Give First Place to Murder (6 page)

"I want to see what he's doing, what he's after. Stay here."

"In your dreams," I muttered, but under my breath. I waited until Dan crept down the barn aisle to a better vantage point, then I crept right along behind him. After all, he was hardly in a position to yell at me. Though he could--and did--glare.

We heard the squeak again and the soft glow shone briefly. Almost immediately a figure appeared, bent down and ducked under the yellow tape, stood straight, looked around carefully and hurried off toward the main part of the fair.

I didn't realize I’d been holding my breath until I let it out. "It was him.” I said it too loudly. “That mustache. I'd recognize it anywhere."

"I told you it was Chovalo. But I don’t think he was carrying anything. I wonder… Come on.”

We hurried after him, dodging groups heading for the main stage show. The crowd was thick and no one was in any hurry, so it didn't take long for us to lose sight of him.

"Is that him, over there?" A black sombrero bobbed for a moment above the crowd and we headed its way. Unfortunately, under it was a young man clutching his giggling girl friend.

"Damn" Dan glowered.

"Buy me an ice cream and let’s go toward the fountain." I glancing at my watch. "It's almost time to meet the others."

Dan hesitated, looked around once more, and shrugged. "Here, you go stand in line I've got to make a phone call."

“
Who are you going to call?”

Dan just looked at me. “Go buy the ice cream.”

Poor Chovalo, I thought as I bought our ice cream. He's going to have a few visitors with some unwelcome questions tonight.

"All set." Dan took one of the sticks and began to bite off the chocolate. "Let’s go sit down."

We found a spot on a bench facing the fountain. Neither of us said anything for a moment, then Dan started to mumble.

“
I can’t understand one word,” I told him. “What did you say?”

“
I said, I’m sorry about this morning.” His face was a little red and he made quite a show of taking another mouthful of ice cream.

“
Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. I’d been building up courage to ask him about this morning, and here he was, offering. I hadn’t expected that. “OK.” I took another bite before I hesitantly asked what had been bothering me all day. “Why were you so mad? It wasn’t my idea to find a dead body.”

“
I know.” He sighed. “Remember the day I met you after you came home?”

How could I forget! It was my first real estate appointment and there was a corpse in the closet.

Remember what happened later?” he asked?

I shuddered. “I almost got killed.” I said, remembering back. I shuddered.. “So did Susannah.”

“
Yeah.” There was a small pause. “I’ve lost one family already,” he went on, not looking at me. “I heard you’d found another body and Susannah was also there and I, well, I got a little--upset. It wasn’t very, ah, professional, and I’m sorry. Are we still friends?”

I hadn’t forgotten Dan’s wife and son had been killed in a head on collision with a drunk driver, but hadn’t thought he’d transfer that into protective feelings for me, or Susannah. And he apologized. I wasn’t used to apologies. In all the years I’d been married to Brian, he never once offered one. He assumed he was right, I was wrong, and that was that. For the first few years, I felt guilt every time something happened Brian didn’t like. Later, I learned to tune him out, and eventually to stop caring. I had felt an unexpected surge of relief, mixed with a lot of other things, when his attorney notified me he wanted a divorce, that he wanted to marry someone else. I hadn’t expected Brian to apologize, or even explain, and he hadn’t. So, an apology was something new, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Besides, I suspected there was another reason for Dan’s flair of bad temper.

For about a month or more before Susannah arrived home for the summer, Dan’s evening visits had turned into overnight stays. I amazed myself. I enjoyed them, just flat out enjoyed every minute. I’d never cheated on Brian, way more than could be said for him, but I was no longer married and having Dan as a companion, day or night, no strings attached, was great fun. Only the nights were becoming more frequent, Dan’s shaving kit seemed to have taken up permanent residence, and I found myself feeling trapped.

I decided to take the summer off.

Dan was hurt, I knew, and certainly confused, but I mumbled something about Susannah, appearances and all that. Didn’t mean we couldn’t see each other, after all, we were still friends.

At first Dan protested, then he got thoughtful, and finally said, “Okay, I’m a patient man. For the rest of the summer, we’ll be friends. Just friends.” I’d heaved a quiet sigh of relief that I’d postponed a commitment I wasn’t ready to make. But this! All this protection stuff! This didn’t feel like plain old friendship. I had no idea how I felt about that and I wasn’t ready to find out. So, not having any idea what to say, I reached over with the hand not holding ice cream and slipped it into his. He squeezed. I squeezed back. I said, “Friends,” and changed the subject.

“
Dan, what exactly is going on? I know you think Rusty was somehow mixed up with these drugs you were telling us about, and it seems Bryce has more than a nodding acquaintance with them. Do you think Chovalo is involved in all that also?”

Dan took a careful bite, studying how the chocolate cracked instead of looking at me.

“
Come on, Dan. I’m worried about Susannah. Should I be?”

“
You know, Ellie,” he finally said, “police work is largely a matter of elimination. We look at everybody who could have, who might have, and start narrowing the field. Chovalo was around the barn at about the time Rusty was killed. That’s all.”

“
If that’s all, why were we chasing him through the horse barns?”

“
Why are you so curious about Chovalo?”

“
Because my daughter works with him! And with that ego on two legs, Bryce. I don’t like all this talk of drugs, and murder makes me nervous.”

“
It should. It makes me nervous too.”

Dan looked serious, no laughter in his eyes, lips in a narrow line under his tidy little mustache. Suddenly, I felt the need to push this terrible murder and everything connected with it as far away from my daughter and me as possible.

I bit the last of the ice cream off the stick. “Of course, the most logical explanation is that whoever murdered Rusty had no connection with Irma’s at all. From what you said, he sounds like he could have had a whole crop of enemies.”

“
That’s certainly possible. Probably even likely.” Dan looked around for a trashcan for his empty stick. I took it and dumped it and my own in the can close to our bench.

"But I’d still like to know what Chovalo wanted in that feed room tonight.” He said that almost as an afterthought.

“
Maybe he was just checking on the horses. Or looking for extra buckets or halters or whatever they use.”

Dan looked at me pityingly. “Did you see any buckets? Did you see him open even one stall door? If you were checking horses, wouldn’t you turn on lights?”

I wouldn’t check on horses at all if I could avoid it, but was saved from answering when Susannah and Neil arrived, proudly waving a plastic bag. Neil had won three goldfish and it only cost him ten dollars. Wonderful.

Carl arrived, full of the wonders performed by the sheep dogs, followed closely by Pat. She’d met my Aunt Mary while examining the home canning and had filled her in on the events of this morning, not that she needed to. Aunt Mary’s grapevine was extensive and efficient. I was sure she knew more than I did, and probably as much as Dan. Anyway, Pat said I was to call Aunt Mary in the morning. Susannah laughed, I nodded, and we all went in to see the Oakridge Boys. Even the goldfish.

Susannah rode home with me, to my mild surprise. She had to be at Bryce's barn early because she’d be the only one around to feed horses, answer the phone, and prepare the stalls for the returning show participants. Several had evidently been scheduled to come home after the Saturday classes, but the events of this morning turned lots of plans upside down.

"Who’s going to help Bryce at the show grounds? Stephanie?”

"Hardly. Although I’m sure she’ll be there. No. Chovalo is. He volunteered. I didn’t expect that. He can't stand Bryce. I guess he's doing it for Irma."

Really, I thought. Or another chance at whatever is in that feedroom. I wondered if Dan's men had found him yet, and if so, where. What kind of questions would they ask him? Dan and I hadn't seen him take anything, and he did work there. My thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of dishes in my cupboard.

"What are you doing?" I asked Susannah, or rather the back end of Susannah. She was on her knees, pulling out a pile of mixing bowls.

"This one will do, don't you think?" She held up my favorite large earthenware bowl.

"For what? You aren't going to start baking at this time of night, are you?" My tone was probably a little incredulous, but I couldn't figure out why she wanted the bowl.

"Of course not." She was at the sink, filling the bowl with water and, before I could stop her, the three goldfish were plopped into it.

I was going to protest, strongly, but she put her arm around me and gave me a peck on the cheek. "I love you, Mom. And I love this town. I'm so glad we moved here."

Speechless for once, I tried to give her a kiss back, but she was dancing around the kitchen, picking up her bowl of fish, putting them down in the middle of the chopping block.

"Just think. If you and Dad hadn't gotten divorced you would never have moved back to Santa Louisa, you wouldn't have met Dan again after all those years, and I wouldn't have met Neil. Isn't it wonderful how things work out?" She danced out of the kitchen and toward the stairs before I could start the inquisition that immediately came to mind.

Had something happened between those two tonight, something, well, more? It was much too soon for them to start making any kind of plans except those that involved finishing school. Neil still had three more years of vet school, and Susannah at least two, maybe three, before she got her bachelor’s degree.

I decided, as I slowly climbed the stairs, I didn't want to deal with this tonight. Jake, my big yellow tom, sat in the hall staring at Susannah's already closed door. I joined him for a second, wondering if I should knock, say something, then shrugged, slipped into my nightgown, and crawled into my own bed, Jake right behind me.

Sleep took a while. So many thoughts kept whirling in my head, so many emotions I didn't want to face. My six months in Santa Louisa hadn't yet buffered me from the trauma of my sudden divorce and the abrupt change from dependent housewife to independent full time real estate agent. I’d run home, reaching backwards for the roots and stability that had been yanked from under me, to find myself living in the house where I’d grown up, renting it from my absent parents, starting a new life that was just beginning to feel right.

Dan had returned earlier, but for similar reasons. After the accident that killed his family, he gave up a promising career with the San Francisco Police Department to become Chief of our minuscule town force, where the most exciting event was the occasional painting of our park pioneer statue by the neighboring town’s football team when we managed to beat them.

Dan. The boy next door. Literally. We'd grown up best friends, me tagging behind whenever he'd let me, him bossing, teasing and protecting me. Then he left for college, and two years later so had I, to find Brian, to have Susannah, and ultimately to be dumped by my now famous physician husband for his cute blond office nurse. I was grateful Dan was around while I licked my wounds, and was pretty sure some of my feeling went beyond gratitude. Or friendship for the boy next door. We’d both outgrown that. But something else was happening to me, other feelings and realizations were emerging, and I liked them. I hadn’t sorted them out yet, but it had a lot to do with independence and it felt good. Only, tonight I didn’t want to sort. Tonight I wanted to sleep. Right after I quit worrying about Susannah, about her perhaps too close relationship with Neil, about the possibility that Rusty’s death might touch her in any way, about...About here I fell asleep, Jake firmly wrapped around my feet.

The phone was ringing. I opened one eye and stared at the clock on my bed table. Seven thirty. On a Sunday morning. I fumbled for the receiver and pressed it to the ear not attached to my pillow.

"Murmph."

"Ellie. That you?" Dan's voice was disgustingly cheerful.

"Who else were you expecting," I managed.

"Are you still asleep?"

"Not anymore."

"Are you all right?"

"I haven't been awake long enough to find out." I struggled to sit up, to wake up, but my normally sunny disposition wouldn't kick in until I had my first cup of coffee.

"I guess mornings aren't your thing." Some people don't know when to quit. "It's a beautiful day, Ellie. A beautiful day. And I hear it's going to be a nice night. Lots like last night. Just perfect for a barbecue."

I can take a hint, even half asleep.

"And you think my back yard would do fine." I sniffed the air. Coffee. Just a faint aroma, but definitely coffee. Thank God. "I guess we can do that. Susannah will probably be home and that means Neil. Pat and Carl?"