Champagne for Buzzards (6 page)

It was barely sunrise, and not even Marley was up, so it took a while to realize the ringing wasn't in my head. I grabbed the phone. “What?” “Good morning to you too,” Clay said.

“You're doing this because I upset your girlfriend, aren't you?”

“I thought you were my girlfriend.”

“Oh? I thought I was more than that.”

“This conversation isn't getting off to a good start but then no conversation with you that takes place before nine goes well.” I rolled onto my back. “Tell me why you love me then.”

“Because I'm a glutton for the perverse…as opposed to the perverted. Now, let's start again,” Clay suggested. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” I pulled the covers over my head, taking the cell phone with me. I was trying to calculate how many minutes more sleep I could get before Marley barged in.

“Any word on Lucan's murder?”

“At this friggin' hour of the morning? Even murderers are still in bed.”

“Right. You don't sound like you're ready for a long conversation so I'll give you my news and let you get back to sleep. There are three storage units of furniture in Sarasota. It belonged to my parents. Plus there's a few things in there I've picked up at auctions. You might want to have a look and see what you think of it before you start buying stuff.”

“Wait, you're saying you have a whole load of furniture?”

“Yup.”

“Antiques?” I was awake now.

“Depends on your idea of antique — mostly it's just old.”

“And some of this you bought…didn't just inherit?”

“Yeah.”

“You sound embarrassed.”

“Well,” he fell silent.

“Why? Why are you embarrassed that you're the owner of antiques or mostly old furniture, or that you held on to your folks' stuff?”

“Why do you care? Just go have a look at it and we'll talk later.”

“Did you tell your fancy decorator about this furniture?”

“Not really. Right out of the box she had her own ideas. Wasn't too interested in what I thought.”

I figured it was because Ms. Kemp was decorating the house for herself, for when Clay saw the light and went back to her.

“I won't talk about how much you've cost me in Laura's fees if you don't ask a lot of dumb questions, okay?” He gave me the details and told me where to find the keys. “I thought I knew you,” I told him, “But you still have a few surprises for me, don't you?”

“As I'm sure you do for me, my little beach-bar Mona Lisa.”

“Not much of a compliment, she's fat and plain.”

“But she has that mysterious smile.”

“Yeah, while mine's just plain dirty, far better than mysterious.”

“I've been thinking about you and some dirty things.”

“Tell me.”

“Nope, I'm going to hang up now before I get all excited. Try not to pick up anymore hitchhikers, bye.”

I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. He knew I was going to start digging into the how and why of this treasure trove. Like why were none of these pieces from his family in his penthouse, which Laura Kemp had also decorated? Clay was uncomfortable with the whole subject while I was delighted. I went to wake Marley, which was also delightful.

“We're going riding first, remember? You promised,” Marley said. “Then we'll go look at the furniture.”

“Fine, but you ride Joey.” Clay had saved Joey from an abusive owner, but I was on the owner's side in this argument. Joey was an animal even more stubborn and vicious than I was. That horse deserved to be abused. A gelding, he should have been much calmer, but someone forgot to tell Joey. Originally I thought if I could learn to handle Joey I could ride anything but he'd already dumped me twice. “I'm riding Wildflower,” I said and headed for the door.

“No way,” Marley replied, throwing back the covers and swinging her legs out of bed. “You were the show-off who thought she could handle Joey, so handle him, tough girl.”

I led Joey into the center alley of the barn. His coat was sleek and black; his intelligent eyes were set wide on either side of a white blaze and his alert expression said, “This looks like fun.” He had everything but manners.

As I clamped the crossties on Joey, Tully came into the barn and asked, “How come Howie Sweet didn't turn up this morning? Did he say anything to you?”

“Nope. Maybe he slept in, or maybe he told Pearl he was at the Gator Hole and she put him in the hospital, or maybe he's been arrested for murder.” I threw the saddle on Joey's back and reached under his belly for the cinch. “Whatever happened, there was no sign of him this morning. Marley and I turned the horses out.”

Tully came to my side and kneed Joey in the gut to get him to empty his belly full of air, a neat trick Joey had. When I snugged up the cinch he'd blow out the air and leave a loose saddle.

“Are you sure you want to ride this guy if he's as bad as you say?”

“I told Clay I'd make sure he got exercised.”

“Well, he's a trickster,” Tully said, and gave another yank on the belly strap. “This horse has more attitude than brains. You two are a matched set.”

Marley was talking a mile a minute as we walked the horses back the lane. Fresh air is happy gas to Marley but to me it just smells funny. I like my air like I liked my wine, full-bodied. My lungs need a little more ozone, a little cigarette smoke mingled with the smell of stale beer, to work properly.

The joy that had come back into Marley the night before was even more pronounced this morning and her enthusiasm for everything around her knew no bounds. I wanted to strangle her but I was too busy watching Joey's ears. Apparently they were supposed to tell me when he planned on dumping me.

The day was pleasantly warm, unlike the unbearable heat we'd been experiencing, and there weren't even any bugs. Joey was behaving like a prince. That should have warned me things were about to turn to rat shit.

I pointed ahead of me and off to the left of the trail, to a small black sow with five little piglets trotting behind her. “Look.”

Joey, who was even less trusting of nature than I was, danced sideways while keeping his eye on the sow. I patted his neck, trying to soothe him and watched his ears.

The sow and her family disappeared into the underbrush and Joey decided to walk on, tossing his head in indignation.

Things went along glowingly for another ten minutes. Joey and I were getting along faultlessly, forming a partnership and bonding when I saw what looked like the branch of a tree across the path. The log moved. “That can't be right,” my brain was saying. “Logs don't move.”

Seven feet long, or maybe even over eight feet, Joey and I didn't stop to measure it, the snake slithered across the trail in front of us. Joey jumped. Like an Olympic champion, he stretched out and sailed high in the air, clearing the reptile by at least his own height.

At lift-off I grabbed for his mane, the horn, anything that would keep me onboard. When he touched down I was thrown forward, nearly catapulting over his head. I lost my right stirrup.

I'd lost the reins in my grab for the horn and now the stupid horse was off for the next county. Going like spit and cutting in too close on the corners, branches were slapping me. I forgot all those good things I'd been told, like keeping my heels down so my foot wouldn't go through the stirrup and get me dragged behind Joey when I fell off, and I was going to fall off, no doubt about it. It was just a matter of time and finding a spot to land.

I was curling into a smaller and smaller ball, like a little burr, just trying to stay with him. I suppose if he'd been a racehorse this would have encouraged him to go faster but Joey didn't seem to need any encouragement.

And then he suddenly stopped. I listed to the right and, in a losing battle with gravity, slowly slid off. When I hit the ground I started to curse the stupid, brain dead, ugly walking piece of carrion called Joey.

Marley sat there, arms folded on the horn of her saddle, not at all concerned for my wellbeing, and grinned down at me.

“I could be hurt,” I screamed at her.

“No pain, no gain.”

I got off my ass and climbed back on Joey, too mad to be afraid. Fear would come later. It often does with me.

“What the shit was that?” I asked. “Was it a snake?” Joey was now only interested in cropping grass

“An Eastern Indigo, they're rare,” Marley said.

“Thank God for that.”

Marley, a nature lover who went on hikes and even raised money to save this and that, went on and on about the snake. “I only caught sight of the last of it disappearing into the bushes after you and Joey took off.” Her eyes and cheeks glowed.

“Runaway horses and snakes bigger than me, if I had a gun I would have shot both of them.”

“That would have been a mistake, at least shooting the snake. Indigos are really good to have around; they eat lots of mice and things. They live in gopher tortoise burrows. Think we should go have a look for a tortoise burrow? That would be neat to see.”

I offered her my view of her mental state.

“Maybe not,” Marley said.

“I've had all the nature I can take for one day,” I said. “Let's go back.”

“Best to walk on a little farther, just so you can show Joey who's boss.”

“Oh, I think he knows that already.” I followed Marley down an eight-foot-wide path cut deep into the jungle. The path was the width of two passes with the rotary mower Howie used to keep it from getting overgrown. Each week he drove the tractor out through the brush, around a small lake to where a stream came in from the Breslau property to the east and then back again, leaving a green lane behind him. It was a path Joey knew, but any unusual thing on it would set him doing the sideways cha cha. Now he walked sedately on, past Spanish moss waving and flowing in the breeze, without a hint of anxiety. The rustle of the thick palmettos at the base of the oaks didn't even seem to bother him. He strolled along like a real gentleman — for about ten seconds. “Watch it,” Marley warned. “Not so close.” Before I could pull him back, Joey stretched out his neck and nipped at Wildflower's flank. The little mare screamed in pain and indignation and shot forward while Joey tossed his head, prancing and playing innocent.

Wildflower, being a lady, settled down immediately while Joey sidestepped and shook his head and acted the fool. “Go ahead of me,” Marley said. “Joey likes to lead.” It was too late for her advice. Joey was already trotting forward to take his rightful place at the head of the parade. It would have taken a tank to stop him from being first.

But still, despite his manners I thought we were doing fine. We'd trot a couple of hundred yards farther along the trail, then we could turn around and have a nice quiet walk back to the barn and I'd have exercised Joey just the way I promised Clay.

I just didn't get it. Clay loved the ranch while I thought it would be best to rip up the whole three hundred acres and put in a mall with an enormous parking lot.

Something caught Joey's eye, or maybe tweaked his nose, because he stopped, lifted his head and seemed to be sniffing the air. He gave a soft whinny and sidestepped into the underbrush.

The broken end of a branch jabbed into my thigh. “Stupid, stupid animal.”

“What's that noise?” Marley asked. “I thought there was no one out here.”

I could hear it now, a mechanical roar, growing louder and more offensive by the second. Clay's land, bordered by a river on the east and a stream on the west, was long and deep, running from one country road to the next one north. Beef cattle had once kept the land clear but Howie had given up ranching years before Clay had arrived. Most of the northern part of the ranch had gone back to nature and could only be accessed from the cleared land around the farmhouse to the south. It was supposed to be a fine and private place.

Three vehicles shot around the bend and nearly ran us down. When they'd halted, Joey and I were boxed in.

Some primeval instinct set the hairs at the nape of my neck tingling…or maybe it was the rifles mounted across the handlebars of their machines that were scaring the shit out of me. The riders were grinning like they'd found treasure. These weren't the kind of men you wanted to be alone in a dark alley with — nor the kind of men you wanted to meet out in the bush.

The noise of the machines was deafening. Joey backed his rear deeper into the brush. Barbs snagged my clothes and raked my body. Branches scratched Joey's sides. He didn't seem to notice.

Forcing his way sideways and back through the underbrush, he worked his way out of the circled machines, then turned and faced his enemies. He blew out a loud snort of disgust and tossed his head.

The guy on the lead three-wheeler was young — late teens or early twenties. I took my eyes off the long gun slung across the handles of his machine and had a good look at the revolver he wore in a holster at his hip. But there was something more in his eyes, something besides guns to worry about. He swung a leg the size of a tree trunk over the seat and dismounted. Hitching up his jeans, he swaggered towards me. Blond and beefy, he would have been handsome except for the sneer and fifty extra pounds that gave him a bloated look.

I recognized the look on his face, a predatory look — like he'd just been handed a brand-new toy. But I'm no one's toy.

I glanced at the two guys behind him. They were staying with their machines, waiting and watching to see how it would play out, maybe waiting to be given orders. No help there. Marley and I were on our own.

The young fool coming towards me smiled.

I have to say it did a lot to improve his looks. Then he licked his lips. I felt like a prime cut set in front of a man who hadn't seen food for days.

“I'm Boomer Breslau,” he said, loud and proud like I should know him and be real delighted to be in his presence.

And in a way I did know him. His grandpa's ranch ran alongside Clay's to the east. Clay had lots to say about this family and their use of illegal aliens to farm their land, some twenty-five hundred acres of tomatoes and such.

“I'm Sherri Travis. I'm a friend of Clay Adams. Does Clay know you're here?”

“Friend?” he roared and then laughed, choosing to ignore my question. “I hear you're more than friends. You're the sweet piece that warms his bed.”

He moved closer. “He's pretty old for you, ain't he? But when a man has as much money as he does, guess he doesn't have to be real good to keep a woman happy.” His laugh warned me. There was no use making nice with this guy. There was only one thing he'd understand and I'd only get one chance.

“Sherri,” Marley said from behind me, “let's go back.”

“Why you want to do that?” Boomer Breslau said while Boomer's face said, “I can have anything I want. I can have you. And no one can stop me.”

“Let's go, Sherri,” Marley said again.

Marley was ignoring the fact that there was just this one track, nowhere else to go, and I was pretty sure we couldn't outrun them.

Boomer laughed. “Stick around, girls.”

Without turning my head or taking my eyes off him, I said to Marley, “You start back, I'll catch up.” Hopefully she'd ride like hell and bring help.

“I'll wait for you,” Marley said.

“No. You hurry on back and tell Tully and Ziggy we have company. Make sure they prepare a real warm reception.”

“Oh,” she said, suddenly understanding.

Boomer Breslau held up a hand to stop her, “No reason to do that.”

“Okay, I'm going,” Marley said. I heard Wildflower's hooves beating the earth as they galloped away but I kept my eye on the nasty bastard in front of me.

“Now why'd you go and do that?” Boomer asked. “You ain't afraid of me, are you?” He stepped closer, his eyes locked on me. I knew that look, seen it in too many drunk's eyes not to know what it meant. I eased my foot out of the stirrup. He was about to get a taste of my fancy new boot.

Boomer Breslau reached out a hand for me. Joey had him. Took a nice big chunk of his arm and held on, nodding his head and grinding his teeth in delight.

Boomer yelled, a real stupid thing to do around a horse with Joey's nasty and unpredictable personality. The yell set Joey rearing back, pulling Boomer with him. I grabbed the horn, hoping Joey wouldn't topple backwards on top of me, and fought to keep my feet in the stirrups. Joey released Boomer.

Boomer fell back on his ass with Joey's hooves slicing down inches from Boomer's head. Crablike, he scuttled away and scrambled to regain the safety of his ATV.

Joey reared one more time but his heart wasn't in it. I leaned forward and stroked Joey's neck. “Okay, sweetie,” I whispered to Joey. “You did just fine.”

Then I spoke up to the three men staring at me from their machines. “Now why don't you boys just go on home?” I said. “I'll tell Clay you came by to introduce yourselves.”

I turned Joey and cantered back towards the house, trying to decide what I would do if they followed me and ran me off the path into the palmettos. Swear like hell and threaten them with everything under the sun likely. I couldn't think of anything else.

Just when I thought I was well clear of danger, some extra sense, some tingling of the hairs on the back of my head made me look around. Had they come after me?

But it wasn't that. This was a whole new terror. Deep in the palmettos, hidden and fleeting, I looked into the eyes of a man. Dark-skinned, with chiseled features, he had a face from an Aztec carving. I felt the scream bubbling up from my gut. The memory of recent pain and Joey's reaction to surprises quelled the instinct, but my knees must have tightened, must have sent the signal for speed. It was all the stupid piece of dog food needed.