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

by Ann Charles

  Ronnie pushed out into the bar, searching for Katie among the crowd of patrons.

  There was one tiny snag to fix—convincing her sisters that Thanksgiving at The Shaft with the Sheriff of Cholla County and his notorious aunt was a good idea.

  Chapter Twenty

  Wednesday, November 14th

  Kate pulled her Volvo into the parking lot of Diggers Feed Store and took a spot near the back, far enough from most of the other vehicles so she’d have a clear view. Cars and pickups whizzed by on the side street, some turning into the lot, others leaving. None of them had any idea that a killer was milling among them on this sunny morning here in a dusty corner of Yuccaville—none of them but Kate.

  She slid lower in her seat, hiding behind the steering wheel of her Volvo. Across the lot, the Polar Bear climbed off of his shiny Harley Davidson, shoving his leather gloves in his back pocket as he strode through the store’s front doors.

  As she waited for him to come back out so she could resume their game of cat and mouse, she opened the bag of dill pickle flavored popcorn she’d brought along for brunch and sipped on the strawberry milk she’d grabbed on her way out of the General Store. Today was the day; she could feel it in her bones. She tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth, the dill seasoning twanging her taste buds. Something was going to give, and for once Claire wouldn’t roll her eyes when Kate told her what she’d witnessed.

  Ten minutes later, Kate was covered in popcorn crumbs and all out of milk. She also felt the strong, tickling sensation of a full bladder. Maybe the feed store had a bathroom she could sneak in and out of before the Polar Bear finished whatever he was doing in there. After a quick check to make sure the coast was clear, she grabbed her keys and stepped out of the car. As soon as she started walking, the pressure on her bladder increased twofold, making her move faster before she blew a gasket. She could imagine Claire’s hysterical laughter if she found out Kate had peed her pants on a stakeout.

  The restroom was right inside the main doors thankfully, but so was the Polar Bear. He was too busy unloading a small basket onto the checkout counter to notice her. As she passed by him, she scanned his purchases—a coil of rope, a roll of duct tape, a blow torch, and a bag of sour gummy worms.

  Holy shit balls of fire! He was buying rope, duct tape, and a blow torch??!!! How much more obvious could he be? He might as well buy a “Murder for Idiots” kit while he was at it.

  Kate’s breath was short and quick the whole time she was in the bathroom. She hurried from the toilet to the sink and out the door. The Polar Bear was outside stuffing his purchases into his leather saddlebags. She fast-walked to her car, keeping her head down and maintaining a distance of several vehicles between them.

  She was almost to her car when the chirp of a siren behind her stopped her in her tracks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” she said and turned to face her nemesis.

  Deputy Dipshit pulled up next to her and rolled down his window, blocking her view of the Polar Bear. Today he was dressed up in his tan uniform and hiding behind the Sheriff’s Department symbol painted on his white pickup door. His smirk rubbed her wrong, her claws automatically extending.

  “Well, look what we have here,” he taunted. “The one and only Kate Morgan, slinking around town. You looking to start some more trouble?”

  “I wasn’t slinking.”

  “What were you doing in the Feed Store? You don’t have a bag to show for your time in there. Kind of makes me wonder if you have something hidden under your coat.”

  She spread her coat wide, showing her jeans and pink sweatshirt underneath. “Sorry, Deputy, but you’re barking up the wrong tree today. I suggest you move along now, little dogie. They’ll be out of doughnuts at the grocery store soon.”

  His upper lip curled as he snickered. “Hey, did you know your name is the same as a porn star?”

  Of course he’d know that. She smiled back at the putz. “Hey, did you know your face looks the same as a baboon’s butt?”

  That wiped the smirk clean off his smug mug. He pointed at her. “You watch that mouth, or I’ll haul you in again for assault.”

  “Criminy, you’re like a broken record, Deputy. Did you study only two pages of the list of crimes in your How-to-be-a-Deputy picture book?”

  The sound of a Harley rumbling to life made her curse under her breath. While this double chinned asshole made it his mission to try to one up her, a true-to-life criminal was getting away with saddlebags chock full of supplies for the death fiesta he was obviously planning to have soon. The only thing missing was the piñata, aka her oldest sister.

  “If you think you can get away with breaking the law because your sister is bedding down with the Sheriff, you’re wrong.”

  The Polar Bear rolled out of the parking lot and onto the street, the sound of his muffler heading toward downtown. Shit, there he went. Now she’d have to return to Go and start all over again.

  Deputy Dipshit continued blustering. “I’m here to tell you that I’m making it my mission to keep a close eye on you Morgan broads and stop you from menacing around this town—my town.”

  She glared up at the meathead who’d screwed up her stalking opportunity for the morning. “First of all, Deputy, one does not menace around a town. I suggest you ask Santa for a dictionary this year instead of bigger tires.”

  She unlocked her Volvo with her remote. It was time to end this showdown at the Feed Store corral before someone ended up in jail for clobbering the witless dung beetle and missed her shift at work.

  “Second, here’s a concept for your squirrel brain—instead of harassing a pregnant substitute teacher every time she comes to town, how about you focus on finding criminals and protecting citizens like you’re paid to do. Who knows, you might actually manage to handcuff someone before the year is out.”

  “You may talk smart, but I talk badge.”

  Talk badge? What did that even mean? Was that cop speak for something?

  “Great,” she said, opening her car door. “Well, how about you take that badge and move along. Your pickup is in my way, and since there is currently no legitimate crime you can think of to pin on me, I’m going to leave.”

  He rolled up his window, his beady eyes hating her to eternity and back.

  By the time she’d gotten into her car and started it up, he’d reversed enough to let her leave. But the son of a bitch followed her out of the lot, down the street, and clear to the Yuccaville city limits. Kate glared into her rearview mirror when he pulled off to the side of the road and flipped a U-turn.

  What in the hell did Sheriff Harrison see in that incompetent boob? They must be related by marriage somewhere down the line. Why else would the Sheriff not fire his ass and hire a real lawman?

  Whatever the reason, Grady had better get a handle on his deputy, because if he didn’t stop poking her with a sharp stick, Kate was going to go grizzly on his ass.

  * * *

  Ronnie glanced down at the scrap of paper in her hand and then back up at the single-story, dark red Craftsman style bungalow on Starlight Drive. The numbers posted on the cream-colored beam across the top of the porch matched those Aunt Millie had given her over the phone this morning. This must be it. Was this where she lived? If so, the older lady was taking good care of the place.

  She parked on the street in front of the house so she didn’t block the drive. The sun warmed her back through her blue flannel shirt as she walked up the sidewalk, admiring the tan columns and clapboard style siding. On the porch, she could smell a hint of fresh paint. She touched the siding. It was dry, but the joints were mostly dust free. Aunt Millie must have had it painted in the last month.

  She rang the doorbell and glanced back out at Ruby’s old Ford. On second thought, maybe she should have parked in the drive. If Grady passed over on the main drag, he might spot the pickup and come knocking for another round of interrogation fun and games.

  The door creaked open.

  Ronnie turned, looki
ng down to Aunt Millie’s level and instead found herself eye-to-eye with the neckline of a black shirt.

  “Ah-hah,” Grady said, “this explains why my aunt insisted I clean my house before she joined me for a late lunch.”

  It took Ronnie several stutters to realign her tongue so she could speak actual words. “This is your house?”

  He nodded and stepped aside. “Come on in. Aunt Millie is in the kitchen.”

  Crossing the threshold, she stepped inside his lair and paused, taking in the setting. The place smelled like bay rum mixed with a lemon scent and a spritz of Windex. The inside was as well-kept as the outside, with plush textures and warm wood accents, dark green carpet and cream colored drapes.

  There was something very intimate about standing inside Grady’s home, seeing this side of him after being face-to-face with the rugged, hard-edged lawman more often than not. Something very dangerous, too, putting her heart at risk. Maybe it was seeing him in such a casual environment. Or maybe it was the dose of longing to share this life with him that left her trembling enough that she clasped her hands together.

  He closed the door behind them and joined her, standing in his entryway, looking toward the living room and the adjoining dining area. “What do you think? I’m trying to get it ready to sell. Are the colors too masculine? My sister thinks I might want to include more neutral colors, like beige or gray.”

  “It’s beautiful. I think it would be a mistake to go too neutral, especially with the wood accents.” She reached out and ran her fingers over the polished wood chair rail running the length of the wall. “Won’t you be sad to leave this place?”

  “No. I lived here with Elizabeth. It has too many bitter memories attached to it. But I do like the lines and angles of this building style. The house I’m having built will be a Craftsman, too, only it will be about twice this size with an attached garage.”

  She liked this style, too, especially with the natural wood accents that he’d polished to a shine. But she kept her lips sealed, afraid he’d figure out that lately she was daydreaming about something more serious with him than good times and great sex. If he knew how much the picture he was painting of his future made her want to cling to him and share it all, he might change his mind about calling her his woman.

  She glanced at him from under her lashes. In this cozy setting, he looked more attractive than usual, especially in worn blue jeans and that black Henley. The way it emphasized the width of his shoulders made her clasp her hands together even tighter. “I look forward to seeing the new place you’re having built.”

  “I have the architectural plans and sketches if you’re interested.”

  Trying not to appear too eager, she stared straight ahead, nodding slowly. “Sure.”

  A diesel truck growled by out on the street.

  Something clinked in the kitchen, sounding like ice cubes in a glass.

  “Veronica.”

  “Yes?” She looked up at him, knocked a little off balance by the warmth in his amber gaze.

  He caught her by the elbow, turning her to face him. “You look amazing in that shade of blue.”

  “The store label called it sapphire.” Now why on earth had that come out of her mouth?

  “Okay.”

  “It’s a cotton blend.” Damn it! She needed to jam a wedge of cheese between her teeth to block the stupidity pouring out between her lips.

  He chuckled, looking too irresistible for her own good. “Shut up and kiss me ‘Hello’.”

  “Yes, sir.” She stood on her toes, reminding herself that his aunt was sitting in the other room undoubtedly eavesdropping. It was really more of a peck on the lips than an actual kiss.

  His grip on her elbow stayed firm as she tried to step away. “That was too short.”

  “We have company.”

  “Will you come back here again?”

  “You mean to this house?”

  He nodded.

  “With you?”

  “Just the two of us next time.”

  “For a visit?”

  He shrugged. “I was thinking more like dinner and a movie.”

  She lifted one brow. “That sounds sort of tame for us.” Truthfully she was thrilled with the idea of snuggling up to Grady on his leather couch in front of the television.

  “I could throw in a ferocious tiger.” He pointed toward the floor in the corner of the living room. As Ronnie looked over, the gray and tan mottled cat lying there yawned, looking very not ferocious.

  “What’s her name?”

  “His name is Clyde.”

  Lyle hadn’t let her have a pet because of his array of allergies. She would have loved a companion to curl up with during those lonely nights in that big fancy house he’d mortgaged out from under her.

  Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she wondered if Grady had any idea that she wanted to be part of this idyllic scene with him so much it made her ache. If only … No, it wouldn’t work. She was a wanted woman with a felon-linked past and a potentially deadly future. He needed to find a girl who’d wear red polka dot dresses, drink iced tea instead of gin and tonics, and organize the local community potluck dinners.

  She lifted her chin. That girl wasn’t here now, though. So, until he found that modern day June Cleaver, Ronnie would keep his lap warm. She wasn’t going to dwell on how long it would be until she was pushed out of his life, left to live like a stray once again.

  She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Grady, I would love to come over for dinner and a movie with you.”

  “How about Saturday night?”

  “It’s a date.” She started to lead him down the hall toward what appeared to be the kitchen at the other end, but he tugged her back to him.

  “One other thing,” he said, taking her face in his hands, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. He leaned down and kissed her the way he normally did, smashing through her defenses and leaving her with swollen lips and a racing pulse. “Hello, Veronica,” he whispered when he pulled back.

  She stared at him like a robot on the fritz, unable to do much else at the moment with the overloaded circuits in her brain popping and sparking. He towed her toward the kitchen, leaving her at the round table where his aunt drank coffee with a clown-like grin pasted on her face.

  “My what a rosy complexion you have today, Veronica,” Aunt Millie said with a wink and pointed at the chair next to her. “Sit. The Arizona sunshine is treating you well. Wouldn’t you agree, Grady?”

  He chuckled. “You couldn’t be more obvious, Aunt Millie.” He held up a mug and a glass. “Coffee or water?” he asked Ronnie.

  Sitting in the chair next to Millie, Ronnie said, “Water would be great.” She could use something to douse the fires inside of her and cool her down enough to think clearly.

  After he set the glass in front of her, he excused himself for a moment.

  Ronnie swallowed a gulp, and then leaned closer to Aunt Millie. “Interesting location you chose for today’s meeting,” she whispered. “I thought we were keeping things on the down low when it came to your nephew.”

  Aunt Millie frowned back. “I made an executive decision.”

  “Oh, yeah? What gives you the right when it’s my problem we’re talking about?”

  She shrugged. “Grady needs to know about this.”

  “I need to know about what?” Grady asked, returning at that moment and pulling out the chair next to Ronnie.

  “Ronnie has a situation.”

  “I do not have a situation.” She glanced his way. “At least not one that you need to know about.”

  “And she doesn’t want you to know about it,” Aunt Millie continued in spite of Ronnie’s zip-it glare, “because she’s afraid of how you’ll react.”

  A second glance in Grady’s direction made Ronnie wince. He had his Sheriff expression in place, along with his x-ray vision peepers.

  “What’s the situation?” he asked Ronnie.

  She felt sweat bead on her u
pper lip. “Boy, it’s warm in here.” She unbuttoned her cuffs and started rolling up her sleeves. “Did you turn up the heat?”

  “Not yet,” he answered, his mouth tight. “Spill it, Morgan.”

  Ronnie turned to Aunt Millie, feeling trapped between two hard places. “Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered, even though Grady could hear her.

  “Because you’re in trouble and you need him. Trust me on this,” Aunt Millie whispered back. She reached out and clasped Ronnie’s hand. “Don’t worry,” she said, “my nephew doesn’t bite pretty young things, especially when he stares at them as much as he does you.”

  Grady squinted from his aunt to Ronnie. “Why are you in trouble? Does this have to do with the FBI?”

  Aunt Millie squeezed Ronnie’s hand. “Tell him about the diamonds, Veronica” she ordered, sounding bossy like Gramps.

  “Diamonds?” Grady’s eyebrows pulled together. “You mean the real gems this time, not that costume jewelry you were pawning off on my aunt?”

  Ronnie’s pride got snarly at his underlying accusation. “I wasn’t pawning anything off on your aunt. She knew it was all fake from the start.” Ronnie looked down at the ice cubes floating in her water. “What your aunt is referring to are the real things. I found a stash of them last month, and now it appears the owner wants them back.”

  Grady sat back, his jaw rigid as he looked from his aunt to Ronnie and back again. When he spoke, his voice had that authoritative tone to it that usually only came out when his badge was pinned in place. “Why don’t you rewind and start at the beginning, Veronica. If you want my help, you’re going to have to fill in the details—all of them.”

  “Okay, but for the record, I didn’t want to bother you with this, Grady. I got Claire and me into this mess, and I’d planned to get us out without involving the law.”

  “Claire’s in on it, too?”

  “Well, she’s the one who actually found the stash of diamonds, but I’m the one who kept them when the mule was hauled off to prison.”