Ariel told her about her conversation with Norbert. “Bring Chet’s file home with you tonight. After firearms class I’ll drive you back to the office and do the martial arts class myself. It’s basically a refresher course for me, anyway. My teacher said he thinks I can qualify for a brown belt if I want to. I’m better than anyone in the class,” she said proudly. “I had an edge, though.”
Ten minutes later Ariel said. “It’s all coming together, Dolly. I didn’t think it would happen for months, maybe even years, but it is. I even think I’m beginning to enjoy this new life.”
“I’m happy for you, Ariel. You know what they say—life’s a stage and we’re all actors.”
“Yes, Dolly, but I’m not acting. I’m living. For the first time in a very long time.”
“I knew that would happen,” Dolly said smugly.
Ariel smiled in her sleep, stretched luxuriously, then remembered where she was and how many times she’d had the same dream. She also remembered her resolution to do something about finding Felix Sanchez. She wondered if there was such a thing as a twenty-four hour detective agency.
Why now, why after all these years? Because . . . I had a different life. Oh, he wasn’t good enough for you then. Now, maybe he is. That’s terrible, Ariel. Damn, she had to stop talking to herself. I tried, I really tried. Maybe he should have tried, too. It wasn’t meant to be. That’s the bottom line. This is a new time now. The rules have changed. All I’m going to do is make sure he’s happy. If he needs anything, or if his family does, I’ll help. I’ll go to one of the parish priests and have him do it. I won’t interfere with Felix’s life. That’s a promise I’m making to myself.
Ariel showered, dressed, and was ready for the day within fifteen minutes. She spent another five minutes going downstairs for coffee and carrying it back up along with the phone book. In the yellow pages she wasn’t at all surprised to find that more than one detective agency was open around the clock, but she was surprised to hear a human voice so early in the morning. A woman, no less. She jotted down notes as the woman spoke. Detectives didn’t come cheap. She should have known that. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d played a female detective in a very successful movie. In fact, she’d played the same role four times. And everyone said sequels wouldn’t fly. They had, all four of them. In the movie, the character she was playing got two hundred a day plus expenses, which was exactly what Beverly Leroy was quoting now.
Ariel told the women her story, finishing up with “And that was the last time I saw him. I realize it’s thirty-four years later, but maybe you can turn something up. Mail me your reports in care of Able Body Trucking and mark them ‘Personal.’ I’ll send out a check today. Of course, I want it in a plain brown envelope with no return address. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
And now a new day was staring her in the face. It was hard to believe she’d been in the trucking business for six weeks.
The new day started off badly and quickly worsened.
The moment Ariel swerved into the lot she was overwhelmed with noise from the truckers milling about while their engines idled ominously. “This looks like it could be trouble,” Ariel said, hopping out of her Range Rover. “Is there a problem? You’re wasting fuel. Since I pay for that fuel, I suggest you cut those engines now. I’ll give you three minutes and if you don’t follow orders, draw your pay and get out of this yard. I don’t care if you have families or not.” This is a role, Ariel. Play it out. Don’t let that pack of wolves dictate to you. She turned on her heel and marched into the office.
“Is this going to be one of those wildcat strikes? What do they want? Do I call the police? The teamsters? Or do they do that? Get Stan in here.” She was flustered, the way she used to get doing a scene with one of Hollywood’s top male stars. Take a deep breath, then another. Whatever this is, tomorrow it will be over. Get through it the best you can. You can do this. You can do whatever you have to do. The silent pep talk had the desired effect; her breathing returned to normal.
“They want to push your buttons to see how tough you are,” Dolly said. “They’re expecting you to back down. Find out how many of those trucks are owner-operated. Call the police to make them leave. Stan must have extra keys. Get them, and we can all turn off the engines. Don’t say anything you don’t plan to back up. If you want to fire them, then fire them. I don’t know anything about unions or if there can be ramifications. Stan will know. Here he comes. Maybe he knows what the hell they want.”
“Ma’m,” the older man said respectfully.
“Stan, do you know what’s going on out there? We have spare keys, don’t we?”
“They’re testing you because you’re a woman. They don’t like taking orders from a female. That’s the long and short of it. We have spare keys, yes, ma’m.”
“I haven’t given them any orders. Yet. It’s been business as usual so far. Until I know more about the management end of things, it’ll stay the same. I’m not saying I’ll change things and I’m not saying I won’t. Call the police, Dolly, and get the owner-operators off this lot. They’re fired from this company.”
“Even Chet?” There was dismay on the older man’s face.
“Definitely Chet. Do you have a problem with that, Stan?”
“Lord, no. I been praying I’d be around long enough to see that buzzard get his. He don’t think you mean it, ma’m. Mr. Sanders is going to be mighty pleased. He won’t let Chet haul anything for him. Even his trash. He pays two cents more a mile to the truckers he uses from here. He’s a good man, a fair man. Demanding at times, but he has to be. I’m sure he’ll come right down here if you need him.”
“Let’s wait. What are the chances of this man getting violent?”
“Pretty good.”
Ariel opened her shoulder satchel that doubled as a purse and withdrew the Glock. Stan’s breath hissed inward. It hissed again when she shoved in the clip. “Get the keys, Stan. The engines are still running.” She shoved the Glock into the back of her jeans. Then she opened the door and stood aside for Stan to go to his office for the keys.
Ariel’s stance was pure Hollywood. Her right hand went to the brim of the Padres cap, moving it back slightly. Her feet planted firmly on the ground, she drew a deep breath and shouted, “All right, what do you want? I’m asking so I can tell the police when they get here. This is an unauthorized strike. I gave you an order and you disobeyed it. I also told you to pick up your pay. Get those rigs out of here or I’ll shoot out the tires. That will cost you some bucks to repair.” Damn, this was almost like a movie role. Hands on hips, Ariel advanced close enough to Chet to smell his sour breath. Don’t show any fear—play it out. You can yell CUT! yourself. She neatly sidestepped the man until she was less than a foot from his rig. She noticed the painted sign on the side. Big Red. She’d bet five dollars it was his CB handle.
The roar was deafening, but started to lessen the minute Stan cut the engines one by one. When the last Able Body truck became silent, Chet strolled around the lot like he owned it. “So where’s the cops you said you called?” His face was so mean and ugly, Ariel winced. Then she remembered the Glock stuck in the back of her jeans.
“They’re on their way. You still haven’t told me what this is all about.”
“What it’s about, lady, is, the old man promised me five hauls a week. It ain’t been happening. A man’s only as good as his word. We had a deal. I got payments on this rig and kids to support. If I ain’t making any money I can’t do that, now, can I?”
“I don’t know anything about your deal. Mr. Able didn’t say anything to me about a deal when the company changed hands. You haul when we tell you to haul. If you don’t like it, get yourself another job. Don’t think you’re going to bully me. Take your cronies and get off my property. Now!”
“You owe me some money, Miss Movie Star, and I want it.”
“You get what’s on the books. No more, no less. You men, you’re willing to give up your jobs for this man?
Jobs aren’t that plentiful, in case you’re interested. You’re entitled to apply for health benefits. COBRA says you can keep the benefits for eighteen months, but you’ll be paying for them. After that you’re on your own. The paymaster has your pay—pick it up,” she said, addressing the men, her eyes everywhere but on Chet. “Otherwise, we’ll mail your checks.”
Chet’s face turned uglier still. He raised his fist and advanced a step. The others backed off. Suddenly the Glock was in her hand. She didn’t stop to think; she pulled back the hammer and fired into the ground at Chet’s feet—one, two, three, four shots. Bits and chunks of concrete shot upward. Too stunned to move, Chet froze in his tracks. “Not bad for a movie star, huh, Mr. Truck Driver? This is the last time I’m going to tell you to get the hell off my property. If you come back, my aim will be somewhat higher, like right there,” she said, pointing the barrel of the gun at his groin. “Well, here come the police. Good-by, Mr. Truck Driver.”
Behind the police was a blue pickup. She whirled and was halfway through the door when she heard the police officer say, “Lex, how’s it going?” To Stan he said, “What’s going on here?” Ariel watched from the window as the toe of the officer’s polished black shoe scuffed at the holes she’d shot in the concrete. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”
“Wildcat strike. Sort of. Chet Andrews was acting like a horse’s patoot. The owner settled him right down. She fired the lot of them. Good riddance, I say.”
“The lot of them? How many constitutes the lot of them”?
“About an even dozen. No great loss. We got a waiting list of drivers who want to work for this company. They won’t have any trouble working for a woman. It’s under control, officer,” Stan said. “I think Miss Hart handled it just right. Chet was starting to get ugly.”
“If you have any more trouble, call the station. I’ll have to file a report. It’s best that things like this go on record, Stan. I’ll keep my eyes open and double the patrols out this way. Nice seeing you again, Lex.”
“You too, Stoney. The next time I’m down this way, let’s have a beer.”
“Give me a call. Just out of curiosity, who shot up this concrete?”
A wicked grin on his face, Stan said, “The new owner. She scared the bejesus out of Chet when she said if he ever came back, her aim would be a little higher. He knew what she meant. She might have been scared, but old Chet, he didn’t see it. She’s a tough little lady. She’s going to be okay. She handled that gun like a pro. It was a Glock, 9 millimeter. Can you beat that? You got business or are you visiting, Mr. Sanders?”
“Business. You got a driver in Seattle who’s deadheading? If so, you got my business. You got anybody bobtailing in Oklahoma? If so, have him pick up my load.” Lex handed over a slip of paper.
“Thirty-two cents a mile, Mr. Sanders?”
“Yep. I think I’ll go see the new owner.”
“You’re gonna have to follow her then. There she goes. She’s taking lessons on how to drive these rigs. She’ll be back around noon. Miss Dolly’s still inside, though. She’s Miss Hart’s assistant. She’s learning the computer.”
“Commendable. Where is everyone?”
“Taking driving lessons. After today, I’m beginning to think it’s a good idea.”
“You might have a point, Stan. If there’s a problem with my loads, call me at the house. I gotta get back—I have a mare about to foal. She’s going to be a beauty. Good bloodlines.”
Then Lex Sanders did something he thought he’d never do. He chased a woman, burning rubber as he barrelled down the road in pursuit of Ariel Hart. He couldn’t explain his actions, he just knew it was something he wanted to do. No, he needed to do it. He saw the dark green Rover three cars ahead. He did a reckless thing and cursed himself as he skirted one sedan and then a small sports car until he was directly behind Ariel. He blew his horn, three short blasts, his arm waving wildly for her to pull over. “This, Lex Sanders, is probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” He was muttering to himself, something he seemed to be doing a lot since Asa sold Able Body.
Ariel looked in her rearview mirror, saw the blue pickup and the man waving for her to pull over. Lex Sanders! “Oh, God!” Did she put makeup on this morning? If her life depended on it, she couldn’t remember. She wanted to look in the mirror to see how visible her scars were, but she was afraid. Could she inch the hair out from under the Padres baseball cap? She slowed and pulled over to the shoulder of the road, then sucked in her breath as she waited for Lex to come alongside. This is just one more role, Ariel. There was a time when you could charm the birds right out of their trees.
“I thought it was you. I remember your truck that night at the restaurant. The waitress let you sit there for a long time.”
“And you bought Dolly and me dinner. I was going to stop by your table, but you’d left. I’m not usually that impolite.” He was staring at her as though there was nothing wrong with her face. Maybe he was a frustrated actor and he was playing a role, too.
“I stopped you for a reason. Stan told me you were on your way to take a lesson, but I was wondering . . . if you might consider . . . what I mean is ... have you ever played hookey? The reason I’m asking is, I breed Arabians and my prize mare is about to foal. It’s such a wonderful experience, I was . . . ah . . . wondering if you’d like to come up to Bonsall with me. You’ll never forget it. I’d also like you to see and hear for yourself what’s going on with my workers. Chet Andrews has been stirring them up and I’m damn good to my employees. Will you come?”
The role was taking on deeper dimensions. “Actually, Mr. Sanders, the last time I played hookey I was in the fifth grade. I got my fanny whipped that night and I never did it again. I’d like to see your new foal. Shall I follow you?”
“You will? Yeah, yeah, follow me. Unless you want me to bring you back. It won’t be a problem. We can stop at a service station and leave your truck and pick it up on the way back. Either way is okay with me.” He waited for her reply.
Ariel’s mind raced. He’d followed her, flagged her down, invited her to his ranch to share something with him. If she went in his truck, she’d have to make small talk, and he’d be able to stare at her more. Better to follow him. “I’ll follow you, then you won’t have to come all the way back down here. You could do me a favor, though. Call the office and tell Dolly where I’ll be. I’ve been meaning to get a phone in the truck, but just haven’t gotten around to it. Actually, it’s scheduled to be hooked up tomorrow.” She was babbling.
“Good. That’s good. I’ll call her for you. I’ve seen all your movies,” he blurted. “I tried to rent them at the video store, but every time I asked for them they were out so I bought them.”
“All of them?”
“All fifty-six. I watched them, too.”
She was flustered. “Thank you. Did you like them?” She nodded and smiled when his head bobbed up and down.
“You’re a fine actress—I enjoyed all of them. The one I liked best is the one I saw late one night on cable. After that I was hooked. It was the one with Annabelle’s passport. You shot up the floor the way you did back there in the lot.”
“I guess you could call it a repeat performance.”
“We better get off this shoulder before some cop comes along who has to fill his quota. Just follow me.”
“Okay. Don’t forget to call Dolly.”
She followed him, her thoughts in a turmoil. What was she doing? Dolly would say she was going with her instincts. No, she was following him because . . . because . . . he didn’t seem to . . . he didn’t stare at her . . . she didn’t see pity in his eyes. Maybe he would turn out to be a good friend the way Ken and Gary and Max were friends. Maybe he would be more than a friend someday. He was single. She was single. She remembered how angry she’d been the day Bernice told her she was his personal office contact. Obviously, there were two sides to everything. Now she was going to have to start thinking about Lex Sanders as a pe
rson, not an account. Suddenly she felt giddy.
Forty minutes later, Ariel parked the Rover alongside Lex’s Ford pickup.
“You should buy American,” Lex said.
“I know. A friend got this for me and it was too good a deal to pass up. Maybe I’ll trade it in on a Jeep.” Damn, she was flustered again.
“No, you won’t. A Range Rover is too good a truck to trade in on a Jeep. It’s the Cadillac of trucks. It will last you forever. You should buy American, though.
“Point taken.” She looked around, her jaw dropping in awe. “This is beautiful. Is all of this yours? I never saw iron gates like these. Are they twelve feet? You must have had a real craftsman make them up. It seems,” she said, looking around, “like you’re self-contained.”
“I am. I have a hundred people working this ranch. That doesn’t count the ones who work with the horses. They pretty much leave at the end of the day and return in the morning. The other workers live here. They go across the border a few months out of the year and then come back. We even have a school at the back end of the property. It’s not much—three classrooms and three great teachers. Most of the children can’t speak English when they get here. The older ones take the bus to the school in town. We give them a good start here with their English so they won’t be ridiculed when they enter the public school. I’m happy to report we can take credit for twelve teachers, nine lawyers, three female doctors, four male doctors, two priests, and three nuns. You should see this place at Christmastime when they all come back. We also have two guys serving time in the federal pen for drug dealing. Sometimes doing your best just isn’t enough. Peer pressure is an awful thing.”
“What’s that building over there?”
“The store. Food, clothing, anything my people need. We sell it at cost and it comes out of their pay. We even have a bank of sorts. Actually, I’m the bank. I keep their money if they want me to. I even pay them interest.” He chuckled. “This young man came up to me about a month ago and said I made a mistake in his father’s account and from now on he would be in charge of auditing all the bank accounts. He’s studying to take the CPA exam. I gladly paid up and turned it all over to him. Over there is a tennis court and swimming pool. For some reason no one uses it, not even the children. It’s that boundary thing—there’s an invisible line they won’t cross.”
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