R.P. Dahlke - Dead Red 04 - A Dead Red Alibi Page 5

  My smile erupted into a fit of giggles and then laughter bubbled over. I wiped at tears running down my cheeks. I was laughing so hard I doubled over with the pain of it.

  The two most important men in my life, the ones who had been as constant as night and day for as long as I could remember, and who, when the chips were down, were there for me, had been mauled in the wake of my stupidity.

  I wiped at my tears and stilled the ache of laughter in my stomach. Just the same, I couldn’t stop the smile on my lips. Yes, Caleb had been dangerously close to losing more than just his wallet and clothes, but what would be the point of me rushing in to throw myself into his arms, declaring my undying love, when I could get so much more mileage out this with just a bit of finessing on my part?

  I would fish him out of his puddle of trouble and while he was still vulnerable, bring him back to the hotel, clean him up, listen patiently to his well-rehearsed explanation for leaving me at the altar. Then maybe, just maybe, I would succumb to his pitiful groveling.

  I pocketed the keys to my dad’s Jeep, and softly closing the door behind me, took the stairs to pick up my erstwhile fiancé.

  .

  Chapter Eight:

  I awoke with Caleb’s arm slung across my chest, and morning sun strafing my face.

  After seeing Caleb’s pitiful condition, his sunburned face, dry and cracked lips, my defenses crumbled. But it was when he said, “I wasn’t going to let a little inconvenience like no shoes, shirt or pants keep me from you,” that I threw my arms around him, sobbing and wetting his jail issued shirt with my tears.

  I spent the next hour ministering to his blistered and scratched skin and listening to his pitiful tale of lurching through mesquite, brush and heat.

  “But it was when I met Jerry Lee Lewis pounding out Great Balls of Fire on a white baby grand that I knew I had to find the road or I was going to die out there.”

  “Poor darling,” I said, adding some cream to his sunburned scalp.

  I had decided not to tell Caleb about the murders, knowing if I did that, we’d never get any sleep, and we both needed our rest. Tomorrow, I would call the detective, introduce him to Caleb, and maybe change his mind about allowing us to leave.

  Too tired to do anything other than hold each other, I clung to him until we drifted into dreamless sleep.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  A toilet flushed. My dad was up, and had to have passed the bed and seen Caleb with me. I looked at my watch—seven thirty, and for an aero-ag pilot it might as well be the crack of noon. I stretched and yawned, now very grateful that Caleb was safe and, better yet, that we were together again.

  My dad came out of the bathroom, his gray hair wet from a quick wash up, still in yesterday’s dusty clothes from his unplanned stay in the mine pit. Seeing I was awake, he tipped a questioning eyebrow at my sleeping companion.

  I held up two fingers to indicate I needed a couple of minutes.

  He nodded and went back to his foldout bed.

  I did a quick wash up in the bathroom, slipped into my clothes, and tiptoed into the sitting room.

  “Let me call room service for some coffee,” I said, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Then I told him how I’d gotten a late night call from the local county jail, the carjacking and his subsequent hours trying to get back to civilization.

  “So you made up. Glad to see you came to your senses.”

  There was a knock on the door and I hopped up to answer it. The waiter glanced at the Cochise county issued orange pants and top, and blanched.

  “Just put it on the table,” I said, getting out my wallet.

  Caleb sat up, rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Coffee? I sure could use some.”

  The waiter didn’t wait for the gratuity; he simply ducked out the door, leaving Caleb shaking his head and me in a fit of giggles.

  I poured for us. “Yep. I done sprung my lover out of the county jail so we could set ourselves up in this here honeymoon suite and order breakfast in bed.”

  I had forgotten to ask for three cups, so I gave mine to Caleb and drank out of a water glass from the bathroom. He needed it more than I did, though last night I’d forced two more bottles of water on him just to make sure he was hydrated and had truly left Jerry Lee Lewis behind. My new friend, Karen Paquette, would be proud to know I’d done my duty as a newly minted Arizonian.

  “Anyone hungry?” I asked, looking at my two sleepy-eyed men.

  Caleb rolled his tongue around his teeth. “I need to brush my teeth and I wouldn’t mind another shower, but all I’ve got to wear is this county outfit.”

  “We’ll sneak you out the back door before that waiter reports the escaped jailbird,” I said.

  A solid knock on the door said it was too late. I sighed and answered. Sure enough, there was Detective Tom, Stetson in hand, a wide grin on his face. “I was on my way to your place when I got a frantic call from the desk clerk about an escaped criminal holed up in the honeymoon suite. Good thing too. Saved me the trip.”

  I backed up and waved him inside.

  His chuckle limped to a halt when he saw Caleb’s cracked lips and sunburned face. “Ouch. If it’s any consolation, we’ve found your pickup, your wallet and your credit cards, but if I were you I’d change the passwords anyway.”

  “Did they strip it or trash it?” Caleb asked.

  “The truck? Nah, they were simply looking for an anonymous ride. And just our luck, the checkpoint for Highway 90 was closed last night, so they sailed right through. Here’s the phone number for the impound lot,” he said, handing Caleb the note card.

  Caleb nodded, accepting the inconvenience. “Where would this be?”

  “Phoenix. It’s the hub for dispersing illegals in Arizona. They will have contacts to hide them, feed them, get fake documents, whatever they need.”

  “Thanks,” Caleb said, “I don’t suppose they left me my boots, did they?”

  “Sorry, no clothes or shoes were found.”

  “Well, it could’ve been a lot worse,” Caleb said.

  “Yes, thank you, Detective Tom,” I said, “that’s good news. We can pick it up on our way to California.”

  Caleb flicked a hard look at the other man, wondering, I suppose, why I was on first name basis with the detective. Later, I would tell him that Tom was the man’s last name, but it was nice to see a little jealousy light his eyes.

  The detective didn’t miss Caleb’s sudden interest, or my comment about going home to California.

  “Uh, about that,” he said. “We still have two apparent homicides.”

  Caleb gave me that pained expression that asked, ‘What’ve you done now?’

  “Not me. Not this time,” I said, pointing to my dad.

  Dad shrugged like it was no big deal and told Caleb about landing in a mine pit with a dead police chief, and the deputy taking us with him to a second crime scene.

  “Can you tell us anything about these two murders, Detective?” Caleb asked.

  “The young woman who owns the place was found strangled in her own bed. There was no forced entry, but then she might not have been too careful about locking her doors. Autopsy will tell whether or not it was part of a sexual assault. The police chief died of blunt force trauma to the head, and while we’re rounding up suspects and sifting through possible evidence, I’ll make sure your interviews happen today so that you folks can get back to your honeymoon.”

  So he knew enough about us to know that we were supposed to be on our honeymoon, did he? Caleb and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  At his bemused expression, I said, “It’s a long story.”

  My dad cleared his throat. “You better take a seat, Detective. I have some things to add.”

  When he was settled, Dad ran him through his suspicion that the killer had come back while he was still in the pit and why he thought his jacket was found at the second crime scene.

  “So you see,” my dad said, “I couldn’t help but think
… well, it looks like ….”

  “Yes, I see what you mean. I’ll put a deputy at your property today.”

  “Do you think it will do any good?” Dad asked.

  “It will give notice that we’re looking out for you.”

  “Can I have my jacket back?”

  “I think it’s safe to say that you can kiss that article of clothing good-bye. It will stay in evidence for the duration of this case.”

  “Does my father need a lawyer?” I asked.

  The Detective eyed Caleb, and then swung back to me. “Not at this time. My California contacts say that you, Miss Bains, have come into focus for a couple of murders in the last few years, but there’s no reason to consider you, or your father, as suspects in either of these cases.”

  I opened my mouth to ask a question, but as if he had read my thoughts, he said, “They are two separate cases, Miss Bains. They will stay that way unless we find conclusive evidence to connect them.”

  Happenstance? I didn’t believe it. This wasn’t New York City where murders were committed on every other street. Or was he simply warning me off before I got started snooping where I wasn’t welcome?

  He pushed out of his chair. “I have to get back to the office. Someone will call today about your interviews.”

  With a light smile in Caleb’s direction, he said, “Management would be obliged if you left through the door to the alley. Just don’t lift any of the silver on your way out.”

  He tipped his Stetson and left.

  Caleb tried to stand, grimaced and sat down again.

  “Did we miss some of the gravel in your feet?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so, but I could really use some peroxide to clean the cuts.”

  “I saw a Safeway down the road,” Dad said. “They’ll have a pharmacy. I’ll pick up peroxide, some antibacterial cream, and bandaging material.”

  “Thanks Dad,” I said. “Bring some breakfast too, will you?”

  When he was gone, I turned to Caleb, “You’re a big fat liar.”

  “I know,” he said, pulling me down next to him. “But we need to talk.”

  I nestled close, my head in the crook of his arm, loving his scent, the soft chest hairs tickling my nose. “Whad’ya wanna talk about?”

  “If what your dad said is true, his life could be in danger.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. You’d think, after all this time, the Bains family would know when to keep their noses out of trouble.”

  His response was somewhere between humor and exasperation. “Let’s back up a minute. Tell me everything. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

  With interruptions every few minutes for his questions, I finished about the time I heard the hotel key working to open the locked door. My dad’s eyes danced as he carried the pharmacy and breakfast bags to the table.

  “You didn’t interrupt anything,” I said, pushing off the bed. “He made me tell him the whole story, all of it, from the beginning. It was pretty exhausting and I had to lie down.”

  “Sure you did,” he said, opening the bags from Burger King. “Breakfast is ready.”

  I handed Caleb a breakfast sandwich, then wolfed down my own before dabbing peroxide and antibiotic ointment on his feet and wrapping it up with gauze and tape. While I admired my handiwork, I didn’t see how he was going to fit into a pair of new boots anytime soon. “This means you’re going to be wearing either slippers or sandals for a while.”

  “I need to make a call to my bank and change my passwords.”

  “We’ll take you back to the house,” I said. “You can borrow something of Dad’s until we can get you new clothes.”

  He sighed. “I would’ve been happier if they’d have kept my truck and left my boots.”

  .

  Chapter Nine:

  The next day Caleb and I drove into Wishbone to buy him something to wear that didn’t have orange in it.

  The only store with men’s clothing was a local ranch supply/hardware store. Lucky for Caleb they also had a rack of jeans and a box of odds and ends for clothing. I let him paw through the box and wandered around until I found a carousel of men’s shirts, pulled out several and held them up for his inspection.

  “Good God, no.”

  “Sorry, the closeout rack is all they have,” I said. “There aren’t even any T-shirts left in your size. Come on Caleb. It’s only until you get home.” His face pinched into an uncomfortable grimace, but he grabbed a powder blue print with white pearl buttons and closed me out of the dressing room. I hung onto the hot pink number with white fringe in case he needed another option. A nice looking denim jacket and a cowboy hat were my next choices. Since we wear the same hat size, I tried it on in front of the full-length mirror, tipped the brim down, cocked a trigger finger and gave the mirror a steely-eyed squint.

  That’s when I noticed someone looking at me from across the room. The stranger’s stare bored a path from a corner in the store to the mirror. I turned to get a better look and he was gone, the entry bell jingled merrily with his retreat.

  I shivered in the draft.

  All of my earlier playfulness went out of my morning, I charged into the changing room throwing myself onto Caleb’s chest.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me.

  “Someone was watching me,” I said, pointing to the empty space between the window and door. “Over there.”

  He hugged me to his new pearl button, cornflower blue western shirt and rubbed my back.

  “That’s not all that unusual, sweetheart,” he said. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

  “And aren’t you smart to remember that?” I said with more bravado than I felt. The shirt fit very nicely, and for just a minute, I thought how much fun it would be to take it off. One yank and all those buttons would pop open. Then the thought of the stranger’s hot stare blew away that idea, I burrowed my face into that comforting space between Caleb’s chin and chest.

  He pulled me back into his arms and squeezed.

  “Tighter,” I said.

  He did, squeezing all the fear and doubt from my heart.

  “I’m fine, fine,” I said, pulling out of his embrace. “We should go. Dad is sure Uncle Ed missed a big vein of gold. There’s a real mine on the property, you know.”

  We paid for his new clothes and left the store.

  Buckling up in the Jeep, Caleb asked, “So how long have you been without electricity?”

  “The property manager said he’d have it taken care of but … “

  “And when was that?”

  “If you count the late afternoon we got here as one, the next two days for cleaning out the house and mowing the weeds, then yesterday spent looking for Dad, and last but not least, pulling your ass out of the county jail last night, I’d say I’ve been too busy to give it much thought.”

  His next words held just a touch of sarcasm. “And did he also offer to sell the place for you?”

  “It wouldn’t be much of a push for me to sell, but since we’re stuck here for a few more days, we still need electricity.”

  “Where’s the power company—in Wishbone, or Sierra Vista?”

  In his powder blue western shirt and brand new Wranglers, he could pass for a local, unless you looked down at his bare toes and wrapped feet peeking out of dirty plastic flip-flops.

  “After lunch I’ll look up the electric company in Sierra Vista.”

  He wiggled his toes in the sandals. “Boots too, if I can find a good pair.”

  .

  Chapter Ten:

  After lunch, Dad took his Arizona prospector’s guide into his bedroom and closed the door. I pleaded for a nap of my own, so Caleb borrowed the Jeep and went into town.

  I yawned, but decided none of us had yet checked out the barn. Maybe there was a tractor or a bicycle in it. Not that either would do much good out here, but in a pinch something for extra transportation would be nice.

  I walked outside and a light
breeze cooled my warm skin. Drawing in a deep breath of clean, fresh air I wondered if this was how it used to be at my dad’s ranch before the suburbs moved in on us and took with it the quiet and the peace.

  With hands on my hips, I considered the big double doors, thick chain, and rusty padlock. I yanked on the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. I leaned on the barn wall and peered between the old wood boards. There must be something good inside, otherwise why the heavy chain and lock? Hadn’t I seen a rack of keys by the kitchen door? I backtracked to the house and rummaged through the lot.

  House keys, a pump-house key, one for the shed, and a Master Lock key was the same as the lock on the barn. I was lifting it off the hook when my dad strolled into the kitchen.

  “What’re you looking for?” he asked.

  I held up the key. “I think this is for the barn. I thought I’d take a look inside.”

  “That sounds interesting, I’ll bring a can of oil for the lock.”

  Even after a squirt of oil, the lock wouldn’t budge.

  “Wrong key? Or maybe we don’t have one. Now what?”

  “We saw it off.”

  “Got a saw?”

  My dad huffed out a laugh. “First time I’ve been without my own tools in fifty years. Makes me feel kinda naked.”

  “Thanks for that mental image, Dad. Got any other ideas?”

  “I’ll bet there are tools inside we could use for repairs and such. The latrine shovel might do the trick,” he said, and turned for the house to get it.

  While I waited for him to come back, I looked up at the eastern hills leading to the mountains behind us. All of it covered in a velvet of short, dry grass. The cottonwoods lining the dry creek bed were also turning gold. Though I’d read that Arizona was in a long drought, it was still pretty enough for a painting, which reminded me of the recent homicides—a murdered artist, and a local police chief. The detective hadn’t been willing to share much about the cases, but they had to be related. Especially since someone went to the trouble to come back to the mine pit while my dad was in it, take his jacket and leave it at the art compound.