Abe snorted. “I’ve done that myself.”
“No, Abe, not this bad you haven’t,” Patty said. “Plus Del was taking blood thinners. His blood wasn’t clotting fast enough. Henry said Del could have died if he hadn’t made it to the clinic when he did.”
“Could have,” Abe said, but without the snort this time.
“Why are people so ready to dismiss the miraculous?” Patty asked.
“You’re calling this a miracle?” Abe asked.
Patty and Morgan met eyes.
“It was a miracle,” Patty declared.
“I don’t know about that,” Morgan said. “There were so many things that had to happen just right in order for Del to make it to Doctor Drewmoore in time. But still, ‘miracle’ might be too big a word for it.”
Patty rubbed Houdini’s forehead. “It was an everyday miracle. The kind that go unnoticed by people who don’t see the miraculous in life.”
Morgan nodded her head. “An everyday miracle,” she agreed. “Courtesy of ordinary donkeys.”
Houdini snorted and nodded his head.
Morgan’s cell phone chimed.
“Hello?”
“Kurt here. We made it. What a trip!”
“How’s Del?”
“The doctors aren’t sure whether they can save his arm,” Kurt said, “but they’re making every effort.”
Morgan’s stomach churned. “Was it anything I did? Or didn’t do?”
“No. The doctors say you did the right thing. Del wants to know how the donkeys are.”
Morgan laughed. “I’m happy to report that the donkeys have never had it so good. They’re spending the night in Doctor Drewmoore’s heated carriage house on a bed of the softest straw available. They might never want to go home.”
“How about you?” Kurt asked. “Have you got a place to stay tonight?”
“Patty offered me their guest room, but I’m going to call Bernie—”
Morgan stopped. In all the excitement, she had forgotten that there was a murderer on the loose. Kurt Willard didn’t need to know her whereabouts. Whether or not she suspected him now, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Her location might end up as front-page news before the streets were plowed.
“I’ll stay at the hospital,” Kurt said. “The roads are still terrible, and I think Del appreciates having someone he knows here, even if we aren’t exactly the best of friends. Do you have his son’s phone number?”
Surely she could cross Kurt off her list of suspects now. If he hadn’t been photographing the blizzard, she might not have gotten Del to the doctor in time. And now he was going out of his way to take care of the old cowboy.
“I’ll have to call Cindy,” Morgan said. “She might know.”
It was dark by the time the donkeys were situated. Morgan got Del’s son’s number from Cindy, and relayed it to Kurt.
Finally, she called Bernie.
Bernie threw open the bakery’s front door before Morgan had a chance to knock.
“Are you okay?” Bernie asked.
“I’m exhausted,” Morgan said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Come upstairs! Here, carry this.”
Bernie handed Morgan a loaf of lemon poppy-seed bread. When she opened the door to her upstairs living quarters, Morgan could smell soup and freshly baked bread.
“I wish the circumstances were different,” Bernie said, “but this will be fun. Like a slumber party.”
“Only I think I really need the slumber part more than the party,” Morgan said.
“Mew,” Mr. Whiskers said.
She was revived by good food and a hot shower. When Bernie opened a bottle of wine, Morgan finally started to relax. It took a long time to tell Bernie the events of the past twenty-four hours. Morgan couldn’t keep it in chronological order. Her dinner with Piers the previous night, Del’s accident, the trip down the hill, being ignored by Piers when she beat on his door; it all came out in a jumble.
Bernie was ready to march over to Faerie Tales in the dark, through the snow, in order to give Piers a piece of her mind.
“I don’t know if Piers heard me knock,” Morgan said.
“Don’t defend him,” Bernie said. “He had to have heard you.”
Morgan sipped her wine. “I’m not sure he was there. I saw someone peek out the curtain. It wasn’t him.”
“Who was it?” Bernie asked, her green eyes growing large.
Morgan shook her head. “I only caught a glimpse of the person. If I had to say, I would guess it was Sparrow.”
Bernie pressed her hands to the sides of her face. “Get out of here!” She laughed. “Sparrow? It’s obvious she has a crush on Piers, but I never guessed he was interested in her.”
“Maybe she was consoling him because I wouldn’t go home with him. What I don’t understand is why she wouldn’t open the door, or call nine-one-one.”
“I wonder if Piers knew you were out there.”
Bernie refilled Morgan’s wine glass.
“The person who really surprised me was Kurt Willard,” Morgan said. “He jumped right in to help, even though neither Del nor I have been particularly nice to him.”
“He did what you’re supposed to do,” Bernie said. “What anybody would do.”
“Not anybody,” Morgan reminded her. “He saved Del’s life.”
It was still dark when Morgan heard roaring and clanking in the street. She climbed off the fold-out sofa bed and stood at Bernie’s apartment window in borrowed pajamas several sizes too large. The snow had stopped falling. The first snowplow worked its way up Main Street.
Bernie shuffled out of her bedroom and mechanically started coffee brewing. She joined Morgan at the window.
“Today will be like a holiday,” Bernie yawned. “Most of the shops won’t open.”
“Then we should go back to bed,” Morgan said.
“Oh, no,” Bernie said. “Everyone will want coffee and pastries. This is the kind of day than helps me make it through the winter.” She pulled a medallion on a heavy chain from under her nightgown. “Saint Elizabeth brings me days like this. She’s the patron saint of bakers.”
Saint Elizabeth worked overtime as a festive mood seized Golden Springs. The bakery filled with people unable to drive on the snow-blocked roads. Morgan helped Bernie bus tables, wash dishes, and mop melted snow off the floor. The crowd didn’t thin out until after an unprecedented off-season lunch rush.
Kurt and Doctor Drewmoore made it back to town as the sun sank behind the mountains. The doctor stomped the snow off his boots, and Kurt off his shoes, before entering the bakery.
“The highway’s clear,” Kurt announced.
“Just dropping by to give you a report,” the doctor told Morgan. “The physicians taking care of Del think they’ll be able to save his arm.”
Morgan sat down. “Thank God!”
“He’ll be in the hospital several more days, but he’s doing remarkably well for a man his age.”
“Del’s son made it to the hospital,” Kurt said. “He followed the snowplows all the way from Denver to Granite Junction.”
“I’m heading home,” Doctor Drewmoore said. “It’s been a long day and a half.”
Morgan jumped up. “I can’t thank you and Patty enough.”
Doctor Drewmoore clasped Morgan’s hand. “If you hadn’t gotten Del to me in time, he wouldn’t have had a chance.”
Morgan sank back onto her chair. Kurt sat across the small table from her as the doctor left.
“Kurt, you’re as responsible as I am, or the doctor, or the donkeys, for saving Del’s life.”
“I’ve been thinking about that all day,” Kurt said. “Why didn’t Piers answer his door? You were yelling to raise the dead.”
Morgan hesitated a moment too long. “I don’t know.”
Kurt tapped his nose and smiled. “Yes, you do. I’ve got a nose for news.”
Bernie sat next to Morgan. “Tell him. I think people should know.”
“But I don’t—” Morgan began.
“That slimeball Piers was home,” Bernie said. “Sparrow Plinkton wouldn’t open the door or call for help. I know Piers had to hear what happened. He was going to let Del bleed to death in the street.”
“Bernie, we don’t know all that.”
Kurt pulled his leather gloves off and set them on the small table. “Sparrow Plinkton and Piers Townsend, eh?”
He started to pull out his notepad and pencil. Morgan placed her hand on his arm.
“I thought this was a private conversation,” Morgan said.
Kurt left his reporter’s tools in his pocket.
“Fair enough. I’d be delighted to file this under ‘conversation between friends.’”
“But you can print the miracle of the donkeys,” Bernie said.
“Miracle?” Kurt’s eyes opened wide.
“Kurt,” Morgan said, “you were there. You saw how the donkeys pulled Del to the doctor. Well, the story has grown a little with the retelling.”
Kurt pulled out his notepad and pencil.
“I’ve already got the photos,” he said. “Let’s hear the story.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
When Morgan retrieved the donkeys the next morning from the Drewmoores’ carriage house garage, Adelaide had her head plunged into a bucket of oats.
“Kendall and Allie told me not to feed the donkeys too much,” Morgan said. “Adelaide’s getting fat.”
Patty Drewmoore patted Adelaide’s back. “I asked the vet to drop by. It’s official. Adelaide’s pregnant.”
Houdini snorted and nodded his head. The Drewmoores’ Labrador lay down and rested his head on his paws.
“That’s great news!” Morgan rubbed Adelaide’s forehead. “What do I owe you for the vet visit?” She dreaded the answer.
“The doctors trade consultations,” Patty said. “You don’t owe a dime. And I have a sheet of instructions for you. Adelaide needs special attention, considering her age.”
“These two aren’t going to want to go home,” Morgan said. “But I’d better take them back up the hill, if it’s okay for Adelaide to pull the cart.”
Adelaide carried precious cargo. Offspring meant the legal continuation of donkey residency at the Rock of Ages, according to the city ordinance.
“Donkeys have a long gestation,” Patty said. “It might be months before she’s due.”
Patty helped Morgan harness the donkeys. Morgan was getting proficient at the task. She led them up freshly plowed Main Street, heading for the auto shop. Regardless of the cost, Morgan was purchasing a new car battery.
Gerda waited in the doorway of the auto shop, wearing black snow boots over the pant legs of her eggplant-colored jumpsuit.
“You see now, when I tell you the battery needs replacing, I was not going for a profit.”
“I wish I’d listened to you.”
Morgan didn’t mention her doubts that the Buick could have made it downhill in the blizzard. Only donkey instinct had kept them from landing in the ditch. But then, Gerda might lecture her about the need for snow tires.
Gerda directed Morgan’s purchase of a battery with a martial air and a few more I-told-you-so comments. She gave detailed instructions on its proper installation, then opened the office door to get a receipt pad.
Morgan tried not to notice the half-empty bottle of bourbon sitting on the desk blotter.
People shoveling sidewalks greeted the miracle donkeys as they passed, some running inside to retrieve cameras. When she reached Hill Street, Morgan watched the windows of Faerie Tales. The lights were off.
By the time Morgan had the donkeys unharnessed, fed, and bedded down in the barn, the sun had gone down. She unlocked the front door of the shop. The last of the setting sun cast an orange glow through the windows. Morgan flipped on the lights.
Melting snow dripped off the roof, plopping onto the gravel. The old building creaked as chill night air wrapped around it. Morgan strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. She had left the door between the shop and the living quarters open. Morgan peered into the kitchen. The overhead light was still on. The back door was closed, but she remembered she had not locked it.
A pile of bloody pillows lay strewn half on the easy chair and half on the floor. Everything was the way she had left it, including the stack of dry pancakes and shriveled sausage on the table. Mice had nibbled on both, and left the evidence of their feasting. Morgan cleaned up the mess, then checked the phone. It had a dial tone.
“Of course.”
She played her messages.
The first was from the satellite dish company. “We’re still planning to come out to install your dish and set up your Internet. Please call if you need to reschedule.”
Message two was her brother.
“This is the third time I’ve called,” Kendall’s voice boomed. “I’m starting to get worried.” Pause. Morgan could hear a tropical bird singing in the background. When Kendall spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’ll call back the next chance I get.”
If he and his cult weren’t so determined to live “off the grid,” she’d have a number to call him back. He deserved to worry.
Morgan shivered. The fire had died long ago. She stirred the ashes with an iron poker. Amazingly, there were still smoldering coals. Morgan stuffed the smallest bits of kindling into the stove. They ignited, burning quickly. She placed twigs, then larger pieces in the stove. Before long, she had a real fire going.
“Del would be proud of me.”
The cowbell clanged. Cindy stepped inside, stomping snow off her boots.
“We haven’t had a storm like this in three years,” she said. “Have you heard anything more from Del?”
“Doctor Drewmoore said he’d be in the hospital another few days.”
“What’s that?” Cindy pointed at the car battery sitting on the counter.
“Part of the miracle donkey story,” Morgan said. “My car battery went dead when I was trying to get Del to the hospital. That’s the replacement.”
Cindy rushed to the door and waved at the car backing out of the Rock of Ages parking lot. “Hey, Herb! Hold up!” She turned to Morgan. “Herb can put that battery in for you.”
“Gerda gave me instructions.”
“It’ll take you an hour to change out your car battery. Herb can do it in ten minutes.”
A white van pulled up beside Herb, the tire chains churning up the snow-packed parking lot.
“Customers already?” Cindy asked.
“No, it’s the satellite dish company,” Morgan said. “I’m getting the Internet hooked up. I’m surprised they made it up the hill.”
The installation technician hooked up the dish, and then made sure Morgan’s Internet service and television worked.
“Cindy, come here!” Morgan called from the office.
Cindy crowded in around the satellite dish technician. “What is it?”
“An ultrasound of my grandchild,” Morgan said.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Cindy said, “you’ve got a grandson.”
“I’ll bet that picture alone made the satellite dish worthwhile,” the installation technician said.
“Yes,” Morgan said. “I feel like I’m back in the twenty-first century again.”
The cowbell clanged, signaling the start of a steady stream of customers. People braved the treacherous roads to see the miracle donkeys.
Houdini and Adelaide stood at the fence closest to the parking lot, posing for photos and snacking on cookies, until Morgan posted a “Do not feed the donkeys” sign.
“Cookies will make the donkeys sick,” Morgan explained to a little boy and his sister, standing knee-deep in the snow.
“Set your toys down,” a man told the kids. “Daddy wants to take your picture.”
The kids set their shiny trinkets, prizes from a fast-food meal, on a fence post. A magpie swooped onto the fence as Dad snapped a photo.
“My car!” the little girl screa
med.
The magpie flew off in a rush of white and black feathers, the cheap plastic car clutched in its claws. The girl burst into tears.
“My toy!” she wailed.
“I’m so sorry,” Morgan said. “Let me see if I’ve got something I can replace that with.”
The father stifled a laugh. “It was just one of those things.” He patted his daughter on the back as she clung to him. “There’s nothing you could have done. I just wish I’d had my video camera. That would be great on YouTube.”
“I insist.” Morgan dashed inside the shop. “Cindy, a magpie stole a little girl’s toy.”
“Oh, yeah,” Cindy said. “Magpies are like crows. They like to steal things and take them to their nests.”
Morgan looked around frantically for something to give the girl, finally grabbing a pink polished stone carved in the shape of a cat, strung on a red satin string.
The girl was more than happy with the trade.
When Morgan returned, Cindy was on the phone. She clamped her hand over the receiver.
“It’s Kendall,” Cindy whispered loudly. She uncovered the receiver. “Your sister’s back. She has to tell you about the miracle of the donkeys.”
“I’ll take it in the office.” Morgan rushed to her desk and picked up the phone. “The sign is working,” she told Kendall. “We have customers.”
“Are Houdini and Adelaide okay?” Kendall asked.
“More than okay. Adelaide is pregnant.”
“Unbelievable!” Kendall boomed. “Are you sure?”
“Confirmed by a veterinarian,” Morgan said. “We don’t know when she’s due.”
“That’s fantastic! I can’t wait to tell Allie. Is that the miracle Cindy mentioned?”
“That’s only part of it.” Morgan told a condensed version of Del’s accident, and his rescue by donkey cart.
“Don’t let Del move back into his trailer until he’s fully healed,” Kendall said. “It’s not the safest place.”
“I haven’t seen his trailer up close. What’s wrong with it?”
“The steps to the front door are rotting out. The trailer needs a lot of repairs. Keep him at the shop if you can.”
Morgan knew Kendall might end their conversation abruptly. She cut to the chase.
Stone Cold Dead Page 25
