  “There’s something going on at Three Gates—something that involves Jack Krause and a couple of his buddies. Sue Ellen knows what it is, or part of it anyway, but she hasn’t told me. At least, not yet.” She leaned closer, her voice tense. “Those fawns, Mack. I think they might have come from Three Gates.”

  Mack felt a shiver run up her backbone and across her shoulders. Four-three-two, Doc Masters had said. The number that identified Three Gates as the permit holder for the fawns. And now Doc Masters was dead.

  “Did Sue Ellen tell you that?” Mack asked, keeping her voice even.

  “Not exactly. She told me that Jack was stealing something from his employer, but she didn’t say what. She also said that he and a couple of his buddies are launching a trophy-hunting business of their own. It’s a start-up, on a shoestring. They’ve already got the land, but to get the state permit, they have to put in the fencing, which is an expensive proposition. To finance the operation, they’ve been trucking in white-tails from Oklahoma.”

  Of course, Mack thought. The fawns weren’t the only black-market animals involved—they were just the only ones that Doc happened to see. “Did Sue Ellen tell you who these guys are?

  “Just their first names. Duke and Lucky. Ring a bell?”

  “Uh-uh,” Mack said. “But I haven’t been here very long. One of the other wardens might know.”

  China pulled her brows together, frowning. “Of course, these are uncorroborated accusations, and vague at that, and Sue Ellen was reluctant to give me the details. But I questioned a lot of people in my previous incarnation as a lawyer, and I can usually pick up signals when somebody is lying to me. I didn’t pick up any of those signals from her. Whatever Sue Ellen knows, she believes it’s the truth. That’s one of the reasons she’s opting out of the marriage. That, and the physical abuse.”

  Mack cocked her head, regarding China closely. “But Sue Ellen didn’t tell you what the ‘something’ is that Jack’s stealing from his employer?”

  “Nope. That’s as far as we got. But McQuaid told me that his PI firm is investigating the theft of some super high-priced deer semen, and then you mentioned the fawns.” She paused. “Whatever Jack has been stealing, Sue Ellen thinks it’s worth a bundle of money, maybe close to a quarter of a million dollars.”

  Mack whistled between her teeth. “That’s a pretty big chunk of change, China.”

  “Yes.” China shrugged. “Again, she might be wrong, or she might be lying. My money is on her, though. I think she’s telling the truth.”

  The door opened. Mack, who was facing the door, glanced up and saw Angie Donaldson come in, wearing a bulky purple sweater over her cheerful yellow and orange printed scrubs. She stood looking around uncertainly for a moment, spotted Mack, and headed for the table.

  “Hi, Warden,” she said. “Clinker told me he thought he saw you come in here.”

  “Hey, Angie,” Mack said. “You’ve got some information for me?” Angie’s eyebrows went up, and she glanced at China, questioning. Mack added quickly, “It’s okay. China is an old friend from Pecan Springs. China, this is Angie Donaldson. She works at the vet clinic. For Doc Masters.”

  “Oh,” China said. “Then your boss—” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too,” Angie said, pulling down her mouth. “Bummer. Really. Doc was one of the good guys.” She looked at Mack. “Yeah, I got something for you. A couple of names.”

  “That’s great! How’d you do that?” Mack asked.

  Angie blew out a breath, lifting her dark, spiky bangs. “I had to go to the post office a little while ago to mail a batch of billings. While I was there, I ran into Jimmy Parker. You know him? He drives one of the mail routes.”

  Mack shook her head.

  “He’s somebody you should get acquainted with,” Angie said. “He’s been on the route for a long time, so he knows the names of just about everybody in this part of the county. He can tell you all kinds of stuff about what’s going on out there in the boonies, because he’s out there every day, driving around. Well, five days a week, anyhoo. They’ve discontinued Saturday delivery. So I asked him about the Bar Bee, and it turns out that he knows where it is and who lives there. Or who’s getting their mail there, anyway.” She pulled a torn envelope out of the pocket of her purple sweater. “Here. He wrote it down. He didn’t remember the exact address, but he wrote down the directions, sorta.” She gave Mack a meaningful look. “I told him I was the one wanting to know, because of the billing. I didn’t mention that a game warden was hot on the trail.”

  “Angie, that’s terrific! Thank you.” Mack took the envelope and peered at the penciled scribble. Was this the name and address Doc would have given her if he had lived until Friday morning? She frowned. “I can’t make out what it says. Did he happen to tell you?”

  “He did.” She leaned over, squinting. “Good thing, too, because nobody’s going to read that. Ronald and Thomas Perry is what I remember. Two guys.”

  “Father and son?” Mack asked.

  Angie shrugged. “Dunno. If Jimmy knows, he didn’t say. Just two guys with the same last name. Anyway, to get to the Bar Bee, you take 1051 out past Reagan Wells until it forks, then turn left and go for a couple more miles across Bee Creek, up toward Sycamore Mountain. It isn’t marked, Jimmy says. There’s just a low water crossing and then the mailbox.”

  “Ah,” Mack said. “I know that area. I’ve been on patrol out there.” That land was steep and wooded, cut by deep canyons but with wide swaths of grassy meadows strung along Bee Creek. There were no game ranches in the area, just day and season leases and the occasional poacher and jacklighter. And a gated community three or four miles away.

  “Okay. The mailbox has ‘Perry’ on it, and ‘Bar Bee’ under that. Jimmy says that there’s a road that snakes up along Bee Creek for a ways, which is probably how the ranch got its name. He doesn’t go any farther on 1051 because nobody else is getting mail out that way. It’s pretty remote.” She paused. “So. That’s what you’re looking for, I guess. That give you something to go on?”

  “Sure does,” Mack said, pocketing the envelope and feeling grateful for the fact that people in small towns knew everybody and everything, more or less. “Great detective work, Angie. I can’t thank you enough.” She grinned. “You’re going to follow up on this, too, I hope.”

  “You bet your sweet bippy I am,” Angie said firmly. “I’m going back to the clinic right now and write up a bill for three hours of Doc’s time for birthing those twin calves, and I’m sending it to those guys. Ronald and Thomas Perry. Meantime, if you get out to the Bar Bee and you find out that it isn’t the right place, look around out there and see if there’s somebody else who might own up to having a pair of young twin calves, so I can be sure the bill goes to the right place.”

  “I’ll do it,” Mack said.

  “Good.” Angie put one hand on her hip. “And you remember what I said about keeping me posted on that investigation. You owe me, you know. When I find out who the hell shot Doc Masters, I might just go gunnin’ for him myself.”

  “I hope you don’t mean that,” Mack said, frowning. She didn’t think Angie would do something like that, but people fooled you sometimes.

  “I mean it more’n half,” Angie replied grimly. She glanced at China. “Nice meetin’ you, Ms. Bayles. Y’all have a nice day now, you hear?” And with that, she was gone.

  “Quite a character,” China said, eyebrows raised.


  “I’m glad she’s on our side,” Mack agreed with a wry grin. “Whoever killed Doc should be on the lookout. I have the feeling that she intends to get her man.” She paused. “To anticipate your question, no, there’s nothing new on the investigation, from what I’ve heard. But then, I’m not in the loop. For all I know, the cops may have already gotten their guy.”

  She thought briefly of Ethan. She had promised to let him in on what she learned about the fawns, in case there was some connection to Doc Masters’ murder. But maybe she’d better do a little more checking into the situation first, to see if there was anything significant in it. She’d hate to involve him in a wild-goose chase.

  China nodded. “If I understood what you and Angie were talking about, you’ve identified the ranch where Doc Masters saw the fawns.”

  “Right. I followed up on the twin calves, as you suggested. We didn’t find it in the billing records, though. It was in the doc’s notebook. No names, just the name of the ranch, the Bar Bee. Angie had to ask around to get the names of the owners.” She paused. “Maybe not the owners. Maybe just somebody who lives there.”

  “Those names.” China frowned. “The guys Sue Ellen mentioned are Duke and Lucky. She didn’t say anything about men named Ronald or Thomas. Or Perry.”

  “The white-tails could have been laundered through any number of outfits, legal and illegal,” Mack said. “That’s one of the bad things about this business. If you’re going to game the system, there are a gazillion ways to do it.” She pushed her chair back. “I’m glad we had a chance to talk, China, but I need to get going. If you’re able to learn any more information from Sue Ellen, please pass it along as quick as you can. Okay?”

  China nodded. “You’re headed out to the Bar Bee?”

  “Yes, but not right now.” Mack stood up. “I have to go home and suit up. I’m on patrol this afternoon. I want to get on the state computer system and see what I can find out about these guys before I go out there.” She smiled crookedly. “I always kinda like to know what I’m walking into.”