Ten-Gallon Tensions in Texas: A Kate on Vacation Mystery (The Kate on Vacation Mysteries Book 3) (3 page)

“Well if it isn’t Skippy Canfield,” he said in a mock jolly voice.

“Hey, Sam.” Skip steered his sister and wife around him.

He followed them to their table. “First time I’ve seen you back in town in a long time, Canfield.”

Skip didn’t respond. He’d been back to visit, but he’d always managed to avoid his old nemesis, until now. He pulled a chair out for Kate, as his sister rounded the end of the table to sit opposite them.

“Now who’s this you got here, Canfield?” Beauford edged out a chair to sit down beside her.

Skip grabbed the back of the chair and jammed it firmly against the side of the table. “We’re expecting somebody else soon.”

Beauford raised his eyebrows at him, but he let go of the chair. “You didn’t answer my question,
Skippy
.”

Skip inserted his body between Kate’s chair and Beauford. “This is my wife.” He didn’t offer her name. It was a territorial declaration, not an introduction.

A soft chortle from his right. Skip turned his head slightly. Willy Carlton, one of Beauford’s sidekicks from high school, stood a few feet away. He was also headed toward flab city.

“How’d you snare her?” Carlton said. “She’s way too pretty for your ugly ass.”

Skip sensed Kate stiffen in the chair behind him.

Enough.

He took a step toward Carlton, towering over him. Carlton stepped back.

“Gentlemen,” Skip said in a low voice with an edge of steel to it, “I suggest you go hang out with people who actually want you around.”

Both men froze, stared at him for a beat.

Then Beauford reached over and nudged his shoulder with a hammy fist. “Sure, Skippy. Good seein’ ya again.”

With effort, Skip kept his clenched fists at his side.

Beauford turned and swaggered off, Willy Carlton in his wake.

Skip rolled his shoulders to ease the tension, then went to the cash bar to get wine for the ladies and a beer for himself. While the bartender poured, Skip faced the room, leaning back on his elbows against the bar. He watched Beauford through narrowed eyes. The man was laughing heartily at something one of the forty-something adolescents surrounding him had just said.

Why did I ever think I’d be able to relax and have a good time here?

The bartender tapped his arm. “That’s fifteen-eighty.” Skip gave him a twenty and gestured toward the tip jar. He gathered the drinks into a triangle between his hands and carried them to their table.

Once settled there, he took a swig of his beer. His sister sipped her wine and looked around, trying to act like she was enjoying herself.

Skip’s eyes wandered back to Beauford who was now slow dancing with a woman whom Skip didn’t recognize. Beauford’s hand slipped down her back and onto her butt. She reached around and firmly moved it up again.

Skip shook his head slightly and took another sip of beer.

Kate leaned over and whispered, “Has anybody ever bothered to tell that jerk that he’s a walking, talking caricature?”

Skip snorted, inhaling beer. He coughed, spewing liquid onto the tablecloth. He grabbed a cocktail napkin and swiped at the mess.

Kate chuckled softly.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. Amusement bubbled in his chest. He felt light and confident for the first time since lunch.

With a small smile on her face, Kate sipped her wine. She scanned the crowd.

He snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, planting a kiss on her temple. “Love you,” he whispered in her ear.

Her smile grew wider. Then a small furrow creased her forehead. “Isn’t that Joellen Bradley?”

Skip turned to follow her line of vision.

Joellen was sashaying across the crowded floor, dispensing smiles and pats on the arm as she went. She wore a vivid blue dress, form fitting on top and flowing into a billowing skirt that stopped at her knees. Her blonde hair was piled high on her head, a curl escaping here and there. Stiletto heels showed off muscular calves. She was what his daddy used to call a tall, cool drink a water.

Kate cleared her throat. “You’re drooling, sweetheart,” she said under her breath.

He squeezed her shoulders. “No, I’m just enjoyin’ the scenery.”

Joellen made her way to their table. Her eyes sparkled as she flashed them a wide smile. “How y’all doin’ tonight?” She waved her hand in a vague gesture to encompass the room full of people. “Sure is nice, seein’ so many old friends again.”

Skip smiled up at her. “We’re fine, Joellen. Join us?”

“Oh, no, I don’t wanna impose.” Joellen waved her hand again, this time toward the opposite side of the room. “I’m sittin’ with some friends.” Then she promptly pulled out the empty chair next to him and sat down.

Leaning close, she said in a low, serious voice, “I always hated the way they treated you in school, Skip. And when you had that growth spurt and then beat the crap out of Sam, I laughed myself silly inside.’”

Skip couldn’t smell alcohol on her breath but she sure sounded half looped, even though the night was relatively young.

She put her hands on the table and pushed herself to stand. “Well, y’all have fun.”

Before he could respond, she tottered away on her ridiculously high heels, weaving a little as she made her way through the crowd.

Okay, that was odd.

Kate chuckled softly. “I think she wants you,
Skippy
.”

He pursed his lips. Normally when Kate called him Skippy in that teasing tone, he didn’t mind. But in this context….

When he didn’t answer her, she flashed him a concerned look. Then something must have caught her eye across the room. “Uh oh.”

Again, Skip swiveled in his chair to follow her line of vision. His brother-in-law had entered the hall and was making a beeline for Beauford.

Skip jumped up to intercept him, but he was too late. Jimmy had shoved through the hangers-on. He got in Beauford’s face. “I’m gonna kill you for what you did.”

Beauford’s laugh had a nervous edge to it. Willy Carlton and another of Beauford’s old allies, Sid Collins, closed ranks on either side of him.

Oblivious to the fact that he was outnumbered, Jimmy cocked back his fist. Beauford put both meaty hands on his chest and shoved hard.

Jimmy staggered back several steps. Then he shot forward at Beauford again, so fast no one could block him. His fist connected with his opponent’s jaw with a resounding smack.

Beauford let out a yowl. Carlton and Collins moved in front of him, a menacing wall.

Skip inserted himself between them and his brother-in-law.

From the safety of his position behind his henchmen, Beauford sneered. “Better get him outta here, Canfield, before I help him find Jesus.”

Skip straightened his spine and puffed out his chest. He loomed over the threesome.

Carlton and Collins melted away. Beauford’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his neck. Fear flickered in his eyes.

Jimmy tried to duck around his brother-in-law and lunge for Beauford again. Skip caught him by the shoulder and swung him around. “Leave it!”

He dragged Jimmy back to their table, plopping him down in the empty chair.

“Oh, Jimmy,” Suzanne said.

“Don’t you ‘Oh, Jimmy’ me, woman. I got every right in the world to strangle that sonuvabitch.”

“Chill, Jimmy,” Skip said.

Beauford’s crowd had gathered around him again. He said something to them. Laughter floated across the room.

Jimmy started to rise. Skip put a firm hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down.

Beauford’s voice rang across the room. “Excuse me, ladies and gents. I need to see a man about a horse.”

Skip snorted under his breath. That had to be the oldest line in the book. Kate’s word
caricature
was on the money.

Beauford swaggered across the floor, the crowd parting to let him through, and disappeared into the hallway that led to the men’s room.

“I need a beer,” Jimmy said.

Across the table, Suzanne tensed.

But Skip figured one more beer wouldn’t make much difference at this point. Best to try to keep Jimmy happy, or at least keep him from getting belligerent again. He rose to his feet. “I need a fresh drink too. I’ll get you one, Jimmy.”

His sister glared at him. He ignored her.

Amazingly, they began to have a good time. Beauford had not reappeared. He’d apparently decided to go home.

Several of Skip’s classmates stopped by their table to say hi. Some of the men flirted with Kate. She smiled graciously at them and leaned into his shoulder.

A warm sensation swelled in his chest. He buried his face in her curls, inhaling the flowery scent of her shampoo.

Okay, you’re gettin’ a little tipsy, Skippy. Best get outta here before somethin’ else goes wrong.

Something else appeared beside their table in the form of Willy Carlton. He was bleary-eyed and swayed on his feet. “So Bolton, how’s business?” he slurred.

Jimmy jumped out of his chair.

Skip rose and grabbed his arm, then swayed on his own feet. He managed to steady himself. “Come on.” He dragged his brother-in-law away and across the floor.

He and Jimmy both staggered a little as they rounded the corner into the hall leading to the men’s room. Once inside, they went to the sinks. Skip splashed cold water on his face, hoping Jimmy would follow suit.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced up. Through the droplets of water on his eyelashes he watched a man moving toward the door. He wore a fringed leather jacket and battered Stetson. It took a moment for Skip to recognize him from the back.

What the hell’s Bobby Joe Bradley doing here?

Bobby Joe had graduated two years before him. But maybe he’d married someone from the class of eighty-four.

Bobby Joe pulled the door open. Skip glanced down as he exited. The man needed a new pair of sneakers.

Jimmy blew out air. “I should probably go home.”

“Yeah,” Skip said. He grabbed a paper towel and dried his face and hands.

They returned to the table.

His sister immediately stood up. “Goodnight, Kate. Skip, thank you.” She pecked him on the cheek as she stepped past him. “I had fun for a little while at least,” she whispered. She took her husband by the elbow. Jimmy let her escort him from the room.

Kate had gotten herself a fresh glass of wine and another beer for him.

Skip sat down, not sure how much longer he wanted to stay. He’d had his fill of reuniting for one night.

Kate sipped her wine and people-watched.

A few more old classmates stopped by to say hello. Skip introduced them to his wife, and they chatted cheerfully about their lives since high school. Of course everybody was doing wonderfully, according to them. This wasn’t the kind of event where people aired their woes. But Skip noted that a few were no longer with the mates they had married right out of high school.

The minutes ticked by. Kate nursed her wine. Skip tried not to show his impatience.

He downed the last swallow of his beer. His bladder complained that he should have taken a leak while he was in the men’s room earlier.

He glanced over. Kate’s glass was almost empty. “I gotta use the men’s room. Then I think we should go.”

Abandoning the rest of her drink, she rose to her feet. “Restroom sounds like a good idea.”

They walked together to the back hallway, then parted ways. He went into the men’s room. After making use of the urinal, he washed his hands at the row of sinks.

He was halfway to the door when the flash of color in his peripheral vision registered in his beer-soaked brain.

He spun back toward the booths in the far corner of the room. Adrenaline shot through his system, jerking him toward sobriety. His heart pounded.

It hadn’t been his imagination. A small rivulet of red ran across the floor, from under the door of the middle booth.

CHAPTER FOUR

Skip was doing the best he could to keep the crime scene unsullied as he waited for the sheriff’s department to arrive. It wasn’t an easy task. People were pushing forward, trying to see over each other’s heads, some complaining that they couldn’t get through to the restrooms, others catching on that something was wrong.

A new ripple ran through the crowd as someone shoved their way through it. Skip prayed it was the sheriff.

Blonde hair piled high on top of a tall, willowy frame. Not the sheriff. Joellen Bradley.

She made it to the front and put a hand on Skip’s arm. “Somethin’ happened in there?”

Skip just shook his head.

“I can’t find Bobby Joe. It’s not him, is it?” Her voice went up an octave. “Has somethin’ happened to my brother?”

“No, it’s not Bobby Joe.”

She nudged him backward a step, a little further from straining ears. “What’s happened?” she whispered. “You can trust me, Skip. I know and keep most of the secrets in this town.”

Skip hesitated, then thought maybe she could be useful. “I could use an ally here. Somebody local to help keep people back. It’s a murder scene.”

Joellen’s hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes went wide. “Who?”

“Sam Beauford,” he whispered.

“Sam!” she cried out. “Dead?” She raced past him before he could stop her.

“Stay back!” he ordered the others and shot after her.

She stood frozen in the middle of the men’s room, staring at the blood on the floor. Tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Sam.”

Skip was confused. He’d gotten the impression that Joellen disliked Beauford. Grabbing her shoulders from behind, he backed her toward the door.

Kate had wiggled her way through the crowd and had apparently figured out what was going on. She took up a stance in the doorway, legs spread, hands on either doorjamb. “Stay back, folks. This is a crime scene.”

The crowd rumbled as the news was carried back to those farthest from the door that somebody was dead. “Is it Sam?” several voices called out.

Finally, a short, swarthy-skinned man pushed forward. Kate stepped aside. The man wore a Beauford County Sheriff’s Department uniform.

Skip blew out a sigh of relief. He knew the guy. José Gutierrez had been a year behind him in school. They’d been good friends.