Morgan doubted he asked out of any real interest. They had gone on one date, arranged by Beatrice, only to realize they had absolutely nothing in common, other than being members of the same congregation. Teruko spoke, distracting Beatrice from her matchmaking efforts.
“Has your nephew told you about the autopsy of Eustace Day?”
The tactic worked. Beatrice had an interest in forensics. The more grisly the details, the better.
“The coroner can’t draw any conclusions,” Beatrice said. “Roger said it is no exaggeration that Eustace’s entire remains nearly fit inside a sandwich baggy. The police believe from what they know about Eustace that it was either an accidental death, or suicide.”
“We heard shouting,” Morgan said. “Have the police said whether there were other people on the scene?”
“That I don’t know,” Beatrice said in a tone that suggested the idea of her not knowing something was an alien experience. “I do know that Eustace was a harmless old crank.”
A harmless crank in possession of a large quantity of explosives and ammunition. For once, Morgan doubted the accuracy of Beatrice’s gossip. Even his granddaughter had suggested Eustace gave the police, indeed any authority figure, a difficult time.
“Now his son,” Beatrice continued, “is another matter entirely. Sonny Day thrives on attention.”
“Sonny Day?” Anna asked. “Seriously? That’s his name?”
“Oh, yes. For all his curmudgeonly outward appearance, Eustace must have had a sense of humor.”
“What happened to Mrs. Day?” Morgan asked.
“The poor thing died giving birth to their son,” Beatrice said. “Eustace never married again. His son moved away from Golden Springs years ago. The granddaughter lives in the mountains to the west of town.”
Morgan began to tell the ladies about her phone conversations with Roxy Day, but all eyes had turned to the doorway.
“Morgan,” Kurt said, “have you got a minute?”
Beatrice folded her arms across her chest and shot Morgan a stern look. Morgan stepped past Beatrice and into the hallway, trying not to think of three sets of ears tuned to their conversation with the precision of satellite dishes trying to pick out enemy secrets.
“What’s up?” Morgan feigned a casual attitude, while her stomach clenched with anxiety.
Kurt reached for her hand. “Are you free after our trip to the county sheriff’s office Monday?”
“I forgot about that.” Morgan lowered her voice. “I’ve been having second thoughts. I’m not sure I want a conceal carry license.”
A trio of grade school-aged children raced down the hallway. Kurt waited until they were alone again. Relatively speaking. The kitchen at Morgan’s back was suspiciously silent.
“I was hoping to make an evening of it,” Kurt said. “I’d like to take you out to dinner.”
“How about tonight?” Morgan asked.
“I have the boys tonight. I finally managed to pry them away from their mother. So, dinner tomorrow, after applying for our licenses?”
Jealousy was a poor motivation for such a serious decision, but Morgan needed to ensure Zulina didn’t jump her claim on Kurt’s heart. Applying for the conceal carry license did not mean she had to carry a gun. Just like having a driver’s license did not obligate a person to drive.
“I’ve come this far,” Morgan said. “I’m in.”
* * *
Beatrice eyed Morgan with suspicion during the remaining kitchen cleanup. Morgan refused to give up any information. Name, rank and serial number were all Beatrice was going to get.
She and David returned to Bernie’s to change into shorts and T-shirts. They stood in line at the bakery downstairs to purchase breakfast burritos. Morgan followed in her car as David drove his truck to the rock shop. This was his first trip to Golden Springs in six years, but he remembered the way. He slowed as he neared the dinosaur sign, then pulled into the parking lot.
Morgan unlocked the front door. Even stopping to change and grab breakfast, they still beat Kendall and his family to the shop.
“I’m guessing the donkeys haven’t been fed yet,” Morgan said.
“I can take care of that,” David said.
“Adelaide needs special treatment,” Morgan said. “I’ll show you this time, and then you’ll know what to do.”
Adelaide was waiting. She huffed out an impatient donkey sigh.
“What’s wrong with her?” David asked.
“She’s very pregnant, and cranky.”
“Ah.” David nodded. He had experienced his sister’s mood swings.
Morgan refreshed David’s memory on the topic of donkey care, and explained Adelaide’s additional needs.
“With Kendall, Del and me tending to the donkeys,” Morgan said, “we started a clipboard so we don’t accidentally overfeed them.”
“Good idea.” David scribbled his initials on the chart.
“I’d better get over to the shop,” Morgan said.
“I don’t see any customers yet,” David said. “Mind if I hang out here for a while?”
“Not at all.”
He scrambled up the ladder to the loft, stirring dust motes into a frenzied dance in a shaft of sunlight. Morgan paused a moment to soak up a calming dose of barn smells and sounds before turning to leave.
“Hey,” David said. “Does someone live up here?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Morgan pulled her cell phone out of her jeans pocket, her hands shaking.
“David, get down from there!”
“I’m okay, Mom. It’s not- Hey!”
Morgan heard scuffling.
“Hold on,” David said. “Stop!”
Ned scurried down the loft ladder, plowing into Morgan. She grabbed the thin teen. He struggled to escape, nearly wrenching free from Morgan’s grasp on his arm.
“Ned,” Morgan scolded. “I almost called 911! What are you doing in my loft?”
Ned slumped in defeat. “It was more comfortable than the van.”
“You’ve been sleeping in your parent’s van?” Morgan had guessed they were homeless, but it really hit her now. The van was their bedroom. The park was their living room. The cinderblock public restrooms were their bathroom. “Do your parents know where you are? They must be worried sick.” But Morgan doubted it.
“Mom and Dad don’t mind. They were glad I had a place to stay.”
“You should have asked,” David said. “You almost gave my Mom a heart attack.”
Ned looked from David to Morgan.
“Your mom?”
Morgan introduced the young men. Maybe knowing another family member was around would deter Ned from stealing the Triceratops brow horn, if that was his intention. Ned’s whole family might be in on the scheme, although if his parents wanted him to burgle a shop, it seemed more likely they would go for one of the marijuana dispensaries in Granite Junction.
* * *
While Ned cleaned up in the shop’s bathroom, Morgan started a pot of coffee brewing on the checkout counter. She gave David the brief history of Ned’s association with the rock shop.
“I feel sorry for the kid,” David said, keeping his voice low. “Living in a van in the park? It might be fun for a week or two, kind of like camping, but not as a permanent lifestyle.”
“All his parents do is hang out in the park,” Morgan whispered. “Not much of a summer for him.”
“He seems happy here,” David whispered. “The Rock of Ages is kid paradise.”
Ned emerged from the tiny bathroom, his teen-idol hairstyle looking a little worse for the wear after a bar soap shampooing in the cracked sink. David gave one of his breakfast burritos to Ned. The teen climbed onto the stool behind the checkout counter while Morgan and David sat on the aspen bench. The teen opened a napkin, making a pl
ace setting for himself with a plastic fork and a Styrofoam cup with more cream than coffee. He bit into the burrito, closing his eyes and murmuring little sounds of satisfaction. Morgan needed answers. The shop was empty. She might not have the chance to grill him again.
“Ned,” Morgan said, “You told me your grandfather wouldn’t approve of you wearing a Willard for City Council T-shirt.”
Ned chewed and swallowed before answering.
“Right. He wouldn’t appreciate it if I was campaigning for the other guy.”
“But he doesn’t mind your parents having a marijuana smoke-in to support Mr. Willard’s candidacy?” Morgan asked.
“Oh, man.” Ned slapped a hand to his forehead. “That was embarrassing, even if pot is legal now.”
She caught a glimpse of David’s amused expression before he ducked his head to concentrate on his burrito.
Ned looked so young, perched on the stool. Morgan felt a little guilty interrogating him.
“Did your grandfather know about the smoke-in?” Morgan asked.
“If he did, I’ll bet he was steamed.” Ned paused mid-bite. “Hey, maybe that explains why he didn’t answer when I called. He’s mad at me, too.”
A car rolled past the dinosaur sign and into the parking lot.
“Great!” Ned hopped down off the stool. “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Yates.”
Interrogation over. Morgan watched through the shop’s front windows as Ned carried grocery sacks for Kendall and Allie. They all trooped around to the living quarters’ rear entrance.
“Golden Springs is more interesting than I remember as a kid,” David said.
“You haven’t seen the half of it,” Morgan said.
Two cars pulled into the parking lot, customers this time. Business generated by curiosity about the explosions up the hill had died down, replaced with people seeking aliens. At least this crowd shopped more, buying quartz crystals they hoped would allow them to communicate with extraterrestrials.
The doorway joining the living quarters to the rock shop opened an hour later. Ned emerged with Kendall, both expressing satisfaction with Allie’s Sunday brunch of pancakes, eggs, and sausage. The little sneak had managed to mooch two breakfasts in one morning.
“Kendall, you’re in charge. I’m going to show David the new cabin.”
Morgan didn’t give her brother time to reply. She headed out the front door, letting the cowbell clang. David followed a moment later, trotting to catch up with her.
“Mom, you didn’t give me time to say hi to Uncle Kendall. He was too busy at church.”
Morgan stopped. “I’m sorry.” Now was not the time to vent, when David hadn’t even unpacked yet. Morgan tried to focus on the positive. “I’m anxious to show you the cabin.”
As they examined the lop-sided log building, Morgan shared her plans to make it livable, in the event Kendall and Allie remained in the living quarters permanently. David poked at beams and climbed onto the roof. When he hopped down, he pointed out the many water stains on the ceiling.
“This place needs work, but I think it’s worth fixing up. The roof is shot, though. We can’t unload the trailer into here until we get that fixed. I could patch holes, but this roof needs a major overhaul. I’ll help find a reasonable roofer. Plus I can do other repair work.”
“I don’t want you to spend your summer vacation working,” Morgan said.
“I need a place to stay,” David said. “One night on your friend’s floor was enough. I’d be happy to work on the cabin in exchange for free rent.”
“How would you feel about sharing space with someone?”
“Sure, Mom. I assumed you’d move in as soon as you could. Sharing a sofa with that huge cat can’t be comfortable.”
“No, I meant another young man. Or two. You remember Kurt Willard’s sons from church this morning?”
“The California dudes?” David pursed his lips slightly. “The one with the braids, and the guy with the bleached blond Frohawk?”
“Is that what you call it?” Morgan laughed. “Yes, them.”
“That might be okay.” His words were cautious.
“There’s one other option,” Morgan said.
She showed David the singlewide trailer, Del’s former home.
“Why don’t you live here?” David asked.
“Del has moved in permanently with Barton, so it is up for grabs.” Morgan unlocked the door. “The trailer has plumbing, but the electricity is shut off. The furnace and air conditioning stopped working, and Del decided it wasn’t worth sinking more money into trailer repairs.”
David hopped inside. “Hey. Nice.”
“As long as it doesn’t rain hard,” Morgan said.
“Yeah.” David studied the water stains on the trailer ceiling. “What is it about roofs in this place?”
* * *
David located a roofer who had an opening in his schedule. The only problem was that he had a big job lined up later in the week. He could start re-roofing the cabin early the next morning, take it or leave it. Convincing Kendall that the repair was necessary, and would relieve their immediate issue of living space, was a conversation she expected to be unpleasant. Once again, Kendall surprised her.
“I have a cheaper solution,” Kendall said. “Move in with us.”
Morgan must have looked as surprised as she felt.
“Seriously,” Kendall said. “You can’t keep sleeping on Bernie’s sofa. We’ll move Marissa’s crib into our bedroom, and you can have the guest room. Allie and I will have something figured out soon, I promise.”
“You’ve been saying that for over a month now,” Morgan said. “What about David? We can’t all fit into the rock shop living quarters, and you need quiet with a new baby.”
“You make a good point.” Kendall tugged at his wiry gray-streaked whiskers for a moment, then nodded his head. “Hire the roofer.”
* * *
After discussing the job with the roofer Monday morning, Morgan opened the rock shop. She was ready for business and had a pot of coffee brewing when Ned emerged from the adjoining living quarters.
“Ned! I didn’t expect to see you so early.”
“Mrs. Yates invited me in for breakfast.”
Which was becoming a daily occurrence. Morgan wondered whether Ned was seeking surrogate parents, mooching free food, or casing the joint. Allie followed, carrying Marissa in a colorful cotton sling across her chest.
“Good morning, Morgan. Have you had breakfast? We have plenty left.”
“I ate already, thanks. Allie, will you be here this afternoon?”
“Not until three.” Allie’s attention was on Marissa, not Morgan. She fussed with the sling, adjusting the cloth so she could see the baby’s face.
“That will work,” Morgan said.
The appointment for her, Kurt, and Lorina to apply for their conceal carry licenses was at four. Even after the disturbance up the hill, and two previous incidents with killers, Morgan wondered whether she was ready to pack heat.
Until a couple entered the shop claiming to represent the Nightskies Conspiracy blog. They wanted to know the back way onto Eustace Day’s property, and they were persistent. Morgan was glad when Del arrived for work. The skinny old cowboy seemed enough of a deterrent to the more aggressive alien hunters flocking to the shop. At noon, she sent Ned to the cabin with water bottles and David’s lunch.
Quiet settled onto the shop for a few precious moments. Morgan realized how much she missed the feeling of being alone. Just a few minutes of peace sufficed. The shop was drowsily warm with July midday heat. The smell of the pine floors mingled with the dusty odor of rocks and antique junk. She perched on the checkout counter stool, releasing a contented sigh.
Just as Morgan achieved an all’s-right-with-the-world calm, the shop telephone jangled.
�
��Rock of Ages rock shop,” Morgan said.
“You said you’d call when you got back in town,” a raspy female voice said.
“Who is this?” Morgan asked.
“Roxy. Eustace Day’s granddaughter. The trail’s probably gone stone cold by now. If you were more serious about my case, we’d have a better chance of solving this.”
“Solving what?” Morgan asked.
“Catching the bastard who murdered Grandpa.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Morgan let Roxy’s words sink in for a moment before she spoke. She did not recall having agreed to investigate Eustace Day’s death.
“I just got back to town yesterday,” she said.
“Are you interested or not?” Roxy asked.
While it was true that Morgan had solved two murders, it had been accomplished at a heavy price. Not just to herself, but to those she had grown to love in Golden Springs. If anything, Eustace Day’s demise should have concerned her even more than those cases. Eustace had been her uncle’s business partner, and he died right next door to the Rock of Ages. She wondered if she was in denial that a murder could have happened so close to home.
“The police believe your grandfather’s death was an accident.” Morgan paused. “Or even—”
“Suicide?” Roxy interrupted with a snort. “He offed himself? Right. The old guy was prepared to survive anything from Y2K to Ebola to the zombie apocalypse. Grandpa was gonna outlast the collapse of civilization. Might be nobody left but him and the cockroaches.”
So suicide was out, at least according to Day’s devoted granddaughter. Morgan still thought the option of accidental death should be on the table.
“Grandpa was a darned cautious old buzzard,” Roxy continued. “Something’s funny here, and I want to know what.”
“I don’t know how I can help,” Morgan said.
“You solve murder cases.”
“I may have stumbled across the solution to a murder.” Morgan didn’t want to encourage Roxy’s hopes. She only became involved in one case out of self-preservation, and the other to help a woman in need. Here we go again, she thought. “I’m not an actual private investigator. Not even close.”
Stone Cold Blooded (A Rock Shop Mystery) Page 13
