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

by Ann Charles

  “Are you thinking that Joe may have used extortion to take possession of the mine before he offed the previous owner?”

  “Sure. It would’ve been his version of a hostile takeover.” Claire caught the faint musky scent of skunk in the air, glad Gramps’s dog wasn’t here to go after it and leave them both in a heap of stink again. Although with this creepy stuff going on, she wouldn’t mind having Henry’s bark alarm handy. “So now what?”

  “We go inside the mine again,” Mac said.

  “How about we send in some kind of remote controlled camera instead?”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Why?”

  “I don’t want you to go back in there,” she told him, her guilt weighing in with a whopping back-bending bulk. “You could get hurt again.”

  “Claire, I told you before, what happened up in that mine was not your fault. I should have been more careful.”

  “I distracted you just like you said I would.”

  “Stop playing the self-blame game and let’s move on. After learning this story about the mine owner’s death, I’m even more curious what might be in there.”

  “Me too,” she admitted.

  “Then we go back in the mine together, and I take plenty of precautionary supplies with us to be safe.”

  “But not until your shoulder is healed.”

  “It’s better already.”

  “Mac,” she warned. “You’re taking care of it, right? Doing the exercises they showed you in the hospital and not straining it harder than you should?”

  “Slugger, I told you, this isn’t the first time I’ve dislocated my shoulder. I know all about what exercises I need to be doing and when not to push it.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” She stared out into the shadows, watching, wishing he hadn’t had to go back to Tucson so soon.

  “Did you get the can lights in today?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She massaged the crick in her neck that had developed from installing the lights. “I miss you, Mac. When are you coming back?”

  “I just left this morning.”

  “I know. I’m pathetic and it’s your fault.”

  His raspy laughter warmed her through the line. “It’s my mastery in the bedroom, isn’t it? I knew it. I’ve turned you into my sex slave.”

  She snorted in reply. “You’re right, oh great sultan. I am your humble concubine.”

  “And here I tried to take it easy with my incredible prowess, but it’s not easy to keep this tiger on a leash.”

  “Oh, Lord. I’ve created a monster.”

  “A love monster.” He was chuckling before he even finished saying it. “Damn, I’m beginning to sound like Manny.”

  “How many beers have you had tonight, Mac?”

  “None. I’m drunk on—”

  “Don’t say love.”

  He yawned. “I was going to say fatigue. It’s been a long day and I’m ready to crash.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you go, sleepyhead. I need to go inside soon anyway. With the rec room out of commission, the boys have set up the Sunday night Euchre game at the kitchen table.”

  “It’s a little cramped in there, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what I thought, but Chester came to the conclusion that they should’ve been playing in there all along. All he has to do is lean back to open the refrigerator and grab a beer. It saves him the hassle of standing up and walking.”

  “Well, there is that.” Mac yawned again. “All right, Slugger, blow me a kiss goodnight.”

  She did. “Hurry up and get those sweet cheeks back here.”

  He hung up first, leaving her alone in the dark desert night with a sky full of stars and a smelly skunk on the loose. The moon should be rising soon, but her check on the eastern horizon found no signs of it yet.

  Setting the phone on the step next to her, Claire stared up at the Milky Way painting a gauzy white swath through the black velvet sky. Stars dotted the mesmerizing view like sparkling sequins. God, she loved the nights out here in the boonies. It was one of several reasons she wasn’t thrilled about Mac’s promotion and the idea of traveling with him from city to city.

  She’d come to realize this little R.V. park out in the middle of nowhere fit her personality like a pair of warm and fuzzy slippers, offering the breathing room she hadn’t realized she wanted until now. On top of that she felt needed here, a necessary part of something important even, for the first time in her life. Though Ruby owned the place, she pretty much let Claire be her own boss, and that in itself was freeing in a way she hadn’t experienced before.

  Somehow in the jumble of Joe’s crazy left behinds, Claire had found her happy place in life. Irony was such a practical joker. After all of the college classes she’d taken and all of the soul searching she’d done over the years, trying to figure out her purpose and station in this big fat world, she’d stumbled into it by accident in a dusty corner of Arizona. Now that she’d discovered where she needed to be for her own serenity, would she be able to give it up to follow the man she was head-over-heels for so he could live his dream?

  The screen door creaked open behind her. “Claire?” Ronnie called out softly. “Are you out here?”

  “I’m on the steps.”

  “You still on the phone?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  The door clicked closed, followed by the light bang of the screen.

  “Where’s Jessica?” Ronnie asked.

  “She’s spending the night at her dad’s place in town tonight.” Claire wasn’t thrilled with this plan, but earlier today Jess had called her mom and gotten permission. Then to be safe Claire had taken the phone and confirmed that Ruby was fully okay with Jess staying in her dad’s motel room on a school night.

  “You mean the lousy bastard doesn’t have another new girlfriend sleeping over for once?”

  Those had been Ruby’s exact words when Claire first had gotten on the phone with her, but after a few more acidic remarks about Jess’s dad, Ruby had talked about how much she was enjoying the Black Hills. She’d sounded happy, relaxed even, and was looking forward to a visit from Claire’s cousin, Natalie, that evening. Go figure that a curmudgeon like Gramps could make a grown woman giggly.

  “Apparently Jess’s dad is between slumber party buddies,” Claire told her sister.

  “While I don’t like the idea of Jess at that sleazy motel room for the night,” Ronnie said in a hushed voice, which set off Claire’s internal alarm, “I’m glad she’s safely out of eavesdropping range. We need to talk about something I learned yesterday.”

  What had happened yesterday? Oh right, Kate had locked Deputy Dipshit in jail so she could spy over at The Rowdy Coyote Motel. “Is it something you learned from the Sheriff?”

  “No, from his aunt.” Ronnie lowered herself onto the step, her shoulder bumping Claire’s.

  “His aunt, huh? Is she teaching you some new bully tactics?”

  “You need to get over that.”

  “Maybe I will after my suspension from the library is finished.” She thought back to that humiliating moment that had started with the kickoff argument between her and one of Millie’s gang members over sharing the computer. Things had escalated from verbal to physical in a pacemaker pulse or two, and before Claire knew it she was being escorted out of the library with a warning not to come back for six months. To top it off, Deborah had spent the whole drive home bitching at Claire for misbehaving in public. “You know, on second thought, maybe not. Someone needs to apologize for clocking me with her handbag. I swear she had compression socks filled with rocks in there.”

  “Oh jeez, you big baby! Are we on the playground in third grade again?” Ronnie pulled a piece of paper from her back pocket and handed it to Claire. “Anyway, Aunt Millie showed me this article.”

  Claire peered down at the paper in her hand, but the starlight wasn’t cutting it. “I left my flashlight inside. What’s it say?”

  “The othe
r mule-lady, the one we stole the diamonds from, is dead.”

  “What?”

  “Someone in prison stabbed her 23 times with a shiv.”

  “Holy fuck,” Claire whispered. “What a bad way to go.”

  “I know.” Ronnie shivered and scooted closer to Claire, hip to hip. “To be totally honest, I’m scared.”

  “Why are you scared? She’s dead. She can’t hurt either of us anymore.”

  “No, but the person who had her killed can.” Ronnie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Someone’s going to come looking for those diamonds. I’ll bet that’s why she was murdered.”

  “What makes you think that’s why she was murdered? Maybe she pissed off the leader of one of the prison gangs by refusing to give her a free pack of smokes, so they cornered her down in the laundry and taught her a lesson about respecting the boss in the hoosegow.”

  Ronnie stared at her for several silent seconds. “Dad let you watch way too much T.V. growing up.”

  “Most fiction is based on fact. It could’ve happened that way.”

  “Or not. Anyway, her murder times out right. She was killed about a week after those victims in Mexico who were brutally murdered according to that article Manny translated for us.”

  Claire grimaced. Ronnie had a point. There was a strong possibility that one of the victims over the border had clued the killer in on the two mules. And now a week later, the one remaining mule was dead. The question remained whether the dead lady had mentioned The Dancing Winnebagos R.V. Park before being stabbed to death. There was no way she could know it had been Ronnie and Claire who had taken the diamonds since nobody had been around at the time of the heist, but the killer might be zeroing in on the park nonetheless.

  “Shit.” Claire rubbed her eyes. “Where did the Sheriff take that camper those two mules were using where we found the diamonds?”

  “I don’t know, but I could ask Grady.”

  “That might make him suspicious.”

  “True. Grady is too sharp for his own good. What if we ask one of his deputies on the sly?”

  “That’s still risky. He has his crew on red alert when it comes to you, me, and Kate.”

  “I have an idea,” Ronnie said. “Maybe his aunt could find out for us. She already knows about the diamonds, so she knows the stakes here. If she agrees, she’d only need to ask around, not really stick her neck out.”

  “I can’t believe you blabbed to the Sheriff’s aunt about the diamonds. She’ll probably spill the beans to him somewhere between gobbling down their Thanksgiving turkey and licking pumpkin pie from her fork.”

  “I didn’t blab. She spied on me while I was searching on the internet for information. You have to realize who we’re dealing with here when it comes to Aunt Millie. Grady gets his eagle eyes and bloodhound nose from her.” Ronnie linked her arm in Claire’s. “But you should know that if Aunt Millie agrees to help, it may cost us some high quality jewelry.”

  “Where are we going to get jewelry? The only thing I have of any value is Grammy’s ring, and I won’t give that up. Do you have any pieces from Lyle that are actually real?”

  “Not much, and I’ve already given Aunt Millie and her gang most of my high quality fake bling.”

  “Crap.”

  “When this is all over, remind me to have Lyle castrated.”

  “We can pick out the hedge trimmers together.”

  They sat in silence for a bit, staring out at the black desert, listening to the breeze rattle the cottonwood branches.

  “Here’s a thought,” Ronnie said. “We could ask Mom for one of the necklaces or rings Dad gave her.”

  “You think she’d actually give up any of those pieces?”

  “She might if Kate asked and claimed it would be a keepsake for the baby.”

  “Hmmmm.” Claire considered that angle, but then something else that had been bugging her came to the surface and distracted her. “Mom is drinking too much.”

  “You noticed that, too, huh?”

  “It’s hard to miss that the Wicked Witch of the West has turned into Giggles Magoo. You should talk to her about it.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “Because you’re the oldest. It’s your job to handle this kind of family crisis crap.”

  “Bullshit.” Ronnie chuckled. “You’re being a typical middle child and pushing responsibility off onto someone else.”

  “Don’t start psychoanalyzing me based on birth order. We all know I have my issues with authority and commitment, so let’s not slap any other labels on my bumper.”

  “Please, I wish authority and commitment were my only hang-ups these days. I have so many labels now that you can’t see my bumper anymore.” Ronnie crossed her arms over her knees and rested her chin on them. “What should we do about Mom?”

  “Let’s start with talking to Manny. He must see it, too. He’s always been a party guy but never a drunken mess night after night.” Manny and Chester liked to drink, but they both knew their limit. “Maybe he has the inside scoop on what’s fueling this drinking binge she’s been on lately.”

  At any rate Claire sure hoped so. The idea of trying to peek into her mother’s brain could result in her learning more deeply buried secrets. After the last mind-blowing revelation about her grandmother’s cold heartedness when it came to showing her own children any affection, Claire would sooner try to slay a dragon with a Swiss army knife.

  The door creaked behind them.

  “Claire? Ronnie?” Kate called out. “Are you out here?’

  “On the steps,” Ronnie said.

  “It’s your turn to take on Chester and Manny,” Kate said. “Mom and I lost the round.”

  “We’ll be right there.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Claire muttered, not looking forward to watching her drunken mother grope her new husband any more tonight … or ever.

  “What are you guys doing out here?” Kate asked, closing the door behind her. She stood behind them. “Avoiding Mom?”

  “Something like that,” Claire said, not wanting to get Kate involved in this diamond mess more than she already was.

  “And before you ask,” Ronnie looked up at their little sister, “we weren’t talking about the damned Polar Bear.”

  “Whatever.” Kate said, squeezing her butt onto the step next to Ronnie’s. She leaned forward to look at both of them, her eyes glittering in the shadows. “Are you talking about Dory Hamilton? Because I think Claire and I should go looking for him tomorrow morning before my shift starts at The Shaft.”

  Claire let out a bark of laughter. “Butch will kill me if I take you with me.”

  “Butch is not the boss of me.”

  “And we’re back to third grade.” Ronnie snickered.

  Kate poked her in the thigh, making Ronnie yip. “Besides, we’re not doing anything dangerous, right, Claire? We’re going to ask Dory a few questions and then leave. No harm, no foul.”

  Claire shook her head. “No way, Kate. Not with how nutso you’ve been lately. I’m going alone so I don’t end up in jail again.”

  Kate huffed. “I’m going with you, or I’m going to tell Mom that you went out of your way to invite Dad and his girlfriend down here for Christmas.”

  “You wouldn’t dare. That’s not even true.”

  “Trust me, I’d dare.”

  “You better take her,” Ronnie said. “If you don’t, she’ll probably go on her own and wind up in jail again instead of you. What’s a good name for a baby born behind bars, Katie? Maybe Rocko if it’s a boy? Lizzy or Bonnie for a girl?”

  Claire heard Ronnie grunt.

  “Would you stop poking me, you little brat,” she told Kate and poked her back.

  Claire leaned back on her elbows while her sisters wrestled around, bumping her now and again. What was the saying she’d heard years ago? There’s no better cellmate than a sister? Or maybe it was “friend” instead of “cellmate.” She shrugged. Both worked in her case.

  When t
he two nincompoops beside her stilled, she asked, “Kate, have you thought about how you’re going to act around Arlene now that you suspect her of sleeping with the Polar Bear?”

  “Yes. I’m going to do what Butch suggested and act like nothing has changed.”

  Butch’s suggestion had had more meat to it than that. His plan involved talking to Sheriff Harrison about doing a thorough background check on Arlene while they all kept on as if Kate hadn’t found Arlene’s scarf in the so-called Polar Bear’s motel room. Butch had agreed with Ronnie and Claire that the request was going to require some finesse, including skipping over the part about Kate sneaking around The Rowdy Coyote Motel again.

  While Claire, Ronnie, and Kate had come clean with Butch about the whole Polar Bear mess and Ronnie’s impending doom, they’d kept their lips sealed about the mother of his child locking up Deputy Dipshit prior to her little fieldtrip. It wouldn’t benefit Butch to know that detail, only put him in yet another awkward position between Kate and his good friend, the Sheriff.

  “If Arlene is sleeping with the guy you think is the Polar Bear,” Ronnie said, “and that’s a big IF on every part of that sentence …”

  “It’s him and she is.” Kate sounded overly sure of herself, which Claire figured was the “crazy” voice talking.

  Ronnie continued, “That doesn’t mean Arlene knows about his plan to take me out into the middle of the desert and torture me until I tell him where the money is that Lyle and his high-priced, skanky blonde whores snorted up their noses.”

  Claire did a doubletake. “Wow. That’s still eating at you, huh?” At Ronnie’s shrug, she added, “You might want to seek therapy for that.”

  “Why do you think I want to castrate the bastard? That has to be worth a handful of visits to a therapist.”

  “Good point.”

  “Anyway,” Ronnie turned back to Kate, “Arlene could just have the hots for this guy. Didn’t you say he was close to her age?”

  “Yeah,” Kate answered.

  “And Arlene has a thing for big, burly bikers,” Claire added. She’d once agreed to trade tables so that Arlene could wait on three leather-clad, tattooed up the ying-yang, Harley riders.