by R. P. Dahlke
Pearlie and I looked at each other.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“We were in an accident!” Pearlie shouted into the dark. “And we’re not Indians,” she finished with a sniff. “What is wrong with folks around here?”
“He left the door open,” I said, putting one foot over the threshold.
She put her hand on my arm. “You saw that shotgun. We’re filthy dirty strangers who look like Indians to a nearsighted, deaf old man. You really want to take the chance he won’t shoot us?”
I leaned into the cool interior. “Could we use your phone, sir?”
He shuffled back to the door, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. “Phone?”
“Yes sir,” I shouted. “We need to call a tow truck.”
“I ain’t deaf. Wipe your feet,” he said, backing up to let us inside.
We did as he said, leaving a good amount of Arizona dirt on his welcome mat.
Except for the spiffy new sixty-inch flat-screen TV and surround sound, the living room looked to have been furnished out of a 1950’s Sears catalogue.
“Lemonade?” he asked, bringing in a sweating pitcher tinkling with ice.
I stopped Pearlie from accepting the pitcher. “Water, if you don’t mind,” I said. “He looks crazy. Let’s not argue about this, okay?”
“About that phone?” I asked.
He avoided my question and invited Pearlie to help him pour the lemonade.
She stuck her tongue out at me, but brought me a lukewarm glass of water.
I got to watch her happily chug down the iced cold lemonade and smack her lips. She winked while I upended my water.
I pointed to his old desk phone. “Can I use your phone now, sir?”
“Help yourself. I suppose you’ll be needin’ a tow?”
“A tow?” I asked, the phone in my hand. Maybe he wasn’t crazy after all. “Yes, sir. Do you have a recommendation?”
He wheezed out a laugh. “You aren’t the first person to break down this far out. Grandson has a tow truck. I’ll go get him.”
Relief washed over me. Now I could honestly tell Dad I had it in hand—well, if you didn’t count the fact that I’d rolled his new Jeep.
Caleb answered the phone, anxious to know where we were. I told him the truth. “Pearlie’s got a scratch on her head, and her shoulder is sore and bruised, but I’m okay. We’re at a house at the bottom of the hill, and the owner says his grandson can give us a tow.”
“Give me the address, and I’ll come pick you up.”
I put my hand over the phone and called to Pearlie, “Where’s our host?”
“He went to get his grandson’s tow truck.”
“Well, that’s really nice of him. Caleb wants to know where we are.”
“I asked. You know the mailbox we saw on Red Mountain Road? That’s where we landed.”
Oh, the irony. We’d turned onto Red Mountain road as a short cut, and we’d ended up at the house at the end of the one lane road.
“The best way to get here,” I told Caleb, “is to take the turn off Highway 92 next to Aldolfo’s Mexican café. We’ll meet you on the bluff. And Caleb, watch out for a big white Ford F350 with a shiny chrome grill. He was gunning for us today.”
The screen door slammed and our host came in trailing tall, slope-shouldered, beady-eyed Deputy Dumb-Ass.
When he saw me, he blushed and snarled, “Why’d you bring her here?”
“I din’t bring ‘em,” the old man said. “They walked.”
“Dang it, Granddad, this one might be a suspect in a murder case.”
Though I’m sure it was hard to imagine me as anything except dirt-smeared and caked with Mexican take-out, I stood a bit straighter and said, “My dad and I have been cleared of all suspicion, Deputy Abel. And why aren’t you at work today?”
“As you can clearly see, lady, I am working.” Then he turned on his heel and slammed through the open door, leaving us behind to wonder what we were supposed to do next.
The old man nodded at his grandson’s sulky departure. “He’s awful sensitive for a lawman, ain’t he? Just can’t seem to find his way around women either, and worst of all, I’ve yet to see him catch any criminals.”
I nodded politely and tugged at the smile begging to crack into a grin.
“You best go now,” he urged, “before he drives off in a huff.”
Pearlie lurched to her feet, and with a groan, handed her empty water glass to the old man. “I’ll be black and blue by tomorrow.”
“We’ll get home and put some ice on your shoulder,” I said, tucking my arm through hers. “Thanks for the water and the use of your phone, Mr. Abel.”
His wrinkled brow lifted in confusion and as we left, I heard him say, “The name’s not Abel.”
Outside, the deputy sat in his truck, engine running, fingers impatiently drumming the wheel.
I tapped on the window.
He rolled it down enough to speak. “Get in.”
“I’m sorry Deputy, but it’s not going to be that easy to retrieve my Jeep.”
He cranked the window all the way open, his frown indicating we were taking way too much of his precious time.
I pointed to where the top of the bright red Jeep showed above the boulder on the hill. “It’s half-way up that hill behind your house.”
“We still have to get there. Now get in.”
I helped Pearlie into the truck and got in after her.
She scooted over next to the deputy and smiled politely. “Thanks, Deputy,” she said. “This is awfully nice of you, considering it’s your day off and all.”
He blushed furiously and put the truck in gear.
.
Chapter Twenty-one:
Part-time tow truck operator, Deputy Dumb-Ass stood on the bluff, glaring below us as if willing the Jeep to climb uphill on its own.
“So how do you plan to do it?” I asked, searching for confidence in his ability to do the job.
He rubbed a hand over his face stubble. “I guess it can be done.”
Hoping to give him an incentive before Caleb and my dad arrived and saw the damage, I said, “It is a bit unusual. I suppose getting it up the hill will cost extra.”
His deeply set eyes brightened at the word, extra. “Yeah, well, a regular tow would cost you two-hundred, but this is going to take a lot more time, not to mention planning, so you can figure upwards of four hundred.”
“Dollars?” Pearlie gasped. “Are you planning on carrying it on your back?”
The deputy growled and left to ready the cable.
“Don’t antagonize him, Pearlie, he’s our only chance.”
She shrugged and grinned. “You’re the one who called him Deputy Dumb-Ass. Anyway, here comes the cavalry.”
Caleb, looking very uncomfortable in the passenger seat of the Bugatti leaped out before it came to a complete stop, and giving the vehicle a baleful glance, hurried over to us.
My dad was a bit slower, but he finally caught up.
“I’m fine, fine,” I said, for the second time today. “The deputy here is going to retrieve the Jeep for us, Dad.”
“Where exactly is my Jeep?” Dad said, looking around.
Pearlie pointed. “Down that hill.”
The men went to the edge and down the hill at the Jeep perched against the boulder.
Caleb expelled a curse, and my dad’s jaw dropped.
I stood twisting my hands together hoping to warm myself from the developing frost in my father’s expression.
“Good thing you had that roll bar installed.” I said.
“You rolled it?”
“I swerved to miss this huge truck and it sort of slid off the road. I tried to put on the brakes but we were already leaning too far over, and one side just lifted up and we rolled over.”
“Twice,” Pearlie said. “I was scared to death we were gonna die.”
Dad looked me over, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle you girls weren’t ki
lled.”
“Don’t know about your Jeep though, Dad,” I said, chewing on my lip.
The deputy came back with a big hook crimped to the end of a thick cable.
“How long is your cable?” Dad asked.
“Two hundred feet. Why?”
Dad eyed the Jeep and said, “You got a rope?”
“Yeah, but a rope won’t do it. This truck will pull your Jeep up in no time.”
Dad just snorted. “Get me the rope.”
The deputy prickled at my dad’s authoritative voice. “Now, look here, old man—”
“Listen, kid, that’s my Jeep down there. If you want to get paid, then you’ll do as I say.”
His mouth tightened, but the word paid did the trick and he left to retrieve the rope.
Dad tied it around his waist and said,” First of all, I doubt that two hundred feet of cable will do it. And second, I want to see if it’s drivable. Give me the keys, Lalla.”
“Let me do it,” I said. “It’s my fault it’s down there.”
“No, I’ll go,” Caleb said.
“It’s nobody’s fault,” my dad said, knotting the rope around his waist and securing the tow hook onto the rope. “You were trying to avoid getting rammed by an oncoming truck. Now quit fussing and watch to make sure Deputy Dumb-Ass knows how to operate a winch.”
Which was so much hubris since Dad didn’t know how to operate one, either. When the deputy hit the button, my father backed up and eased over the edge of the bluff.
Sure enough, the end of the cable paid out within a hundred yards of the Jeep. Dad eased down to the end of his rope, unhooking from the cable and rope, he scrambled to the driver’s side, opened the door and got in.
The engine sputtered, but with a lurch of shifting gears and a cloud of dust exploding from the tail pipe, the Jeep started to move.
The deputy gawked. “He isn’t going to try to drive that thing uphill, is he?”
Dad maneuvered the wheels, twisting first one way and then the other, hitting the gas and creeping away from the boulder.
Pearlie and I applauded, but the deputy looked worried. “What’s he doing? It’s too steep to—”
The Jeep slipped on a rock, started again, and then rounded the boulder and turned downhill.
I laughed. I knew it! My father, the tight wad, figured if he could drive off the hill himself, none of us would be out of pocket for the tow.
“How come you didn’t think of that?” Pearlie asked me.
“Because,” I said, “Dad took lessons on how to use the lockers, not me.”
Noticing the deputy’s mouth hanging open, Pearlie gleefully poked him in the shoulder. “I guess that old man showed you a thing or two.”
Now in a sulk, Deputy Dumb-Ass said, “Well—well, you still owe me for the tow.”
Caleb pulled out two twenties. “I think this will cover your gas, deputy.”
He looked like he was going to object, but accepted the money and got back into his truck.
Waving off the dust cloud he’d left us in, I laughed. “Well, as my daddy would say, Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill any old day.”
Pearlie looked at the only vehicle left to us. “That’s Uncle Ed’s race car? Oh, boy, I wanna drive it.”
“Let’s wait till Noah gets back,” I said.
My cell phone rang. It was my dad, he was on Red Mountain Road and would be with us again in another minute. I closed my phone, still smiling.
Pearlie, determined to drive, refused to vacate the driver’s seat, so when Noah arrived, he got in the passenger side and showed her how to start it. She stepped on the gas and the Bugatti sped away.
Caleb and I were left to swipe at the cloud of dust.
“You’ve got dirt on your face,” he said, wiping a smudge on my cheek. “Are you sure you’re not injured?”
I hugged him. “Squeeze, please?”
He chuckled. “You’re filthy, but okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around me, and tightening until I squeaked.
“I guess you’re all right if I can still get a squeak out of you.”
“It was so weird. First the wheels lifted, and the Jeep slowly tilted. and I kept thinking one roll would be it, but then it did it all over again. I’ll never forget the creaking metal and groaning of the tires as the Jeep lifted and rolled again. I had the benefit of the wheel. I’ll have a bruise from the seatbelt, the windshield is busted, the fenders are bent, and the side mirrors are shot. As you can see, none of this has slowed Pearlie down. She’s going to want to keep that Bugatti. Did you and dad find out if it’s valuable?”
“Not yet,” he said, “but I’ll look it up when we get home. I have some other news for you.”
“About the case?” I asked.
“Get in and I’ll tell you.”
I buckled up, then cringed when he said, “Your employer called.”
Pearlie now had two clients—Bethany’s dad and the police chief’s widow, and she wasn’t legal in any state, much less Arizona.
“What exactly do you mean by employer?” I asked, hoping he didn’t know we now had two of them.
“Mac Coker, Bethany’s dad. He called the house, but since Pearlie wasn’t available, he asked for her partner, Lalla Bains.”
“So what do you have for us?”
“Good God,” he said, laughter in his voice. “I’d better warn Detective Tom. You girls will be after his job next.”
A blush ran up my neck. “Please, Caleb. We’re trying to help one bereaved father and keep my own father out of jail. Did Mac say why he called? Did he get a copy of the evidence list?”
“Yeah, and he asked us to meet him at the house.”
“Did you say us?”
“Sweetheart. I said I was in, didn’t I? I’ve discussed this with Detective Tom. He understands that you and Pearlie can be an asset in this case, but only if I’m point man. If any evidence is discovered it will immediately be turned over to his department. Do you agree?”
“Oh, sure,” I said. I thought about the CD Pearlie removed from Bethany’s room, but decided to leave it where it was, safely hidden in the living room bureau, which Pearlie was using as her underwear drawer. If it became necessary, we could always turn it over to Homicide. Would we be in trouble or lauded as heroes for coming up with the perp’s fingerprints?
“I’ll be interested to see what you think of Mac Coker.” I blew on a tissue, removing more dust from my sinuses.
“Why? Is there something I should know?”
“I’ll let you decide,” I said, shaking the dirt out of my hair. “I need a shower.”
Caleb put the Jeep in gear. “I’ll tell you what I know. Reina Schmidt’s boyfriend, Julio Castillo, has a record.”
“For what?”
“Drug trafficking. He’s on parole. Just promise me you’ll stay away from him, Lalla.”
“I may be too late on that one.”
“Why?”
“He wasn’t happy that we were talking to his girlfriend, and now I’m wondering if he was the one who knocked us off the bluff today.”
Caleb’s jaw clenched but he didn’t bother reprimanding me. He didn’t have access to the case files, nor would he know who might be a suspect, not unless Detective Tom decided it was in his best interests to share this case with Caleb.
“You said it was a big white truck?” he asked. “You said he scraped along the side of the Jeep? Someone will look at Julio’s truck. Does Reina have reason to be afraid of him?”
I thought of the sound of glass breaking and her wail of despair, and how in spite of her delicate appearance, she so easily dismissed him.
“What’s his alibi for the day Bethany was murdered?” I asked.
“He was at his body shop, and so far his alibi sticks.”
“I keep thinking there’s something else these two are hiding. Or, perhaps he’s just sweating his proximity to a crime scene because he’s on parole.”
“That’s for the detectiv
es to sort out, not us. And if he was responsible for shoving you over that cliff, I’ll personally see he goes back to prison.”
I chewed on a hangnail. “Okay. Shower, and then we go see Mac Coker.”
“I need to get your dad’s Jeep to the Chrysler dealer and pick up a rental car, too. Something nice and sturdy—like a Hummer.”
He was right of course. Hopefully, I could keep from wrecking that too.
.
Chapter Twenty-two:
Since the Jeep had a cracked windshield, missing side mirrors and dented fenders we took the backroads to avoid getting pulled over by DPS. Caleb dropped Pearlie and me at the Avis car rental in Sierra Vista while he took the Jeep to the Chrysler dealership with instructions to fix it all, including the wobble in the steering. We drove the rental, a nice white Camry, to the Chrysler dealer, and I handed over my credit card without asking about an estimate. Better this than listen to my dad howl at the damage to his wallet.
Mac Coker invited us into his kitchen for coffee and a look at the list of items removed from his daughter’s house by the detectives.
When I questioned the shovel and water hose, Caleb said, “They would’ve canvassed the search warrant, which would include everything from the road to the house.”
“No laptop, no cell phone,” Pearlie said, scanning the list. “Is this all they took?”
“She had a laptop,” Mac Coker said. “I bought her a new one last Christmas. If it’s not on the list, then the thief took it along with her meds.”
“Meds and electronic devices are the first things thieves look for,” Caleb said.
“Then it was a burglar,” Mac said, swallowing hard. “But why didn’t he run when the police chief got here? Why did he have to kill my daughter?”
Pearlie put a hand on his arm. “We’ll find this guy, Mac.”
Mac swore. “And I thought she’d be safe with a tough guy like Jason on the property.”
“Tough guy?” I asked. “In what way?”
“He’s retired military. Navy Seals.”
Caleb leaned his knee against mine warning me to keep quiet. “Homicide has interviewed and cleared him.”
“Has Homicide—” I asked.
