by Patricia Fry
Keith chuckled. “Gonna be kind of hard to spoon the food into your mouth with a candle, isn’t it?”
“Daaad,” Cassie said, leaning across his lap. “We’re not going to eat with them, we’re going to use them for light.”
“Ohhh,” he said, giving her a hug. “Why use candles when we have perfectly good electric lights?”
“They found these candles in a cupboard,” Gladys explained, “and thought it would be fun to light them while we have dinner tonight, unless you folks object.”
“No,” Keith said. “It’s fine with me. I’m ready for a little ambiance, aren’t you ladies?”
“Sure am,” Savannah said, picking up the infant, who had been lying in his baby swing, watching all the activity. “Does Teddy need to eat?” she asked, smiling into his face.
Gladys looked at her watch. “Yeah, he might. Go ahead and feed him. We can eat after his tummy’s full.”
A little while later, as the others were being seated around the large table, Holly said,
“Okay, shall we light all these lovely candles?” She looked around. “Anyone have a match?”
Michael thinned his lips. “You know, I imagine they have these candles for a reason—in case of a power outage. I don’t think we should use them all.”
Keith nodded. “I agree. How about if each of you kids pick one to light?”
“Okay. I want the big red one!” Cassie shouted.
“Pink,” Bethany said. “Can I have pink?”
“Me pink,” Lily said.
“Okay, a red and two pink. Adam?” Holly said.
“Oh, I guess that tall white one.”
“All right, then, let’s put the rest of these back,” Gladys said. “Does anyone have a match?”
When no one responded, Savannah remembered. “I do.” She dug into her pocket for the matchbook Rags had found and opened the book to remove a match.
“Wait,” Holly said, “there’s writing in there.”
“What?” Savannah opened the matchbook again. “There sure is.”
“Can I turn off the lights?” Cassie asked.
Savannah shook her head. “Not yet. Wait until after we light the candles.” She then read what was written on the inside of the matchbook. “Lower fork, Ridge River, silver Mazda pickup. Love forever, Marlene. And then there’s a heart that says M.S plus C.P.” She chuckled. “Looks like Brad planned a rendezvous with Marlene.”
“At the lower fork of the Ridge River?” Keith repeated. He frowned. “That’s where… um…” He glanced at the children before saying, “…the evil deed took place.”
Holly shivered. “Ohhh. Creepy. But I didn’t hear about a woman being in the mix of things today.” She tilted her head. “Wait! That’s not Brad’s initials. I mean, where’s the B?”
Savannah looked at her wide-eyed. “No, there is no B. Hey, I wonder whose initials these are.”
Holly raised her eyebrows and the two women said in unison, “The victim.”
“Well, that’s kind of far-fetched, don’t you think so?” Keith asked. “How do you rationalize initials in a random matchbook belonging to the victim?”
When Savannah started to respond, Michael interrupted. “Hey there, you two female PIs, let’s light the candles so we can eat, shall we?”
“Yes, please,” Keith agreed. “I’m starving.”
After a few minutes, Michael asked, “Can you kids see your food? Do you have enough light? I don’t want you to accidently eat a fly.”
“Oh, Dad,” Adam said, laughing.
“So what do you suppose that means?” Savannah asked.
“What what means?” Michael asked.
“The note inside the matchbook.”
Michael chuckled. “Oh, well, maybe Marlene has a pickup for sale.”
Keith said, “Yeah, or she wants one for her birthday.”
“Wait!” Holly said, setting down her fork. “Wasn’t the truck that hit Evan… it was a silver pickup… Keith, was that a Mazda?”
Keith looked at her. “Do you know how many silver pickups there are in Colorado?”
Savannah peered at him. “But how many of them were being driven by the guy who lost this matchbook, do you think?”
Playing devil’s advocate, Michael asked, “But are we sure he’s the one who dropped it?”
Keith picked up the matchbook off the table, examined it, and muttered, “La Linda Realty, Denver.”
“Hey,” Savannah said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She began a search. “Here it is—La Linda Realty—and it lists the names of the agents.” She looked up and grinned at the others. “Hey, I think I found M.S.: Marlene Spencer. Pretty gal. Looks like a model.”
Holly leaned over to take a look. “Or a stripper.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t look like the type who’d be interested in a truck—especially a Mazda,” Savannah snarked.
“Now how can you tell that by her picture?” Keith asked, laughing.
“Ever hear of women’s intuition?”
“So who do you suppose the… um… victim is?” Savannah jumped a little in her chair and said, “Hey, I wonder if they’ve released his name. I’ll check and see.”
“How are you going to find that out?” Gladys asked.
“I’ll call Craig. He might be able to get that information for us.”
Holly put her fork down and faced Savannah. “Well, I think either the victim or the one we met at the café has the initials C.P.”
Keith massaged her shoulder briefly. “Oh you do, do you? You little investigator.”
After she received a response from her text to Craig, Savannah reported, “No word on the name of the victim yet. Probably because they haven’t notified next of kin.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment and grinned. “But maybe I can convince Craig to get it for us nosey Rosies.”
“Nosey Rosie,” Adam repeated, laughing.
****
By nine thirty that night, Gladys and Aggie had retired to their rooms and the children were asleep, all except for Teddy, who lay cuddled in Michael’s arms, kicking his feet and smiling at his mom and dad. After a while, Savannah said, “How about if I feed you, little Mr. Teddy Bear, and put you to bed?” Before she could take him from Michael, her phone chimed. “A text from Craig.” She called out to Michael and the Pettits as they sat around the large room chatting, “Hey, dig this: he says the victim’s name was Clarence Edmond Pratt.” She raised her eyebrows.
“C.P.,” Holly said hesitantly. “So someone killed Marlene’s lover?”
“How do you know he wasn’t her husband?” Keith asked.
“Duh,” Holly said, jokingly, “different last names.”
“Professional women keep their maiden name all the time,” Keith insisted.
“Yeah, no,” Savannah said. “She may have kept her maiden name, but this C.P. wasn’t her husband. It’s obvious that he was her lover—unless they were newly married.”
Holly laughed. “Yeah, like last week.”
Michael shook his head, smirking. “You women sure think you have this gal figured out, don’t you?”
“Sure do,” Holly said.
“So who killed Clarence?” Savannah asked. She looked at Holly and the two of them said, “The jealous husband.” Savannah added, “And that’s probably who we met at the Ridgecrest.”
“No doubt,” Holly agreed. “Brad. And where do you suppose he’s hiding out? Do you think he went home to his devoted little wifey?”
Savannah jumped in her seat. “To flaunt the fact that he survived her evil scheme.” She giggled. “Wouldn’t you love to see her face when he walks through the door tonight and says, ‘Hi dear, what’s for supper?’”
Holly giggled. “And there she is, dressed in her sexiest negligee, expecting Clarence.”
Just then they heard a couple of hard raps on the door.
“What in the heck?” Michael said, handing the baby to Savannah. He stood.
Keith
stood up too, and they both headed for the front door. Michael opened it slowly, then swung it wide open. He gasped, “Good Lord. It’s Scott Hanson. He’s hurt. Keith, help me get him inside.”
Chapter 8
“Let’s put him on the larger sofa,” Keith suggested, as they struggled to walk the man into the room.
Once they’d helped him to lie down on the sofa, the brothers stared down at him, unable to speak. When Michael saw him open his eyes, he asked, “You’re Scott Hanson, aren’t you?”
The man nodded. He closed his eyes again, then opened them. He attempted to sit up while glancing anxiously around the room.
“Just relax,” Michael said.
“There aren’t any rangers in here, are there?” Scott asked.
Michael put his hands gently on Scott’s shoulders and urged him to lie back against the pillows. “No. You’re safe here.”
“Are you hurt?” Keith asked. “We heard that you were hurt.”
Scott stared at Keith for a moment, then at Michael. “Who told you that?” he demanded.
Keith grinned. “Word gets around in these mountain villages, you know.”
Scott let out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. He rolled his head from side to side against the pillows for a moment, then focused on Keith and Michael again. He took a deep breath and nodded toward his left arm. “They shot me. I took one in the arm, but I think the bullet went on through. I don’t know why they shot me or why they’re after me, but I’ve had a devil of a time trying to stay ahead of those dang rangers.” He looked at the brothers and asked weakly, “Do you know why they’re chasing me?”
Keith nodded.
Michael said, “A fisherman was killed and someone gave them a description that matches yours. They put two and two together…”
“And came up with five,” Scott said disgustedly. He looked the men in the eyes. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t even carry a weapon.” He frowned. “I have a knife, and I keep a gun hidden in one of my stockpiles for when I need to do some hunting. But I don’t carry it and I didn’t hurt anyone.”
Keith nodded. “We know you didn’t.”
Savannah stepped forward and smiled down at Scott. “Hello,” she said.
Scott looked up into her face, his eyes wide. “An angel.” Panicked, he grabbed Michael’s arm. “Am I dying?”
Michael chuckled. “No, Scott. You’re not dying. This is my wife, Savannah.”
“Yeah,” she said, “I just wondered if you’d like me to get Aggie up.”
“Aggie?” he asked. “My mother?” He became agitated. “No. No. I don’t want her to see me like this. Please, no.”
Keith put his hand on Scott’s shoulder and spoke quietly. “It’s okay. We won’t bother her this evening. You just relax.”
“Let me take a look at your arm, will you?” Michael asked.
Scott hesitated, then said, “Okay.” He began rolling up his sleeve.
“Can you sit up and take your shirt off?” Michael asked.
Scott looked at him and grinned. “Aren’t you a horse doctor? A veterinarian?”
“That’s right,” Michael said.
Scott stared at Keith. “Both of you are.”
Keith nodded.
“Yeah,” Michael said, grinning. “So give me your hoof there, will you?”
All three men chuckled, although Scott’s laughter was guarded.
Michael turned to Savannah. “Hon, would you get me some alcohol, pads, and tape?”
“What are you going to do?” Scott asked suspiciously.
“Your wound looks pretty good, actually, but I want to clean it out and dress it.” He stepped back and looked down at the man. “Do you have any clean clothes?”
Scott shook his head. “Not with me. No.”
Keith said, “Holly…”
“I’m on it,” Holly said, hurrying toward their bedroom. When she returned, she laid a pair of Keith’s undershorts, jeans, a t-shirt, and a long-sleeved flannel shirt across the coffee table.
“Great. Now are you up to a shower?”
“I’d love a shower.” Scott looked at the others. “You might think people like me prefer to be dirty, but it’s not true. We appreciate a shower as much as the next guy.”
Savannah left the room again and returned with a razor and a pair of scissors, which she held out toward Scott. He smiled up at her. “I get the hint. Okay. Snip-snip.”
“Do you need help?” Michael asked.
“Maybe to the bathroom. Thanks.”
****
“So do you have him all settled in?” Savannah asked Michael as they prepared for bed about an hour later.
He nodded. “He’s in the room across the hall from Aggie.”
Her tone more reverent, she said, “I wonder if she can sense it.”
“What?”
Savannah smiled. “You know how intuitive and perceptive Aggie is; she might feel him close by.” She clasped her hands under her chin. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the look on her face when he joins us for breakfast tomorrow.” She frowned. “He won’t bolt in the night, will he, Michael?”
“I sure hope not. We have a lot to discuss with that man. I wouldn’t want to be this close and lose the opportunity to do that… and for Aggie to be reunited with her son.” He shook his head. “No, he’d better not let us down.” He chuckled and spoke more quietly, “Actually, it’s something we thought of, so Keith decided to sleep on the sofa in the living room, just in case he tries to leave.”
Savannah laughed and whispered, “So he’s our prisoner, is he?”
Michael winked. “Pretty much.”
“Oh, I got another text from Craig. He’s been in touch with the authorities here and he gave them the information we discovered this afternoon. He thinks they’re going to send someone to Denver to check out the folks at the real estate agency. He agrees with Holly and me that this could be a love-triangle murder, only it sure sounds like the wrong guy got killed.”
“The wrong guy?” Michael asked. “Are you saying there was a right guy who should have been killed?”
“No, but I mean it appears that the one who planned the killing is the one who got killed.”
“It was probably the woman who planned it, don’t you think?”
****
“So is he still here?” Savannah whispered to Holly as they prepared breakfast the next morning.
Holly glanced toward the door to the withdrawing room. “As far as I know.” She giggled. “I can’t wait to see what he looks like all cleaned up.”
“I know,” Savannah said giddily.
“Good morning girls,” Aggie greeted when she walked into the kitchen. “How can I help?”
“Good morning,” Holly said. “Come sit down and chat with us while we make biscuits.”
Aggie moaned, “Oh, you just made me homesick for my kitties.”
“How’s that?” Savannah asked, gently.
Aggie laughed. “When they sit on my lap in the morning and knead my knees, I say they’re making biscuits. I love it when they make biscuits.” She looked intently at the women. “That’s why I keep those claws trimmed.” She laughed again, then said, “I also enjoy eating biscuits, especially with peach jam.” She tilted her head. “Is it a special occasion?”
“Um… special occasion?” Savannah repeated. “Isn’t every day of a vacation a special occasion?”
Holly opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jar, announcing, “We still have some peach jam, and orange marmalade. What else is left?”
“Plum,” Savannah said.
“From that lovely orchard of yours?” Aggie asked.
“Yes. Want some tea?” Savannah offered.
Aggie nodded.
“Mommy!” Lily shouted when she came into the kitchen with Gladys.
Savannah scooped up the toddler and held her tightly. “How’s my snuggle bug?”
“Rags snoozy,” she said, laughing.
“That’s right,” Gladys said, “Rags is still snoozing. He must have been up late last night. Did you all stay up late and play pinochle or something?”
Savannah looked at Holly. “Yeah, we were up a little late and Rags stayed up with us. He was in here earlier, eating, though. I guess he went back to bed.” She looked beyond Gladys and greeted Michael’s son. “Hi Adam. Have a good night’s sleep?”
“Yeah. I heard people in the hallway, though, while I was trying to sleep. What were they doing?”
“I don’t know,” Savannah said. “What did it sound like they were doing?”
“Just walking and talking, I guess.”
“Ghosts,” Cassie said. “Maybe they were ghosts from Aunt Savannah’s stories.”
“Do you girls want to set the table?” Holly asked, handing silverware and napkins to Cassie and Bethany.
“Me set table,” Lily said, squirming to get down. “Me help.”
“Sure, you can help, sweetie,” Holly said, handing her a fistful of spoons.
Just then they heard a man’s voice. “Is everyone here?” Keith called.
“Yeah,” Holly said, glancing rather excitedly at Savannah.
“We’re all here,” Aggie added.
“Are you sitting down?” Keith asked.
Holly looked at the others. “Some of us are. Aggie’s sitting down,” she reported.
“Okay,” Keith said, walking into the room. He was followed by Michael.
“Good morning, boys,” Aggie said cheerily. “What are all the smiles about? Did someone swallow the Cheshire cat?” Suddenly, her eyes wide, she clutched her chest. “Scotty,” she whispered. She spoke more loudly, “Scotty.” When she started to lift herself from the chair, Scott walked toward her and helped her to stand. She stared into her son’s eyes, put her hands on his face, then leaned against his chest and wept.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “Here, let’s sit down, shall we?” He helped her ease back down into a chair and pulled another one close for himself.
“You know who I am?” Aggie asked. “Do you remember me?”
Scott nodded. “Little by little my memory has come back. It wasn’t until I saw the boy that my memory of you and dad became stronger.”
