Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 04 - Saddle Up (16 page)

The Red Oak Casino, the closest Indian gaming place came next. They had a huge white pickup truck pulling a flatbed. Several Indians danced traditional dances while others beat drums. One man was doing a dance with hoops. It was really cool and quite the crowd pleaser. Girls walked along and passed out two-for-one dinner coupons for the casino buffet to the parents and candy to the kids. I hoped at the end of the parade, the local dentist was handing out toothbrushes.

Next came five flatbeds advertising the businesses that were open during rodeo weekend: Yummy Ice Cream Shop, Joe’s Antiques, Styling Salon, Two Paws Pet Boutique, and Henrietta’s Day Spa. Each was filled with red, white, and blue balloons. Teenagers handed out the balloons to the kids on the streets.

When I saw Brenda, she jumped off the pet shop trailer and sat on the curb next to me. Her dad was busy bandaging a little girl’s elbow.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble, did you?” I asked.

“I’ve got a nine o’clock curfew until further notice,” she frowned and then smiled. “But that just means he has to be home to make sure I get in by then, so it kind of worked out nice.”

“I like a girl who finds the silver lining in a situation.” I patted her on the leg.

She shrugged, handed me a red balloon, waved at her dad and took off down the street to catch up with the floats. I was collecting quite a stash of balloons, candy and flyers.

A man dressed in light brown jacket, black pants with designs down the sides and a large sombrero rode down the street on a beautiful white horse whose mane and tail had been combed out into fine wisps of hair. He had a microphone and sang something in Spanish. After him came a flatbed decorated in traditional Mexican rugs and sombreros. Ten men dressed in white jackets, pants with black designs down the sides and white sombreros played guitars, drums, and trumpets, providing the music for the man singing. Next came twelve girls dressed in beautiful red, yellow and orange long dresses that they held at the end and swished back and forth to the music, occasionally twirling and letting the dresses float outward. They were followed by thirty men on horseback. I recognized the wooden saddles from the ones we used in Mexico on our cruise last summer. The horses were high-stepping and seemed to dance to the music along with the girls.

The Rioters were next. It was a large flatbed covered with hay bales. The high school football team and cheerleaders waved from the float. Everyone in the crowd cheered for them.

“We’re too small to have our own high school, so our kids go to the one in the next town. They’ve won the state championship three years in a row,” Doc said when he sat down next to me again, finally finished with the little girl.

“I’m surprised your daughter isn’t one of the cheerleaders.” I remarked.

“She was last year, but now she says that cheering is for losers.”

“Really? What happened?”

“See the boy sitting on top of the cab of the truck?”

“Yes.”

“That’s Tad Jenkins. He’s the team’s quarterback.”

“They were a couple and he dumped her?”

“Not exactly. Before we moved downtown two years ago, we lived in a house and Tad and his family were our neighbors. Tad was the first kid we let hold Brenda. He was one when she was born. Ray, Tad’s dad, worked on one of the big cattle ranches that used to be south of the town and he brought home meat on Friday. We had BBQs together every weekend and those two kids were inseparable. His mom and my wife worked together in the school’s office and had picked out their china and silverware already.”

“Then he got into high school.”

“Yep, he joined the football team and a year later when she went to high school, she became a cheerleader. He hangs out with the older boys on the team and she was just too young for them. Tad won’t even say hello to her when they pass in the hallway of school.”

“The trials and tribulations of being a teenager. I wouldn’t go back if you paid me,” I told him.

“Me neither,” he agreed.

“Did you keep having the BBQs even after you moved into town?” I asked.

“Not as often and then Ray, Tad’s dad, took a job at the Lagoon. He’s the night watchman and works most weekends. ”

The next two floats were for the local churches – St. Joan of Arc and Valley Community Church. The times and days of services were listed on banners. I got another balloon and two lollipops.

A few llamas, then several classic Model A cars and trucks were next. I’m not much of a car person, so I looked past them. All I could
see for miles were clowns. They
walked or rode on bikes, stilts, tricycles, motor scooters and little cars, all dressed in bright colors and full face paint. The crowd clapped and the kids laughed at their antics, especially the one riding the tiny car that spewed bubbles out its tailpipes.

An older lady wearing a white apron over a flowered dress ran up to Doc and yelled, “You’ve got to come quick, Doc. There’s been an accident at the Saddle Club! I think he’s dead!”

CHAPTER 16

“Let me grab my bag.” Doc jumped up and ran into his house.

I picked up my chair and followed him, handing my balloons and extra candy to kids as we passed. A woman and a man talked into their sleeves and followed us. These guys should watch more television since the move was so obvious.

“You should stay and watch the rest of the parade, Liza,” Doc said as he walked toward his back door.

“I’ve seen enough. I hate clowns and maybe I can help.”

“I was going to take my motorcycle, but you shouldn’t be riding a bike right now.”

“I’m fine, Doc. Let’s go.” I set the chair by his back door.

“I don’t have time to argue with you,” he said and as we went through the door, he picked up two helmets from the top of the washing machine.

Outside was a black motorcycle. He put on his helmet and handed me the other, then threw his leg over, helped me on and hit the ignition. Within seconds we flew down the back roads so we could avoid the main street. I saw several agents scramble to find a vehicle to follow us.

The Saddle Club was at the other end of the town from the doctor’s house. I have to say I had never ridden a motorcycle before, but it was quite an exhilarating experience. Feeling the wind whip around you and sensing the motion was quite the thrill. Now I know why Tom wanted one of these but let his common sense talk him out of it.

Within a few minutes we pulled up to a tall barn-like structure.

Sheryl Ann paced at the front step.

Doc parked the bike and he and I sprinted toward the building.

“What’s up?” he asked as we all went through the front door.

“I was cooking for the luncheon and some of the ladies were helping me. We always use the back door, so nobody had gone into the dining room yet. I sent Esther into the room to open the front door for the vendors and she came back screaming.”

We came into a large room with tables and chairs stacked to one side. In the middle was a group of five women, they made a circle around a man who laid face down.

“Why didn’t you call 911?” Doc said, jogging toward the man.

“He’s got no pulse, Doc, and he’s stone cold,” Sheryl Ann told him. “I needed to call the coroner and in this town, that’s you.”

Doc slowed his pace and said, “Give me some room, ladies.”

The man was dressed in jeans, boots, and a western shirt – definitely a cowboy. But was he a local or from the rodeo? Blood pooled to the right of his back.

Doc turned him over away from the blood and several of the women gasped.

He was probably in his forties, brown hair, bright blue eyes opened and glassed over. He had been a nice looking man. Now, he was gone – cut down by a single bullet.

“It’s Ray Jenkins,” the woman who had come to get Doc said.

“Was Jenny on the float for her dog boutique today?” another woman asked.

“Yes,” Doc told her, “And Tad was with his team. But he’s been dead since last night. We need to call in the county sheriff.”

“Don’t bother, I think we’ll have plenty of help in … ,” I glanced at my watch. It certainly had been long enough for them to find me.

Four men and two woman bust through the front door. They all had their guns out. They hollered, “FBI” and all the women just screamed. It was chaos!

Doc looked at me.

“Long story,” I said.

“You can tell me later.” Doc stood and the agent in front pointed his gun at him. Doc held up his hands and said, “I’m Doctor Sanders and these ladies called me when they found the body. I’m the city coroner, too.”

“Is there anyone else here?” The woman agent asked as the other agents took off to check the rest of the building.

“Nope,” Sheryl Ann said. “Just me, the women who were helping me cook for the luncheon, the Doc, Liza and Ray Jenkins’ body. Who are you looking for?”

The woman looked at me, then talked into her sleeve again.

The front man came forward. He was a tall, lean man with a clean shaven face which sported a serious frown. He was probably disappointed that I didn’t lead him directly to my dad.

“My name is Agent Brown. Is there anything you need from us here?”

“Not really. I was just about to call the county sheriff’s department.”

“You don’t have your own police department?” he asked.

“Not really,” Doc repeated himself and then added, “We’ve got a security officer and a few volunteers.”

“I’ve got a full team only a few minutes away if you want us to do the work.”

Doc glanced at me and then asked, “Why do you have a forensic team here?”

“That’s on a need to know and you don’t need to know. Do you want the help or not?”

“Sure, send your people in,” Doc told him.

Agent Brown took a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and spoke quickly and precisely into it. “Got a dead body at the Saddle Club, send the team.”

“How long is this going to take?” Sheryl Ann asked.

“Two minutes to get here, thirty to forty-five to bag, tag and photograph everything.”

“I’ve got two hundred people coming to lunch in ninety minutes, so this place needs to be set up and ready by then.”

Sheryl Ann and her cooking ladies went back to the kitchen.

“I need to make the notification to the family,” Doc said, gathering his medical bag from the floor.

“That’s fine,” Agent Brown said. “We will need a full statement for the report but we can get it later.”

The other agents came back and shook their heads at Agent Brown.

Agent Brown looked at me and said, “Can I talk to you outside, Miss Wilcox?”

“Do I need a lawyer?” I questioned. If I had learned anything from television and my dad, ask for a lawyer first before you talk to anyone.

“No, we just want to ask a few questions.”

“I don’t know the man who is dead on the floor,” I told him, even though I knew exactly what he wanted.

“It’s about another matter.”

“Then I think I do need a lawyer,” I looked at Doc Sanders. “Do you have one in this town?”

“Sure, Priscilla is a lawyer.”

“Call her, please.”

Doc dug his phone out of his pants pocket.

“That’s not necessary, Miss Wilcox. We’ve just got a few questions,” Agent Brown said.

I crossed my arms across my chest and shook my head.

“She’s not talking to you without a lawyer, gentlemen,” Doc said, ever the gallant protector of a supposedly pregnant woman. “So either wait for the lawyer or stop bothering her.”

Agent Brown actually huffed, then turned on his heels and stormed out of the Saddle Club.

“Oh,” Doc muttered. “I can’t wait to hear this story.”

Before I could even start, a group of five people came into the club. They never spoke to us but busied themselves as they numbered things, took pictures, and carted the body away. It was all done in thirty minutes.

Doc left to make the notification, telling me not to lift any tables.

I got some bleach from the kitchen and cleaned up the blood, then used some antibacterial spray, just in case. Esther came with a spray bottle of vanilla and doused the entire room. It smelled like a hospital where all the nurses and patients decided to wear vanilla perfume all on the same day. It made me nauseous, but Sheryl Ann and her helpers deemed it passable.

Two of the ladies’ husbands showed up a few minutes later. Together we set up the eight tables for the vendors around the perimeter of the hall, a rectangular head table with ten seats and twenty round tables with ten chairs in the eating area.

At 10:30, the vendors started to arrive to set up their wares. There were so many wonderful things. I felt very patriotic after the parade, so I bought a soft red blanket embroidered with “Freedom Isn’t Free,” a set of long dangling blue earrings, and a beautifully woven hanging basket. Maybe I could get Tom to set up a drip system for the plant I would put in it. With my black thumb, it wouldn’t last a week. I always forget to water them or overwater them – there is no happy medium.

The women started to arrive at 11:00. They went directly to the vendor tables. Priscilla arrived without Doc, who was probably with the Jenkins family. She was dressed in a blue jean skirt, a white off-the-shoulder ruffled shirt, and casual sandals with white daisies across the top strap. She wandered through the vendors, saying “hello” and hugging people. Why is it that women can’t shake hands with each other, they’ve always got to hug one another?

I went into the kitchen to see if I could help. Sheryl Ann barked orders to her ladies like a general going to war. She was serving the basics – steak, baked potatoes, corn-on-the cob, garlic bread, and salad with peach cobbler for dessert. Several servers came in through the back door.

“Liza!” Sheryl Ann shouted.

“Yes?” I replied, stepping forward and at attention.

“Get your servers out helping the vendors. At exactly 11:25, they should get back by the door to the kitchen. We’ll serve up the food and they can take it out to the ladies.”

Organizing the cowboys was like getting my kindergartners to get to work. I assigned one cowboy to each vendor and then sent the rest wandering through the tables making sure the ladies all had something to drink and to sell raffle tickets. Every woman had a smile on her face like the Cheshire cat. I would have to agree. The cowboys were young, and buff and each strutted around like a peacock in heat. I assigned the most handsome ones the job of enticing the ladies to buy raffle tickets for the grand prize, which was a seat in the announcer’s box during the rodeo.

At exactly 11:25, all the servers stopped what they were doing and returned to the kitchen door, except a few who I had to send runners after. There are always a few stragglers you have to gather up.

Sheryl Ann would hand a tray holding four lunches and I assigned a cowboy to take them to a particular table. When one table was fed, I would send them off to the next. When all the ladies were served, I sent them out again to refill drinks and pull empty plates.

I wandered through the tables catching glimpses of conversation.

“Where’s Grace?” The woman sitting next to Priscilla Banner asked.

“She’s visiting her lawyer,” Priscilla scoffed.

“She still fighting you on that trust fund issue?” another woman at the table asked.

“Yes, and I just don’t understand why she can’t wait a few more years. She’s got plenty of money so she doesn’t need her trust fund.”

“That man probably needs it.”

“She’s still seeing him?”

“Yeah and he’s old enough to be her father!” Priscilla spit out.

“I’m sure it’s just Grace. She’s always been independent.”

“No, Grace just likes to be in control,” the first woman said.

“Don’t we all?” Priscilla asked.

The woman at the table laughed and nodded in agreement.

At another table, three women were discussing the cancer cluster.

“My son was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s cancer last week,” a woman with graying hair, stout body, and high shrill voice told her tablemates.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Denise. It’s just like my daughter,” a woman about the same age but leaner and with a better beautician said. Her hair was a beautiful auburn color.

“We’ve got to get out of this town before we’re all sick or dead!” Denise said.

“Yeah, but Priscilla says it’s all crap,” a third woman finally chimed in. “She’s had all the water, soil and air tested and there aren’t any toxins that might be causing the cancer.”

“Who cares, Lori? I’m still getting out,” Denise said. “I’ve got three more sons and I’m not watching them all get sick and die.”

“I’m not giving up the only home I’ve every owned. If we move away, we’re going to have to rent and I’m not moving into a tiny apartment with my two toddlers. And what am I supposed to do about my three little dogs? I’m not giving them up, either,” Lori told her.

I heard several more conversations about cancer. It seemed to be on everyone’s mind and the room was split about whether they should be leaving or not.

Priscilla stood up and her tablemates clinked on their glasses. Everyone turned toward the head table.

“Thank you all for coming and supporting our school. A special thank you goes to Sheryl Ann and her crew for the wonderful food.”

Sheryl Ann and her group of women came out of the kitchen and everyone clapped.

“And to our servers,” Priscilla continued.

The boys took a bow and the women in the place hooted and hollered for them.

“What’s going on with the new road, Priscilla?” a woman asked.

Several women frowned while others nodded their heads to encourage her.

“We’ve collected several bids from contractors and will be presenting them at the town meeting next week,” Priscilla told her, then added. “This isn’t the time or the place to discuss it, Rachel. We’ve got entertainment!”