Chapter 51

 

 

“We’ve never had a case with so few leads,” Pen admitted when they spoke later that afternoon.

She and Mary had cruised the main streets of Show Low, a task of ten minutes, but there was no sign of the hippies’ school bus.

“I know,” Sandy said on the phone. “We felt so sure Ron was our thief from the shelter, but there was nothing in his house that implicates him. Panhandling, sure. We found some grimy clothing and a couple boxes of cash—maybe a few hundred dollars total, although it was so grungy neither of us wanted to touch it.”

“We located the Rising Moon’s trailer, but it was empty. Mary wasn’t happy. Actually, both of us had been so certain it would contain the money. It was a huge letdown when it didn’t.”

“I think we’re all feeling disheartened,” Sandy said, catching Gracie’s eye. “At this end, we just aren’t sure what to do next.”

“I know. Our quarry has disappeared, as well, and there are simply too many roads to follow. Mary and I have decided to get some lunch and consider the options. Unless we get a solid lead, we may be driving back home this afternoon.”

“At least Amber is still working on the Moon Temple banking angle,” Gracie reminded.

“Indeed. Perhaps she will come up with something to prove their dishonest intentions, and we could still turn this over to the authorities,” Pen said. “In the meantime, why don’t you two take a break? Sandy, you have put in long hours. Go do something fun for a change.”

“Wish I could. I’m so far behind at work, I really need to go in, lock myself in my office for the rest of the day, and catch up.”

“All right. Whatever eases your mind. Meanwhile, we shall press on and will share the results, if any.” Pen tapped the button to end the call, turning in her driver’s seat to face Mary. “Lunch was somewhat of a spur of the moment idea, but what do you think? Sustenance may give us some ideas.”

Mary agreed. “Plus, we can use our time to ask around, see if any of the locals remember a brightly painted bus coming through here. I’m guessing it’s not something they see every day.”

“I recall a small café at the other end of town. Let’s gas up the Rover at that station across the street, and then we can eat.”

Pen walked inside the station’s convenience store and inquired about the bus.

“Oh, heck yeah, I remember seeing that thing. Looked like the old hippie buses we used to see in the seventies, ’cept this one had a guy in sissy boots and a woman who looked like she spends her whole day in a beauty shop,” said the female clerk who rang up Pen’s purchase of a lip balm.

“Did they stay in town?”

“Ha—everybody stayed in town last night,” said the woman, revealing a perfectly even set of dentures. “Wasn’t no way to get out after about four o’clock yesterday afternoon. Town’s only got one snowplow, and he couldn’t very well get to all five highways at once.”

“Do you know which road he would have cleared first?”

“Prob’ly the one over to Payson. It gets the most traffic.”

Pen nodded and thanked her. The highway to Payson led back toward the Phoenix area, and she doubted the Fordyces would have done that. But knowing they’d been in town was at least something of a lead.

The Bluebird Café was warm inside and smelled of bacon. Both women ordered BLT sandwiches. When the waitress delivered them, Pen asked about their quarry.

“Old bus painted blue with all these rainbows and silly pictures on the sides—and some kind of words about the moon? Oh yeah, they was here. The guy was some kind of grumpy, kept coming in every five minutes to see if our internet was working. The lady didn’t say much to me; she seemed kind of ticked off at him.”

“Do you know where they stayed the night?” Mary asked.

“Yeah. In their bus. Right out there.” The woman pointed toward a side window that overlooked a muddy parking lot.

“Do you know what time they left, or what direction they were going?”

“Well, yesterday afternoon they come in, all wired up and hot to get to Albuquerque. Wanted to know the quickest way, and I told ’em not only was there no quick way, there most likely was no way at all. I mean, the roads was getting snow-packed real fast.”

Albuquerque. At last, a solid clue.

“And this morning? Once the roads opened up, did they say what direction they would take?”

“They didn’t say nothin’ to me. The bus was here when I came to work, but they lit out while I was still prepping in the kitchen.”

A man at the counter pushed his empty plate aside and looked at them. “I might know.”

“This is Harvey, the snowplow driver,” the waitress added.

Pen asked him to go on.

“Bus like you described followed me out of town, east on 60. Wasn’t really safe out yet, but he was in some kind of all-fired hurry. Practically tailgated me, even though the plow’s got that sign on the back, ‘Stay Back Thirty Feet.’ There’s all kinds of splatter and little rocks and stuff. Guess he finally figured that out cause he dropped back a ways.”

“Highway 60, that goes toward the New Mexico border, right?” Mary asked.

“Yep. I think he stayed behind me as far as Springerville, but that’s when I turn around. Bus musta gone on.”

They thanked him for the information and quickly finished their lunch. Out in the Land Rover again, Mary laughed. “No secret conversations in a town this size, are there?”

“In our case it worked out well. We know a lot more than we did an hour ago.”

“So, what do you want to do? Albuquerque’s a pretty big city, really spread out. How can we hope to catch them?”

Pen started her engine and turned up the heat. “I honestly don’t know. But we’ve come this far. With luck, our vehicle is faster and we may catch up.”