A Kendall O'Dell Mystery

Chapter 3-2

“So, ya ready to git back in the saddle again?” she inquired playfully.

I glanced over at Starlight Sky chomping on a mouthful of grass. “Not yet. I just got off this gorgeous horse about five minutes ago.”

Ginger’s tinkling laughter resounded in my ear. “I don’t mean for real. I got a little tidbit ya might want to check out. Don’t know if it will go anywhere, but then again, it might.”

That tickled my curiosity bone. “What’s that?”

“I heard tell Nelson Trotter’s back in town.”

“Who?”

“You ever hear of the notorious Trotter twins?”

“No. And they’re notorious why?”

“Well, they ain’t really twin twins,” she prattled on, not actually answering my question, “they’re more like Irish twins. I think him and his sister are the same age for five days, but anyway, I’m more ‘n happy to share all the juicy details. It’s kind of a long sad story, two actually—no wait, if you go back far enough, there’s three.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but is there something in particular among everything you’ve just told me that I might find interesting?”

“Oh, yeah. How much time ya got, sugar?”

“Right now, not much.”

“How ‘bout I tell ya about ‘em later, oh and before I forgit, Tugg told me to tell you that Thena’s gonna be here around noon today.”

Surprise jolted me. “What? I thought she wasn’t coming until tomorrow.” It had been my plan to meet with Tugg before her visit to finalize our ideas and settle on the best strategy with which to approach her.

“Nope. Today. Better shake it, sugar!”

“I guess I’d better. Bye.”

“Hang on a second! I plum near forgot. I do have some news,” she added breathlessly. “You know that new beauty clinic, Youth Oasis, the one that opened up about a month ago where the old American Legion Hall used to be over yonder on Buckskin Trail?”

I swatted a bee away from my face. It seemed as if bees and hummingbirds were always dive-bombing my hair, thinking they’d happened upon a big, fuzzy red flower. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Al just told me this mornin’ that they bought a whole page ad for Wednesday’s edition.”

“A full page!” I repeated, feeling a surge of reassurance. “That is awesome.”

“Well, snap my garters!” The sound of crinkling paper reached my ears, a short silence, then, “Listen to this,” she announced gleefully, her voice brimming with excitement. “I’m proofreadin’ the ad copy now, an’ you can git yourself a face-lift, a neck-lift and all kinds of skin treatments. They got coupons for a whole passel of creams, lotions, potions and best of all there’s a brand new procedure called Skin Deep Beauty Elixir. I guess it’s kind of like them HGH injections only it says here it’s waaaaay better. Some magical ingredients added.” She stopped to take a breath, finishing with, “Good Lord, girl, if what they’re saying is true, we can all look half our age!”

I dearly loved her effervescent personality combined with her colorful Texas idioms, which she always used to maximum effect. “Ginger, what are you talking about? You’re only thirty-three and don’t have a wrinkle on your face.”

Sounding dubious, she firmly declared, “Maybe you don’t see ‘em, but I sure do. Any hoot, it says here they’re open until six tonight. Colleen, Margery and me are fixin’ to head over there after work to check it out. You wanna come?”

“I don’t know. It sounds too good to be true.”

“Suit yourself. But if you ask me, there ain’t a one of us couldn’t use a little sprucin’ up every now and then, don’t ya think?”

“I can’t commit right now, but we can talk about it when I get there. I gotta go. See ya!” I tapped the screen, smiling. Bless Ginger King. Known affectionately as the town gossip, not only was she often a valuable resource, she was also endlessly entertaining and had become my dearest friend. In December, she had taken the bull by the horns and thrown us the most amazing engagement party. Now, she was ensconced in the role of my wedding maven, enthusiastically assuming most of the extensive list of details that needed attention while lamenting the fact that she wished she was planning her own wedding, but couldn’t seem to get her boyfriend, Doug, off the dime.

I shoved the phone in my pocket, heartened to see that Starlight Sky had settled down. Gently swishing her full, black tail, she munched contentedly on the lush winter grass. Confident she would be okay I double-checked the knot and then retraced my steps to the construction site. No sooner had I rounded the boulders than I heard the shouts of angry male voices. A small cluster of workers stood gathered around two men, one young, tall and lanky, the other muscular, older and shorter, but nonetheless, practically nose-to-nose. Gesturing wildly towards a maroon-and white-colored pickup and a newly-arrived flatbed truck piled with lumber, the young guy shouted a lengthy string of ear-blistering expletives and threatened, “You’re gonna pay! You’re gonna pay me for every cent of damage you done!”

“You backed into me, dumbass,” the older man snarled. Thick brows furrowed in anger, his sparsely-bearded chin protruding like a bulldog, he strong-armed the younger man backwards onto the ground. When he came up swinging, a full-on fistfight ensued.

Seconds later, Bob burst from the trailer and charged over to the wrestling duo. “Hey! Hey! Break it up, you two!” he commanded harshly, inserting himself between them. “Justin, what the hell’s going on here?”

“This s**t-for-brains just wrecked my new truck!”

Curious, I walked closer and listened as the accusations flew back and forth. “All right, all right, that’s enough!” Bob demanded. “Take it up with the insurance companies. Now everybody get back to work!”

Justin wiped blood from his nose onto the sleeve of his shirt. “Freakin’ dirt bag p*****t! Your lazy a*s belongs back in jail!”

My interest level inched higher. p*****t? I was usually on top of people and most events in Castle Valley, especially crime statistics, but I’d never seen this guy before. The older man reacted to Justin’s comment with red-faced rage, lunging at him again. At that point, I whipped out my phone and tapped out a few photos and a short video. Bob intervened again, grabbing his arm. “Cool it!” He pushed Justin in the opposite direction before addressing the older man. “I don’t want to have to get the sheriff involved and I don’t think you do either.” Bob turned to the gathered crowd. “Show’s over! Get this lumber unloaded.”

Glowering, the truck driver yanked his arm from Bob’s grasp. In a harsh, gravelly tone he barked, “I never did nothing wrong! Those charges were bogus.” before stomping to his rig and vaulting into the cab. Bob yelled after him, “Try not to be two hours late next time!”

Intrigued, I wished I had time to follow up on Justin’s accusation, but at that instant, my cell phone rang. It was Tally. I retreated to a quieter spot. “Hey cowboy, you on the way, I hope?”

“Nope. Still waiting on the vet.”

Mild exasperation flared in my chest. “Really? What’s the problem this time?”

“Not sure. Could be the flu, but I’m more worried about EHV.”

“Can’t Jake take care of this?”

“Nope.”

Tally was indeed a man of few words. “Why not?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly, “It’s Rain Dancer and there are a couple of other situations going on.”

Exasperation turned to agitation. I loved Tally with fierce intensity, but sometimes his preoccupation with the horses left me feeling deflated. I hated playing second, third and fourth fiddle. Of course, he always countered that my fixation with pursuing a stimulating story, sometimes at the risk of my life, surpassed by a mile any devotion he had for his Appaloosa horses. Ruefully, I had to admit that he was often right when he complained that he felt reduced to an afterthought. I’d been working really hard to correct that perception. However, I was also keenly aware that besides his gelding, Geronimo, Rain Dancer was his favorite mare. I sometimes kiddingly reminded him that he paid more attention to her than he did to me. His good-humored rejoinder was that her high-spirited, headstrong personality constantly reminded him of me, so shouldn’t I be flattered?

I fought to maintain a dispassionate tone. Cool. Stay cool. “I’m sorry. I know how important she is to you, but this is important to me. You know today is the deadline to make all the major changes we want on the house if we want it finished before the wedding and because of your schedule it’s the only time we both have open for the next two weeks.” No response during my short pause. “So, what do you want me to tell Neil?” He obviously heard the undercurrent of frustration seeping into my voice and answered soothingly, “You decide. This is your dream house.”

“It’s going to be your house too!” I shot back.

“I trust your judgement.”

I inhaled a deep, cleansing breath, hoping to tamp down my escalating temper. “All right then, you won’t mind me adding a wrap-around porch, a wine cellar and perhaps a turret?” The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how petulant I sounded. This generous, ultra-patient, intelligent and caring man had captured my heart from the first moment I’d laid eyes on him, yet he possessed the uncanny ability to light the fuse on my short temper better than anyone else. I sincerely believed that he enjoyed our electrically-charged verbal exchanges, which ranged from mild to volcanic.

“A turret?” he parroted with a tinge of humor. “Are you trying to replicate your grandmother’s house?”

Stung, I muttered, “Very funny.” However, his mocking words revived indelible memories of her stately one-hundred-fifty-year old Victorian back home in Pennsylvania that spawned my continuing fascination with old houses and buildings. To me, it was magical and truly looked like a castle. What fun it had been staying overnight nestled cozily in that high four-poster bed in what I had always called ‘the round room,’ and, oh, how I missed my tenacious, barb-witted grandmother along with that remarkable house.

Wasn’t it only yesterday that I’d delighted in exploring every nook and cranny of that spacious house with my two brothers? With a thrill of elation, my imagination would run wild as we climbed the steep staircase to explore the musty contents of the attic. We spent countless hours poring over boxes and trunks filled with old stale-smelling books, papers, photos, clothes and other captivating relics of the past. All antique treasures to us. Looking back, I felt sure those long-ago experiences fueled my desire to become either a detective or an investigative reporter.

His mellifluous voice now brimming with mischief, he responded, “Well, if you think a turret will go with our contemporary western design, go for it, m’lady.”

M’lady? I bit back a scornful response as my grandmother’s wise Irish proverb, “A kind word never broke anyone’s mouth” echoed in my mind. I also thought about Ginger’s theory that our diametrically-opposite personalities combined with our intractable natures, each fighting for dominance in the relationship, kept the fireworks sizzling. I’d definitely met my match this time. “So, you’re not coming to the meeting.”

He cleared his throat. “Um…it’s not looking good.”

“Does this have anything to do with Ruth?” Was his crazy mother badgering him again about me stealing her precious son away from her?

“No, no…it…um…doesn’t.” Was I imagining it or did he sound distracted?

“Listen, I’ve got other problems brewing here. What’s that?” His words trailed off as if he had moved the phone away from his ear, then grew louder again. “Hang on a second, Kendall.”

I could hear unintelligible female voices in the background, then his firm, “I told you I’m not getting in the middle of this. Ask her yourself.”

I frowned. Ask who? “Tally, what’s going on?”

A long sigh of frustration. “You’ll find out when you get here.”