by P. B. Ryan
She gave me a quick update with no sighs; apparently our buddydom was still intact. “I got the daily statement from the police. They have Crandell’s cousin there now. Gary went down to try and get a picture.”
The official statement was pretty much the same old nothing. “We are continuing the investigation. Many new leads are being followed up on. No suspects at this time.” Why they bothered to have it typed up and handed out was a mystery to me.
Marcy had all of Silas’ vitals though. I was happy she’d handled this little detail. I could have just told her most of what she had found out, but for some reason it would have bothered me, especially since Rhonda had asked for my help. Marcy had dug up pretty much everything I knew. Well, minus the worm ranching stuff, but I thought the public’s need to know stopped somewhere short of that.
I filled Marcy in on my conversation with Ethel Doyle and Redfeather. I also confessed I’d met Silas, and that he was dating Rhonda. Thanks to our newfound friendship, she didn’t seem at all bothered I hadn’t mentioned it this morning—or maybe she just didn’t really care about anything to do with the story unless it added to her workload.
My reality wasn’t as fogged by our truce as hers seemed to be. I figured option number two nailed it.
A man came into the shop, giving me an excuse to ring off, and conveniently, he just wanted to browse. I left him alone and turned on the computer. It was four o’clock, not much time to spare. I was about halfway through my piece when Betty returned. “That dog of yours is something. I thought I was going to have to drag him outside. He refused to get up off his bed.” She shook her head.
I smiled meekly. “I’m sorry if he was a problem.”
She laughed. “Oh, he wasn’t a problem. Not once he saw me reach into that crock full of cookies. He was just raring to go. He couldn’t get outside fast enough.” She laughed again.
She had used another cookie to get him to come back in and had left him stretched out on his bed. She waved off my thanks and went to check on our customer. I went back to writing.
A half hour later, I finished. I read back through my article before emailing it to Ted. I’d included the police statement, but the focus of the story was on Silas. I read it three times to make sure I didn’t say anything that might offend Rhonda. It wasn’t just that I’d agreed to help Silas. There was also, as far as I knew, no evidence against him. Right now, he was just a bereaved cousin collecting Crandell’s effects.
The other things I’d learned were still supposition: Crandell not having money to come to Helena and getting a big job from someone he had met at a show. I hesitated over the part about Silas expecting Crandell at his house Monday night. It would be better if I could confirm that with Silas before the story ran. I logged off the Internet without sending the story and dialed Spirit Books.
After brief pleasantries with Rhonda, a weary sounding Silas came on the line. “I really don’t want to talk about all of this right now, but Rhonda told me you’re willing to help me with that weasel. I really appreciate it. I’m picking it up along with everything else tomorrow morning. Could I stop by your shop to talk then?”
“I’m really sorry about your cousin, and I know your chat with the police probably wore you out, but could you please just confirm a few things for me now?” I pleaded.
Silas agreed, and I ran the parts of my article I was concerned with by him.
“That’s all accurate. Listen, Lucy, I want to thank you for not dragging me through the mud. I know you could write something that makes for exciting news but also makes me look bad. It means a lot to me that you won’t do that.”
Hoping Rhonda was right, and there was no reason I would have to, I replied, “No problem. What time do you think you’ll be by tomorrow?”
We made plans to meet between 10 and 11. I murmured a few more niceties, and we hung up.
With my facts confirmed, I logged back onto the Internet, attached my story to a short email message, and hit the send button. When Betty squeezed behind the counter to ring up an old book for the man who’d been browsing, I took a quick look at the clock. It was almost five. Time to get ready for the bike ride.
I changed into what I hoped passed as bike gear, grabbed my dress for the jazz festival, and, with a quick wave to Betty, was off. A little exercise, some fresh air, and a chance to flirt with Gary. What better way to end my day?
Chapter 16
When I drove up, I saw Gary standing with Angie by the Cook Nook’s rear entrance. Three other people with mountain bikes were sprawled out under a small pine. I pulled into a space, got out, and proceeded to pull my bike out. I was yanking on one of the pedals when I heard Gary’s voice.
“You need some help?” He reached in beside me, easily untangled my bike, and set it on the ground. He pointed his thumb toward the Cherokee. “You should get a rack for this thing.”
“Good thought, maybe I will.” An image of the one still sitting in its box in my garage flashed through my head, but I studied the back of my rig like I’d never considered the idea before.
Gary pushed my bike as we walked toward the waiting group. “How’s the story coming?”
“Pretty good. I have a lot of leads. I just wish I had more concrete facts. Ted wasn’t too impressed today when I told him I was close.”
Gary chuckled. “He give you the bear speech?”
“Does Ted poop in the woods?”
Gary grinned, and we shared a moment of bonding.
I dropped my car keys into the pack that hung behind my bike’s seat. “Did you know Crandell’s cousin is Rhonda’s new boyfriend?”
“The little guy in the burlap shirt and ponytail?”
“That’s him. He claims he didn’t see Crandell the afternoon he was killed, but I’m not 100percent sure I believe him. I was at Rhonda’s after the murder, and Silas called. Rhonda told him about me finding the body, and he told her Crandell was his cousin, but asked her not to say anything. Do you think that’s odd?”
Gary rubbed his hand over his chest. “Well, all of Rhonda’s boyfriends are a little odd, but no, I don’t think it’s that strange. He probably wanted time to think things over before everyone descended on him. The press can be pushy, you know.” His eyes smiled. “Forget about it for a while. Maybe the ride will clear your mind.”
He handed over my bike, and I finished pushing it the few feet left to the tree. Angie sat on the grass next to her bike. As Gary introduced me, I checked out the others. A man named Kent adjusted the chain on what looked like a very expensive bicycle. He didn’t have the angled athletic look of Gary and Angie, but I could tell he was no stranger to exercise. Lynn, an attractive brunette with super short hair and the legs of a runner, grasped my hand in a firm grip. Cindy, a round blond who appeared to spend more time couch sitting than even I did, fidgeted with her helmet.
Introductions over, Angie explained the plan for the ride. “Since this is a beginner’s ride, we picked a trail we thought would be fun but not too challenging.” She smiled broadly.
Angie did her best to charm us into believing this was going to be an amusing little outing and not the pain-filled trek I dreaded. In her enthusiasm she even bounced on the balls of her feet.
God, give me strength.
Gary broke in three bounces before I would have lost all control and wrestled our blond Tigger to the ground. “The important thing is to ask if you have questions, and don’t worry if you have a hard time keeping up. This is a beginner’s ride, not a race. We’re here to have fun.” His smile reached all the way to his eyes. If I hadn’t already felt like throwing up from nerves, my stomach would have done its usual flip-flop.
Gary strapped on his helmet. “Let’s go.”
It was smooth going at first. We cruised along Park Street heading for a trail called the “Pipeline.” It was one of a number of trails off Oro Fino Gulch, and Angie and Gary assured us it was an easy, fun ride.
Once we were past Park Street, we began to climb. Gary and Angi
e sped along in front, Kent and Lynn not far behind. Cindy and I struggled to keep up as we continually changed gears trying to find one that would help us make it up the steep incline. As we downshifted, I made an attempt at conversation.
“Nice ring. Is it estate jewelry?” On her finger was what looked like a diamond and ruby chip ring in a Victorian setting. It completely filled the space between her hand and knuckle.
”I guess. Does that mean old? It was my great grandmother’s. My uncle found it a couple of months ago in a box of junk he was throwing out.”
“Wow, that’s great he gave it to you. What else did he find?” The dealer in me perked up.
“Nothing, I don’t think. There may have been some papers or something, but nothing else worth anything. I was surprised he gave me this.” Her gaze shifted to the ring. “He said I was the only girl in the family, and since I was named after Grandma, I should have it. My middle name is Ruby.”
“Ruby? You don’t mean Ruby Deere, do you?”
“Yeah, that’s her. I didn’t know her, but I guess she was a real pistol.”
“I was just looking at some books on her the other day. I own Dusty Deals, down on the Gulch.”
Cindy didn’t seem to recognize the name. She went back to flipping gears.
“And I was at the auction on Sunday, where they sold some of your grandfather’s stuff,” I continued. “Darrell was there too. Is he the uncle?”
Cindy glanced up. “That’s him. I’m surprised he was at the auction though. He doesn’t own anything older than, say, circa 1995. Another reason, I’m sure, he gave me the ring.”
“He said he was just being friendly, but I thought maybe he wanted to at least see some of his dad’s stuff or who bought it.” The hill was starting to get a little steep. I tried adjusting my own gears a bit.
Cindy took a second to answer. Her color wasn’t looking very good, and when she did answer, it was in a puff. “Well, he’s friendly, but I don’t think he could care less about Pop’s stuff. He hated all that junk, was always fussing at him when he brought home something new, or old, I guess it was.”
“Well, maybe he was just there for the friendly part then.”
“Probably.”
I let the conversation dwindle. Cindy didn’t look like she was getting enough oxygen to keep talking, and I was only a lungful or two behind her.
A few feet up the hill, Gary and Angie waited for us. “Put it into low gear,” Gary yelled. “But just one gear at a time while you let pressure off your pedals.”
What? I frantically tried another gear. The pedaling was easier, but I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Cindy wasn’t having any easier of a time; she dropped a few feet behind me. After what seemed like hours, we made it the last 15 feet to where everyone else had gathered.
I began to apologize for holding them up. “Don’t be silly,” Angie broke in. “You’re doing great. Just keep going. We’re almost to the trail.” She pointed up the street. It seemed to climb endlessly at an impossible angle.
“You could try pedaling standing or you can sit down, but remember to stay forward on your saddle. It’ll make the going easier.” Gary gave me an encouraging smile.
We set off again. Within 10 yards, I knew I was going to have a heart attack. My heart thumped so hard I was afraid it would break through my rib cage and go flying up the hill, and I wouldn’t even have the energy to retrieve it. I pushed my bike into the lowest gear and tried standing up.
“That’s it. You’re doing great.” Angie yelled from where she and Gary again waited for me and the equally winded Cindy. I gave Angie a half-hearted wave as Lynn and Kent rolled to a stop beside her and Gary. I looked back and saw Cindy had given up and now walked beside her bike, pushing it up the hill. I kept pedaling. Finally, pain beat out pride. I got off my bike and pushed too.
As I reached up to brush a stream of sweat out of my eyes, I saw a large, silver 4x4 truck turning onto the street beside us. Peter Blake reached his hand out the window and waved our direction. As he drove past, I could see him chuckling and grinning.
Steaming from more than the exercise, I trudged the rest of the way up the hill.
“Don’t stop now. We haven’t even made it to the trail.” Angie and Lynn tried to convince Cindy to keep going. I pulled my bottle out of its metal cradle and squirted some water into my mouth. Leaning against a nearby tree, I willed my heart to a slower pace. I looked down at my chest to see if the pounding was visible from the outside. Reassured when it wasn’t, I took a deep breath and another shot of water.
Angie and Lynn finally gave up their battle to keep Cindy going. I watched, Jadeite green with envy, as she made her way down the hill.
“You’re doing great, Lucy, really.” Gary hung back as the others pedaled ahead.
“Do you know CPR? Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a heart attack before this is over,” I answered.
Gary laughed. Did he think I was kidding?
“No, you won’t. You’re doing great. Just keep going at an easy pace. Once we hit the meadow you’ll be fine.”
Nice he was confident. I wasn’t. I bought more break time by asking, “Did you know Cindy was Darrell’s niece?”
“Yeah, Darrell’s a big road bike rider. He’s been pushing her to take up biking for years. He thinks she needs to slim down a bit.”
“He said that? That she needs to lose weight?”
My outrage must have come through. Gary looked embarrassed.
“Not in those words maybe, but yeah. Pretty much.” He shifted on his seat. “Darrell’s really into road rides and fitness. He even went on a ride along the Rockies a couple of months ago. I think he just wants what’s best for her health.”
I didn’t think the extra 20 or so pounds Cindy was packing made her a candidate for a fitness intervention, but I kept my mouth closed. Too much talk of weight control made me antsy. Why draw attention to my own pleasantly padded posterior? Especially when surrounded by rock-hard buns and quarter-bouncing abs—and that was just Angie and Lynn.
I continued my struggle up the hillside, pedaling some, walking some. After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the end of the pavement and turned off into the meadow. It was a wide green area with red and yellow wildflowers growing along the rough path. I resisted the temptation to throw my bike down and bury myself in the grass.
“The trail starts on the other side of the meadow.” Gary pointed to an opening between two trees. “Lucy, how you doing?”
“I still can’t pedal,” I answered gruffly.
“I think you have too much air in your tires.” Angie bounded off her bike and squatted down next to my front tire. I could hear air escaping from the valve. She moved to the back tire and repeated the process. “There. That will give you a much better ride.”
I tried not to grimace as I smiled my thanks. We formed a line to go down the trail. Gary stopped in front of us. “Okay, things to remember when going down a descent: start with your pedals horizontal to the ground, shift to the largest chain ring, and keep your eyes on the trail about 15 feet ahead of you. Look for the best route to go, not just what you want to avoid. Keep your body relaxed, and let your knees absorb the shock of the bumps.” He reached up and adjusted his helmet. “But most of all, just have fun.”
As they say, what goes up must come down. I eyed the trail nervously. It curved in and out of trees, hugging the side of the mountain. To the left was a sheer drop accented by an occasional pine tree or massive rock.
I stood up on my pedals and tried to concentrate on the trail. “Great, Lucy, keep your weight off the saddle and your pedals level. You’re doing fine.” Gary stayed behind me as I bumped along.
The trail angled down the mountain, but the incline was manageable. The challenge was in handling the constant bumps and dips. I focused on keeping my rear off the seat and my pedals level. By the time I reached the bottom, I was exhilarated, the memory of my previously pounding heart completely forgotten.
“Wow, what a rush.” Lynn removed her helmet and brushed her fingers through her short hair.
Kent straddled his bike, draining his water bottle. His face was flushed, but when he pulled the water bottle down he grinned. He shook his head and let sweat fly.
I pulled in beside Lynn, out of the range of any stray sweat beads. “Yeah, that was a lot of fun.” I couldn’t control my grin. I beamed at them as if I’d just been handed the deed to the Smithsonian.
“Who wants to try another trail?” Angie already had her helmet buckled and her foot on the pedal.
The trip down had been fun, but I knew there was no way I was going up any more hills tonight. Not unless someone towed me. “No thanks; I need to get home and let my dog out.” God bless Kiska for giving me an excuse.
Everyone but Gary started off down another trail.
“Are you sure?” Gary asked. His eyes softened as he looked at me.
I felt my heart melt slightly, but everything else screamed no. I held strong. “I’m sure. Besides, tomorrow’s the jazz festival. I have to get in the shop early.”
“Yeah, I’m supposed to take some pictures of the merchants. Make sure you get to the shoot.” He gave me a grin. “I bet you’ll make a cute flapper.”
Amazed he accepted my lame excuse, I laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’m sure Betty’s outfit will be photo worthy. This entire week has been a dress rehearsal for tomorrow. I can’t wait to see her.”
We said our good-byes, and Gary pedaled after the other diehards. I coasted down to the Cherokee and stowed my bike in back. My butt muscles were already cramping when I pulled into my garage. I wasn’t going to be doing too many Charleston kicks tomorrow.
Kiska met me with a smile and a wagging tail. “Hey K-man, did you miss me?” I scratched his chest.
Kiska replied with a vigorous woo woo woo. After giving him a big hug and a glad-to-see-you cookie, I let him outside. I hung up the dress, dumped my dirty clothes, switched on the TV for company, and went in search of food.
