Trouble at the Red Pueblo

by Liz Adair

  Spider opened his notebook. “Can you tell us what that was?”

  The younger man made a motion with his hand as if trying to dismiss the memory. “The museum was built on what used to be a rest stop. The foundation got it from the state when they were going to close it down but with the proviso that we keep the restrooms open for travelers.”

  An electronic bell sounded a two-tone alert, and Spider glanced through the window into the lobby as a ten-ish boy shouldered his way through the door. His mother hung onto his shirttail, giving what seemed to be instructions as they entered. The boy pushed his glasses up on his nose and nodded as he towed her to the counter and began asking Isaac questions.

  Spider saw that Matt was watching as well, and the sight of the boy’s eager interest seemed to make his countenance lighter.

  “The bathroom incident,” Spider prompted.

  “Yes.” Matt sat up straighter. “A woman said she slipped on water from a leaky pipe. She sued for injuries and pain and suffering, said she lay there for two hours calling for help.”

  Laurie leaned forward. “How much was she asking for?”

  “Two million dollars,” Matt said.

  Spider whistled. “Two million! She must have really busted herself up in the fall.”

  Matt snorted. “She didn’t have a scratch on her. She said she hurt her back.” Apparently sensing Spider’s next question, he added, “There was no leaky pipe, either. There was water on the floor, but we were never able to find out where it came from.”

  “But that’s ridiculous!” Laurie’s eyes flashed. “I can’t believe the courts would even consider the case.”

  “Oh, it was well presented. She had a good lawyer and a couple of doctors who gave convincing testimony.”

  “So what happened?” Laurie asked. “I suppose your insurance covered it?”

  Matt shook his head. “Our limit was half that. We had to fight it, and in the end we settled out of court. The whole thing cost my father a quarter million.”

  Spider looked up from writing in his notebook. “Cost your father or cost the museum?”

  “The museum doesn’t have that kind of resources. We skate along on the edge of insolvency as it is. Some months, after everything else is paid, there’s nothing left over for my salary.” Matt raked his hair back with his fingers. “Dad raided his retirement fund and mortgaged the house, and he still came up short.”

  “What happened?” Laurie asked.

  Matt indicated the gray-haired couple with his thumb. They were still at the counter, talking with the boy and his mother. “LaJean and Isaac got together and threw a fund raiser. Navajo tacos, a silent auction, concert and a dance. Folks turned out in droves and saved the museum.”

  “But it left your father a poor man,” she said quietly.

  “It depends on your definition of poor.” Matt’s gaze turned to the interior of the museum, seen through the arched door in the lobby. “He feels very rich to be able to share fifty years of exploring this area with the world. People come here from all over the globe, and he’s able to tell them about finding an Anasazi medicine bundle or a bowl that’s 700 years old in a cave up a box canyon.”

  Spider leaned back and crossed his legs. “So, your father’s philosophical about what happened. The suit’s settled; the museum’s safe. What’s the trouble that Brick Tremain was talking about?”

  The front door signal sounded again, and Matt glanced up through the window into the lobby. He immediately turned away and picked up a pencil, twisting it in his hands. “I’m sorry. What was the question again?”

  Spider examined the young woman entering the lobby, wondering why Matt was so determined not to look at her. Tall and angular, she had bronze skin and honey-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face had an open, honest look about it and, when she smiled at LaJean, a certain kind of beauty.

  Laurie supplied a rephrasing of the question. “Why did Brick Tremain send us here?”

  Matt opened the desk drawer and carefully set the pencil inside. His eyes slid sideways for a quick glance into the lobby.

  Spider looked through the window, too, and saw the young woman, still smiling, take a key from a hook. She glanced beyond LaJean to the office where he, Laurie and Matt sat. The smile faded, and she turned and left the museum through a side door opening onto what a sign said was the Heritage Yard. Isaac and LaJean shepherded the mother and son into the yard right behind her.

  A chime signaled the mass exit, and at the sound, Matt stood. “To explain about the current problem, I need to show you one of the exhibits. If you’ll follow me, please?”

  Passing through the archway and into the single exhibit room of the museum, Spider’s first impression was of antiquity and neatness. Floor to ceiling display cases presented pottery, baskets, and other Anasazi artifacts in well-lighted, meticulously labeled order. “Are these all from around here?” he asked.

  “Yes. Most of them were found by my father.”

  Laurie examined a pair of sandals made out of twisted grass. “He must have spent a lot of time exploring.”

  “He was a teacher. From the time I was a little boy, we spent every summer roaming the hills. But what I want to show you isn’t Anasazi. It’s right here.” Matt stood just inside the archway.

  Spider and Laurie joined him at a lighted case in the corner that held several artifacts that didn’t seem to be Native American.

  “Oh, look at that saddle!” Laurie bent over to examine it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like it.”

  “It’s Spanish,” Matt said. “It dates to the seventeenth century, but originally it wouldn’t have been covered in tooled leather as this one is. It has apparently been refurbished at some time.”

  “Some time quite a while ago,” Spider said. “There’s not much leather left on it. And look, one of those rifle barrels is an old muzzle loader.”

  Laurie tapped on the case above where the information card was posted. “So, all these things were found together?”

  “Yes,” Matt said. “Somebody cached them in a cave. Probably in the late 1880s. Notice the woman’s handkerchief?”

  Laurie’s eyes got wide. “You’re not saying it was a woman who left them?”

  Spider chuckled. “Where’s your sense of romance? It was some lonely fellow, carrying his sweetheart’s hankie next to his heart when he came out west. I wonder why he left it in the cave.”

  “Hard to say,” Matt said. “He left some other things, too, like this brass match box and ammunition for the rifle. And—”

  The door chime sounded. Matt stopped in mid-sentence and looked toward the entrance. Seeing his fixed gaze, Spider followed it.

  A striking blonde had just entered. Dressed in Levi’s, high heel sandals, and a champagne-colored knit top that accented the highlights in her hair, she took off her sunglasses and looked around.

  “Excuse me,” Matt said. Without waiting for a reply, he walked to the lobby.

  Spider listened to the younger man’s murmured greeting and watched as he stood, head bent, talking to the lady in low tones. Without a glance at Spider and Laurie, he took her arm and led her outside. They walked to the curb and stood in front of what was obviously her car, a red BMW convertible.

  “I wonder if that’s the trouble Brick Tremain was talking about,” Spider mused.

  “Well, she’s trouble to somebody.” Laurie pointed to the glass door that led to the Heritage Yard. Through it they could see the young woman who had been talking to LaJean. She stood near the dugout house, wearing a canvas apron and a bandana tied around her head. Her shoulders sagged, and her hands hung loosely at her sides as she stared at Matt and the elegant blonde.

  Feeling uncomfortable at watching the naked despair on her face, Spider looked back at Matt, who was talking on his cell phone. He covered the receiver, said something to his companion, and walked back to the museum, finishing his phone conversation as he entered.

  “Good news,” he said as he dro
pped the instrument in his pocket. “Dad is home. He’d like to have you come up to the house and talk to him.”

  Laurie clasped her hands. “That’s great news.”

  Spider gestured toward the case that held the saddle and other items found in the cache. “Do you want to finish telling us about this?”

  “Uh, no.” Matt put his hands in his pockets and actually shuffled his feet. “I’ve, uh, got to talk to Tiffany Wendt.” He nodded toward the blonde, now sitting in her convertible. “She’s a museum patron. Gotta keep her happy.”

  He turned and quickly walked across the lobby and out the door. Through the window, Spider saw him break into a trot halfway to the car. Hopping in, he smiled at something she said as she backed away from the curb.

  The bell sounded as the side door opened, and the girl in the apron and bandana came in. She kept her eyes on the floor as she went around the U-shaped counter and opened the door to the office beyond.

  “She’s gone in there to cry,” Laurie said.

  Aw, shoot,” Spider muttered.

  “I know. Men are hard on women’s hearts.”

  “No, that wasn’t what I meant. I left my hat in there.”

  “Want me to get it for you?” Laurie raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Thanks, Darlin’. And see if you can find out what’s going on.”

  Spider moved into position, so he could see through the window as Laurie opened the office door. He watched as she picked up his Stetson and said something to the girl. The girl didn’t look at her but shook her head. Laurie sat by her, put her hand on the girl’s back, and continued speaking.

  After a while the girl sat up straight. Laurie pulled a tissue from a box on the desk and offered it, and they began to converse. Spider hung around where he could observe, but LaJean came into the lobby, so he moved over to the bookcase, pretending to read titles.

  He watched LaJean hang a key on a hook behind the counter and peek in the office. She turned, met Spider’s glance, and looked like she might say something, but at that moment Laurie came out.

  Laurie smiled at LaJean and held out her hand. “It was nice to meet you and Isaac,” she said. “I don’t know if you heard, but Mr. Taylor is home from the hospital. He wants to see Spider, so we’re heading up to Kanab right now.”

  “Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time,” the older lady said. “Lord knows, we haven’t had much good news lately.” She motioned toward the office.

  Spider couldn’t think of a reply, so he stepped toward the door. “I imagine we’ll be meeting again,” he said, nodding a good-bye. He held the door for Laurie, taking his Stetson from her as she passed through. Following her out, he waved to Isaac, who stood at the cabin door with the boy and his mother.

  When he was in the driver’s seat of the pickup with Laurie beside him, he asked her what she had learned when she went in to get his hat.

  “Well, that girl’s name is Linda Russell. She’s been working at the museum since the first of the year.” Laurie paused to secure her seat belt. “And up until five days ago, she was engaged to marry Matt Taylor.”

  SPIDER WAITED FOR a minivan to make a left turn into The Red Pueblo driveway before pulling onto 89A, heading north to Kanab.

  Laurie rolled down her window to let the heat buildup escape. “Did Matt Taylor strike you as a little flakey?”

  “What do you mean by flakey?”

  “Well, there was something odd about the way he was acting. First he was almost hostile, and next he got all misty-eyed about his father’s museum collection. Then he was going to explain what was going on but never got around to it. Finally, he left us high and dry when that blonde, manicured, city-type woman came.”

  “Driving a BMW,” Spider added.

  Laurie laughed. “Yeah. That blonde, manicured, BMW-driving, city-type woman. He couldn’t get over to her fast enough when she walked in.”

  “Kind of like how ol’ Jack is with you.”

  “I’ll let that pass.” She rolled up her window and turned the AC vent to blow directly on her. “The thing is, Matt didn’t tell us diddly-squat. We don’t know any more about Brick Tremain’s trouble now than we did last night.”

  They crossed the state line, halfway to Kanab, and Spider set the cruise control on fifty-five. “I think we found out several things from ol’ Matt. Some he told us, some he showed us.”

  “So, what did he tell us? Let me see your little notebook.”

  Spider handed the spiral pad to Laurie.

  She opened the cover and looked at the list he had written. “What is this first thing? Bakery implement? Halters imminent? I can’t tell if that’s a b or an h.”

  “Let me see.” Spider reached for the notebook and held it up so he could glance from the road to the list and back. “It says bathroom incident.”

  “Oh, I remember. He said that was the beginning of the trouble. But that all got settled.”

  “After Martin Taylor shelled out a quarter million dollars.”

  Laurie took back the notepad. “You’ve got number two as—” She squinted. “—fall boat? That can’t be.” She held the paper up so he could look at it.

  “That’s flat broke. Remember, he said his father cashed out his retirement and mortgaged the house?”

  “That’s scary to lose your retirement. I wonder how old his dad is.”

  “Don’t know. Let me see what’s next on the list.” He glanced over as she held it up. “The next one says fifty years of collecting, and the one after that is ponytail.”

  “Ponytail? What’s that for?”

  “When that gal first came in— the one that ended up crying in the office—”

  “Linda Russell.”

  Spider pulled up at the stop light at Main Street in Kanab. “Yeah. When she first came in, it was obvious there was tension between her and Matt. It was something I wanted to follow up on.”

  “Well, maybe Mr. Taylor can fill us in. Linda didn’t want to talk about what happened, and from the way Matt was acting, I don’t think he even knows she exists anymore.”

  Spider turned left, retracing the route of the night before to the Taylor residence. “Oh, he knows she exists, all right. But there’s more that’s come between them than someone in a red convertible.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Just a hunch. Something about the way he couldn’t look at her.”

  “But that’s because he’s got that city gal panting after him.”

  Spider pulled to the side of the street, parking where the ambulance had been the night before. “Maybe, but when she first came in, he turned away and hunched one shoulder. Looked to me like a man in pain.”

  “He wasn’t in much pain when he drove away with that woman.”

  “I noticed that he looked back at Linda, though, as they were going out the gate, and he looked like someone who’d been waiting for his ship to come in, and the pier collapsed.” He opened his door. “Shall we go in and see what Mr. Taylor can tell us?”

  The house, a fifties-vintage, red-brick rambler, had a patchy front lawn and tired side fence that seemed incongruous after the spit, polish, and order of the museum. It was obvious where Martin Taylor spent his time.

  The aging concrete sidewalk had lost its smooth finish, exposing the aggregate beneath. Laurie and Spider followed it and mounted the two steps to the small front porch. Spider pushed the doorbell button, but not hearing a chime from the interior, he knocked on the door. It was immediately opened by Mrs. Taylor. She seemed to be the full color version of the pale woman he’d met the night before. A blue headband kept her shoulder-length hair away from her face and accented the color of her eyes.

  “Mr. Latham? I met you last night. How do you do?” She opened the door wide. “I’m Geneva, but everyone calls me Neva.”

  “Nice to see you again in better circumstances.” Spider took off his hat, and he and Laurie entered. “And you, too, sir,” he said when Martin Taylor stepped forward. “T
his is my wife, Laurie.”

  Martin shook first Spider’s hand and then Laurie’s. “I can’t tell you what it means to have you come.” He pulled a handkerchief from the back pocket of his Levi’s and wiped his eyes.

  Spider regarded him, trying to get his measure. Of medium height and wiry build, Martin had graying hair, rimless glasses, and the look of a scholar.

  “We haven’t done anything yet.” Spider looked around the living room, noting the serviceable-but-worn furniture. “We don’t even understand what the problem is. Can we sit down and have you fill us in?”

  “Didn’t Mattie tell you?” Neva pulled a side chair closer to her husband’s recliner and sat in it. With a sweep of her hand, she invited the Lathams to sit on the couch.

  “He got called away on business,” Laurie said.

  “Oh?” The question was voiced by Neva, but both she and her husband looked expectantly at Laurie.

  When Spider saw Laurie hesitate, he supplied the information. “Tiffany Wendt showed up just after word came you wanted to see us. He said you’d brief us and went somewhere with her.”

  There was a long pause during which neither of the Taylors met the eyes of anyone in the room. Finally, Martin spoke. “I see.”

  Spider set his hat on the couch. “Can I ask some questions?”

  Martin grasped the arms of his recliner as if steeling himself. “Certainly.”

  “Brick mentioned trouble. He said it was serious, said I needed to get over here right away and needed to figure on investing a couple of weeks. As I said, no one as yet has told me exactly what that trouble is.”

  Martin ran his hand over a seam in the upholstery. There was a slight tremble in his fingers. “The trouble is, we’re about to lose the museum. Or the Goblin Valley Ranch. Or both.”

  Spider took out his notebook and pen. “How?”

  “A lawsuit.”

  Laurie sat forward on the couch. “Matt told us about that. He said it got settled.”

  “That was the first lawsuit,” Neva said. “This is a new one.”

  Spider’s brows went up. “Really? Another accident?”