Chapter Eight
Wednesday, January 30th
Claire stood outside the RV park’s tool shed listening to the birds cackle and tweet. All of this hubbub about a bird viewing platform had her paying extra attention to her winged neighbors.
Her comment to Gramps last night about this viewing platform intruding on the birds’ personal space had earned her an eye roll along with the threat of him coming out to help her build the damned thing. She’d rather deal with her pregnant sister bitching about needing to pee all day than Gramps and his big ideas.
A cool breeze blew through the RV park, rattling the willows, cottonwoods, and mesquite. Claire shivered inside her flannel coat. She should have grabbed a scarf, but she didn’t like working with anything wrapped around her neck while handling power tools. She blew out a breath of steam while fishing in her coat pocket for the park’s set of master keys.
Winter mornings in southeastern Arizona could be downright chilly, especially before the sun crested the horizon and kicked on the heat. But this morning seemed especially chilly, and not because of the clouds to the east blocking the ball of fire from doing its job. It was colder because Mac had left for Bisbee before dawn and wouldn’t be back until Saturday morning. And then he’d be home for only two days, leaving again on Monday morning to return to the jobsite for a full week.
As she unlocked the tool shed, she tried to imitate the warbly whistle of the cactus wren that sat nearby in a mesquite tree at the edge of the ravine. It was probably reporting to the other birds in the area that the annoying human was back and about to disrupt their peaceful world with that drilling auger again. Luckily for the birds, she was done poking holes in the ground for now. Today she’d be busy filling them back in with concrete.
She tucked the keys into her pocket, her thoughts back on Mac. Their last night together had been bumpy. They’d argued about the extra money needed for the brewery off and on throughout the evening while working at The Shaft. Claire had practically begged Mac to stay in Jackrabbit Junction and accept the extra financial help from Gramps. There was too much work to be done here for him to run off to Bisbee for five days a week. Too much of a load on Claire’s shoulders for him to refuse Gramps’s money merely because he didn’t like borrowing from her family.
Mac held firm, though, no matter how many times they rammed horns over the subject. He was going to earn extra cash for the brewery his way. Period. End of story. No further discussion.
Grrrr.
After all the friction between them—and not the fun and sexy kind—the ground hadn’t been the only thing frosty this morning while they ate the scrambled eggs and bacon Ruby had kindly woken up early to make for them.
Claire stepped inside the tool shed, breathing in the familiar, comforting scents of grease and dust. While it wasn’t fresh-baked cookies or cinnamon and apples, it was what she knew well. Unlike the ins and outs of a relationship.
This was exactly why she’d avoided any kind of long-term commitment for years, especially after growing up around her parents’ constant fighting. Compromise was no easy feat, and what was a relationship without compromise? Basically a dictatorship of sorts, and she chafed quickly when bridled.
Claire collected the tools she’d need for the day’s work, tossing them into the wheelbarrow. Before she forgot, she grabbed an empty five-gallon bucket to set upside down next to the folding chair she’d brought along for Princess Pregosaurus, who was supposed to show up sometime after the sun crested the Tres Dedos Mountains. Although, as much as Kate whined yesterday, Claire would believe her sister was coming to help again when she saw her twitchy face in person.
Maybe she should text Kate and ask her to bring a cup of hot coffee out to the worksite. That might keep her sister from trying to weasel out of working.
Coffee …
When Claire had followed Mac out to his pickup after breakfast, carrying his travel mug of coffee for the drive south for him since his arms were full, she’d called a truce for the time being.
“I don’t want to fight, Mac. Not with you leaving for a few days.” She paused as he tossed his duffel bag and gear over onto the passenger seat of his pickup. “My grandma always told me that life is too short to waste being pissed off at the people you love.”
That won her a smile. “I would’ve liked to have met your grandma.” He held out his hand for the coffee.
“She also had a saying she’d picked up from somewhere that stuck in my head.” She handed him the travel mug, which he placed in the cup holder in the console between the seats. “It was something about wanting to always be your favorite hello and your toughest good-bye. She’d say that to Gramps now and then when he was heading off to work for the day. I always thought that was nice, especially after so many years. And arguments.”
Mac caught her wrist and pulled her in for a hug, whispering next to her ear. “You are my toughest good-bye, Slugger.”
She buried her face in his chest, soaking up his usual scent—a fresh combination of sunshine, warm sage, and spicy mesquite. “Yeah, well, you’re my favorite hello, so hurry up and get your sexy buns back here safe and sound.”
He pulled away slightly and nailed her with a tough-guy glare. “Promise me you won’t go up to Humdigger Mine while I’m gone.”
As much as Claire wanted to know what stolen treasures Joe might have hidden in that mine, she wasn’t dumb enough to go up there on her own. Besides, she’d had enough near-death experiences in the mines around here.
“As if I have time for anything other than work between the RV park and The Shaft,” she told him.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “And promise that you won’t sneak into Joe’s old childhood home in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll be too tired in the middle of the night to do anything but snore,” she assured him. And that was the truth.
Joe’s old house would be way too creepy at night, anyway. If Claire were going to sneak in again, she’d find a way to do it while the sun was shining. Maybe through a basement window. The one she’d noticed the last time she’d driven past the house had looked big enough to squeeze her butt through, after she pried off the boards, of course.
Mac held her at arm’s length, watching, probably waiting for any twitches or other tattletale signs of lying. “And promise that you’ll stop with this ‘Joe’s alive’ business until I’m back here to hear more about your theory on his zombified state.”
Claire decided to consider that last bit as a request for her not to talk about Joe over the phone, which would be easy enough. “Got it. I’ll fill your brain with news about pouring cement into round cylinders and screwing things.”
He chuckled. “You can skip the cement details when I call and concentrate on the screwing part, only include me in the stories.”
“With or without tools?”
“Surprise me, Slugger.” This time he landed a kiss on her lips, but it felt short and bittersweet, tasting like good-bye.
After assuring her he’d call this evening after settling in at the jobsite, he’d hit the road. That left Claire with nothing better to do than make headway on the birding platform since the lumber for the brewery addition would be dropped off on Friday, according to the phone call Mac had received yesterday from the delivery company. The more she could get done back in the ravine this week, the better.
She rolled the wheelbarrow of tools out under the blue sky and then locked the shed behind her. Looking around, she tried to remember what else she’d need to get the piers poured later this morning after the sun had warmed the ravine up to the mid-fifties. She’d lugged most of the supplies out there yesterday afternoon, including a shitload of forty-pound bags of concrete mix that had her muscles still complaining, so she wouldn’t have to mess with it all this morning, and then she’d covered her stash with a tarp and secured it with river rocks from the creek.
Oh. A second bucket for toting water for the concrete. That was the last thing. She grabbed the bucket, too.
As she rolled along the trail out to the building site, enjoying the view of the sun cresting the Tres Dedos Mountains in the east, she thought about Joe Martino and the stuff he’d hidden around the RV park and in Ruby’s house. Cash, stocks, diamonds, mummified remains, silver bars, and more. Christ, this place was like a smuggler’s cove with stolen bits of treasure tucked in here, there, and everywhere, including inside the mines Joe had owned in the surrounding hills. Hell, even back here in the ravine.
She shuddered about what else might be buried or hidden yet around Joe’s old stomping grounds. Even more worrisome was who might be missing these “treasures” and would come looking with a gun, instead of a shovel, to find them.
Setting the wheelbarrow down next to her tarp-covered stash, she took a look around at the holes she’d made yesterday while Kate ate cookies and talked about the things she’d like to do to torture Grady’s ex. Why Kate had become suddenly obsessed with Elizabeth partway through the day was beyond Claire, but it was better that woman be on the receiving end of Kate’s ire than Deputy Dipshit, since a jail cell could be an end result with the latter.
Claire pulled the tarp off her supplies and then stretched her already-sore arms and neck before warming up her shoulder muscles. Mixing and pouring concrete was a younger woman’s game. Too bad Mac wouldn’t be around to massage her sore muscles later tonight, and then kiss her aches and pains better. She bent and touched the ground, stretching her hamstrings. A hot shower and a slathering of liniment would have to do the job in his stead.
With the sun’s rays starting to warm the air down in the ravine, Claire got to work. She had the cylindrical form tubes leveled and ready for the concrete to be poured in them when the low growl of an engine rumbled along the ravine, interrupting the chattering and screeching from several western scrub-jays that had been keeping her company.
She rose from her knees and turned toward the RV park while brushing some of the dust off her pants. The Princess had arrived via motorized transport this morning, along with Chester, who was behind the wheel of Gramps’s new UTV.
“Oh, good,” Claire said to Kate when Chester shut off the engine. “You brought me some free labor to help mix and pour concrete. It’s my lucky day.”
“I’m here for your visual pleasure only,” Chester said, grinning between his whisker stubbles. His bristle-top hair was hidden under a red knit hat. “If you want me to put on a toolbelt and wiggle my hips, that’ll cost you extra.”
Kate pretended to gag. “Please, Chester. I just finished breakfast.” She walked toward Claire while pulling on her work gloves. “I brought Chester along for one reason.”
“To act as your chauffeur?”
“Okay, make that two reasons.” Kate pulled out a small notepad from the tote bag she had hanging from her shoulder. The same bag as yesterday. And it was as bulky as it had been then, too.
Claire took the tote bag from her, checking inside. Sure enough, there were more protein bars, chips, and waters … along with plenty of cookies. “You’re going to grow out of your pregnancy pants if you keep eating cookies for breakfast.”
“I can’t help it. This kid likes sweets.” Kate patted her belly. “I try to feed it salad or mixed vegetables, and I get heartburn.”
Claire took out a bottle of water and twisted the cap off. After taking several deep swallows, she pointed her bottle toward the prep work she’d done so far. “Chester, how much would you charge me to help mix concrete and fill these forms this morning?”
He eyed the twelve forms in the ground, rubbing his fingers over his beard stubble. “I need to be at The Shaft by noon to help out in the kitchen today and spell Gary behind the bar when he needs a break.”
Claire nodded, glancing at her phone to check the time. “That gives us three hours.”
“I’ll tell you what.” Chester sniffed. “I’ll do it for a week’s worth of free lunches after you take over The Shaft.”
“Deal.”
Kate clapped her gloved hands. “Perfect. I also have a job for you today, Chester.”
“Let me guess.” Claire capped the water bottle. “He’s supposed to drive you back and forth to the restroom six times an hour.”
“That’s not funny, Claire. In fact, that’s on-the-job harassment. Pregnancy bladder is not a laughing matter.”
“Shove it up your harassment, Princess.”
Kate flipped her off. “I’ll have you know, my job for Chester will interest you greatly.” She lifted her chin. “In fact, you should probably pay for half of whatever he charges.”
Claire rolled the wheelbarrow over to the stack of supplies. “Let’s hear what this job of yours is before I agree to anything.” She lifted a bag of concrete mix and dropped it into the wheelbarrow.
“You have an extra pair of gloves?” Chester asked, grabbing the hoe from the supply pile and chopping a hole in the bag of concrete mix.
“Sure.” She grabbed the pair she’d brought along in case Kate conveniently forgot hers. “Along with a mask for the dust.”
Kate stayed back as they dumped the bag of concrete. Once they’d finished, she came closer with the notepad and a pen.
“Are you going to interview us?” Claire asked, pointing at the pad.
“No, I’m going to show Chester the script I wrote for him.”
“What script?” Claire asked.
“The one he’ll read when we call Sophy later.”
“Sophy?” Chester said. “You mean Sophy Wheeler?”
“The one and only.” Kate leaned closer and whispered to the two of them as if the Secret Service might be trying to eavesdrop via remote listening devices. “Last night, I found Valentine’s application and acceptance for phone privileges at the prison where Sophy is locked up.”
Butch used to keep in touch with Sophy because he was taking care of her place when she was first sent to prison. Claire wondered where her sister had found the phone privileges info, and how she’d managed to keep Butch from knowing what she was up to. Because if he knew, Claire didn’t think he’d approve of Kate going anywhere near Sophy—not even via a phone.
“I also found the phone number to call in order to reach an inmate, and the times when they’re allowed to receive outside calls.” She pointed her pen at Chester. “You can pretend to be Valentine and get some information for us.”
“Do them there privileges also include conjugal visits with ol’ hot-legs Wheeler?” Chester asked, eyeing Kate’s notepad. “Or at least phone sex.”
“Chester,” Claire snapped, slightly indignant. “Sophy tried to kill me, remember?”
“Whose team are you on, anyway?” Kate chimed in.
“I’m on the team where I get some action for my efforts, and Sophy has some mighty fine curves that I only got to explore a little once, and then she practically broke my arm.”
“There are no conjugal visits in this deal, buddy.” Kate scowled at him. “But I will pay you with free food at The Shaft.”
“I don’t want your free food.”
“But you wanted it from Claire, and it’s made at the same place.”
“That’s her deal, not yours. I want something different from you.”
“Like what?” Kate asked, distrust in her tone and eyes.
“Well, since you won’t let me be a godfather to the bun in your oven, and I don’t have any offspring of my own—”
“That you know of, anyway,” Claire cut in.
“Right, that I know of.” Chester pointed at Kate’s belly. “I want you to include my name somewhere in the mix of your kid’s.”
Claire whistled. “That’s a steep price to ask.”
“Maybe, but so is asking me to call and consort with a known killer.”
Kate scoffed. “Just a few minutes ago, you were talking about doing the horizontal version of the jailhouse rock with that same killer.”
“I know, but then you shut the door on me getting to do the wild thing with Sophy, so the price went up.”
Claire settled back on her heels, hands in her coat pockets, waiting to see how far Kate was willing to go when it came to finding out if Joe was still alive.
As if Kate were eavesdropping on her thoughts, she turned to Claire. “You’re the one who wants to find out if Joe’s alive or not. Why am I having to pay for this?”
“Because Mac made me promise this morning that I wouldn’t pursue things having to do with Joe until he’s back from Bisbee.” Claire shrugged. “So, I back-burnered this Joe’s-alive business.”
She didn’t want to spark any more arguments with Mac, especially when he was three hours away. Fighting over the phone with him always left her feeling like she’d been kicked in the gut.
“I could back-burner it, too,” Kate said casually, trying to act as if it wouldn’t be a big deal for her. But Claire could see the curiosity burning in her sister’s eyes. Or maybe that was just Ms. Hyde peeking out at her.
“Okay,” Claire said. “Let’s forget about calling Sophy and get to work then.”
Before Claire could move a muscle, Kate held up her hand. “Fine! Chester, I’ll include your name somewhere in my baby’s name.”
“Don’t you need to clear this with Butch?” Claire asked.
Kate waved her off. “He’ll like what I pick out. He’s easy that way.”
Chester thumbed toward Kate’s belly, winking at Claire. “Looks like he’s easy in more ways than one when it comes to your sister.”
“Is this the kind of lowbrow joking that I can expect from you while we work this morning?”
He nodded. “I guaran-damn-tee it.”
“Fine. So long as we talk about Kate’s sex life instead of mine.”
“Deal!”
A couple of hours later, Kate called a time-out.
Claire looked up from finishing filling a concrete form. “There are no time-outs in construction.”
“Yes, there are,” Kate said. “They’re called breaks, and I’m blowing the break whistle.” She held out her arm at a right angle. “Toot toot.”
“It looks like you’re trying to get a trucker to honk his horn at you,” Chester said, taking off his gloves. He wiped his hands on his jeans and then took the cookie Kate was offering. He shoved the whole thing in his mouth, grunting in appreciation.
When he held his hand out for another, Kate held the cookie bag out of reach. “Not until you make the call to Sophy.”
“That’s blackmail,” he said. “I suppose you’ll withhold water, too, if I need it.”
“No, the water is yours. It’s against the law not to share it in Arizona.”
Claire frowned, trying to remember if that was a fact, or if Kate was high on sugar and baby hormones.
“But,” Kate continued, “I won’t let you have any beer tonight after your shift at the bar if you don’t make the call to Sophy now.”
His forehead lined. “That’s dirty pool.”
“If you’re going to play with the big girls, you’d better pull on your big girl panties.”
Claire guffawed as she banged the concrete dust off of her Mighty Mouse cap. “Chester likes to wear big girl panties all of the time, Kate.”
“Hey, no telling secrets here,” Chester said, chortling.
Kate came over next to Chester. “Here’s the script I want you to follow when you call.” She held her notepad out for him to read.
His eyes moved back and forth and down the page. When he finished, he asked, “Don’t you think she’s going to know I’m not your baby’s daddy when she hears my voice?”
“No, because you’re going to tell her you have a cold.” Kate poked him in the arm. “So make sure you cough a few times.”
Claire moved closer. “Let me look at that script.”
Pulling it away before Claire could see it, Kate shook her head. “I’m paying for this show. You just sit there and watch a master detective at work.”
“Master detective, huh?” Claire smirked. “This should be fun.”
Kate pulled out her cell phone and held it up in the air. “Reception is good.” She glanced at Chester. “You ready?”
“Bring out the clowns, let’s get this circus started. I’m getting hungry. The Shaft’s grill is singing my siren song.”
“Ten bucks says this goes sideways, Chester.” Claire plopped down in Kate’s lawn chair.
“Twenty.” He raised the bet.
“Done.” Claire grabbed another bottle of water and some cookies, kicking back with her work boots resting on the upside-down bucket.
“Don’t be such a negative Nelly.” Kate typed in the number and then handed the cell phone to Chester.
When he took it, the ringing stopped. He frowned down at it. “I think you hung it up when you handed it to me.”
“No.” Kate took it back, scowling at him. “You hung it up when your big chubby thumbs bumped the screen.”
“My thumbs are not chubby. They’re perfectly proportioned. Just ask the girls down at Dirty Gerties.”
“Booooo!” Claire said.
Chuckling, he took the phone more gingerly this time when Kate handed it off to him.
Claire took a bite of cookie as she listened to the loud, clear ringing via the speakerphone. Today’s cookie flavor was lemon with white chocolate chips. She drooled a little when she stuffed the rest of the heavenly morsel in her mouth. Ruby was on a roll lately. She must be stressing about Deborah coming home soon. Claire certainly was.
The ringing stopped midway through the third one. A robot-voice answered, announcing the prison’s name and asking for an extension.
“Oh. Here. Let me.” Kate leaned over and typed in some numbers.
A couple of more rings and a voice from Claire’s recent past answered. “I thought you weren’t going to talk to me anymore, Butch,” Sophy Wheeler said.
Claire’s jaw unhinged. How had Kate gotten through to Sophy so easily? She must have set the call up ahead of time, and Sophy had been waiting by the designated phone.
Kate held up the notepad in front of Chester, pointing at the page for him.
“Uh, yeah.” Chester frowned down at the script, reading. “Well, I lied. I need some answers.” He sounded stiff and new to the stage.
There was a long pause from the other end of the line. “Who is this?” Sophy asked finally.
“It’s Butch.”
“This is not Butch. I know his honeyed voice well enough, trust me.”
Kate wrinkled her upper lip at the phone.
“It’s Butch,” Chester repeated. “And I was wondering if you’d be interested in selling your rest stop.” He leaned closer to the notepad, squinting. “I mean restaurant.”
“Who is this?” she asked again. “And why am I hearing birds? Are you on a payphone?”
“No, this is good ol’ Butch and I’m just standing outside The Shaft talking to you.”
“Why aren’t you in your office, Butch?”
“Because it’s so loud in there that a horned toad would go deaf.”
Kate glared at Chester, shaking the notepad in front of him, until he knocked her hand aside.
“Well, I’ll be,” Sophy said, her voice dipping down to that sexy drawl Claire had heard her use at The Shaft when ordering more beer at the bar. “Chester Thomas, you ol’ sly dog. Why are you calling me pretending to be Butch Carter? You looking for a li’l conjugal visit via the phone? Want me to whisper sweet and nasty nothin’s in your ear?”
Chester grinned, opening his mouth with what Claire was sure was a big affirmation, but before he could get a word out, Kate walloped him upside the shoulder with the notepad.
He scowled at Kate while saying, “You caught me, Sophy. And as much as I’d like to spend some time steaming up the phone with you, I actually do have a question that I need you to answer.”
“Is this a question from Butch or that little hussy who used a baby-trap to hogtie him?”
Kate flipped off the phone.
“Actually, it’s a question from the girl you tried to blow a hole clear through.”
Claire sat up, lowering her feet to the ground, holding her hands out in a what-the-fuck gesture. Sophy wasn’t going to give them any information if she knew Claire was behind this.
Chester waved off both her and Kate, who was busy stomping on the ground all around Chester as if she were stepping on ant hills.
“Let me get this straight, sugar,” Sophy said, sounding not near as flirty as she’d been a moment before. “You want me to answer a question from the nosy bitch who landed me in this shithole?”
“Yep, that’s the one. Although technically, you landed yourself in there by killing Joe’s partner.”
Claire frowned, reliving those terror-filled moments of staring down the double barrels of Sophy’s shotgun.
“And why in hell should I help her?” Sophy asked.
Kate held up the notepad again, tapping her index finger on the script she’d prepared.
Chester took the pad from her and tossed it over his shoulder without even glancing at it.
Glaring up at him, Kate’s left cheek twitched.
Uh oh.
“You’re gonna help Claire,” Chester continued, “because you want the same thing she does.”
“And what’s that?”
“Joe Martino’s head on a platter.”
Claire heard Sophy draw in a quick breath. Then she tried to hide her reaction with a laugh, but it sounded canned. “Joe? He’s dead, remember?”
“Well, we thought he was, but then a few things here and there changed our minds about that.”
“Like what?” Sophy took his bait.
Chester aimed a premature victory grin at Claire and then Kate. “I’m not going to go into that, unless you wanna play ball with us and quit pretending you believe that son of a bitch is sleeping under a green quilt with a tombstone headboard.”
“Fine.” Sophy gave in surprisingly fast. Too fast, in Claire’s opinion. “What do ya need from me? And make it quick. The clock’s tickin’ on this call.”
“Why did you tell Butch last fall that Joe is still alive?”
“Because he is.”
“You have some proof to back up those words?”
“Maybe.”
“Do I need to drive down there and seduce them out of you, hot legs?”
Sophy’s laugh was husky—all tease and no substance. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Chester the Molester?”
“You would, too, I’m guessing, after all these months of having no boytoys around to play back seat bingo with you. Or maybe you found a few girls willing to pet the kitty?”
Claire exchanged a grimace with Kate, who then wrinkled her nose at Chester.
He wiggled his eyebrows back at her.
“Okay, big boy,” Sophy purred. “You want to know why I’m ninety-nine percent sure Joe is still breathin’ topside?”
“I’m all ears.”
So was Claire, who was sitting on the edge of her chair.
Kate, who had raced over and picked up her notepad, stood ready with pen and paper.
“I’ll tell ya,” Sophy said. “But I want a favor in return first.”
Chester turned to Claire, his bushy eyebrows raised.
She licked her lips. Shit. Mac wouldn’t be happy to hear she was making deals with this hellcat, but if Joe was really alive …
Besides, Mac had asked Claire not to go looking for Joe, and so far this phone call didn’t qualify as an actual quest. She gave Chester a thumbs-up.
“What kind of favor?” he asked Sophy.
Claire stood and stepped closer, wanting to hear better over the bird tweets and screeches.
“One that requires help from a certain nosy bitch,” Sophy answered.