Morgan started to speak again, but Wenda poked her head between the curtains.
“The interview has been moved,” she said. “The reporter has a severe allergy to livestock, and wants us to ‘buzz over to the Sheraton.’ Her words, not mine. I told her there has been no livestock in the coliseum in over a month, but she insisted.”
Sonny released a sigh. “I must go,” he said to Morgan. “But our paths will cross again soon. I will be visiting father’s property. My youthful recollection is of an idyllic mountain hideaway. The property appraiser informed me it is hardly suitable for human habitation, but I will assess the ranch for its appropriateness to build my Center for Interstellar Diplomacy.”
Wenda scooted Morgan out of the little tent with cool efficiency before Morgan could say another word.
She fumed on her way back to her table. Cindy caught her mood immediately.
“What’s up, Cowgirl? They run out of funnel cakes?”
“No, worse. Sonny Day is thinking of setting up some kind of alien U. N. next door to the Rock of Ages.”
* * *
Morgan had barely recovered from the news of Sonny Day’s plans when his daughter called.
“You got any updates for me?” Roxy asked.
Not much, Morgan thought, but she gave a cleaned-up version of her interview with the prospector.
“I also met your father.”
“And you saw that was a waste of time,” Roxy said.
Morgan had yet to form an opinion on whether Sonny Day could be a murderer. Fortunately, Roxy didn’t wait for a response.
“My grandpa left a will. We’re sitting down with the lawyer next week, but he sent me a copy. I just read it. Like I expected, he left the property to Dad. I was hoping to get a little something to keep the restaurant going. I need to give the cook a raise. He threatened to hitchhike back to California if I don’t.”
“You definitely need to keep your cook happy,” Morgan agreed.
“Maybe I can,” Roxy said, “but the problem is, I don’t know what grandpa left me.”
“It’s not mentioned in the will?”
“Sure, but what the heck is Buried Treasure? Sounds like something in a pirate movie.”
Morgan’s thoughts flew to Lorina’s leprechaun and the pot of gold the hawk’s predation had snatched away from them.
“When you’re done at the mineral show,” Roxy said, “do you suppose we can meet up?”
“Sure,” Morgan said.
“Great. ‘Cause I’ve got a new mystery for you and Kurt to solve. I need to find out what this Buried Treasure is before my father takes over the property.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Tuesday morning passed quickly for Morgan, but she noticed Matthew and Ruth watching the coliseum entrance with increasing anxiety. Finally, they spotted Herb’s bright red hair towering above the crowd.
“There’s Daddy!” Ruth squealed.
Matthew raced around his younger sister and down the aisle.
“Daddy!”
Herb scooped them both up in a bear hug, although at eight and nine, the kids weren’t little. Morgan tended customers while the Lyons family enjoyed their reunion. They’d only been separated four nights, but it must have seemed an eternity for the close-knit family.
“Where are the rest of the kids?” Cindy asked.
Herb had only brought three-year-old Isaac.
“Your mother offered to take them all to the zoo. Mary and Jacob took her up on it.” He placed a hand on Isaac’s head. “This one insisted on coming with me. Something about missing Mommy.”
Cindy handed baby Hezekiah to Herb, then picked up Isaac, squeezing him tight.
“Did you bring Burke?” Morgan asked.
“He stopped to talk to the guard.” Herb pointed in the direction of the coliseum entrance. “You ready to go?” he asked Cindy.
“You just got here,” Cindy said. “How about we look around before we go tearing off home? I already bought the things I needed for homeschool classes, but I saw some antler buttons I could use when I stitch you up another rendezvous shirt for Pioneer Days.”
Kurt’s son Burke strolled up to the table. He looked ready to go surfing, dressed in baggy shorts, sandals, and an oversized silk Hawaiian shirt. His braids were pulled back in a ropey ponytail. His exotic look caught the attention of every young woman he passed. And a few not so young.
“We should get antler buttons for the shop,” Cindy said to Morgan. “People do ask about them. Why don’t you come along, and I’ll show you the notions vendor?”
“Someone has to watch the table,” Morgan said.
“I can handle it,” Burke said. “It looks slow right now.”
“I’m glad you came back,” Morgan told him. “After all the work you did to help us set up, it would be a shame if you didn’t see the show.”
“I had to talk to Mr. Fontaine again,” Burke said. “And get Dad’s album autographed.” He held out the album cover, showing Cleary’s signature. “I told Mom about meeting Mr. Fontaine, and she’s wild about the idea of having him make a cameo appearance in her film.”
“She got the role?” Morgan asked.
“Piece of cake.” Burke snapped his fingers. “The part was made for Mom. It didn’t hurt that Jase’s dad is in the film.”
Morgan hoped this meant Zulina Jones had set her sights on a different ex-husband. One with the money and Hollywood connections that would keep her far from Golden Springs.
“I want to get home before dark,” Herb told Cindy. “If we’re doing some shopping, let’s get on with it.”
“Hold your horses, honey,” Cindy said. “You going with us?” she asked Morgan.
Burke waved a hand. “I can handle things here by myself for a few minutes.”
Cindy leaned close, lowering her voice. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. We’ve had some shoplifters. You gotta watch the table like a hawk.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let anybody steal anything.”
Over the past two days, they had lost a few more small items. Morgan was certain they were missing a shark’s tooth from the display, and two ammonite fossils had vanished.
“I’ll stay with Burke,” nine-year-old Matthew said. “He might need help.”
Herb seemed to think for a moment, then nodded his head.
Morgan followed the Lyon troop into the arena. She had been so dazzled by the incredible fossil displays, she had overlooked the tables at the edges of the arena. Cindy and Herb haggled with the owner of Old West Notions until they acquired buttons at the price they wanted. Then Morgan purchased a few cards of the antler buttons for the shop.
They headed back slowly, admiring the displays as they walked. A crowd watching a gemstone-cutting demo at one booth forced them to pass close to Sonny Day’s booth.
Wenda was hard-selling a customer on Sonny’s updated DVD set about the Mayan calendar. Out of the corner of her eye, Morgan glimpsed a little hand reaching out to the Miracle Wands. Pudgy fingers just missed, bumping the display. As Morgan grabbed for it, she experienced a moment of de ja vu as she recalled rescuing the Miracle Wands the day before. Once again she thought she had saved the precariously placed display, but one wand spun end over end, landing on the floor mat. That might have been the end of it had the wand not bounced.
The Miracle Wand exhibited no miraculous properties when it came to self-preservation. It tapped the metal leg of a table and exploded, shards of glass and colored rocks spraying across the floor’s rubbery surface. A moment of stunned silence seemed to paralyze everyone nearby. Then Cindy jumped into mom mode, checking her toddler’s hands.
“No cuts,” she told Herb. “Praise the Lord for that.”
Cindy turned to face Wenda, her face coloring as red as the hair piled on top of her head. Cindy was not blushing from embarr
assment over her child’s accident. No, she looked furious. Morgan did not think a confrontation would go well for either woman.
Wenda spoke before Morgan could cool the situation. “If you can’t control your children, you should put them on leashes.”
Ruth burst into tears.
Herb glowered at Wenda. “Things happen. You don’t have to make it worse.”
“Those Miracle Wands are very valuable.” The dragons on Wenda’s dress rippled as she shook her fists. “And not just in money. The healer invests spiritual energy into their creation, and now your brat has released that into the arena. There’s no telling what could happen.”
Cindy raised one eyebrow, an obvious skeptic. She clasped Herb’s hand. “We can rebuke that evil with prayer. Herb, would you lead us, please?” She bowed her head as Herb began reciting a Psalm about good conquering evil.
“Stop that!” Wenda screeched. “You are violating my religious rights!”
Sonny stepped from behind a pastel curtain. Cindy and Herb exchanged a glance, no doubt confused by the guru’s Western apparel.
“Here, now. What’s going on?”
Wenda pointed at Isaac. His sister might be upset, but the toddler seemed oblivious to the disturbance his innocent act had generated.
“That brat broke one of Madame Cici’s Miracle Wands. And now those people are praying.” She spat out the word as though it was the vilest of curses.
“It was an accident waiting to happen,” Morgan said to Sonny. “That display almost tipped off the table when I was here yesterday.”
Sonny grasped the display, seeming to notice for the first time its position on the table.
“We can take care of that.”
He moved the Miracle Wands, minus one, to a more secure spot.
“You need to pay for the wand,” Wenda said.
“I’ll pay replacement cost,” Herb said. “A tube full of colored rocks can’t really be worth fifty bucks.”
“It’s not just a tube full of rocks. Each of those semi-precious stones was hand-selected for its healing properties. Each wand is unique. Madame Cici takes years to collect—”
Sonny held up a hand to stop Wenda’s tirade.
“I agree, sir,” he said to Herb. “It was an unfortunate accident. Kids will be kids. The wholesale price of the wand is twenty-five dollars.”
Herb reached a hand into his jeans pocket.
Out of nowhere, Piers Townsend materialized, clasping his hands obsequiously before his tunic.
“May I be of some assistance?” Piers asked. “I know these people.”
That had to chap Cindy’s Fundamentalist hide, Morgan thought. Having a New Ager come to her defense against another New Ager.
“The matter is already resolved,” Sonny said.
Herb pulled bills out of his wallet and began to hand them to Wenda. Piers managed to intervene without touching anyone.
“I will pay. I insist.”
What is Piers up to, Morgan wondered.
“I pay my own bills,” Herb said, his voice low and threatening.
“In the interest of maintaining the peace between our two divergent communities of thought,” Piers said, “I insist on paying for the item. You wouldn’t want your hard-earned money benefiting a New Age enterprise, would you?” He handed his bills to Wenda, then turned his baby blue eyes and his charm onto Sonny. “I understand you may be moving to Golden Springs. May I be the first welcome you to the neighborhood?” He pressed his palms together and bobbed a vaguely Eastern bow.
“Actually, you wouldn’t be the first,” Sonny said. “I’ve met my father’s next door neighbor already.” He smiled at Morgan.
“The gang’s all here.” Morgan smiled back. “As small as Golden Springs is, you’ve just met a good portion of the population.”
“How interesting,” Sonny said. “I’ve been away for many years. There appears to be more diversity than when I left.”
Morgan thought of the park hippies, the alien hunters, and the churchgoers.
“You have no idea how diverse,” she said. “I’m sure it’s changed a lot.”
“I would be delighted to tell you about fresh new changes sweeping through Golden Springs,” Piers said.
“That’s a subject I’m very interested in,” Sonny said. “Do you have time to join me for tea?” He turned from Piers to Morgan. “I would appreciate your viewpoint as well.”
“I need to get back to my table,” Morgan said. She left the “before I throttle Piers” unspoken. “Most of my crew is leaving today.”
“Another time,” Sonny said.
Piers bowed, but Morgan didn’t miss the smirking smile on his handsome face. As she headed back to the Rock of Ages table, Morgan had gained a new appreciation for Piers. He really did have the makings of a politician.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ruth continued sniffling, despite Cindy’s attempts to comfort her. Isaac still seemed unfazed by the commotion he had caused, but as he watched his sister’s distress, his own lower lip began to tremble. Morgan hated to see Cindy and Herb’s mineral show experience end on a sour note.
“I don’t appreciate being beholden to Piers Townsend,” Herb said. “Or that Sonny guy. He doesn’t fool me with those cowboy boots. What’s this about him moving to Golden Springs?”
“He’ll take one look at his father’s ranch and change his mind,” Morgan said.
“Just what we need,” Cindy said. “More hoo doo.”
Isaac ran around the table and hugged his older brother Matthew. Ruth joined them in a huddle.
“What did I miss?” Burke asked.
Morgan was glad he hadn’t been there. Burke would have filmed the confrontation and posted it on You Tube before they made it back to their table.
“Take my advice, young man,” Cindy said. “You stay away from the New Age types infesting this coliseum. They’ll lead you straight into Satan’s lair!”
“Wow.” Burke’s honey-brown cheeks flushed. “It must have been epic.”
“I know in California the New Age stuff is old history,” Morgan told Burke. “Around here it’s still controversial.”
“Mom!” Ruth’s sniffling escalated to a wail. “Isaac’s bleeding!”
Isaac protested when Matthew grasped his wrists, shoving the toddler’s hands out for Cindy to examine.
“Open,” Ruth said. “Open, open!”
Isaac began to cry, but he relaxed his fingers, as ordered. The stones he clutched in his fists rolled to the floor, leaving splotchy rainbows of color streaking across his pudgy palms. Morgan stooped to pick up the stones.
“They’re dyed. And very poorly.” She knew that ordinary rocks could be dyed, but that coloring would not come off on a toddler’s sweaty palm. “They’re fake.”
“Fifty dollars for a cheap glass tube full of badly dyed rocks.” Herb’s anger appeared to be returning full force. “They’re liars and cheats!”
Morgan shrugged, letting the rocks spill off her hand and into the trash. “There’s not much to fear from this magic. It comes right off.” She demonstrated with a hand sanitizing wipe from the container they kept behind the table.
Herb’s face contorted. Morgan was afraid the man was going to explode. Then he did. Herb burst into a belly laugh. People from three tables away turned to stare at the lumberjack-sized redhead who laughed until tears rolled down his ruddy cheeks.
“What do you know,” Cindy said, contemplating the fake stones in her palm. “We thought we walked into the dragon’s lair, but he’s just a little mouse.”
* * *
Wednesday at the mineral show offered no more high drama. Burke joked about the luxury of having an entire motel room all to himself, including hot and cold running water. Morgan appreciated having Burke around so she could take breaks and talk to other vendors
. Although many people shared fond memories of Uncle Caleb, no one proved as helpful as the prospector.
Burke enjoyed having the run of the coliseum, and a motel swimming pool surely more humble than those he was accustomed to in Hollywood. He spent much of his time chatting with Cleary Fontaine, recording and taking notes and photos for an article he planned to write, or perhaps a documentary. He had Hollywood connections, after all.
By Thursday morning, business had slowed down enough that vendors wandered from table to table, striking up conversations with new friends and renewing old relationships. She returned from meeting a couple who excavated fossils, to find Buckskin Quinn admiring the brow horn. Burke was less than attentive, his camp chair leaning back precariously while he tapped furiously on his cell phone.
“You have in your possession a treasure,” Quinn said, his eyes glued to the horn. “And yet here it sits, gathering dust. What a shame.”
“No one has offered me what it’s worth,” Morgan said.
“My offer still stands. Two thousand two hundred and fifty.”
“I’m sticking to three thousand,” Morgan said.
“There’s a lot of competition here.” The sawed-off mountain man’s high-pitched nasal voice took on a wheedling tone. “Lots of nice specimens.”
“We still have the weekend.”
“I might lose interest by then.” Quinn stroked his white goatee thoughtfully. “Or find something more interesting.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Morgan said.
Quinn turned to leave. His interest in the horn bordered on obsessive. Why not pay full price, if it was such a prize?
“Quinn,” Morgan said. “Just wondering. Do you have a Triceratops? Maybe one missing a horn?”
Quinn turned slowly to face her, his lips pursed behind his white goatee and his eyes narrowed.
“Why would you say that?” he asked.
Morgan considered her reply. She had obviously hit a nerve.
Stone Cold Blooded (A Rock Shop Mystery) Page 23
