Stone Cold Blooded (A Rock Shop Mystery)

by Catherine Dilts

  “We just got here,” she explained. “We’ll get our badges first thing.”

  “No problem.” The guard studied the printout, holding the paper with elegant, if aged, hands the hue of polished mahogany. He wore his white hair combed back in dramatic waves in an old-fashioned style. “Just remember to wear your badges once you receive them, or I’ll have to deny you entry.” His lean face creased in a smile.

  “Yes, sir,” Matthew said, with the innocent seriousness of a nine-year-old. “We promise we’ll wear our badges.”

  The rest of the group entered the coliseum, but Burke stopped, leaning his folding table against his legs.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Burke said. “You look familiar.”

  Morgan held back, waiting. She didn’t want to lose Kurt’s son.

  “Do you attend the Holy Apostles Church?” the guard asked Burke. “I play the keyboard for Wednesday evening services.”

  “I’m not from Denver,” Burke said. “I’m just visiting.”

  The guard resumed his seat on the wooden folding chair, his posture ramrod straight.

  “I doubt a young man like yourself would know anything about the jazz scene of my era. I would guess you are a rap and hip hop fan.”

  Burke snapped his fingers. “That’s it. I remember you from a record album cover. My father collects music from the 1940s. You’re Cleary Fontaine, from the Clear Tones.”

  The guard rose from his chair and bowed. “Indeed I am.”

  “My name is Burke Willard. I’ve heard your albums hundreds of times. You play the piano like no one else. My father would kill to have your autograph. He’s gotta meet you.”

  “I’ll be here all week,” Cleary said. “I would be delighted to meet a fan.”

  The rest of their group was nearly out of sight. Morgan waved a hand at Burke.

  “We have to go.”

  “It has been a pleasure meeting you, young man,” Cleary said.

  “I’m a fan, too,” Burke told Cleary. “I’ll be back.”

  * * *

  The building was designed like a giant donut, with the arena being the center hole, circled by a curving aisle. The cavernous high ceilings of the coliseum covered both, and had an industrial look with exposed pipes and wires snaking through dull gray rafters. During livestock and horse shows, the aisle circling the arena would be filled with temporary pole corrals and stalls. Today it was filling with displays by rock shops, prospectors, jewelers, food trucks, and even a natural history museum.

  The show manager, a ruddy-cheeked man carrying his considerable weight with obvious difficulty, greeted Allie and Cindy warmly. Allie extracted Marissa from the colorful cloth sling across her chest. The manager handled Marissa with grandfatherly care, holding the baby to his well-padded chest and patting her back gently.

  “Glad to see you made it, Mrs. Yates,” Wilson McFarland said. “When Cindy told me you had an addition to the family, I was afraid you might pass us by for the delights of new motherhood.”

  “I wouldn’t miss the mineral show,” Allie said. “And I wanted to show my sister-in-law the ropes.”

  Allie introduced Morgan, then David and Burke. Wilson knew Matthew and Ruth from previous shows. After receiving vendor identification badges from the admin, they toted their collection of bins, tables and chairs to their assigned space. The Rock of Ages would occupy a rectangle of concrete floor not far from one of the arena entrances.

  “Yee haw!” Cindy punched a fist in the air. “We’ll catch people coming and going to the arena floor.”

  They were allotted one well-used eight-foot table. The young men unfolded and set it up under Allie’s instructions. Then they placed the smaller tables they’d been carrying at the ends of the longer table to form a U-shape.

  “Now for the fun part,” Allie said. “Unroll the canvas.”

  Like layers in a dig, the canvas roll contained one surprise under the next. First were metal rods and clamps. Beneath those was a tablecloth in a bright dinosaur print. Next, a clear plastic sheet to cover the cloth. The canvas itself was a banner printed with the Rock of Ages shop phone number, website, and address.

  “This is new.” Morgan admired the easy-to-read printing. “We’ve only had the website a couple months.”

  “Kendall ordered it from Mike and Hannah,” Allie said. “It’s the same font as the ad you placed in the business guide. ‘Branding,’ Hannah called it.”

  Allie clamped a contraption to the table. The banner hung from the frame, announcing their business to passersby. She and Cindy pulled acrylic display cases and shelves from the tubs, maximizing room on the table by creating vertical spaces. Cindy shoved the empty bins under the table, where they were concealed by the tablecloth.

  The coliseum closed in an hour, at eight o’clock. Cindy directed their flurry of last-minute activity. Two more trips were required to empty the bed of David’s truck.

  “The trailer will be safe in the parking lot,” Allie said, “especially with that new lock you bought.”

  “What about our table?” Morgan asked.

  “The coliseum is locked all night,” Allie said. “Guards will be patrolling. Some of them are moonlighting police officers.”

  “We’ll cover our table.” Cindy pointed to the table next to theirs. The vendor had set up before their arrival, and had draped an olive green tarp over the entire display. “Like that.”

  “We’ve never had any problems,” Allie said.

  “The really valuable stuff we won’t set out until tomorrow,” Cindy said.

  “The Triceratops brow horn and gemstones we’ll lock in the trailer every night,” Allie said. “They’d probably be fine right here, but there’s no reason to throw temptation in an otherwise honest person’s face.”

  “Well, that’s it.” Cindy dusted her hands together. “And we made it with,” she checked her watch, “ten minutes to spare. I’m starved.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  After dinner at a cheap all-you-can-eat buffet within walking distance of the motel, the young men headed back to Golden Springs in Morgan’s Buick, while the women and children headed to their rooms.

  Cindy turned on the television in the adjoining room, plugging a Veggie Tales video into the DVD player. She returned dressed in an old-fashioned flannel nightgown with plenty of ruffles and lace. In her arms she balanced cold juice boxes, a bag of popcorn, and miniature chocolate bars. She left the door to the adjoining room open a crack.

  “Now we can enjoy some girl talk,” Cindy said. “My kids hardly see television. They’ll be zombies in ten seconds.”

  Allie placed Marissa in her portable crib. Mother and daughter wore matching footie pajamas covered with kittens and puppies. Allie hopped onto the bed, propping herself against the headboard with pillows. Morgan felt outclassed in her sweat pants and Sioux Falls high school football team Washington Warriors T-shirt.

  “This is like a girls’ night out,” Allie said. “Or is it a girls’ night in?”

  “How about a slumber party?” Cindy asked.

  She sat next to Morgan on the sofa.

  “I’m glad you both came,” Morgan said. “I would have been completely lost without your help.”

  “Let’s toast a prosperous weekend,” Allie said. “I know we’ll earn back the table rental. I hope we do a lot more.”

  The women raised their juice boxes.

  “It’s great seeing you so happy now,” Cindy told Allie. “Marissa is a doll.”

  “Cindy, I have to confess, I used to struggle with jealousy of you and all your effortless babies. After the last miscarriage, I couldn’t bear seeing you with your kids.”

  Cindy’s pale skin faded a shade lighter. “Oh, Allie. I never knew.”

  “We looked into adoption years ago,” Allie said. “It was such a daunting process. Agencies tried to talk
us into being foster parents, but after the miscarriages, I didn’t have the emotional fortitude to fall in love with a child, and then have to return it to its parents.”

  “Everything worked out according to God’s plan,” Cindy said. “There are too many unwanted kids in this world. Marissa is blessed to have you and Kendall.”

  “Speaking of unwanted,” Morgan began. She shook her head. “I can’t really say that. Ned has a mother and a father. They didn’t seem all that attentive, until he went missing.”

  “Well, this is the first I’ve heard about it.” Cindy grabbed a fistful of popcorn.

  “Ned disappeared this morning,” Morgan said. “Or late last night, really.”

  “His parents called the rock shop twenty times today looking for him.” Allie wiped the sleeve of her pajamas across her eyes. “I can’t imagine what that poor woman is going through.”

  “No one has seen him since his grandfather was assaulted,” Morgan said.

  “Hold on,” Cindy said. “Is that Ned kid Erwin Sylvester’s grandson?”

  “Yes,” Morgan and Allie said at the same time.

  “Imagine that,” Cindy said. “Erwin’s son, a park hippie. I heard Erwin got pushed down some stairs. Maybe Ned went to visit his grandpa in the hospital.”

  “He hasn’t turned up there, the last I heard.” Morgan gave Cindy the details about Ned’s parents approaching her and Kurt in the park that morning.

  “The grandpa gets hurt,” Cindy said, “and at the same time, the grandson goes missing. Gotta be connected, you think?”

  “Ned wouldn’t hurt his grandfather,” Morgan said.

  “Beatrice told me Erwin accused Kurt of trying to kill him,” Allie said.

  “Kurt did not assault Erwin,” Morgan said.

  “If Ned didn’t push him,” Cindy said, “and Kurt didn’t, then who tried to kill Erwin? And what happened to Ned?”

  The women were silent for a moment, the anxiety palpable in the small motel room.

  “Let’s pray,” Allie said.

  She scrambled off the bed and sat with the other women on the sofa. They held hands as Allie prayed for Ned’s safe return, and Erwin’s healing.

  “Amen,” Cindy said.

  “Kendall was just making progress with Ned,” Allie said. “Teaching him about minerals and fossils. Showing how we run the business.”

  Morgan held back a comment about Kendall’s business management skills.

  “Ned was soaking up everything,” Allie said. “Or maybe just soaking up a mentor’s attention. Things would not have continued the same for much longer, but it would have been nice for Ned to have a normal summer around normal people.”

  “What do you mean?” Cindy asked. “What’s changing?”

  “I know you want the rock shop back, Morgan. And frankly, Kendall’s not cut out to run a business.” Allie turned to Cindy. “He’s seeking a pastoral position.”

  Cindy nodded. “I heard from Beatrice. That’s old news. You two would have been great for Golden Springs Community Church. You’d set the place on fire. Spiritually speaking.”

  “That would have been perfect,” Allie said. “But they hired Tip Zander instead.”

  “Their loss,” Cindy said. “Oh, we’ll keep attending, but Herb and I were sorely disappointed.”

  “We haven’t given up,” Allie said. “Kendall has a few more interviews.”

  “I’m sure glad to hear that,” Cindy said. “If you’d have let me know, I’d have had you on my prayer list.”

  “Don’t tell anyone,” Allie said. “For a deeply spiritual man, Kendall can be superstitious. He doesn’t want to jinx any of his opportunities by letting everyone know.”

  The door to the adjoining room swung open. Nine-year-old Matthew’s red hair was tousled, and his camouflage pajamas rumpled.

  “Mom, Hezekiah’s awake.”

  “I didn’t hear him cry.” Cindy stood.

  “Naw, he’s just laying there staring at me. It’s kind of creepy.”

  “Your baby brother is not creepy.” Cindy turned to Morgan and Allie. “I guess that’s my cue to hit the hay.”

  There had only been two motel rooms available when Cindy made reservations over two months ago. Morgan decided she could handle the togetherness for one weekend, and savored the thought of having the room to herself during the week. She took the fold out sofa, and Allie curled up on the bed. Soon Morgan could hear steady breathing as her roommates slept.

  She hadn’t shared a room with anyone since Sam’s passing. Even at Bernie’s, she had the living room while Bernie slept behind her closed bedroom door. If she had a room to herself, she could sit up and read, or do paperwork. Instead, she tossed and turned on the creaky springs, trying not to wake Allie or Marissa.

  When Kurt texted her that the boys had made it back safely, Morgan responded with a brief report that they were set up, and everyone was bedded down for the night. She typed the question uppermost in her mind.

  Has Ned turned up?

  No sign of him yet.

  I wonder if he saw what happened to his gpa? Morgan had to abbreviate or she’d be tapping on the tiny keyboard all night. Maybe he’s hiding.

  If he’s a witness, Kurt replied, I wish he’d show up. He could clear my name.

  * * *

  Morgan could have used more sleep, but the excitement of the first day of the mineral show revived her better than the weak cup of coffee she downed at the breakfast bar in the motel. Matthew and Ruth were delighted by the make-your-own waffles, and Cindy pocketed small apples for snacks later.

  Any concerns Morgan had about being mugged on the walk to the coliseum dissipated in the morning light. The alley was wide, clean, and well travelled by other attendees, in addition to their own noisy troop of three women and four children. If anyone were foolish enough to bother them, Cindy would no doubt whip her six-shooter out of her diaper bag.

  The outdoor displays were open and ready for customers. Pallets of petrified tree trunks, polished ammonite fossils embedded in rock slabs, and mining equipment crowded the walkway that had seemed wide the night before.

  “The shop needs fossilized shark teeth,” Cindy said.

  “Yes,” Morgan said. “I found a place online where I can order them wholesale.”

  “There’s a whole bucket of them.” Cindy pointed to a galvanized pail full of the triangular serrated teeth in one of the tents. “I’ll bet you could get a better deal here.”

  “Shouldn’t I wait until later in the show?” Morgan asked. “Maybe the prices will get lower.”

  “Not necessarily. If he won’t wheel and deal with you now, he might later. You got nothin’ to lose, Cowgirl.”

  Morgan tried out her bargaining skills. She knew the going price of shark’s teeth, both retail and wholesale. The bucket held hundreds of teeth, more than enough to replenish stock at the shop. They finally settled on a price that was much better than what she had been prepared to pay online.

  “So that’s how we start the show?” Morgan asked as she hugged a heavy canvas bag to her chest. “By buying, not selling?”

  “That’s half the reason we’re here,” Cindy said. “Hey look. There’s a trough full of geodes. I’ll bet we can get a deal on them, too.”

  Morgan spent over two hundred dollars before they even made it to the coliseum. They stashed the purchases in the trailer, then headed inside to meet up with Allie. They flashed their vendor badges at former jazz pianist and door guard Cleary Fontaine. Entering the coliseum, Morgan felt she had gone back in time. Like a million years back.

  Except for the very modern food trailers. She was glad they’d had breakfast, or she might have been tempted to blow her budget. Vendors sold everything from gourmet organic coffee and vegan tofu wraps to corn dogs and funnel cakes dusted with powdered sugar.

  As Ci
ndy and Allie removed the tarp from the Rock of Ages table, the vendor next to them arrived. Morgan had met the stubby mountain man in his distinctive fringed buckskin jacket and white goatee. When he unfurled the tarp from his table, a huge banner confirmed his identity.

  Buckskin Quinn’s Fossil Emporium

  He glanced at Morgan, gave her a salute, then continued setting up.

  At promptly nine Saturday morning, the doors opened to the public. A slow trickle of morning visitors increased to a flood by noon.

  Morgan was grateful for the training and advice offered by Allie and Cindy, but both women had to take frequent breaks to tend to their babies. Matthew and Ruth, distinct with their bright reddish orange hair, freckles, and in-your-face Jesus T-shirts, were old hands at mineral shows. They ranged around the coliseum with a freedom that terrified Morgan. Granted, they always traveled together, or with an adult. And they definitely knew their way around.

  Ruth led Morgan to the ladies’ room. A line snaked out into the hallway.

  “I know another one,” Ruth said.

  A circuitous path took them to a nearly empty restroom. Once finished, the eight-year-old took a different route back to their table. Hopelessly lost, Morgan grasped Ruth’s hand and let the girl pull her through the crowded aisles. They had come full circle on the wide concrete aisle circling the arena.

  A banner featuring glittering fairies caught Morgan’s eye.

  “I can’t escape the man,” she muttered.

  Piers Townsend stood between a stack of New Age books and a display case of gargoyle necklaces and fairy earrings. Racks of yoga slacks and tunics similar to the getup he wore hung on either side of his table.

  Besides being a thorn in Morgan’s side, Piers was Kurt’s opponent in the City Council race. If he was taking time off from campaigning to attend the mineral show, perhaps his political ambitions were waning. Morgan ducked when he turned. She didn’t need to hide. Piers’s attention was focused on one of his many customers.