Thirteen

Men and fish are alike. They both get into trouble
when they open their mouths.

—JIMMY D. MOORE

When Mandy walked into the Vic that evening for an impromptu Wednesday evening pool date with a gaggle of river guides and rangers, the place was hopping to the beat of a country rock band playing on the small stage in the back. Underneath the wails of the lead singer, Mandy picked out the twangs of a talented banjo player. Her pace fell in step with the drummer’s rhythm and her hips began to sway. The music was going to be a great accompaniment to the stories her group always swapped in the back room about the outrageous antics of tourists.

But tonight, Mandy had another agenda—to ask Cynthia about her interview with Detective Quintana. Hoping Cynthia was in a talkative mood, Mandy approached the bar. Cynthia had three beer taps flowing into three mugs, with three more empties waiting. A waitress slapped a drink order on the counter in front of her, and Cynthia gave a quick nod. Mandy would have to wait for a lull in the action to talk to her.

She looked around for a place to park her butt. Conveniently, a couple left their barstools with drinks in hand to talk to friends across the room, so Mandy snagged one of their seats. She let the cacophony of bar sounds wash over her. Her muscles loosened as the tension drained out, and she started bobbing her head to the music.

Eyes half-closed, she was lost in the band’s rendition of Jack Ingram’s “Barefoot and Crazy” when Cynthia appeared in front of her, snapping her fingers. “Yoo hoo! Fat Tire?”

Mandy smiled. “Sure.” She watched Cynthia pop the cap off a frosty bottle, pour half into a pilsner glass, and set both in front of her. The first swig went down real easy. “You got a minute to talk?”

Cynthia swiped a stray lock of damp hair off her glistening
forehead and looked down the bar. All of the barstool drinkers’ glasses were at least half full, and no waitresses were approaching with orders. She propped a foot up and leaned her elbows on the counter. She looked beat.

“I’m probably good until the band takes a break. Then everyone will want refills before they start up again. How was your day?”

“Interesting. Steve and I nabbed a couple of guys who were sabotaging the fly-fishing tournament, pulling up beat stakes. One of them took off, and Steve had to pull his gun to get his attention.”

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re getting into this law enforcement stuff.”

Mandy saw her opening and went for it. “Speaking of law enforcement, how did your interview with Detective Quintana go?”

“Okay, I guess.” She looked down and started drawing circles on the bar with a finger.

Mandy laid a gentle hand over Cynthia’s, stopping the circles. “I know it couldn’t have gone okay. He suspects you of killing Howie Abbott! What really happened?”

Cynthia exhaled. “He said they found my thumbprint on the hatchet and asked me how it got there.”

“And?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe it was Uncle Lee’s hatchet. We all share his camping gear. I borrowed his tent and some other stuff for that two-day trip to Ouray I took in July. I probably took the hatchet, too, since it’s a good tool for pounding in stakes and cutting kindling. Maybe my thumbprint got on it then. I’m surprised Quintana didn’t find prints on it from anyone else in the family, though.”

“I thought that was odd, too.” Mandy mulled it over while taking another sip of her beer. “But he did say there were partials on it that they hadn’t matched yet.”

Cynthia cocked her head and peered at Mandy. “You knew about the thumbprint?”

Mandy nodded. “That’s why I was so worried, why I want to know what went down in the interview.” She paused. “Quintana wouldn’t let me observe since you’re a friend.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you there either.”

“What’s that mean? Why not?”

“It would have weirded me out. Who wants a friend listening in when they’re being grilled by the police?”

“Did you say anything that you don’t want me to know?”

“Maybe.” Cynthia gave her a sideways glance, then stood up. “You want another beer?”

“Stop being evasive!” Mandy slapped the counter. “This is important. I’m trying to help. What did you say?”

“Look, Mandy, I don’t want to give you all the details about what Uncle Howie did to me, and I’m sure you don’t want to hear them.”

“Okay, sorry—that I understand. But did Quintana believe your story about using the hatchet on your camping trip?”

“He said he’d confirm it with Uncle Lee.” Cynthia looked around the bar. She seemed not just tired and busy, but haggard and distracted.

“It’s pretty damning that only your print has been identified on the hatchet, Cynthia. If only someone else’s was there, too, like one of the Ellis family. Or Newt, who we know was at Howie’s campsite. Or Jesse Lopez.”

“The killer could have worn gloves. Ever think of that?” Cynthia leaned in. “I overheard some fishermen talking in the bar last weekend about the rivalry between Jesse and Howie. It was pretty hot and heavy. Both had accused the other of cheating in one tournament or another, though Jesse was the most belligerent about it. Of course, Howie kept beating him, sometimes by just a few points, so Jesse had the most to prove.”

“Unfortunately, Jesse probably has an alibi for the Sunday when Howie was killed, though Quintana’s still checking it out. Did you tell Quintana about the conversation you overheard?”

“Didn’t get a chance to. He was too focused on me.”

Mandy nibbled at her lip. “That doesn’t sound good, not good at all.”

“Well, I’m still here.” Cynthia spread her hands wide. “He hasn’t locked me up yet.”

“Don’t say that. Jesus, don’t jinx yourself. Do you think you gave him any more reasons to suspect you than he already has?”

“Like the fact that the bastard abused me?” Cynthia put a hand on her hip. “That’s reason enough, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mandy didn’t like the way this conversation was going at all. Cynthia wasn’t swearing her innocence and didn’t seem to have done any better with Quintana. Does she know how big a hole she’s digging for herself ? “I wish I could find someone else for Quintana to focus on.”

With a flourish, the band ended their tune, and the crowd started clapping wildly. Once the applause died down, the band announced they were going to take a fifteen-minute break.

“That’s my cue,” Cynthia said. “I need to pour a couple pitchers of beer for the band, then be prepared to fill other orders. Kendra and Gonzo are in the back room, as is your honey bear.” She gave Mandy a nudge with her elbow. “Go talk to them, instead. I’ll see you later.”

While Cynthia headed for the beer taps, Mandy watched her go. Her friend’s shoulders were low, not high and jaunty as usual. And again, no blonde joke. There hadn’t been one for days. Cynthia might be trying to hide it, but she was worried.

And so was Mandy.

_____

Mandy walked past the band platform around to the back pool room, barely paying attention to the people she was passing as she kept replaying her conversation with Cynthia. Should she have asked her friend point blank if she killed Howie? Mandy thought it over and finally decided no.

She wanted to believe—needed to believe—that Cynthia wasn’t a killer. And even if there was a niggling doubt, Mandy realized she was more concerned about keeping her best friend out of prison than punishing her. Cynthia should know that she had Mandy’s support, one hundred percent of it.

And if she had asked that loaded question, in a crowded bar even, she would have created a legal mess, as a member of the investigative team. No, if it was going to be asked, Quintana had to be the one to do it.

As she entered the back room, she spotted Rob first, sitting at a table against the far wall of the room and talking to Ajax. Kendra and Gonzo were playing pool on opposite teams, so Mandy wished them both luck as she sidled by their pool table. She didn’t want to play favorites.

When she approached Rob’s table, he reached an arm around her hips and pulled her next to him. “I’ve been waiting for you, mi querida.”

He leaned his head against her, so she put an arm around his shoulders to keep her balance. He inhaled deeply of her scent,
and she did the same—leather, musk, pine soap. Almost what you’d expect of a cowboy, but he was no cowboy. He was a river rat through and through, as was she. And he fit very comfortably against her like that.

Rob looked up at her and ran his hand up and down her hip. “What’s troubling you?”

Mandy glanced at Ajax, who was diplomatically watching the pool game and chatting with a river guide at the table next to theirs. “I just had a talk with Cynthia that didn’t go well, but I’ll tell you about that later. But just wait until you hear about my day.”

She disengaged herself and sat in one of the two chairs that Kendra and Gonzo must have vacated to play their game. One had half a glass of beer in front of it and the other had an almost empty soda glass. She told Rob and Ajax about collaring the tournament saboteurs, embellishing the story to make it colorful and take her mind off Cynthia’s troubles.

“So what have you been up to today?” she asked Rob when she was through.

“Your story explains the call I got from John Squire today,” he said. “John was rounding up extra volunteers to patrol the wading beats and make sure no one messed with the stakes—or the controllers or anything else. I told him I’d watch one of the beats tomorrow.”

“Who’s going to mind the shop while you’re out?”

Rob pointed his chin at the pool table. “Gonzo.”

Mandy lifted an eyebrow. “Gonzo? Really?”

“Really.” Rob leaned forward and took her hand in his. He rubbed circles on her palm with his thumb, something that always made her heart beat faster. “Gonzo’s been working hard to prove himself since he started AA. He’s learned the cash register, been very polite and friendly to the clientele. I think it’s time to show some more trust in him.”

Rob sat back, released her hand, and took a swig of his beer. “Besides, it’s a weekday and we only have one trip going out. An afternoon run down Big Horse Sheep Canyon with a contingent of Red Hat Society ladies.”

“Aren’t those a bunch of menopausal women who meet for lunches and teas wearing red hats and purple dresses? What are they doing taking a rafting trip?”

Rob laughed. “The whole point of the organization is to have fun and celebrate life. What better way is there to do that than take a roller coaster ride on the river? If this chapter enjoys themselves, I plan to ask the Queen how to get in touch with other chapters to offer them a special deal. It could be a whole new advertising campaign for us.”

That was Rob, always thinking of new ways to expand and grow the business. But … “Did you say ‘the Queen’?”

“Yep. She’s like a chapter president. After they made the booking, I looked up the society on the web, so I could speak their lingo.”

“But you won’t be there. Gonzo will.”

“Don’t worry. I filled him in, and he’s all prepared to butter up the ladies.” Rob winked at her. “You know he’s good at that. And I’ll be there for the pickup shuttle, so I can chat up the Queen.”

Mandy peered at Gonzo leaning over the pool table to line up a shot. He had managed to stay dry for well over two months, and he was drinking soda tonight. “I guess it is time to let Gonzo loose.”

Rob leaned forward and gave her a peck on the lips. “Speaking of letting loose and queens, let’s go make some honey, honey.”

Mandy realized that after her rough day and the troubling conversation with Cynthia, she had no real interest in playing pool anymore. Rob’s proposition sounded good, real good. She slipped her hand into his and stood, pulling him to his feet.

A slow, wide grin split his face. He tossed some money on the table. “That’ll cover my share, Ajax.”

Ajax turned from his conversation with a “Huh?” then took one look at the two of them grinning at each other and waved a dismissive hand at them. “Sure, whatever. See ya later.”

Mandy and Rob walked out with arms around each other and gave a wave to Cynthia busy shaking a martini shaker at the bar. That reminded Mandy of Cynthia’s mention of Lee Ellis and his camping equipment, particularly the hatchet. Rob said he hadn’t talked to Lee lately when she asked him about Lee’s business, but maybe he’d talked to Lee before, maybe even about camping. There was no better time than the present to find out.

When they stepped outside into the cool night air, she turned to him. “I have to ask you something. Before you and Lee Ellis got busy, what conversations did you have with him?”

“After we met him at the May meeting of the Arkansas River Outfitter Association, I talked to him at some other meetings, and he’s asked me for advice on suppliers and such. We did the traditional beer for paddle trade a few weeks back when I picked up a couple of his paddles in Brown’s Canyon. Chewed some fat at his business then. Sure hope he can make a go of it. It wasn’t in very good shape when he bought it.” Rob shook his head.

Just like Uncle Bill’s business. “He ever talk about camping?”

“Yeah. He and Brenda and the kids used to camp a lot when Craig and Faith were little. He asked where some good campgrounds were up here.”

A chill breeze blew off the river and Mandy shivered. “How are we doing this, anyway? And whose place are we going to?”

Rob chafed her arms to warm her up. “Ajax picked me up at my place, so you’re driving. You need to take care of Lucky? Or do you want to go straight to my place? I stocked up on coffee ice cream and caramel syrup.”

“Oh, yum.” Mandy licked her lips. “We’re going to your place for sure. Lucky will be okay until morning. He’s been fed and run, and he’s outside with a full water dish and a rawhide bone.” She looked up at the star-studded sky. “It’ll be a warm, dry night.”

They jogged to her car and she started it up and pulled away from the curb. As they drove to Rob’s house, she filled him in on her conversation with Cynthia. “So that’s why I want to find out more about Lee Ellis and the rest of the family. I think they have just as much motive as Cynthia, and I want something to give Quintana so he’ll turn his attention away from her.”

Rob’s brow furrowed. “I can’t see any of them killing Howie. He was Brenda’s brother, after all.”

Mandy pulled into Rob’s driveway and shut the engine off. “Can you see Cynthia killing him?”

“No, no I can’t.” He stared out the window. “Lee and Craig are working as controllers for the tournament tomorrow. Like me, they’ll be carrying business cards, I’m sure, and chatting up the teams to try to get some future fish-guiding business. I’ll talk to them in the morning when we all meet at the SteamPlant to get our instructions from John, see what I can find out.”

“What time? Maybe I can be there, too, before I check in at AHRA.”

“Early, six o’clock.” He opened his car door. “We’d better hit the sack. Race ya!”

By the time Mandy had shouted, “You’re on!” and leapt out of her car door, Rob was already at his front door. When she ran up giggling, he had unlocked it and pushed it open. He swept her up in his arms and carried her inside.

She reached out and pulled the door closed behind him. When he gently set her back down on her feet, she deliberately rubbed the full length of her body against his.

That got a rise out of him. His mouth was hot and hungry on hers in an instant. He kneaded her buttocks while their tongues fenced and he pulled her in even closer.

Mandy tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans and ran her hands up inside along the fine curls of chest hair until she found his nipples. She flicked her thumbs over them.

He groaned. “To bed, woman!”

They left a trail of clothing down the hallway as they raced to the soft, pillowy finish line.

_____

Mandy sucked on her spoon, savoring the sweet caramel syrup as it melted on her tongue. She sat propped up in Rob’s bed, the sheet pulled up under her armpits, luxuriating in the feel of the smooth, cool sheets against her bare skin. And she was feeling totally satisfied. Only one more luscious spoonful of coffee ice cream remained in the large bowl Rob had fixed her, and she was delaying the eating of it as long as she could.

He had long finished his bowl and lay propped on one elbow, watching her appreciatively.

The sheet puddled around his hips, exposing his muscled chest. Mandy decided she had the better view.

“You know,” he said languidly, “having you over here full-time a few months ago was real nice. I could get used to that.”

Mandy swallowed her last bite of ice cream and put her bowl on the nightstand. She pulled her knees up under her chin and put her arms around her legs. Yes, moving in to take care of Rob after he’d been shot in the shoulder had been nice, and having the fenced-in yard for Lucky was handy. But after two weeks of waiting on him hand and foot, she had jumped at the opportunity to move back to her own place when Rob regained enough movement in that arm to dress and feed himself.

She peered at him over her knees. “You know it wouldn’t be the same. I wouldn’t be at your beck and call, fixing all the meals and doing all the chores.”

Rob grinned. “No? Darn! Seriously, though, we’d find a way to share the cooking and cleaning. I’d even volunteer to pick up Lucky’s messes. What do you think?”

“More importantly, what would your mother think? She’d never approve.”

That wiped the smile off his face, but after a moment, it slyly reappeared. “We both know what we could do to gain her approval.”

“Yeah, I know, a huge church wedding, with a long white dress, eight attendants each, and flowers and incense and all that jazz.” Mandy had tried to make a joke of it, but just in case, she added, “But it’s waaay too early to think about that.” If ever. “Merging two lives—and two households—is a big deal.”

Rob’s expression had grown more serious as she talked, until he was looking down at the mattress, scratching idly at the sheet. Mandy was just beginning to wonder if he was sad or disappointed in her, when he raised his head, his face wiped of emotion, and spoke.

“Not just two households. You still own both your house and Bill’s. Any progress on selling your uncle’s house?”

Mandy sighed. “Bridget Murphy called Monday and said a couple had made an offer.”

Rob sat up. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Not so fast. The offer was twenty-five thousand less than the asking price.”

“Maybe in this economy, that’s as good as you’ll get.”

“Maybe, but it was still fifteen thousand less than the appraisal, so I asked her to counter with that price.”

Rob frowned and rubbed the evening stubble on his chin. “I think that was a mistake. What if you scare them off ? You may not get another offer.”

“Well, if that’s what happens, then that’s what was meant to be. I’m still not really ready to give up the place. Having it on the market a few more weeks would give me time to get used to the idea.”

“But then the money from the sale would come in too late to expand RM Outdoor Adventures into fall and winter adventure trips.”

Mandy was getting irritated. “Is that all you care about, expanding the business?”

Rob looked at her, opened his mouth, then hesitated. “I also care about you, Mandy, your happiness, your financial security. That’s why I suggested that you invest the rest of the money, set up a retirement account.”

He was about to say something stronger. Mandy knew it. He was just smart enough to realize she was getting riled, even if he didn’t fully understand why. “There’s plenty of time for that. I’m only twenty-seven after all.”

Rob blew out a breath. “But I thought you were interested in expanding the business, too. We made all these plans, then I selected equipment, found guide training classes. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, I understand why we need to expand. It’s just, just…” She flopped her hands down on the bed as she struggled with the words. “The change is coming too fast.”

“We talked about the timeline before—”

“I know that! But I didn’t know how it would feel.”

“But you contacted Bridget and started the process. So, I thought you were getting used to the idea. You seemed ready to sell.” Rob peered at her. “Are you deliberately sabotaging the deal by countering too high?”

“Of course not!” Or am I? No, no, I wouldn’t do anything that underhanded. And the implication that she would made her even madder, turning her voice steely cold. “Countering with the appraised price is a perfectly legitimate thing to do.”

“Not if you really want to sell.”

Mandy threw off the sheet and got out of bed. “It’s not your house to sell, Rob. Stop questioning my decisions.”

“I’m not!” Rob’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m just trying to understand what you’re thinking.”

“That’s the problem, Rob. By now, you should know not just what I’m thinking, but what I’m feeling.”

Rob flung back the sheet and stood, facing her across the bed. “God damn it. I do know what you’re feeling, and frankly, I don’t like it one bit. You’re using Howie’s murder, your uncle’s house, and whatever else you can come up with to avoid having to think about us!”

Mandy felt like she’d been slapped. “What?”

“That’s right,” Rob stabbed a finger at her. “You can’t make a long-term commitment to our relationship, so you’re throwing all this stuff in my face instead.”

Quivering with anger, a hot flush reddening her naked body, Mandy stared at Rob, who was in the same state. “You are so wrong. That is not what I’m doing.” She started picking up her clothes.

Rob watched her with dismay. “What are you doing?”

She walked into his bathroom with her clothes bundled in her arms. “I’m getting dressed and going back to my place.” Then she slammed the door.