Trouble at the Red Pueblo

by Liz Adair

  The emcee thanked Jack and Laurie and announced it was time for the quilt guild drawing. The guild president walked on stage with the prize quilt unfurled and held it up on display while Miss Kane County drew the winning ticket and slowly read the number.

  Spider pulled his stub out of his pocket and checked it. “I’m one number away,” he told Karam. “Check yours. You may have won a quilt.”

  “Do you think so?” Karam began searching through his pockets, finding it as the number was being read for the third and final time.

  “I’ve got it,” Karam whispered to Spider. “I have the number.”

  Spider stood and hollered, “Here. We’ve got a winner.” To Karam he said, “You need to take your ticket up and give it to her.”

  “Well, come on up.” The quilt lady’s eyes twinkled as she watched Karam approach the stage. She took his stub, checked the numbers, and held up both tickets for all to see. The crowd applauded and whistled until she called for quiet. “What is your name, young man?”

  “Karam Mansour.”

  “And where are you from, Mr. Mansour?”

  “Originally I am from Gaza, but I have lived in Dubai since the age of ten.”

  “My goodness.” She blinked. “I’m not sure I even know where Dubai is.”

  “It is part of the United Arab Emirates, located on the Persian Gulf.”

  “Well, that’s a long way from Kanab. We like to think of a bit of Kanab going halfway around the world, and we hope you’ll remember us when you look at it.”

  Miss Kane County had been folding the quilt, and she handed it to Karam, smiling brilliantly at the audience as she did so.

  “Thank you very much,” Karam said. He carried the quilt in front of him like a satin pillow as he descended the steps and returned to his seat, acknowledging congratulations as he went.

  “I’d say your qadar is working pretty well,” Spider said in an undervoice as Karam sat beside him.

  “Say it lower in your throat,” Karam whispered. He demonstrated the pronunciation and said, “Try again.”

  “Qadar,” Spider said obediently.

  “Well done.”

  The emcee got up to announce the final performers would be The Baker Bunch, and Spider looked around for Laurie. He spied her at the side of the stage, conversing with the quilt lady who now held a mandolin. When the lady joined the string band on the stage, Laurie peered at the audience, shading her eyes against the footlights. Spider stood and waved his hat, and she smiled when she spied him.

  “Is Laurie coming to sit with us?” Karam sounded like he couldn’t believe his good fortune. He stood, too.

  Spider moved into the aisle and watched her approach, eyes warm and a half smile on his lips. When she reached him, he dropped a kiss on her lips and whispered, “Well done, Sweetheart.” Standing aside, he let her sit next to Karam, and he took the place on the aisle with his arm around her.

  The Baker Bunch did a set of traditional numbers, and then the concert was over. Karam applauded enthusiastically and turned a beaming face to Laurie. “The Baker Bunch was wonderful, but you and Jack were even better.”

  “Thank you, Karam.” Laurie squeezed his hand. “I was so glad you got to hear that song. It’s my favorite.”

  Spider stood. “Shall we get your guitar and head on back to the hotel?”

  She shook her head. “The Baker Bunch and some other musicians are going to jam at the Old Barn behind Parry Lodge. Jack and I are going. Why don’t you and Karam come, too?”

  Spider considered.

  “There will probably be some cowboy poets.” Though she spoke matter-of-factly, the corners of Laurie’s eyes crinkled.

  “Nah.” Spider put on his hat. “We need to go put gas in the Yugo.” He grinned. “If I can remember where I parked it.”

  Karam patted his pocket. “I wrote it down.”

  Just then Jack called to Laurie from the stage. He held up her guitar case and jerked his head in a come on gesture.

  Spider touched Laurie’s arm. “Before you go, I need to talk to you about the Yugo. What if I traded it for another car?”

  Jack called again, and Laurie waved to show she heard him. “Does the other car have flames on the front?”

  “No. It’s a good-looking car.”

  “Then it’s a no-brainer. Gotta go.” She waved to both of them and worked her way through the exiting crowd to join Jack on the steps to the stage.

  “You did not mention to her that the other car isn’t running right now,” Karam said as they joined the stream leaving the pavilion.

  “It will be in two weeks.”

  They walked through the downtown area and turned on Main Street where, according to Karam, the Yugo was sitting. He carried his prize under his arm, and other concert-goers called congratulations to him as they passed, heading to their own cars.

  “So, where is Laurie going? She said something about jelly.”

  “She said she was going to jam. It’s where the musicians get together and play for fun.”

  “Oh.” Karam sounded wistful.

  To the north, a flash of lightning momentarily lit the sky, and several long seconds later a dull rumbling reached them. “Might have some rain tonight,” Spider said. “I’m glad it put off until after the concert.”

  They arrived at the Yugo, sitting alone in the shadows mid-way between two widely spaced street lights. Spider had to feel around under the door handle to fit the key in to unlock it. Remembering Karam’s wistful tone, he asked, “Did you want to go with Laurie? You can do that, and I’ll go fill up with gas.”

  “Would that be all right?”

  “Sure. Come by the hotel room when you get back. What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

  “I will probably leave early.”

  “Then we’ll say our good-byes when I give you the keys.” Spider opened the door. “Want me to take the quilt, so you don’t have to carry it around with you?”

  “Oh. Yes.” Karam handed over his prize, and Spider tossed it through the door, got in, and put the key in the ignition.

  Karam backed away. “Where will Laurie be?”

  “It’s there where we had supper. Behind Parry Lodge. A big barn.”

  “Thank you.” He pulled out his cell phone as he turned away and began keying something as he walked.

  Spider closed the door and pushed the quilt out of the way with his elbow.

  “Hey, Spider.” Karam stood under the street light, looking back at the car.

  Spider rolled down the window. “Yeah? What d’ya need?” He put his hand on the key, ready to start the engine.

  “Was it jelly or jam?”

  “Jam,” Spider called. “It’s called a jam session.”

  He turned the key in the ignition, and all hell broke loose.

  SPIDER HEARD A hissing sound first, followed a nanosecond later by a detonation that seemed to play out in slow motion— a flash of light just before an ear-shattering boom. The dash turned into plastic shrapnel, and flames shot past his shoulder. For a moment, gravity seemed suspended, and then something hit him, making fireworks explode inside his skull. After that, it was like a series of clanging knife gates came down, shutting off sound first, then light, then feeling. All that was left was silent, utter darkness.

  And then even that was gone.

  Sound came back first. It came in baby sound bites with long, vacant gaps in between. Little snippets of words. The clink of metal against metal. A short whirring sound.

  Spider floated up from one of the inky voids and became aware of a continuity of sound, a low-voiced conversation going on in the dark quite near him. It was a conversation he had heard before, and for a moment he was disoriented, wondering if he had been thrust back in time to relive something he hadn’t got right.

  “He took off his shirt and hung it over the window,” the person was saying in almost-whispered tones. “I knew what his intentions were, and I think the thought of doing it there, on your territory, turned h
im on.”

  “Wait,” another voice interrupted, no longer hushed. “Wait. This happened in the dugout?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you. You were talking to Tiffany, and he just took my hand and led me over there. You didn’t even notice.”

  Spider turned his head toward the speakers, peering through the blackness, trying to see where they were, but it was as if his eyes were glued shut, and he couldn’t open them. He knew now that Linda was taking the opportunity to clear the air with Matt. Should he say something, let them know he was privy to their conversation?

  “So, what happened?” Matt’s voice had a ragged edge to it.

  “He locked the door and came on to me. I said no.”

  “That’s all?” Apparently she didn’t answer because Matt asked again, “Is that all that happened?”

  “No. He tried to force the issue. He… he was very strong.”

  “The swine! Did he—?”

  “Would it make a difference?”

  Spider was relieved when there was no answer. The silence stretched out, and he realized someone else was in the room. He heard small noises beside him, and then an unfamiliar female voice asked, “Has he wakened yet?”

  Linda answered. “No.”

  “His vitals are good. We’re keeping a close eye on him that way, but call me if he wakes up.”

  “We will.”

  The silence surged back, and Spider worked to unravel the meaning behind the stranger’s words. Whose vitals was she talking about? Where was he? Why didn’t someone turn a light on?

  Linda and Matt resumed their conversation, but things were becoming fuzzy around the edges. He could no longer track what they were saying. Something was wrong, though, and he fought through the fog to define what it was. Just before he let go of the last wisp of consciousness, it came to him. Laurie wasn’t here. Where was Laurie?

  A brisk voice hailed Spider into consciousness. “Good morning, Mr. Latham. Shall we take these bandages off and see what we’ve got?”

  Spider felt pressure against his temple and heard the sound of scissors.

  “There wasn’t any damage to your eyes, but the wound was near enough to one of ‘em that Dr. Timms didn’t use tape. He ran the bandages clear around, figuring you wouldn’t have any need to see before morning.”

  He heard the last snip and then the clink of scissors being set down on the table.

  “Close your eyes,” the brisk voice warned. “The light’s gonna hurt at first.”

  Spider did as he was told. He felt the bandages come off and raised his lids cautiously a millimeter at a time, squinting at the brightness. He blinked and found a round, middle-aged face peering down at him through rimless glasses. “Hello,” he croaked.

  “Hello.” She lifted a gauze pad and cocked her head as she examined what lay beneath. “You’re a lucky son-of-a-gun. That’s all I got to say. Just an inch difference, and they’d be calling you One Eye.” She took a roll of tape from her pocket and tacked two corners of the pad to his forehead. “That’ll hold it until the doctor gets a chance to look at it.”

  Spider touched her hand. “What happened? And where’s Laurie?”

  “Is that the lady that’s been sitting with you? She’ll be back— oh here she is now. And by the way, the sheriff is on his way over to see you.” She picked up the bandages, folded them inside one of her latex gloves as she pulled them off, and dropped them in the garbage on her way out the door.

  Spider turned his head to welcome his wife, but it was Linda who came in, not Laurie. She had a worried expression on her face, but her brow cleared when she saw him.

  “Oh, Spider! It’s good to see you awake.” She pulled her chair over and set it between the bed and the window. “I was so worried about you.”

  “What happened, Linda? How’d I get in here?”

  She sat down. “You don’t remember? Somebody set off a bomb in your car.”

  Something flashed through Spider’s mind, so fleeting it was just a blip on the memory screen— his hand turning the key. He stared at Linda, trying to remember more but gave it up and turned to more important things. “Where’s Laurie?” he said. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. She stayed here until they said you were going to be okay. After that, she said that Karam needed her more. She called Taylors, and Neva sent Matt and me to sit with you, so Laurie could go to the sheriff’s office.”

  Spider looked around. “Where is Matt?”

  Linda looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. I dozed off in the middle of the night, and when I woke, he was gone.”

  Spider put his hand to his forehead. There was something else he wanted to ask, and he finally succeeded at pulling it back from memory. “Why did Laurie go to the sheriff’s office?”

  “Because they’ve got Karam in jail.”

  “What?” Spider sat up in bed, but the room began to spin. Immediately sorry for his hasty action, he lay back down. “Why is Karam in jail?”

  “I’ve talked to Laurie a couple times, and as near as I can figure, they think he’s a terrorist. They claim he planted the bomb in your car.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “You know it, and I know it, but there’s a local fellow who swears he saw him detonate the bomb with a cell phone.”

  All of a sudden Spider’s memory reappeared. He remembered Karam standing in the light of the street lamp, entering the latest idiom into his list. He remembered turning on the key, remembered the blast of the detonation. “It couldn’t have been Karam,” he said.

  Linda glanced out the window. “Well, you’ll get a chance to tell that to the sheriff in just a few minutes. He just pulled up.”

  Spider looked around the room. “I don’t suppose there’s a mirror you could find, so I can see the damage?”

  “There’s one in the tray table.” She got up and swung the tray over his bed. I’m going to raise your head a bit.” She pressed the remote control. “Tell me when to stop.”

  Spider lifted his hand when he was on a comfortable incline and then had her raise his knees. “That’s good. Thanks.” He lifted the hinged area of the table and regarded himself in the mirror.

  What he saw wasn’t as bad as the amount of bandages the nurse took off might indicate, though an impressive maroon area circled his right eye and bled over onto the area below his left. He lifted the gauze bandage stuck on his temple above his right eyebrow and examined the raw meat beneath.

  Linda sucked in a breath. “That’s an ugly looking wound.”

  “It’s not deep, though. Lucky I have such a thick skull.” He turned his head, keeping his eyes on the mirror. “Can’t see any other damage.”

  “You have a bruise on your arm.”

  Spider felt around the darkened place. “It’s a little tender, but not bad.” Pushing the tray away, he flung back the covers and swung his legs around. “I don’t know why they’ve got me in here. There’s really nothing—”

  Linda stepped closer, pushing against his shoulders to keep him from falling off the bed. “You’re white as a sheet. Please stay where you are, at least until the sheriff’s gone.”

  Spider let her help him lie back and get his feet back on the bed. He fought the wave of nausea sweeping over him and hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself by vomiting. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. After a few moments, things settled down enough that he could open his eyes. “Thank you,” he said to Linda. “I’ll wait for the sheriff right here.”

  She looked toward the door and then at her watch. “There he is. Look, Spider, I’ve got to go. I’m afraid— well, never mind.” She pulled up the covers and patted his hand. She nodded to the uniformed man as he walked in and stood in front of Spider’s bed, and then she left.

  Spider watched her go and then turned to examine the officer, noting that he was a deputy, not the sheriff. Of moderate height, muscular and fit, he was dressed in a tan uniform with knife-sharp creases and shiny black leather at his waist. He lo
oked to be in his mid-thirties.

  “Mr. Latham?” The deputy’s voice was respectful.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m Deputy Toby Flint. It’s good to see you looking better. With that head wound, you were bleeding like a stuck pig.”

  “Glad to see you.” Spider pointed to the chair. “Have a seat.”

  Deputy Flint sat down and cleared his throat. “I know you’re a deputy sheriff over in Nevada, and I’ve met Mrs. Latham.”

  “I heard she’s at the sheriff’s office.” Spider smiled. “How’re you all getting along?”

  The deputy shook his head. “She’s quite a lady. Says she’s not leaving until this Mansour fellow can come with her.”

  “Why is Karam in jail, anyway?”

  “Your car was blown up by a bomb. I’ve got a citizen who saw Mr. Mansour with his cell phone out at the moment of detonation.”

  “Did you round up all the people with cell phones out at the moment of detonation?”

  Deputy Flint paused before answering. “No. Mr. Mansour is the only Palestinian in town.”

  “Which proves what?”

  “It would indicate that he’s much more familiar with bombs than any local citizens.”

  Spider smoothed the wrinkles out of the sheet. “You know, Deputy, Thursday afternoon, Karam was driving my car— it’s a distinctive looking car, wouldn’t you say?” He paused, half smiling, waiting for a response. When the deputy nodded, he went on. “He pulled over at the state line and got out of the car, and someone pulled in afterward and attacked him.” Spider held up a hand when it looked like the deputy was going to speak. “Let me finish. When his attacker left, and just before he knocked him cold, he gave Karam a message that was obviously intended for me.”

  “Did he report the attack?” Deputy Flint asked. “Which side of the border was it on?”

  “It was in your territory. I wanted to call it in, but Karam wouldn’t let me. He said that his experience with police didn’t give him any confidence. In fact, he was afraid to report it.”