by Ann Charles
“It’s hard to see inside the room through that closed metal door without my X-ray vision goggles.” She sniffed and made a face. “What’s that horrible smell?”
“I think something is dead in that culvert over there.”
Ronnie waved her hand in front of her nose. “Close the window.”
“Not until you take a closer look at Room 9.”
“Quit messing around and tell me why we’re here gagging from the stink of some rotting carcass.”
Katie pointed at the motel. “Room 9 is the Polar Bear’s den.”
“The Polar Bear. You mean that poor guy you were harassing at The Shaft the other night?”
Katie slapped her steering wheel. “First Claire, now you. Why doesn’t anyone believe me? I’m telling you, this guy is here for one reason and one reason only.” She poked Ronnie in the shoulder. “You.”
“What makes you so sure he’s not a tourist? Maybe he’s on one of those motorcycle long distance tours. You know, a rich early retiree who’s trying to find himself while cruising across America on a Harley.”
“If he has money, why is he staying in this old, undoubtedly roach-infested motel?”
“It’s not as if fancy hotel rooms are a dime a dozen in Yuccaville, Katie.”
“Yeah, but there are a couple of semi-decent ones. Much better than this place. But enough about the motel. I saw something here earlier while you were at the library looking up stuff for Claire, and I wanted to show it to you.”
“Wait a second.” Ronnie turned in her seat, taking in her sister’s flushed cheeks and messy hair. Katie looked like she was short-circuiting both inside and out. “I thought you were dropping me at the library and then going to the grocery store.”
Katie shrugged. “That took ten minutes.”
“Please tell me you didn’t do something stupid like sneak into the big guy’s room while he was showering?”
“Who do you think I am, Claire?” Katie pulled out a spyglass and held it up. “I used this.”
Ronnie laughed. “Avast ye! Here thar be pirates!” Actually, plundering pirates would explain the rusted boat shell in the pool.
“Poke fun, but when you see this, you’ll be choking on your laughs.”
Taking the spyglass, Ronnie hefted it in her hands. “Where did you get this?” It was heavy and looked expensive. “It’s brass, isn’t it?”
“It was in Ruby’s office. I think it’s one of Joe’s antiques, but that doesn’t matter right now.” Katie lifted the opposite end of the spyglass, pointing it in the direction of the motel. “Look!”
Ronnie focused on the door to Room 9. It was beaten up by the sun and desert weather more than she’d realized. One solid kick and the sucker would probably crash in. “What am I looking for?”
“Check out the opening in the curtains.”
Ronnie scanned to the right. “Something’s sitting on the table.” She leaned across her sister, looking out through the open window instead of the front windshield.
“Ouch!” Katie pushed her away. “Get off me. You’re squishing my boobs.”
“I can’t help it. I’m not used to them being this big. They’re like freaking cantaloupes now.”
“They are not that big yet.” Katie sighed. “Would you just look on that table and tell me what you see.”
Ronnie focused again with her left eye, closing her right one. “It looks like a fish tank.”
“Bzzzzt. Wrong answer.”
Ronnie lowered the spyglass and glared at Katie. “Do that again in my ear and I’m going to jam this thing where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“You’d do that to a pregnant woman?”
“If that pregnant broad is my little sister, then yes. Besides, if I put the big end of it in first, it would make it easier for your OB-GYN to check on the baby.” Ronnie looked through the spyglass again. “If it’s not a fish tank, what is it?”
“A snake tank. You just can’t see the snake from here.”
Ronnie sat back and shuddered. “How do you know there’s a snake in it?”
“I drove through the parking lot earlier and got a closer glimpse.”
“Right. On your way to the grocery store that’s a couple of miles from here?”
Katie shrugged. “I took a detour.”
“Damn it, Katie. You need to be more careful. You’re pregnant, remember?”
“Just a second ago you were talking about jamming a spyglass up my hoo-ha. Now you’re going to act protective?”
“I was joking.” Ronnie pointed the brass peeper at the motel. “This spying business is serious. You need to leave this Polar Bear guy to me and Claire. We’ll look into him more.”
“Look into him more? What more do you need on this creep to get Grady involved? Or that FBI jerk?”
“Just because someone has a snake tank in his room doesn’t make him a killer.”
“True, but that’s not just any snake.”
Ronnie narrowed her eyes at her sister. “How would you know what kind of snake it is? Even if he held it up to snuggle with in front of that window while you were in the parking lot, you couldn’t tell what it was unless you really know your snakes, and you don’t because you run away screaming every time you even think you see a snake.”
“I do not. It’s Mom who does that. I don’t like snakes, but I’m not that creeped out by them.”
“Fine. You’re a regular snake goddess. So what kind of snake is it?”
“A rattlesnake.”
Chapter Five
Wednesday, November 7th
“I don’t think you should be doing that, Claire,” Chester said from where he rested his keister on one of Ruby’s barstools.
Claire raised her safety glasses, setting them on the top of her head, and then pulled off her dust mask. She used the hem of her blue South Dakota State Jackrabbits T-shirt to wipe the sweat and speckles of plaster from her face.
“I told you when we came back from lunch break,” she said, grabbing the glass of water on the bar next to his can of beer, “if you’re going to sit there and watch, keep your heckling to yourself.” She washed down the dust that had made it through her mask.
“Your grandpa said to repair the fire damage area and then put the room back together.” Chester ignored her attempts to mute him with a glare. “He didn’t say to tear out all of the lath and plaster in the room.”
Claire looked at the piles of broken plaster and wood laths that she’d ripped off the wall where the fire had sparked. She was almost two-thirds of the way done stripping this wall down to its studs, which thankfully were still in great shape.
“You saw the wiring in this wall.” She pointed her hammer at it. “It’s knob and tube with cloth-coated wires. That old school stuff is a huge fire hazard. There’s no way I can patch up the wall knowing I left that mess behind the plaster. It has to be updated with modern wiring, especially with the electrical load on these few outlets. Shit, you know this as well as I do. You’re the electrician here.”
“Plaster may not be the current trend, but it has its benefits, not to mention the historic value. It makes better soundproofing, too. With the store next door, Ruby may like it quieter in here.”
“Yeah, but repairing plaster is a bitch. Not to mention the weight it’s putting on the floor joists and supporting structure. The only reason there hasn’t been any sag yet is Joe beefed up the support on the basement beams in his office.” Although knowing Joe and his worthlessness when it came to anything other than stealing, it was probably the previous owner who had shored up the basement beams.
Chester grabbed his can of beer. “Plaster is a pain in the ass, but this house is built like a tank. The lath and plaster keeps the place rigid.” Chester finished his beer and let out a window-rattling belch as if to prove how strong the walls were. “Besides, Ford is a penny pincher. It’s gonna cost a few hundred to rewire this room, and once we finish here, you’ll want to tear apart the kitchen and do the same.”
&
nbsp; “No, I won’t.”
He crushed the can and tossed it into the trash. “Bullshit.”
“It’s not my house.”
“It’s not your R.V. park either, but you sure seem to be the one fixing everything around here most of the time. Have you thought about why you care for this place so much?”
What was he getting at? “It’s my job. I’m the handywoman, remember?”
“You think that’s it, huh?” Chester scratched his stubble-covered jaw. “I’ll bet you a crisp hundred that before we’re finished here, this remodeling job will spread to the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom.”
“The bathroom? What’s wrong in there?”
“There’re still galvanized pipes behind the walls.”
“How can you tell?”
“Ford told me. The whole house needs updating, but he’s not sure he wants to sink the money into it.”
Claire didn’t want to think about what that meant in the long run if Gramps didn’t want to fix up Ruby’s place, but a sort of melancholy plucked at her heartstrings anyway. “Yeah, well, my job is to fix this room and that’s it.”
“For now.” Chester said, as if he were some kind of oracle. “I look forward to collecting my winnings from you.”
The back door opened. “We’re home!”
The sound of her mother’s voice made Claire cringe.
Chester let out a barrel roll of curses.
“Claire Alice Morgan!” Deborah gasped with an extra helping of drama. “What have you done to your grandfather’s house?”
“First of all, it’s Ruby’s place, not Gramps’s.” She hooked her hammer on her tool belt in case her mother pissed her off enough to throw it at something. Or someone. “Secondly, what’s it look like I’m doing? I’m fixing it.”
“That’s still up for debate.” Chester laughed outright when Claire flipped him off.
“Ay yi yi, what a mess!” Manny Carrera lowered her mother’s red faux leather luggage onto the floor. With his salt and pepper hair recently trimmed and his pleated trousers and Hawaiian button up shirt, he looked fresh in from lunch at the Country Club. A smile warmed his face when his brown eyes landed on Claire and her tool belt. “Ah, chica. It’s good to see you in action again.”
Deborah stood at the far end of the room in fancy Manolo heels and a sleeveless peach jumpsuit. An older, more pinched-faced version of Kate, their mother’s perfectly lined lips crinkled as she surveyed the mess and then Claire, who couldn’t move without making dust billow. “There’s no way I can sleep in this house with all of this dust and Lord knows what mold spores in the air.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Manuel, we’ll need to move my things into your Airstream until Claire finishes with this remodeling phase she’s going through.”
Sweet potato fries! Claire hadn’t even considered how remodeling the house would affect where her mother spent most of her time. She shot a double-wide smile at her remodeling pal. “You win, Chester. Next up, the bathroom.”
“Don’t forget the kitchen.”
“You can’t tear the whole house apart.” Deborah sniffed and then sneezed, pinching her nostrils together when another sneeze tried to come out. “Where’s your grandfather?”
Gramps must have kept his plans a secret from Deborah when she had called the other night to see how things were going. “They’re on their way to South Dakota.”
“What? Since when?”
“They left this morning. I’m running the R.V. park while they’re gone.”
Deborah turned to Manny, who’d joined Chester at the bar. “Maybe we should head north and meet them up there.”
“No, Mother. They needed a vacation from everyone.” Especially Deborah’s pointy horns and flaming pitchfork. “Besides, I need Manny’s help.”
“You do?” Manny asked, glancing around the room in surprise.
“Since when?” Chester scowled at his retired partner-in-babe-hunting as he grabbed another beer from the mini-fridge behind the bar. “That old fart doesn’t know a ground wire from his Johnson.”
“Chester Thomas,” Deborah chided. “Bite your tongue in front of the ladies!”
“Show me a lady and I’ll get to biting.” He handed Manny a beer and added, “starting with her inner thigh.”
Claire groaned when he wiggled his bushy eyebrows at his buddy and they both wheezed.
“Es verdad.” Manny took the beer and pulled on the tab. “I stay far away from things that can zap me to death with one touch.”
“Yet you have sex with her.” Chester pointed at Claire’s mom.
Deborah tiptoed her way through the piles of plaster and wood, joining the other two at the bar. She slapped Chester on the arm. “Behave yourself. Manuel is an amazing and considerate lover.”
Claire gagged openly. “Please stop. My mental stability cannot handle another jolt this soon.”
A month ago, she’d burst in on her mother and Manny doing the wild thing. Refried beans, tequila, and whipped cream had been on the bedside table next to them. No amount of electroshock therapy would ever cure Claire of the ongoing nightmares, nor could she look at a can of refried beans without considering lobotomy options.
“Oh, I see.” Deborah stroked Manny’s hair. “It’s okay for you and Mac to talk about having relations but nobody else.”
“Mac and I don’t talk about ‘relations’ in front of anyone.”
Cracking open his beer, Chester scoffed. “You just get caught riding bareback in your grandfather’s hot rod.”
“Oh, for crissake. We have not had sex in Mabel.”
“Not for want of trying.” Bristle-head elbowed Manny, laughing at his own wiseass comeback, ignoring Claire’s snarls.
He was right on that one, though. Claire had tried to get Mac to have sex in Gramps’s car only to get caught by her grandfather with her pants almost down. It wasn’t her fault there was nowhere else to go to be alone with Mac most weekends.
Claire heard the General Store’s screen door creak and then slam shut. An interruption, thank God.
“Claire?” Jess called from the other room. Ruby’s daughter pushed aside the blanket that was strung up in the doorway, keeping plaster dust from seeping into the store. In her oversized gray sweatshirt and jean shorts, Jess looked twelve instead of sixteen.
Was school out already? Claire had lost track of time in the midst of playing demolition derby with her hammer.
“Whoa, dude! What happened in here?” Jess tossed her backpack on the bar and headed for the kitchen.
“Claire is making a godawful mess of your mother’s house.” Deborah let out a fake little cough and waved away plaster dust like it was attacking her.
“It’s called remodeling,” Claire told her audience of critics.
“Claire!” Ronnie pushed the old blanket aside. “I saw Manny’s pickup outside.” Her gaze moved to the bar. “Oh, there you are. Manny, I need your help with something.”
Deborah cleared her throat, holding her wedding ring up, making a point of admiring it in front of everyone. “It seems congratulations are in order.”
Claire and Ronnie rolled their eyes in unison.
“More like consolations if you ask me,” Chester muttered and belched. “I need to see a man about a mule.” He waddled off toward the bathroom.
“Claire and I are both very …” Ronnie started saying to Deborah and then seemed to choke on her words. Looking to Claire, she nudged her head toward their mother. “What was the word we used, Claire?”
“Traumatized.”
“No.”
“Appalled.”
“Nope.”
“Disturbed?”
Ronnie’s eyes narrowed warningly. “Not that one either.”
“Stunned.”
“That was it—but in a good way.” The smile Ronnie flashed Deborah didn’t come close to the corners of her mouth. She focused back on their new stepfather. “Manny, can I drag you away from your marital bliss for a few moments?”
“You can have him later, Veronica.” Deborah grabbed her new husband by the wrist and tugged him off the stool. “He’s going to help me pack up my things and move them to his camper. We’re not staying in here with this mess.”
Ronnie turned back to Claire. “I call Mom’s room.”
“What about Kate?”
“She can have the Winnebago to herself.”
“You’d leave a mentally unstable pregnant woman alone in a camper to fend for herself?”
“Katie isn’t crazy.” Ronnie paused, grimacing. “Not usually, anyway. Besides, I don’t see you giving up Gramps and Ruby’s big comfy new bed for your pregnant sister.”
That was because Claire had plans for that bed. Since Katie wasn’t going to be getting lucky anytime soon, it made sense for Claire to take advantage of the situation so that she could take advantage of Mac.
“Kathryn won’t be alone,” Deborah cut in. “Manuel and I will be right next door to her. If she needs anything, her mother will be there to take care of her.”
Oh, boy. Crazy Kate was going to break something—make that several somethings—when she learned about her new neighbors.
Frowning at Ronnie, Claire asked, “You’d leave Katie alone in the camper next to Mom?”
“It’s a great opportunity for some mother-daughter bonding.”
“I agree,” Deborah said.
Claire had a feeling that the only bonding that would be going on would be Kate tying up Deborah, duct-taping her mouth shut, and dumping her into Jackrabbit Creek.
Manny followed his new wife through the rec room’s battlefield toward the spare bedroom she’d been occupying for the past couple of months. “You do realize, mi amor, that this will be the first time we sleep in my Airstream as man and wife.”
Deborah flirted with him over her shoulder, her eyelashes batting. “Who wants to sleep?”
“Gato montés,” Manny growled and smacked her on the bottom, making her titter and run away with him chasing after her tail.
“I’ll find you when your mother finishes having her wicked way with me,” Manny called back down the hall to Ronnie from the bedroom threshold.
