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  I didn't mention it to Tony. "I don't think that's an is-

  "It's not that she couldn't do it," he amended. "It's just that Beth may not be the right representative for Tivolini at those kinds of functions."

  Beth wasn't 'right' because she was fifty-seven years old, seventy pounds overweight, and had frizzy hair.

  Maybe glamour wasn't Beth's forte, but neither did she stoop to Tony's precious kind of backstabbing.

  "And another thine' he went on, apparently taking my silence as agreement. "I worry about her health. Beth hasn't been well this year, and added stress could make it worse."

  She'd had gall bladder surgery six months earlier and was up and beading within twenty-four hours. Obviously, she wasn't in shape to run a marathon, but then what per-centage of people in this world are?

  "So," I said, "you think she shouldn't talk to the Tivolini people? Is that where this is going?"

  "Oh, no, I'm sorry, I would never suggest that. Her work is good, and I think Tivolini will like it, too, but that's not the only criteria for the contract." He took a breath and said, "I've done a lot of thinking about this, and I'm sorry I'm coming at my point backwards. Here's the thing, Kitzi." The use of my name alerted me to the onset of a major snow flurry. "Beth and I together have much more to offer Tivolini than either one of us separately. Collabora-tion is what makes sense. She and I could form a partner-ship outside of TonyCraft, and we'd be unbeatable, No one else would have a chance."

  I nodded, thinking about it.

  He went on. "Before you say anything, give me a minute to explain; this could be fabulous. Instead of competing, we double our strengths. I can run in the high-powered world of Tivolini, so I would be the front man; I'd attend the various functions, schmooze with the high and mighty, whatever was needed. You know. Things Beth would just hate. Meanwhile, Beth can stay in the background, doing what she does best, the design work. Oh, I'd have some input there, as wel, I am a pretty good designer even if I do say so myself, but that would be Beth's pri-mary function. I'm not sure how we'd work it all out financially, but I'd be amenable to an even split."

  I didn't doubt that one bit; to me it sounded like he'd be getting a free ride on Beth's coattails_

  "Why are you telling me this, Tony?" I asked_

  Voices, female and angry, were coming from outside the trailer, pulling my attention from the absurdity of his proposal.

  "Because:' he said, ignoring the distraction, "I know that you and Beth are close, so I thought this idea might be better coming from you instead of me. She'd be more open to a suggestion from you:'

  Tony was right about my friendship with Beth, but he seriously overrated the friendship I had with him. "That's not my place," I said. One voice was getting louder. "I'm also not convinced that it would be in Beth's interest—"

  I stopped as the voice outside yelled, "Damn it, do something."

  Fourteen

  I was immediately up and out the door with Tony behind me. Across the way Jennifer was yelling at the deputy; she even shook her fist, making her blonde curls bounce. If she hadn't been so intense, it might have been amusing.

  "You have no right to keep my things!"

  The deputy who'd been at the front gate earlier eased back a step or two. Her voice was calm. "You're right, and I'm sorry if you think we are trying to do that?'

  Jennifer saw us and made a visible effort to compose herself. She spoke again, this time more evenly. "Then let me in there."

  "I would, ma'am, but it was the DPS forensic team that sealed the trailer, and once we've called them, we need to accept their judgment. I've already radioed for one of them to come up here and talk to you—"

  "And that was a long time ago! I went back to the cabin, I got a soda, and now I'm here again. I told you, I'm going to need clothes and a toothbrush. Makeup. My purse.

  When I left the trailer this morning, I didn't know you were going to lock it up." She turned to me. "Look what they did." She pointed to the crime scene tape covering the door. "All my things are in there and now it's sealed. It's so stupid! I was in there this morning. I slept in there last night! I've moved stuff and touched things; what does it matter if I get my underwear?"

  She was in the midst of one of those irrational furies—

  the kind usually brought on by hormones or men, although I could see that murder might cause it, too.

  I stepped closer. "Jennifer, is there some way I can help?" The red rims of her eyes made the irises turquoise.

  Veins showed under her translucent skin.

  "She's just being rude." Jennifer jerked her head to indicate the deputy who seemed perfectly polite to me. "They can't believe May was killed in the trailer. They just can't.

  That would be stupid. I was in there all last night."

  "I think it's the crime scene tape; the deputy isn't allowed to break it," I said.

  "It's ridiculous," Jennifer said, now arrogant as well as angry. "They don't know what the hell they're doing."

  Tony was in the doorway, taking the conversation in but not adding anything.

  The deputy spoke to all of us. "I'll call the forensic team again and see if they'll get someone up here. I'm sure they'll cooperate as best they can." She spoke into a microphone on her shoulder, using some ten-code along with some understandable English. What I got from the exchange was that she needed someone at the trailer ASAP, and they responded with a stall. "How long will that be?"

  she asked in an official voice. "I have people waiting for you."

  I thought the garbled response was "ten minutes."

  There was more ten-code before she rehooked the walkie-talkie to her uniform and said to Jennifer, "It won't be much longer."

  I took Jennifer by the arm. "Why don't we take a walk, and by the time we get back, they'll have the trailer unlocked."

  She looked at her watch, then at the deputy and said,

  "We'll be back in ten minutes. Please, be ready for me." To Tony she added, "Are you coming, too?"

  He shook his head. "No, thanks. I ran last night, so I' ILI stay here." He gave us a quick wave before reentering the trailer.

  "You've had a rough time," I said, turning toward the path.

  Jennifer threw one last dirty look at the deputy and then came with me. "I'm okay. And I'm not trying to be rude, but they're pissing me off. I didn't sleep very well, and then they woke me up early this morning, and they've been asking me questions—" She sounded like a tired five-year-old. She must have realized it, too. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

  I could identify with that feeling of exhaustion, anger, and impotence. Anyone who's ever dealt with bureaucrats can.

  "It's tough," I said. "You've done very well so far. You just need some rest:'

  We were going back the same way Larry and I had come. Jennifer was walking fast, her legs in the heavy jeans slapping against each other with every step. I kept up as best I could.

  "It's not like I don't want to cooperate," she said, pulling a leaf off a low-hanging sycamore branch.

  "Really, I do. It's just that I'm tired, and now they won't let me get my stuff."

  "When did they seal the trailer?" I asked, quick-stepping beside her.

  "I don't know. It was like that when I came back from lunch. I've been trying to get someone to let me in there ever since. All I want is my stuff—not May's."

  She yawned. The fight was going out of her, and I was glad of that; no sense having the officials mad at all of us. If we stayed on the path we'd end up on the backside of the Lazy L, and with a little luck it would be quiet enough that I could get her to take a nap.

  "You know," I said. "If you rested for awhile, I'll bet you'd feel a lot better—"

  "But I want my stuff! I need a hairbrush—"

  "I have a brand new brush that I bought for Sinatra—"

  "You used it on Sinatra?"

  "No, it's new. No one has used it. You can have that—"

  I stopped talking. The scrub was thicker here. Th
ere was a quick bend in the path, and suddenly I was facing crime scene tape blocking off an area on our left. It meant that we were very close to the place where May had been killed.

  Jennifer saw it, too and started to cry. "Oh, God, I hate this. I want to go home."

  I put an arm around her and let her cry for a little, and then I got her walking. "Maybe we should cal your parents—" She jerked away from me. "No. We can't."

  "They don't live nearby?"

  "We don't talk to each other. Besides, I don't need them." And she stopped talking. In fact she stopped making any sound, and she walked with a rigid precision.

  "Let's head for the cabin," I said. "I think you need a fuzzy little buddy to make you feel better."

  She softened and nodded, sending a few more tears down her cheeks. "Shannan was playing with him. I didn't want to butt in."

  "Well, that's just silly. We can all play with him. Come on," I said, picking up speed. "We'll jog."

  I was late meeting Angie, but she was still there, sitting on a fallen log and reading a book. It was a beautiful little spot, a clearing tucked away with tall trees protecting it and a tetherball pole in the middle of it. It was a great place to deal with frustrations.

  "Sorry I'm late," I said.

  I'd gotten Jennifer back to the Lazy L, and the place had been deserted. Apparently, everyone was beading away their worries in the dining hall. Shannan was nowhere around, but Sinatra was in his cage, probably where she had left him. The situation looked good on the surface, until Jennifer let Sinatra out and he decided to attack. First he went after me, leaving some bite marks on my hand, he crawled under a bunk and wouldn't come out. Until, that is, Jennifer had her back to him. Then he leaped out and up, sinking his claws into her jeans.

  She let out a scream and whirled around. I had to catch Sinatra before he was flung off into space.

  It had taken a few minutes to get them both settled, Jennifer on my bunk, Sinatra in his cage on the floor beside her.

  I just couldn't let him loose or he'd attack again, or run off while she slept. At least she could put her fingers through the wire and pet him.

  "You want to play?" I asked Angie, gesturing to the pole. The ball and rope were already attached.

  She held out her hands. In one she had a bottled wine cooler and in the other a half-eaten oatmeal cookie. "You missed all the good stuff;" she said.

  "That's a disgusting combination."

  "Some woman came by with a cooler, and she was handing these out. You know, that weird woman with the Hummer."

  "A h." I said. "Lynn." The noir header. "Seems like her kind of meal."

  "I brought the cookies, she had the wine coolers." Angie stuffed the last cookie in her pocket and put the drink on the ground. "I think she's making up for last night. Which side do you want?"

  "Either side. I'll draw the line." I took a stick and drew a straight line across the space around the pole. "What sins did she commit that she has to atone for them with wine coolers?'

  Angie pulled the ball out and smacked it hard; I let it go around the pole once before I pounded it with both fists, sending it flying back at her and unwinding the rope in the process, She'd been right, hitting something did feel good.

  "You didn't hear? I guess everyone forgot, what with May's death. Lynn, is that her name?" she asked and I nodded. "She showed up in the Saloon about ten-thirty drunk on her butt."

  "No kidding? What did she do?"

  Angie hit the ball back to me. "Well, she didn't dance naked on the table or anything like that, but she was pretty obnoxious. First she was badmouthing women. Not anyone in particular, but the entire sex. Then men. She said that sex was the root Of all evil, or bad times, or something like that."

  "Bad divorce," I said, thinking of her comment the day before. Or was this more recent? "Did she mention any names?" We got into our stride with the tetherball, smacking it back and forth with enough vigor to work out some pent-up aggravation.

  "None. Just men in general. And then, she started insulting us."

  "Nice way to make friends. Anyone in particular?"

  "Me. I was making beaded bookmarks, you know, I'm always giving books to my cousins, so I thought they would be a nice addition. It's not like I claim to be a beader." Angie was a rubber stamper and a vendor who sold supplies for stampers. "So, there I was, talking, drinking a beer, and she looks at the bookmark I'm making and says, 'Well, doesn't it take a lot of talent to put beads on a string?' Like I said it did."

  "The woman is obviously a moron," I said. "Did you see the pieces she makes?"

  "Oh, yeah, and I was dying to say it doesn't take much talent to stick a bead up a mannequin's nose, but I controlled myself. I didn't want to insult anyone else who might do that. Besides, I really do like those pieces." She hit the ball with some real force. "Sorry. I'm still a little pissed, even if she did bring me the wine cooler."

  "At least she apologized!'

  Angie shook her head. "No, she didn't. She just said she'd been a bitch, and to make up for it, she thought she owed me a drink. No apology offered."

  "There's a lot of that going around. So what happened with Officer Peterson?"

  "Oh, that." She waited until we'd both hit the ball a couple more times before she said, "Maybe I shouldn't say anything. Didn't they tell us not to talk about it?"

  At that point I wasn't paying attention—I had my eyes on the door like a horse eyeing the corral?' I caught the ball with the side of my hand and it bounced off the pole twice before I got it going again. "I'll change the subject and ask you a question, instead. Ready?"

  "Sure." She hit the ball and it made a half round before I sent it back.

  "Let's say that a man, a man you know, invited you to his cabin."

  'We don't have men here. At Ieast not many." We had a rhythm going with the ball again. "Except Cordy's brother.

  Whew. Now there's a man."

  "Which one?"

  "The one who was here last night. Nate. He can eat crackers—"

  "Wait for my question." I hit the ball a little harder than necessary. "This man invites you to his cabin. You show up, and on the dresser you see a red rose wrapped in tissue.

  Presumably for you. And three new condoms."

  "Three?"

  "Three. So, what do you think?"

  "I think that man's been overdosing on his 'Viagra."

  "Seriously?'

  "Seriously, I hope he took his Viagra, I also hope I don't fall asleep." She let the ball wind a bit, then struck it so hard it flew over my head. Then she said, "Actually, a woman was killed last night, so I wouldn't be going to any man's place around here." Practical. "So, what did you think?"

  "Me? It wasn't me. In fact . . I don't know who it was for. And I can't even tell you who the man was." I waited until I could reach the ball, and then I grabbed the rope and swung it to fling it back.

  "That's cheating," she said.

  "I never said I play fair."

  "At least tell me if it was Nate. And who the woman was."

  "It wasn't Nate, and I don't know who the woman was."

  I thought about it. "Maybe she showed up, saw the condoms, they got in an argument, and she left. I don't even know if she showed up." Now that was an interesting possibility. Maybe she never went to Tony's trailer. Maybe she, whoever she was, was in the backseat of a black Lens with Ron Fairfield.

  "But, wait, now I've got it. You saw the rose and the condoms in Tony's trailer," Angie guessed. "That's who you were talking to, and I saw you go inside."

  "If I tell you, will you tell me about the argument you heard?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Were you like this in the senate?"

  "Angie," I said, "I think I was soft as a baby's smile. Of course, Texas Monthly said I could be mean as a rattlesnake and sneaky as a TV evangelist. They seriously overesti-mated my political talents."

  "I'd believe their version, rather than yours. Okay, tell you. It started when I was in the trailer taking a sh
ower."

  There wasn't much to her story. After Lynn had been rude to people in the Saloon, Angie had decided that she was no longer a happy camper and had gone back to her trailer. While she was showering, she heard an argument outside.

  "We're talking about thin, thin walls on that trailer; you should be inside during the winter. Anyway, back to last night. As soon as I turned off the water, the voices got quiet. And then it was more like a kid's argument. 'Did not."Did, too.' But those weren't the words."

  "What were the words?"

  "I couldn't actually make them out. More hissing sounds. It was the tone I'm talking about." She stopped the ball and looked at me. "I've got it figured out."

  "What?"

  "What happened last night Here's my idea: Tony has the hots for May, so he invites her to his trailer. Right after her demonstration she shows up, and they're having a glass of wine or whatever, or who knows, maybe they started out with five condoms and used up two. Then, at some point Lynn knocks on the door, because she's got a thing for Tony. She spots May and makes a big scene.

  May leaves, and Lynn ends up in the Saloon cussing about al men and sex being the root of all evil." Angie nodded, her expression pleased. "And later, when I'm in the shower, I'll bet Lynn went and woke May up, and that's the arguing I heard." She turned serious. "Which means either Lynn or Tony killed May. That's pretty terrible."

  We stood there a minute and thought it over. She could have been right, except I knew that after her demonstration, May was in the Lexus, rather than in Tony's trailer.

  There were a few other little problems, too.

  "It's your turn to hit the ball," I said. She did and I went on, "Maybe I'm missing something but Tony has never appeared to be madly in love with May."