Carnosaur Crimes (31 page)

Ansel spun around. Parker, wearing his usual attire smiled back at her. He sported a shiny aluminum crutch under his left armpit. She almost ran over to hug him, then decided it wouldn't be appropriate under the circumstances. Instead, she gave him a warm smile.

He peered at her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I'm fine.”

Parker eyeballed Broderick. “How is he?”

Broderick glared back and allowed Agent Farmer to staunch the blood with bandages from a portable med kit. He was standing again. Another agent had tied Chunky to a nearby tree.

Agent Farmer turned his helmeted head. “He'll live. Gonna need some antibiotics and stitches.”

“Did you retrieve the bullet and his gun?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then let's get the trash outta here,” Parker ordered.

Ansel and he watched as two agents handcuffed Broderick and escorted him away through the trees from which they'd miraculously appeared.

When the BLM agent was gone, Ansel said, “I can't believe it. What are you doing here?”

“Closing a case, thanks to you.” He leaned over and moved a strand of hair away from her face. “I've missed you.”

She stared deeply into his obsidian eyes. “Don't change the subject. What case?”

“Noble Dawes. I've been working to catch Broderick in the act for quite a while, actually. This isn't the first BLM monkey business we believe he's been involved in.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “You knew all along who Dawes was and that he tried to take the fossil tracks?”

Parker nodded. “Yes, and before you go crazy on me, there's something you should know. I'm not with the FBI.”

“No?”

“Uh, uh. I'm a criminal investigator with the Bureau of Indian Affairs. It's my job to prevent suspected violations of law, programs or property abuse on Indian Reservations or Indian land that is within the Bureau of Indian Affairs jurisdiction. Since Dawes lived on the reservation and his grandfather got his land allotment through the DOI, I became involved in this case. I was assisting Outerbridge because there was jurisdictional overlap between his poaching case and mine. He asked me to work with you for the Allosaurus skull buy. He also needed a local pilot.”

“How did you know that I was here with Broderick?”

“I put a tracking bug on your truck the day I flew the FBI to your trailer. Same with Broderick's. I arrived in Mission City this morning and was concerned when I got a report that you two were headed toward the same destination. I knew Broderick was in real trouble then.”

A wry grin grew across Ansel's face as she walked over to Chunky and untied his reins. “Is that so? FBI or not, you're a Fed through and through Parker Standback, but I forgive you for lying to me.”

He pointed a thumb Indian fashion. “Hey, I never said I was FBI. You assumed.”

She swept her arm eastward toward the river. “And you assume this is over. “I'm attending both the Flynn funerals, and I'm not looking forward them. Not to mention that the fossil tracks may be safe, but the museum might shut down just the same. There's no guarantee that the new owner will want to keep it.” She led Chunky toward the trailer beyond the dead fall.

Parker pursed his lips and crutch-stepped to keep up. “I forgot about that. What are you going to do?”

Ansel's laugh was mirthless. “I”m going to throw my own saddle just like somebody advised me.”

Chapter 40

“Even when we lay down, we lay down on our own path of life.”

Pawnee

“I'm lucky to be alive,” Chase said as he sipped from his sun tea and leaned back in the patio chair. “And it sure feels good to be home. Sleeping in that hospital bed for two weeks was like bunking on clean straw. And I've been severely gut-shrunk by their food.”

Everyone around the glass-topped table laughed, four heads nodding and laughter filling the rear veranda of the ranch house. Ansel, sitting between Pearl and Permelia who had been invited over as their special luncheon guest, picked at her desert and wished Reid was there.

She'd left phone messages at the sheriff's department for a week and never heard back from him. She'd even called his partner, Odie Friskar, who told her very politely that Reid was extremely busy, and that he'd certainly forward her message.

Otherwise, she was moderately happy at the moment. The funerals for Cullen and Cyrus Flynn were behind her. Luckily, her father had missed both of them which was good. They had been excruciating and emotionally draining. He needed to do nothing more than rest and take a barrage of medicines including blood thinners and Beta-blockers so he wouldn't overtax his heart.

And she'd completed her last drawing of the Giganatosaurus for the Argentine book. All twelve drawings had been signed, sealed, and delivered to the publisher. A nice chunk of money would be coming in for those.

Parker had returned to Hardin, a small town close to the Crow Agency, after Broderick's arrest but promised to call as soon as things had settled down. The question was, where did she stand with him when she was fretting over Reid? Was it Reid's friendship she was chasing or something else?

“I think we've all had enough excitement for a while,” Pearl intoned as a balmy breeze passed through the patio garden and dried cottonwood leaves skittered across the flagstones. She clasped Chase's hand in hers and gave a pointed look at Ansel. “For the rest of this year, none of the family is going anywhere without my permission. You two are always breaking range and getting into trouble. I can't keep track of you.”

“Get ‘em some neck bells,” Permelia replied, waxy orange lipstick forming a gigantic neon circle around brilliant white dentures as she laughed. “That'll slow their stride. Though come to think of it, maybe it won't. I once had a horse of nervous disposition named Salado who'd get into the barn, eat the alfalfa hay, and then get colic. Almost killed him twice, but he kept doing it. I finally put a bell on him so we'd know when he was sneaking up on the open barn door. That bell drove him loco. He started running one day to get away from it an nearly broke down from exhaustion. Had to take the dang bell off, but I hung it on the barn door, and he never went near it again.”

Pemelia hooted and then looked at Ansel. “Speaking of horses, your buckskin's a salty bronc, ain't he? Although biting a federal man is all right in my accounts book. Hope you're feeding him sweet feed and clover for his services.”

Chase nodded. “Chunky may have his quirks, but he helped save Ansel's life.”

“Chunky's always been an excellent judge of character,” Ansel added. “He knows a murderer when he sees one.”

“And I know a lady of substance when I see one.” Chase lifted his tea glass once again. “I propose a toast to Permelia Chance who has always been not only the Queen of the Mission City Maverick Parade, but should be more aptly known as the Queen of Lacrosse County. She has always had the foresight to know the true values of family, brotherhood, friendship, and lending a hand to others.” Chase looked directly at Permelia. “Thank you for your offer to help save the Big Toe Museum from extinction.”

“Here, here,” Ansel seconded as they all clinked their raised glasses together, then sipped their drinks.

Pearl leaned across the table. “Yes, Permelia, tell us the details about the offer. Ansel's kept everything very hush hush.”

Permelia's face was flushed with delight at all the attention, and she fussed with the collar of her apricot-colored western shirt. “Shoot, I didn't do anything special. I just offered to swap my four-hundred acres of quarry land for the new owners' hundred and sixty museum acres. I've never used that land anyway after Elam died.”

“I know all about the Land Patent fraud from the newspaper, but who's the new owner?” Chase queried.

Ansel jumped in. “According to Parker Standback from the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Noble Dawes has a sister on the Crow Reservation. She's the next legitimate heir to the museum property. She's already hired Noah Zollie to handle her case against the BLM. Everybody seems to think that the government doesn't have a leg to stand on. Of course, it could take months to resolve the matter in court but until then, the BLM has agreed for a provisional re-opening of the museum during certain hours. It's not perfect, but it's something.”

“It's wonderful,” Pearl cooed. “At least Director Bieselmore won't be out of job and the town council will make some money. Do you think this woman will consider the land swap after the litigation is finished?”

Permelia drained her glass of Coke before answering. “Zollie and I are talking turkey right now. Looks like this Ellen Dawes has no interest in running a museum or managing one. As for the tracks, she thinks they should be left alone and she's quite interested in my land. It's a workable quarry. She can dig for all the bones she wants, or sell the property for a nice profit. I'm offering her a parcel worth twice the land value of the museum parcel. I'm cogitating that she'll go for it.”

Ansel grinned. “Plus Permelia wants to do a Starker Exchange.”

Permelia cackled. “That's right. It was Ansel's idea..”

“That's brilliant,” Chase said, peering at Sarcee.

“Well, somebody better educate me,” Pearl interjected, “because I'm lost.”

“It's an Internal Revenue real estate deal commonly called a 1031 Exchange,” Chase explained. “It allows you to buy or sell unimproved investment land or commercial property and defer the tax gains. A Qualified Intermediary holds your monies from the sale of one property in escrow until you buy another to replace it. For example, I could sell this ranch and buy another through a qualified intermediary because they're both commercial ventures and I wouldn't pay taxes on my end-sale profit because I never touched the sale monies myself.”

“That is perfect,” Pearl said as she rose from the table to collect dessert dishes.

Permelia pulled out a Tiparillo from her shirt pocket and lit it with an old silver lighter. “All I have to do while the trial goes on is to get a business license, build a small office building on my property, have a few people pay me to harvest a few bones from it, and keep income tax records this year. That'll qualify it as an active commercial property so the Starker Exchange will be legit.”

Ansel beamed. “And guess who will be your first paying customer? Me.”

The octogenarian chortled as blue smoke twirled around her head. “Wouldn't have it any other way. And if the federales get randy, I'll remind them that I'm one-quarter Cherokee. That's makes me a native according to the Cherokee Nation. Between a Crow woman and me, we can stir up some bad medicine.”

“Well, I have a surprise for you, Permelia,” Ansel said, standing. “I'll be right back.” She went into the house and came back with her portfolio case. Once seated again, she pulled out a large watercolor sketch. “Here's my preliminary drawing for your book cover. Tell me what you think.”

Permelia took the painting, her eyes widening with delight. Ansel saw her silent approval and relief surged through her. She hadn't been sure if she were on the right track with what Pemelia wanted. Where the Giganatosaurus head had been in the other pen and ink drawing, she'd placed a T-Rex with gaping jaws, rapier teeth, and huge reptilian eyes. Instead of a fleeing Gasparinisaurus, she'd placed a cowboy with flaring leather-fringed chaps riding a horse, his body turned in the saddle to stare back at the onrushing carnosaur.

“It's Jim Dandy,” Permelia exclaimed as she turned the sketch around for Chase and Pearl to see. “Tell me that doesn't make your eyes pop out.”

Chase blinked, then smiled graciously. “It's an eye-catcher all right,” he said, casting a sideways glance at Ansel.

“Very nice,” Pearl replied. “I can't wait to read the book, Permelia.”

Ansel leaned closer to Permelia. “Of course, this is the preliminary drawing. It will really stand out when it's completed in Gouache. The three-dimensional perspective and coloring of that medium will be very realistic.”

Permelia passed the sketch back. “I'm as tickled as a girl in a feather bed, Ansel. How much do I owe you for all this?”

“Not a thing.” She replaced the sketch into her portfolio. “You're doing enough for everyone else.” The sound of a doorbell echoed out onto the veranda and Ansel stood. “I'll get that. I've got to take this inside anyway.”

She left the others talking rapidly about Permelia's plans for the writing of
Montana Chaps
and moved through the French doors into the cooler confines of the living room. She laid the case on the sofa in front of the stonework fireplace, and hurried to the front foyer. When she swung open the heavy spruce portal, she expected to see a ranch hand or stockman associate of her father's.

“Reid.” He stood on the wood decking staring back at her from beneath ebony shades. Her heart flew to her throat.

“Hi, Ansel. I took a chance you'd be here.”

“I'm glad you did. Come on in.”

He stepped inside. “I won't be long.”

Disappointment stole over Ansel as she closed the door. “You're sure? We were just finishing lunch out on the veranda. Permelia Chance is here. She's going to try and acquire the museum land. You can meet her. Have some dessert and a drink with us.”

“I'd love to, really,” he said as he pulled off his glasses and fixed her with his sky-blue eyes, “but I've got a lot to do today. I'm taking a vacation starting tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know.”

He was talking fast and Ansel sensed his nervousness though his body language was self-assured. “You deserve it. Are you staying in town?”

“No. I'm going to Billings for two weeks. My family is there. I haven't visited them in a couple years. Sorry I didn't get back with you. It's been crazy at the department.”

Ansel suspected he was going back to Billings for more than just his relatives. She'd never pinned him down about Outerbridge's comment concerning him knowing Cody Masterson's ex-wife. She didn't need to. She'd put two and two together by herself.

“If you see Dr. Birch, tell her that I'd like to meet her someday. We have a lot in common when it comes to artistic bents.”

Reid's face went stoic. “Sure.”

Ansel searched his eyes and saw that her arrow had hit the mark. He was going to see Chloe. All this polite conversation wasn't accomplishing anything. She decided to get down to the real issues between them.

“I'm sorry for what I said at the hospital, Reid. It was rude and insensitive. There was no excuse for it. I really thought you'd never speak to me again.”

His new smile was genuine, and it made him boyishly handsome. “Nonsense. I've got a shoe-leather hide. I blow up and I get over it. I should know better than to tell Ansel Phoenix what to do.”

“You're just as bad,” Ansel laughed. We make quite a pair.”

“Yeah, we do,” he chuckled while he played with the shades in his hands.

The impact of their words hit them both at the same time. A pair. A couple. It was so glaringly obvious that neither of them were laughing anymore. The silence was deafening.

“I'd better get going.” Reid reached for the doorknob.

“Okay. Have a safe trip.”

It was such a pathetic comeback, that Ansel wanted to curse out loud. Could she be any more stupid?
Say something else.

She moved with him through the open door and onto the porch. Reid put on his sunglasses and stopped for a second. That was when she placed her hand on his forearm. “Call me when you get back?”

Reid smiled again and surprised her by leaning over and kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Sure.” He bounded down the steps.

Ansel stood disbelieving against the hand-carved railing. She watched as his sedan flew down the paver stone drive and onto the gravel ranch road leading to the Arrowhead's east exit. Corpulent Angus looked up from grazing as the vehicle sped between pastures. Soon the car became only a white spot beneath a beautiful aquamarine sky.

“Nice looking beau,” said Permelia behind her. “If I were fifty years younger, I'd be all hot and bothered right about now.”

Permelia had donned her color-coordinated orange cowboy hat and was toting a huge brown leather purse and a foil-covered plate. Ansel suspected it was piled high with tasty leftovers Pearl had sent home for her and Belle Starr.

“He's not my beau.”

“Could've fooled me. I saw that smooch, and he was strutting like a peacock.”

“Permelia, a peacock struts for every peahen in the roost.” She encircled Permelia's arm and assisted her wispy frame down the deck stairs.

“Maybe, but seems to me your tail feathers were fluttering, too.”

“You obviously don't know Detective Reid Dorbandt.”

You're plum right,” Permelia Reading Chance cackled as she got in her neon pink Town Car, “but I sure know you.”

As Permelia drove away, Ansel's cell phone rang. She tugged it free of her pocket with one hand. The caller I.D. read P. Standback. She fiddled with her Iniskim and looked toward the road. The phone trilled, insistent. She hesitated. Just a couple more rings, Ansel decided as she stared toward Billings.

Then she'd answer.