A Reference to Murder

by Kym Roberts

  And that small kiss was going to lead to so much more. Too bad it was surrounded by trouble.

  Chapter Two

  Scarlet’s dinner had obviously gone well if the scene on the dance floor was any indication. Dressed in a black sheer mini dress with one bared shoulder, her two-stepping with Dalton had turned into pouty lips, swinging hips, and the full body contact dips of a country swing dance. It was sexier than all get out, and every woman at the Tool Shed Tavern wanted to be in Scarlet’s black studded boots.

  Except me. I currently had my hands full with the mayor, Cade Calloway. Cade was my high school sweetheart, who’d followed in his daddy’s footsteps and run for political office after his professional football career fell through as a result of a serious back injury. The man lived to torture me with the possibilities of, “what if.”

  “Is that Dalton Hibbs dancing with Scarlet?” Cade asked, his hazel eyes narrowing in on the couple on the dance floor, instead of me. Not that it bothered me…much.

  “If you can call it dancing.” Joe Buck’s heavy girth leaned over the bar, the towel draped over his shoulder skirting the wooden surface that had been smoothed out by use and age, not a polyurethane finish. He owned the Tool Shed Tavern and bartended while stirring up trouble with his contagious smile and friendly wink. I’d fallen for his angelic demeanor a time or two in the past. Since I’d returned to Hazel Rock, however, I’d been leery of his dares to do something stupid that no one else would try…or was stupid enough to do. I hoped I’d learned to refrain from making the same mistakes over and over, especially since those stunts had always come back to bite me on the backside in high school.

  “Yes, and they seem rather smitten, don’t you think?” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

  “That’s more than smitten. Smitten is the way Princess follows you around the Barn,” Cade said.

  “Well, they’ve found something special. So leave Scarlet be,” I warned.

  Joe muttered something to Cade in reply, who stared him down as he took a swig of his beer. A silent communication passed between them and Joe laughed before he moved down the bar to a good-looking man in his early thirties who looked vaguely familiar.

  Coming back to Texas after living in Colorado for a little over twelve years constantly played tricks on my memory. Placing names with faces was a chore. I constantly thought of a name from Denver, but the face never matched the person I was talking to. Bill was actually Ray, and Mistie was really Maureen. Or I’d remember the face from Hazel Rock High School, but the name never fell into place. It didn’t help, that with time came age, and changes that I hadn’t kept up with. I’d never friended anyone from my hometown on social media until the week I actually moved back to town. The years of growth and change were lost to me.

  I stared at the man talking to Joe and I tried to picture what he would have looked like a dozen years ago. About my height with a solid tan and white teeth, his hair belonged on a television show with its expensive cut and perfect swoop across his tall forehead. His plaid shirt looked brand-new and straight from the dry cleaner with heavy starched creases running down the sleeves. His jeans also looked out of place for our local honky-tonk. The pressed lines down the middle of the legs were a shade lighter blue and started at his pockets and ended at his toes, accentuating his lean hips.

  Joe pointed in our direction and the man looked toward us and nodded.

  “Should I know that guy?” I asked Cade.

  He turned and looked down the bar at the man, who was now walking toward us.

  “If you watch the evening news, you should. That’s Peter Kroft from CNCB News.”

  Recognition finally hit me about the time Mr. Kroft reached us. He held out his hand to shake Cade’s much larger one, and I watched how Cade suddenly transformed into a politician. He wore a smile I didn’t recognize. A little too polished; it was almost as if he put up a shield to protect the real Cade Calloway. His mannerisms were a tad stiff, and if I hadn’t known the man since I was eight years old, I wouldn’t have seen the differences between my mayor and my friend so readily. But they were most definitely there.

  “Mayor Calloway, thank you for inviting me to your town.” Mr. Kroft struggled not to let his voice get lost in the din of the music, clearing his throat and lowering the tone more than once.

  “Thanks for coming to Hazel Rock. We appreciate you covering the auctions and the rodeo. Can I buy you a beer? The Shed serves the best Southern Ale this side of the Rio Grande.”

  “I’d love one.”

  Cade raised his bottle and indicated for Joe to grab a beer for Mr. Kroft. “I’d like to introduce you to Charli Rae Warren,” he said as he turned toward me. “She owns The Book Barn Princess and is donating all of the proceeds from her book art auction to The Ranch.” Cade leaned toward me. “Mr. Kroft is here to cover the Cowboy Ranch Invitational.”

  I held out my hand and Mr. Kroft grabbed it with both of his, then held on longer than necessary. His show of sincerity seemed anything but genuine. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Warren. I understand you’ve got quite a collection you’re donating.”

  I pulled my hand back and smiled to erase any unease my action might have caused. “Please call me Charli, Mr. Kroft. And to be honest, most of the art was created by the owner of Beaus and Beauties, the salon down the street. Scarlet is an incredibly gifted woman.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it and meeting Scarlet. But I’ll only call you Charli if you drop the formality and call me Peter.”

  I smile and nodded in agreement. Joe handed Peter his beer from behind the bar and winked. “I put it on the mayor’s tab.”

  After thanking Cade, Peter asked, “So is this Scarlet here tonight?” He scanned the crowded bar as if he’d be able to identifier her on his own.

  “She’s on the floor dancing with Dalton Hibbs.” I pointed them out just as Dalton swung Scarlet through his legs. The move was full of grace, with an undeniable sex appeal, and it put the biggest smile on Scarlet’s face I’d ever seen.

  “I heard Dalton wasn’t coming to the Invitational because of too many bad memories about his brother.” Peter took a draw of his beer.

  “Dalton’s brother? I didn’t know he had a brother,” I said.

  “Wyatt Hibbs.”

  Apparently, my face looked as blank as an ex-teacher’s blackboard, Cade explained. “Wyatt Hibbs was the best rider on the Championship Bull Circuit until he disappeared seven years ago.”

  A bad feeling started creeping up my spine and took hold of my neck. “What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?”

  A man who looked like he could have played football right alongside Joe Buck and Cade walked up to Peter with a large television camera sitting on his shoulder. The two began a conversation I couldn’t hear over the music.

  Cade leaned over and kept his voice low. “Wyatt was last seen seven years ago, right before The Cowboy Ranch Invitational. Scarlet used to follow him around like a lost puppy dog.”

  “She what?” That bad feeling grabbed hold of my larynx and made my voice squeak. I looked at the dance floor for Scarlet. She and Dalton had lost some of their swag and stumbled; whether it was from too much alcohol or exhaustion, I wasn’t sure. But what had started out as a sight to see, was turning into a site of crashing and bumping into other couples. A few dirty looks were thrown in their direction as the lyrics to the latest country music hit about Southern girls wound down.

  “When Wyatt disappeared, the sheriff actually questioned Scarlet.” A frown marred Cade’s strong jaw.

  “Mateo actually thought Scarlet had something to do with his disappearance?” I asked.

  “No, Jacob Sperry was still sheriff at the time, and Scarlet was the last person to see Wyatt before he disappeared.”

  I started doing the math. “But she was what, twenty? And you had to be gearing up for the NFL draft about that time.” I realized I’d just given away entirely too much
about my knowledge of his professional football career. Eight years ago, I’d been in Denver, having left Hazel Rock and Cade in my dust almost four years before that. He was the one person I’d kept up on while I was gone, even if it was only cyber-stalking.

  I avoided the knowing twinkle in Cade’s eyes. “How did you know about that?” I asked.

  “My dad represented Scarlet,” Cade replied.

  I think my eyes must have been bigger than the star on the Texas flag hanging from the rafters of the bar. I had never heard anything about a missing cowboy, Scarlet being questioned, or J. C. Calloway Senior representing her in a criminal case.

  The music came to a halt. A whoop and a giggle sounded from the dance floor as Dalton picked up Scarlet and twirled his way toward the bar. He stumbled and a collective gasp went through the onlookers. I cringed when Scarlet’s boot struck the waitress’s tray of drinks and Sugar scrambled to keep the glasses from crashing to the floor with absolutely no luck whatsoever.

  “Hey!” Sugar yelled, her sultry good looks, blond hair, and short-shorts attracting the attention from every other man in the bar. But Dalton ignored her completely. He continued to push his way through the crowd and finally deposited Scarlet atop the bar.

  “Dalton!” Scarlet’s exclamation brought all eyes in her direction as she tried to scoot off to the floor. Dalton was having none of it. He pushed his chest between her legs and further embarrassed Scarlet with his hands on her rear end as she tried to pull her dress down to a respectable level.

  I glanced toward Peter and his cameraman, hoping the action hadn’t caught their attention. No such luck. The man with the expensive camera had the eyepiece glued to his face while he zoomed in the lens. Peter spoke in his ear and gave me an apologetic smile.

  Fuzz buckets.

  A beer bottle clanked on the bar next to me, and I jumped. “Let her go, Hibbs,” Cade said from behind me.

  Dalton never stopped leering at Scarlet’s chest, his hands roaming as if he owned her body. “Mind your own business, buddy.”

  “I’m only going to tell you once more. Let. Scarlet. Go.” The smooth sales pitch of the mayor disappeared in the edge of Cade’s demand as he silently moved next to me.

  Dalton’s eyes lost their lusty sheen as he turned away from my best friend to square off with Cade, but his legs twisted as if he’d been a calf roped and wrestled in an arena. Dalton stumbled into Cade over his own two feet, too drunk to even walk.

  The light on the camera behind me flashed on, illuminating Dalton’s face in a deadly pale glow. He swung his arm up to block the light, but ended up punching me on my bicep instead.

  “Ow!” I rubbed my arm and regretted opening my mouth when Cade’s eyes narrowed and his chest puffed as he leaned over the man who was at his complete mercy. For a moment, I thought Dalton was dead meat. But the light of the camera kept Cade’s anger in check and his career intact. That and the pushing and shoving that had begun around us. If anyone in the entire bar hadn’t already been aware of what was going on, they were now. Numerous cell phones popped up above the heads of the people with the front row view. All of them recording the exchange as a surge of bodies pushed forward. The testosterone between Cade and Dalton was so thick, a chainsaw wouldn’t cut through it. Scarlet took the opportunity to slide off the bar, just as Joe Buck was rounding the corner, ready to go to town on Dalton—fame wouldn’t help turn a blind eye in Hazel Rock if one of our own was the object of disrespect.

  But Scarlet was faster than Joe. She pushed her way in between the mayor and her not-so-prince-charming and placed a hand on their chests. “It’s okay, Cade. He’s just had a few too many drinks.”

  I’d only seen the man have two drinks, but Scarlet knew better than I. Still, a disrespectful drunk was not the fairy tale I’d hoped for Scarlet.

  “Hey there, fellas! What seems to be the problem?” Erik Piper, the promoter for The Cowboy Ranch Invitational pushed his way through the crowd. His gray hair was slicked back and he angled his pointy nose at one man, and then the other. He held a cigarette in one hand and took a drag off it when Cade and Dalton looked right through him.

  Erik was definitely out of his element. Frail and a bit taller than my five foot nine, he stretched up on his tiptoes and reached out his bony hands to pat the two men on the shoulder as if they would break on contact. Break him, was probably a more likely scenario.

  He blew out a puff of smoke straight up between the two men and said, “I don’t know if I introduced you to the mayor of Hazel Rock, Dalton, but since we’re all gathered, what could be a better time?” Erik continued, his voice squeaking during the introduction. “This is Cade Calloway. The Cade Calloway. As in the NFL quarterback Cade Calloway.”

  Dalton snorted, a sloppy wet sound none of us expected to come from the neatly dressed rodeo star. “From what I hear…” He swayed as he poked Cade’s chest over Scarlet’s head. “…you went down after one hit.”

  If I had any question about Cade’s ego ruling his actions, it was answered when Dalton took a swing and missed him altogether. It wasn’t even close to making contact, but he stumbled into Scarlet, nearly knocking them both to the floor. Cade grabbed Dalton and Scarlet, his quick reflexes, the only thing that kept them from falling flat on the floor.

  Erik didn’t miss a beat. The seasoned promoter showed he had been around a bar fight, or two, as he stepped forward to take over. He stuck his cigarette in his mouth, draped Dalton’s arm over his shoulder, and staggered to the left under the weight, but managed to stay standing. Scarlet wasn’t taking any chances. She pulled Dalton’s free arm over her shoulder and steadied the two of them.

  “Can you pull my phone out of my pocket?” Erik asked. I reached over and pulled the smartphone from his shirt pocket. “Call Taylor!” Erik yelled toward the phone with his cigarette bobbing at the end of his bottom lip. He turned away as the ashes began to hang like a gray snake and tried to spit it out of his mouth. He succeeded in knocking the ashes off of the end and spitting the cigarette on Scarlet’s bare shoulder.

  “Owww!” Scarlet wiggled to get it off and Cade brushed it away with an irritated glare in Erik’s direction.

  Just then Erik’s phone screen changed, and dialed a number that popped up with the picture of a pretty brunette.

  “Taylor!” Eric yelled louder than was necessary. “I need you at the town tavern. Dalton has had too much to drink, again.” Everyone in the bar was listening, but Erik didn’t seem to care. Even Cade appeared disappointed in the man’s lack of diplomacy.

  The crowd began to separate as the four of us lead by Joe Buck, who cleared a path just as well as he’d cleared the football field for Cade in high school, headed toward the door. Cell phones recorded every step, and misstep, along the way.

  “Baby, you need to take care of me. And don’t tell me I gotta continue this small-town fiddle fartin’ around courting business,” Dalton whined to Scarlet, his deep voice holding anything but sex appeal. By the time we made it to the door, there wasn’t a woman in the crowd who was envious of Scarlet’s position. It didn’t matter how cute her studded boots looked with her little black dress.

  In fact, a few of them, like myself and the Shed’s waitress, Sugar, were ready to take him to task, Southern belle style. We pushed through the front doors, Scarlet under one of Dalton’s arms and Erik under the other, with Cade pulling up most of Dalton’s weight from behind where Dalton couldn’t see him. Or insult him. Or hit him.

  Cade’s face had that same look it had when we were in high school and he’d seen one of our classmates flip up my cheer skirt. At seventeen he didn’t control his righteous indignation as well as he was doing now. But I wasn’t sure how long it would last if Dalton kept spouting off like a toad marking its territory in a swamp that no self-respecting woman from Texas would want to enter. Hazel Rock had a lot riding on the rodeo coming to town and supporting the Cowboy Ranch, but our mayor wasn’t going to tolerate the disrespect toward one
of his female voters, either. Especially one he considered a friend.

  By the time we made it out on the porch, Dalton was mumbling and Scarlet and Erik could no longer hold him. Cade and Joe took over and deposited Dalton on the split log bench on the wooden walkway outside the bar.

  Tears glistened in Scarlet’s eyes. “I don’t understand… He only had two beers.”

  “Honey, it wasn’t the beer that’s got him acting crazy. Dalton has a habit of taking too many pain pills for a back injury that doesn’t mix well with beer. He shouldn’t have been drinking at all,” Erik explained.

  “O.M.W.! I had no idea! I would have never suggested we go to the bar.” Scarlet’s face nearly crumpled. Her brows knit as she chewed on her lower lip. Her polite language was still intact though, as she spilled out her favorite expletive for ‘oh, my word.’ She knelt next to Dalton who was currently sprawled out on the bench with slobber dribbling down his cheek. It was hard to see a prince charming hidden underneath all that over-indulgence.

  Before any of us could say anything else, that dadgum camera light exited the bar and turned the dimly lit porch as bright as a sunrise. Cade shaded his eyes and Scarlet tried to block Dalton’s face while using the corner of his shirt to wipe off his cheek. I did the only thing I could to help Scarlet and stood in front of her and Dalton, trying to block the view of the camera. I wasn’t feeling too proud about protecting the man, but my best friend needed me.

  Peter approached Erik. “It looks like Dalton is back to his old tricks. Would you care to make a statement on behalf of the Championship Bull Riders Association Mr. Piper?”

  “I…ah…” Erik straightened his white shirt, which had looked neat before Dalton came along. He attempted to smooth back his hair, but a strand refused to be tamed and drooped over his brow. “Dalton is suffering from exhaustion and dehydration. Once we get him hydrated he’ll be as good as new for his morning practice runs.”

  “So we’ll see Dalton in the arena tomorrow?” Peter asked.