The Rowdy Coyote Rumble (Jackrabbit Junction Humorous Mystery Book 4)

by Ann Charles

  “Like more guns and bullets coming your way bad.”

  “Now you see why I didn’t want to get you involved.”

  “If you’re involved, I’m involved.”

  She leaned her forehead on the steering wheel. “So how mad are you at me right now for this? Like no sleeping with me tonight in the same room mad? Or more like you want to pinch me a few times in frustration?”

  “Pinching won’t cut it. I’m going to lock you and your sister away in Ruby’s basement and only let you out for conjugal visits. The Sheriff can deal with Ronnie.”

  He watched an older couple stroll out of the hardware store pushing a cart filled with a big box showing a Christmas reindeer on the front. Would his life ever be as simple as shopping for holiday yard decorations? Probably not with the Morgan sisters in the picture.

  Sighing, he unhooked his sling and carefully reached out, taking her hand in his. “Claire, I’m not mad so much as I am scared shitless of losing you. I don’t think you understand how nuts I am about you.”

  She scooted over and kissed him. “I think I do, McGorgeous.” She spoke low in his ear, making his blood rush.

  And just like that he saw clearly what he needed to do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Yuccaville was hopping for a Saturday afternoon, as in several long-eared jackrabbits jumping around, bounding through parking lots and crisscrossing the road. The scene reminded Ronnie of Alice in Wonderland only the setting was much dustier, and the rabbits were missing suit jackets, pocket watches, and an imaginative little blonde girl running after them.

  She smirked over at Katie, who sat behind the Volvo’s steering wheel. Her blonde sister might not be Alice, but Katie was quite creative of late with tales of a Polar Bear, a Husky, and a thick-headed Sheriff’s deputy.

  Katie glanced her way, looking more frazzled than usual with the sun backlighting her. “What was the name of the diner again?”

  She’d just told her the name two blocks ago. Was it just her or was Katie’s hair growing wilder, sticking up here and there and everywhere like Cruella De Vil’s?

  The sight of The Mule Train Diner up ahead on the left snapped Ronnie back to the sole reason she’d asked Katie to bring her to Yuccaville today.

  “Park up there,” she told Katie, pointing out the windshield. “In that spot across the street from the diner.”

  “No way.” Katie slowed but cruised past the parking spot. “I suck at parallel parking. I’m going up here.”

  Ronnie tried to see in the plate glass window of the diner as they passed, searching for a glimpse of Aunt Millie. The meeting invite Grady had brought her had said don’t be late. Thanks to Katie’s lollygagging in the cookie aisle at the grocery store they were almost ten minutes late already.

  Katie pulled up next to the curb. Ronnie was out the door before the Volvo’s tires had stopped rolling. “Hurry up, Katie.” She waited for her sister to join her before crossing the street. “We’re late and Millie explicitly said not to be. Trust me we don’t want to piss her off, especially after the way your last encounter went.”

  “Wait!” Katie stopped halfway out the car door. “You didn’t say we were meeting Millie. She’s that crazy tyrant with the red dingle balls on her walker who threatened to drag me into the ladies room and kill me.”

  “She wouldn’t have killed you. Maybe just smacked you around a little. None of that matters now.”

  “What!?”

  “You need to let that negativity go and move on with your life. Focus on the positives, like this baby.”

  “Who do you think you are? Richard Simmons? You go on and enjoy your Sweatin’ to the Oldies exercising without me.” Katie sat back down behind the wheel. “I’m staying right here.”

  “Quit being a weenie.”

  “You’re the weenie,” Katie grumbled. “That woman scares the bejeezus out of me. I’m not going in there.”

  “What then? You’re going to sit here for the next hour?”

  “No. I’ll have to pee before then. You need to get back in half that time, or I’m leaving without you and you can call someone else to come fetch you. I’m sure Grady would be happy to race over and find out why you’re having a secret meeting with his bully-happy aunt.”

  “Jeez, you’re such a pain in the ass.” Ronnie sighed. “Fine, keep your head low if Grady or his deputies cruise by.”

  “We shouldn’t have come in my car if you wanted to be incognito.”

  “Whatever. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She pointed at Katie. “Don’t you dare leave me here, Kathryn Lynette.” Ronnie crossed the street and after glancing in both directions to make sure there were no Cholla County Sheriff vehicles in the vicinity, she slipped inside the diner’s front door.

  Not much had changed since she’d been in here last. Not the pictures and paintings of mules covering the walls, not the knickknacks of the stubborn animal placed on shelves, not the tablecloths dotted with cute versions of the beasts of burden. The only thing missing was the big mule with the Sheriff’s star pinned on his shirt who had sat at the same table at which his Aunt Millie now waited, her fingers tapping. Her notorious walker with the red dingle balls sat at the end of the table within reach.

  “You’re late,” Aunt Millie greeted her with a slight scowl on her painted lips. “I told you not to keep me waiting. Time is precious when you’re as old as I am.”

  Ronnie sat down across the table from her. She reached into her purse and grabbed a small card she’d brought along in case some feather smoothing was required. She slid it across the table for Aunt Millie to take. “Here’s a little thank you for your help. I really appreciate it,” she told the older woman, then glanced around again, feeling antsy. “This is a bad place to meet.” Grady’s sister owned the joint, and he came here for lunch.

  Aunt Millie picked up the fully stamped loyalty card for a free drink from the latte stand next to the grocery store and stuffed it into the handmade bag hanging off the front of her walker. “My niece never works on Sundays and Grady already left. So go teach your grandmother how to suck eggs. I was tooling around this town long before you were even born.”

  “I never have understood that ‘suck eggs’ thing. I can’t get past how gross sucking raw eggs out of the shell would be, not to mention the risk of getting salmonella.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  A young girl brought a glass of water over and set it in front of Ronnie, leaving a menu behind and a promise to return in a bit.

  As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Ronnie asked, “Why didn’t you just have us meet at the library like usual?”

  “Because my nephew has a spy in there keeping an eye on us now.”

  “He does?”

  “Well, I’m not certain, but the wife of one of his deputies suddenly got a job at the main desk, and she didn’t even go to college to be a librarian. Two weeks ago she was giving mani-pedis over at the Silver Curl salon. Plus her hours always seem to coincide with when we have our group meetings. I’d bet my next Social Security check she’s an undercover agent.”

  “But why meet here? This place is like one of his lairs.”

  “Because he’d never expect us to meet here, so it’s a safe bet.”

  Nowhere was a safe bet for Ronnie. Grady seemed to have Morgan sister radar. Maybe he’d planted a bug in her purse.

  Aunt Millie leaned across the table and waved Ronnie close enough to smell her citrusy perfume. “You’ve got a problem.”

  Ronnie had too many problems to count. “Which one?”

  “I was poking around on the internet the other day following paper trails and came across this.” Aunt Millie grabbed a folded piece of paper from the bag on her walker. She pushed it across the table to Ronnie.

  “What is it?”

  “Read for yourself.”

  Ronnie took the paper and unfolded it, scanning the article … make that the obituary column. Why was she reading obituaries? She looked up at
the top of the printout. “Grand Canyon State Prison, Gila Flat Complex. How do I know that prison?” she asked more to herself than Aunt Millie.

  “It’s the prison where they sent that woman you told me about, the one involved in that stolen artifacts deal up in your step-grandma’s mine.” Aunt Millie lowered her voice. “You know, the one with the diamonds stashed under her camper who your sister didn’t kill.”

  “My sister didn’t kill the other one. She accidentally hit her in the head with a flashlight, knocking her temporarily senseless, which resulted in her taking a fatal fall down into the mine shaft.”

  Aunt Millie waved her off. “Semantics.” She tapped her fingernail on the paper in front of Ronnie. “This obituary here is the other woman’s. I remember her name from the write up in the paper last month.”

  “So the other woman is dead.” Why did that require a clandestine meeting?

  “Not just dead. She was murdered in prison.”

  “What?” Ronnie frowned down at the paper, scanning the obituary. Sure enough, there it was in black and white. Not a heart attack, not a stroke. She’d been stabbed to death with some sort of shiv. Twenty-three freaking times. “Holy fuckballs!”

  “Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

  Ronnie rubbed her forehead. “What a bad way to go.”

  “I can think of a few worse.” Aunt Millie said, like they were talking about what types of flowers to plant in her garden this year.

  “But why does this mean that I have a problem?”

  “Because you took the box of eyeballs from her, and I’ll bet my favorite pair of support stockings that her death is directly related to those missing diamonds.”

  “The article!” Ronnie felt her gaze widen. She covered her mouth, a sudden wave of nausea making her gulp.

  “You mean the one we found the last time you were in the library? The one written in Spanish from that newspaper in Mexico?”

  Ronnie nodded.

  “What about it?”

  “I had it translated.” Aunt Millie didn’t need to know that Manny had done the translation work for her. “It’s along the lines of what we thought it was, only instead of one murder, there were five. All of them were shot down in one night. The wife of one of the victims tried to stop the killer only to get shot up herself, but she lived long enough to tell the cops the guy who did it had a tattoo of a bull on his neck, and he kept demanding to know where the eyeballs were before he opened fire on her husband. The police suspected she was incoherent at the time but mentioned that if anyone saw a man with a bull tattoo on his neck to contact them immediately. There was a reward of some sort.”

  The concern in Aunt Millie’s eyes mirrored the sudden wallop of anxiety that had Ronnie’s gut churning. “Someone is hunting down those diamonds, Veronica. You have to get rid of them before they follow the trail back to you.”

  A breath of fresh air blew across Ronnie’s back. She didn’t need to turn around to see the diner’s door was open, and Aunt Millie’s slight jerk of surprise told her exactly who the wind had blown in.

  “Hello, Grady,” Aunt Millie said, smiling up at her nephew who now stood over them, a six-foot-four wall of testosterone and suspicion.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice. “What are you two up to today?”

  As much as Ronnie wanted to slide the copy of the prison obituary under the table, she knew Grady was too sharp to miss that move. So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment and reached for her water glass, knocking it over so that the water spilled toward Aunt Millie.

  “Oh, damn it,” she stood up quick, leaning over the table to try to stop the water from reaching his aunt, blocking his view of the paper. “Grady, grab some of those napkins up by the cash register, will you?”

  By the time he came back with a handful of napkins, the paper was gone, tucked away safely inside Ronnie’s boot.

  She winked at Aunt Millie as she soaked up the water. “Sorry about that. Your nephew makes me nervous when he stands over me like that.”

  Aunt Millie patted her arm. “That’s okay dear. You have a definite effect on him, too.”

  The Sheriff grunted.

  Ronnie wasn’t sure what to make of that—good or bad.

  After the waitress carried away the wet napkins, Grady turned to her. “Your sister wanted me to tell you to hurry up. Her bladder has about ten minutes left on it.”

  Darn it. That explained why Grady was here. He must have seen Katie waiting in her car and put two and two together. She should have made her sister come inside with her, the big chicken.

  “She was feeling tired and wanted to wait in the car,” Ronnie explained even though he didn’t ask.

  “Right.” He shot his aunt a smirk. “Or maybe she didn’t want to have another altercation with a particular intimidator.”

  Aunt Millie sniffed. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, young man. How’s your mother’s bursitis these days?”

  “You know better than I do. You were there yesterday.” He focused his sharp gaze on Ronnie. “Sorry I had to leave last night. Did you make it home okay after the party?”

  “Yes.”

  Last night, in the midst of some serious window steaming in the semi-privacy of his front seat, he’d gotten a call from one of his deputies requesting backup. There had been a fight outside one of the seedier bars a few blocks down from Dirty Gerties, and the deputies on duty were tied up with a domestic violence situation on the other side of town.

  “Alone?” he pressed.

  Of course she’d gone home alone. What? Did he think she’d jumped into someone else’s lap after he’d left her standing there in The Shaft’s parking lot, still burning up for more from him and only him? “What exactly are you asking me, Sheriff?”

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t clarify. “Are you working at The Shaft tonight?”

  “I offered to help cover breaks if needed.”

  “And after that?”

  “I figured I’d hang around and see if Claire needed me. She’s taking over the last half of Katie’s shift so she can get some rest.” Ronnie crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this interrogation going anywhere, or are you just trying a new method of keeping tabs on me?”

  “I’d like to take you somewhere.”

  “With or without handcuffs?”

  His eyelids lowered, his gaze dipping to the V of her peach-colored cashmere sweater. “Which would you prefer?”

  Her cheeks warmed in a blink. Oh, God, she hadn’t meant it that way. She glanced across at his aunt, whose smile nearly split her face in two. “I meant are you going to take me to jail or is this a date?”

  His gaze returned northward, drilling for truth. “Is there a reason I should take you to jail, Veronica?”

  Damn it, this was going downhill fast, and she had diamonds to worry about ditching before someone came shooting in her direction. Without making a further fool of herself and before she screwed up and gave away her secrets to the Sheriff of Cholla County, she stood and collected her purse.

  “I need to go.” She squeezed Aunt Millie’s hand. “It was good to catch up with you. Give the other ladies my love.” Turning to Grady, she said, “If you feel like stopping by The Shaft tonight for a drink, Sheriff, I’ll be there. If jail is on your agenda, go play bloodhound somewhere else. I’m sure the girls at Dirty Gerties could point out a crook or two to warm that nasty cot in your jail cell.” Like Dory Hamilton, for example, and whatever game he was playing with that phone call.

  “Oh, I’ll be seeing you tonight, Ms. Morgan.”

  Why did he have to make it sound so ominous?

  “Fine. Leave your hat and star at home for once.” She patted his chest and left before she did something stupid like tell him that she couldn’t wait to see him again.

  * * *

  Kate slipped out The Shaft’s back door, hurrying through the cold blast rolling in from the open desert and the da
rk shadows layering the parking lot behind the bar. Nobody saw her leave, just as nobody saw her grab the black hoodie jacket tucked away in Butch’s supply room or take the keys to Ruby’s old Ford from Claire’s coat pocket and replace them with her Volvo keychain.

  The driver’s door of the pickup creaked. She slipped inside and shut the door right as a volley of sneezes hit her. Her damned allergies were acting up tonight. Must be something the wind kicked up. Digging a wad of bar napkins from her pocket, she dabbed at her drippy nose. She needed to get some real tissues; those paper thin napkins of Butch’s were scratching the hell out of her upper lip. She stuffed the wad of napkins back into her coat pocket and pulled out the pink lip gloss Jess had given her last week. Short of any other lip balm, this would have to do. As she coated her chapped upper lip, she focused on the task at hand, crossing her toes this didn’t go south before the night was through.

  Ruby’s old Ford started up with a little gas pedal pumping. Kate rolled out of the parking lot and onto U.S. Route 191 heading toward Yuccaville. At the edge of town, about a half mile before she encountered the first street light, she saw a familiar white Bronco heading her way. Hitting her blinker, she pulled off onto a dirt road and slowly bounced along it, watching in her rearview mirror. A Cholla County Sheriff’s Bronco blew past on the highway, no sign of stopping. Was that Grady or one of his deputies? She couldn’t tell for certain. As soon as the taillights were out of sight, Kate turned the pickup around and returned to the main drag.

  She rolled into town, searching for more of Grady’s crew as she cruised the streets slowly. The regular stores were all dark and shut up for the night. Only the grocery store, a two-bit bar, and the Sheriff’s office had lights blaring.

  Deputy Dipshit was on duty tonight along with a handful of others from Grady’s troupe of monkeys. Kate knew this because she’d seen it on the Sheriff’s white board earlier this week when the deputy had dragged Claire and her to jail. She’d been paying attention to several details about the Sheriff’s office that night, unlike Claire, who’d been too busy yelling and cursing about the injustice of her arrest and her rights being violated.