The Chupacabra Catastrophe

by Amanda M. Lee

  “You could get that information on your own,” I pointed out. “Why do you need me?”

  “Because you’re fun.”

  “Why really?”

  “Because, as much as I think I’m hitting my prime not everyone believes that,” Millie supplied. “I might need someone young and cute to get more information. The way I see it, I have three options. Hannah wouldn’t know what to do with her looks if I drew her a diagram. She’s completely oblivious.”

  “Yeah. I hate that about her, too.”

  Millie snorted. “Laura is too aware of her looks and comes across as bitchy and manipulative.”

  “So I win by default?” I couldn’t help being a little disappointed.

  Millie shook her head. “You’re the best of both worlds. You don’t see your appeal yet, but you’re gung-ho to seek out information. You’re the perfect sidekick.”

  She meant it as a compliment – I was sure of that – but I had trouble taking it that way. “Why do I have to be the sidekick? Why can’t you be the sidekick?”

  “I’m too old to be anyone’s sidekick,” Millie replied. “Now change your clothes. If you have something that shows off your assets, you should definitely wear that.”

  “I don’t have any assets.”

  “Oh, geez.” Millie pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s going to be a long night. I can already tell. Get dressed. I’m going to need ten drinks to put up with your nonsense.”

  “Fine. But if we get in trouble I’m totally blaming you.”

  “I think that’s perfectly acceptable.”

  “THIS IS THE BAR?”

  I wrinkled my nose, disappointment rolling over me. I knew it was stereotypical, but I pictured some honky-tonk establishment from a television sitcom, with sawdust on the floor and a mechanical bull in the corner. Instead we got a filthy hole-in-the-wall with a creepy guy standing behind the bar.

  “It’s got pizzazz,” Millie said after looking around for a few moments. “I like it.”

  “You would.”

  “Oh, don’t bring your bad attitude here,” Millie chided. “You’ll give yourself bad liquor karma. Nobody needs that.”

  I had no idea what bad liquor karma was, but it sounded terrible. “Fine. Let’s find a place to sit.” I pointed myself toward a table in the corner, but instead Millie snagged my elbow and directed me toward the bar.

  “We’re not going to get information isolating ourselves, missy. We need to talk to the man in charge.”

  I eyed the bartender, who looked as if he hadn’t bathed in the last three weeks. “What do you think he possibly knows?”

  “I’m about to find out.”

  I didn’t want to sit alone … or risk going to the bathroom alone, for that matter … so I had no choice but to follow Millie to the bar. She seemed to be in her element, the rough and tumble crowd no cause for concern. She hoisted herself onto a stool and patted her hands on the counter as she eyed the drink choices.

  “Hello.”

  The bartender arched an eyebrow as he dried a glass. “You must be the folks in town investigating the murder, huh?”

  The question, which seemed to come out of nowhere, made me suspicious. “How do you know that?”

  “You’re the biggest thing to happen in this town all week,” the bartender replied. “We don’t get many visitors.”

  “Yeah, we figured that out when we saw the hotel,” I grumbled.

  Millie shot me a warning look before pasting a bright smile on her face for the bartender’s benefit. “I’m Millie and this is Charlie. What do you recommend?”

  The bartender looked amused. “Charlie, huh? You don’t look like a Charlie.”

  “What do I look like?”

  “A Heather.”

  Hmm. I had no idea what to make of that. “I’ll have an iced tea.”

  “No, she won’t.” Millie shook her head when the man reached for a glass. “She’s too high strung for more caffeine. Give her something else … like a shot of bourbon.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I am not having a shot.”

  “Give her a shot,” Millie ordered. “What’s your name, by the way? I plan to be here for a few hours and I’ll need something to call you.”

  “Really?” Instead of being annoyed by Millie’s bossy attitude, the bartender looked amused. “Call me Lloyd.”

  “Wasn’t that the bartender’s name in The Shining?” The question was out of my mouth before I thought better of asking it. That’s the story of my life, by the way. I have no filter, and it drives people crazy. I can’t seem to control the situation, so now I pretend I don’t notice.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen The Shining, but I’ll take your word for it,” Lloyd said dryly. “As for shots, this one doesn’t look as if she can handle a shot. We’ve got stronger stuff than your standard rotgut here. Maybe she’d be better off with something simple, like a rum and coke.”

  “That’s fine.” I was resigned to getting one drink and nursing it for the next few hours. If Millie downed as many drinks as I expected, it was going to be hard enough to get her back to the hotel if I was sober. If I was drunk, we’d both end up lost in the desert.

  “No, wait a second.” Millie flapped her hand as she surveyed the bar’s offerings. “Rum is boring. You guys are close to the border. You must have some good tequila.”

  “We do,” Lloyd confirmed. “You want standard shots?”

  “That sounds like a fine idea.” Millie beamed. “Don’t hold back on the salt and limes.”

  “I would never.” Lloyd grinned as he grabbed a bottle of tequila from the shelf and selected two shot glasses from the rack behind him. He poured the shots, piling a mound of lime wedges on a plate and sliding it between us before putting a salt shaker on the counter. “Bottoms up.”

  I wasn’t much of a drinker. I’d only been out of college a few months and I’d never been fond of the whole party scene. My biggest concern was that I would get drunk, lose control of my magic or let something asinine slip. I followed a firm set of rules when I was in college and now didn’t seem the time to stray from them. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re drinking,” Millie ordered, her tone leaving little room for debate. “Here. Watch me.”

  I had no choice. I pressed my lips together and worked overtime to keep my eyebrows in place as Millie licked the side of her hand, sprinkled salt on it, licked it again and then slammed back the shot. She then popped a lime wedge in her mouth and sucked on it, a goofy smile on her face.

  “Ah,” she enthused. “That’s some good tequila.”

  “Thank you.” Lloyd was clearly amused as he turned to me. “I think it’s your turn.”

  I was never one to bow to peer pressure, but I couldn’t see a graceful way out of this situation, so I capitulated. I mimicked Millie’s actions, doing my best not to cough too much when I downed the shot, and by the time I had the lime wedge in my mouth my cheeks were on fire.

  “Good girl.” Millie patted my back, amused. “Another round, Lloyd.”

  “Somehow I knew you’d say that.” Lloyd set about to pouring, seemingly more at ease now that Millie had shown she was something of a party animal. “I understand you folks went out to Hooper’s Mill today. Did you find anything while you were out there?”

  “I wasn’t part of the group that went,” Millie replied. “Charlie was. Did you see anything interesting out there, girl?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied, running my fingers over my hot cheeks. “Is tequila supposed to make my face feel as if it’s on fire?”

  “Only if it’s good,” Millie said. “If it’s really good, your face should feel numb after the next shot. You clearly have no tolerance. How is that? You were just in college.”

  “I focused on my studies in college.”

  “Why? That sounds like no fun at all.”

  “I had limited funds,” I replied honestly. “My parents died when I was eighteen. I had money from them, but it wasn’t a windfa
ll or anything. I had to pay for my schooling with the money. I also had to get a part-time job, so I didn’t have much time for partying.”

  “Oh, well, that’s a bummer.” Millie clearly meant it, because she patted my shoulder while she sympathetically clucked. “That must’ve been hard.”

  “Life isn’t easy. My mother always told me that. They died in a car accident. It was hard, but … I wanted to make them proud.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Millie’s lips curved into a smile. “Are you ready for that second shot?”

  “Okay, but then that’s it. I don’t think I can handle much more than that.”

  “Of course that’s it.” Millie said the words, but the way her eyes lit up caused doubt to roll through my belly.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know you are, Charlie. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry about that. Everything will be okay. Trust me.”

  Despite my reservations, I did trust Millie. More than everyone else in the group, she opened herself to me right away. I couldn’t help but like her.

  “I’m going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow, aren’t I?”

  “Probably.” Millie nodded, handing me the shot glass. “You have to bust your cherry eventually, though. This is as good a time as any.”

  That was an interesting way to put it. “Okay, but if I throw up, I’m blaming you.”

  “I’m perfectly fine with that.”

  7

  Seven

  “I think I’m having a stroke.”

  I experimentally pressed my fingers to my cheeks.

  “You’re not having a stroke,” Millie countered. “You’re drunk. Enjoy it. Although … .” She swooped in and stole the shot glass before I could grab it. “I think you should switch to water.”

  “I’m on it.” Lloyd was enjoying himself, as were a few of the locals who sidled closer to the bar.

  “I don’t need water,” I argued. “I’m ready for another shot.”

  Millie’s smile was kind. “Part of me wants to see what will happen if I let you keep going. If anyone needed a night of dancing on a table to shake things up, it’s you. I know you, though. You’ll insist on going to work tomorrow even if you feel as if your head is going to fall off, which it probably will. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

  Millie shoved the water glass in front of me and downed the shot that I was trying to claim.

  “Hey! That’s mine. Why can you keep drinking when I can’t?”

  “Because I’m better at it than you,” Millie replied. “Now … drink your water and shut up.”

  I wasn’t keen on being bossed around, but I didn’t feel on top of my game. I sipped my water and watched her work Lloyd for information. It was almost as entertaining as drinking tequila. Almost, but not quite.

  “What do you know about Hooper’s Mill?” Millie asked before sucking on a lime wedge. “You must have a lot of stories to tell.”

  “We have a bona fide ghost town twenty minutes away,” Lloyd said. “Of course there are stories to tell.”

  “I heard that kids go there on the weekends and get drunk,” I interjected, splaying my fingers in front of my face and staring at them, mesmerized by something I couldn’t quite give name to.

  “You’re drunk, not on acid,” Millie snapped. “Don’t embarrass me.”

  “Whatever.”

  “A lot of the kids hang out there on the weekends, but a lot go to the mall about sixty miles away, too. I guess it depends on the kids.”

  “I’m guessing the ones who don’t like to conform are the ones going to Hooper’s Mill,” I supplied, resting my chin on my palm. “I would’ve been all over hanging around at a place like Hooper’s Mill when I was a teenager. I wouldn’t have cared about the partying as much as the exploring.”

  “Yes, I’m starting to get a very sad picture of your childhood,” Millie tsked. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  “Okay.”

  Millie made a face I knew I wouldn’t remember in ten minutes, let alone in the morning, before turning back to Lloyd. “What do you know about the property development deal?”

  “It seems you’re up on all the gossip, huh?” Lloyd was amused. “I don’t know nearly as much as you’d probably like. That’s probably why you’re here. All I know is that people in the area were hopeful because they thought it might lead to jobs.”

  “What will happen to the property now?” I asked, pushing my empty water glass toward Lloyd. “More, please.”

  “I don’t know,” Lloyd replied. “I’ve heard rumors that more than one person was interested in the property. Whether that’s true … .” Lloyd shrugged.

  “I’d think some people would want to keep Hooper’s Mill as it is,” I noted, accepting the fresh glass of water. “I mean … it’s a historical landmark. Some people don’t like the idea of tourists stomping through their backyards.”

  “I guess that’s fair,” Lloyd conceded. “The thing is, you need to have a backyard for people to stomp through to care about things like that. The people here don’t really have backyards. They’re all struggling to make it from day to day. The idea of jobs, of feeding families, is much more important than history.”

  “I guess.”

  “I get that,” Millie said. “Still, someone cared enough to kill a man. We don’t know if it was the developer, but that’s everyone’s guess. Do you know if he ticked off anyone in town?”

  “Not really, but I’m not the center of the gossip mill,” Lloyd said. “I was under the impression you were hanging with Zach Corrigan.”

  “We are,” Millie confirmed.

  “Not by choice,” I added, earning a smirk from Lloyd.

  “I’m starting to like you more and more every time you open your mouth, kid,” Lloyd teased. “You might try asking Zach. He’s up on all the gossip.”

  “I think he’s told us everything he knows,” I said. “It’s not much, though. He’s more interested in picking up women than answering questions.”

  “Yeah, get used to that,” Lloyd said. “That’s the way he operates. He romances every woman of a certain age who comes through town. He can’t seem to help himself.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Millie said, digging in her purse. “I’ll handle our resident Romeo if he gets too fresh.”

  “No offense, ma’am, but I don’t think you’re his type,” Lloyd offered. “You’re definitely mine, though. What if I want to play Romeo?”

  “I’m flattered and promise to come back just as soon as I can,” Millie said, grabbing my arm. “But now I need to get this one back to her room. She’s going to be in a world of hurt tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, but she’s funny,” Lloyd said. “Do you need help getting her back?”

  “Thanks for the offer but I can manage.” Millie took the bulk of my weight on her sturdy frame as she pointed me toward the door. “Walk, drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk. You’re drunk.”

  “That’s the story of my life,” Millie muttered. She paused near the door when Lloyd called to get her attention. “Yeah, Romeo?”

  Lloyd’s smile at the flirty endearment was sloppy. “What I meant to add before you distracted me is that your young friend there is exactly Zach’s type. You watch out for that.”

  Millie stiffened. “Is he a predator?”

  “Not like you think, but he has left a string of broken hearts in his wake”

  “I’m not worried about that,” Millie said. “This one has a knight in shining armor all lined up. He just needs to realize it.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Definitely. I’ll be around.” Millie dragged me through the door. Even though I was little help, she kept up a constant stream of chatter. “Now aren’t you glad you went out with me?”

  “I don’t feel very well,” I said, using my free hand to rub my stomach. “My stomach feels a little … um … what’s the word I’m looking for?”

  “I have no idea, but if you puke on me we’re going
to have issues,” Millie replied. “Keep your eyes up and don’t look at the ground. If you vomit in public, you totally ruin my reputation.”

  “I don’t think you care about your reputation,” I argued, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I’d had four drinks, but I felt as if the world was spinning out of control. “I also don’t think you’re going to go back and flirt with old Lloyd.”

  “I might go back and flirt with him. He seemed nice enough. Out of curiosity, though, why do you think I wouldn’t go back?”

  “Because I think you’re dating Bernard.”

  Millie came to a complete standstill and pinned me with a look. “Who told you that?”

  “No one. I figured it out myself.”

  “And how did you figure it out?”

  I shrugged, noncommittal. “I don’t know. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”

  “Yeah, well you need to listen to me.” Millie used both hands to prop me up and stared hard into my eyes, waiting a long time until she was satisfied that I was focused. “I’m not saying it’s true, because it’s not. Theoretically, though, if Myron were to find out I was dating someone in the group he wouldn’t be happy. Do you understand?”

  I was fairly certain I didn’t. “You don’t want to get in trouble with Myron?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly care less about what Myron thinks,” Millie scoffed. “But Bernard might care. Myron could fire him. I like Bernard as a friend. He’s a good friend.” She kept stressing the word “friend” as if it would somehow convince me to change my opinion of her relationship with Bernard. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I nodded solemnly. “Mum’s the word.” I mimed zipping my lips and then almost fell face forward. “Whoops!”

  Millie struggled to hold up my weight. “You are a piece of work, girl,” she muttered, grunting as she slipped an arm around my waist. “I have no idea why a girl your age is such a bad drinker, but it’s something we need to fix.”