Bead onTrouble Read online

  "I'm almost out of the aqua beads." May looked up.

  "I thought I told you I needed several tubes."

  "You did? I'll run to the trailer and get—"

  "Never mind. We don't have time for that now."

  Jennifer's young face flushed a bright pink, and she dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry." After a deep breath her head came up, and her composure was back. She looked more at the crowd of women than at May. "With all the rush of trying to get here and set up, I'm afraid that just got past me.

  It was all my fault."

  There were nods of understanding.

  May conceded, looking with purpose at her watch. "It doesn't matter; I won't have time to finish the bracelet anyway."

  Beth was scheduled at eight o'clock, and that was only about fifteen minutes away.

  As May continued to work, she went on with her talk,

  "Now, as I was saying about wampum . . ."

  I'd heard the story before, and I would never make the bracelet she was teaching us to create. It took many little beads, way too many for me to deal with, and too much time I admire the women who do such beautiful work with seed beads, just as I am in awe of women who quilt and needlepoint and manage all those other wonderful handi-crafts. I am, unfortunately, type A to the pIus level. Mi-crowaves were made for me, as were quickie crafts. I once hook latched a rug and after the third day of watching it progress slowly, row by row, I paid my daughter to finish it.

  Not only that, I think I paid her some exorbitant fee to have it done in a week or get it out of my sight. She and her brother took turns, and when it was complete we gave it to my mother so none of us had to look at it.

  I slipped backward toward the door and realized that Beth wasn't far behind me.

  Once outside, I said, "Everyone seems interested." I gestured toward the window where we could see May.

  Beth glanced inside but dismissed the demonstration.

  "Did you see who else is here?"

  Jeb's name was almost out of my mouth before I stopped myself. If I was wrong again after so many years, Beth would start worrying about me. "Who?" I asked.

  "Lynn Donaldson."

  "Who?"

  "She's in our cabin. About this tall—"

  "Oh, the noir beader. Miss Hummer Two. How do you know her?"

  "Her husband was one of the partners in Ron's law firm.

  Carl Donaldson. I'm sure I've told you about her. She's the one who announced loudly that her husband preferred brunettes. You have to remember the story." When I still looked blank, Beth explained, "It was at the firm's Christmas party two years ago, and several of us were talking about the new female anchor on one of the TV stations.

  Lynn announced loudly that Carl wouldn't notice because he preferred brunettes. And then she said something like,

  `maybe because they look better against his silver-haired belly.' The conversation went downhill from there."

  "I'll bet. Nice way to embarrass the whole room."

  "Everyone except Lynn. She made a few more juicy remarks, and Carl took her home. It was the last time I saw her . .

  "She told me she was divorced," I said "A really bad divorce."

  "That's an understatement."

  "Did you know her very well? Was she always so catty?"

  Beth dropped her voice. "Always catty, but in a funny way. You know the kind. You'd be talking at a party and as soon as someone left the group, she'd make an insightful, and very nasty, remark. Made me afraid to leave the room."

  "Have you seen her beadwork?"

  "No. I'm surprised she still works with beads." Beth glanced inside the saloon, looking thoughtful.

  "There's something on your mind," I said.

  "I don't know how much of this is true, it could be pure D gossip—"

  "I'll settle for gossip."

  "According to one of the other wives, Lynn's husband was having an affair with a woman he met through Lynn."

  "Beth, there you are," Cordy said, appearing in the saloon door. "I've been looking for you. Fifteen minutes 'til showtime."

  "I'm ready, except I've got to get some pliers from the Lazy L." She glanced at her watch. "Be right back."

  I waved and started to say something, but she was gone, moving up the hill toward the cabin.

  "Are you coming in?" Cordy asked me.

  "Not yet; I think I'll get reacquainted with the camp. Is Cheech still here?" Cheech is my favorite horse.

  "Of course. And I left some carrots in a bucket outside the stable."

  Now there's a service you won't get at the Hilton.

  "Thanks," I said, but she was gone, too, leaving me on my own for that walk.

  The night was perfect for a quick ramble around the camp, meaning it wasn't too hot or too cold, and the humidity was low enough that you didn't have to drink your air through a straw. I took in a big breath and glanced at my watch. I had time to wander before Beth's demonstrations.

  When it was over, we'd all get down to some serious fun.

  First thing I did was head down past the dining hall and over to the campfire area. I've spent a lot of time here in my life, participating in silly skits and watching lots of others. It makes me smile just to see the wooden stage. I went down and tromped across it for old time's sake, before I moved on toward the river.

  There's a path through some trees, and then you have to climb down rocky steps until you reach the water. The river is shallow and rocky there, the perfect place to stay cool while you sunbathe—back in the days when we did sunbathe. In more recent years, most of us slather ourselves with SPF 45 and sit in the shade reading a book, only using the river as a place to briefly cool off before we duck for cover again.

  A quarter mile or so farther on the river gets deep and swift just before it passes the public campground. It's there we used to swim and have canoe races.

  I didn't walk down the bank, but I did get close enough to dangle my hand in the water.

  I don't know why, but I kept expecting to meet other people. Not just Jeb, although I suppose he had crossed my mind, but I thought that someone ought to be out and about.

  Finally I decided that everyone else was attending the demonstrations, leaving the rest of the camp for me.

  Since I didn't have to share, I visited the horses at the barn, taking inside a few of the carrots Cordy had left in a bucket. Cheech got one, along with a small palomino mare named Goldy.

  By that time I smelled, rather happily, I have to admit, of horse, so I headed up the hill to the Lazy L, where I washed my hands and grabbed my car keys. I'd been in such a hurry to see the camp earlier I hadn't locked the Land Rover, and while locking vehicles isn't something we used to do at Green Clover, the world has changed.

  I was almost at the front entrance when I heard my name being called.

  "Tante Kitzi!" The voice was Shannan's, jerky and upset. She was running.

  "What's wrong?" I-asked. On the dark path I couldn't see her face. "Are you okay?"

  "I, I'm fine. Can I borrow your car? I won't be gone long."

  "My car? Why?"

  "I just need to use it, that's all. Can I?"

  Shannan's not covered on my insurance, plus, she'd been in an accident that was entirely her fault a month before. "I'm sorry, honey, but you know I can't."

  "Oh, please. I'll be very careful."

  "I can't. Because of my insurance. What about your mom's—"

  "She won't let me. That stupid wreck." She was breathing heavily, in part from the hurry, but there was something more. "I have to leave now." .

  I held up my keys. "Then I'll drive you."

  "Really?" She grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.

  "But we have to go right now."

  "Okay," I said as we ran to the Land Rover.

  This could be a breakthrough in my relationship with Shannan. I might actually find out what had been troubling her, and I was willing to drive her to Waco or Tucumcari if it would help.

  Once inside the Rov
er, I started the engine. "Now tell me what this is about. And which way?"

  "That way," she said, pointing toward the old road that would take us to the highway. "I just can't believe it. I knew I was right—I just knew it!"

  I turned left onto the dark country road. "Knew what?"

  She took several breaths, sorting through her words. "I was out by the front gate, and I saw my dad. He was here.

  At Green Clover."

  I chewed on that for a moment before I nodded. "Okay."

  I couldn't imagine why he'd be here. "Is he okay?"

  "I don't know. I just saw his car." Her anxiety was back, and she seemed to debate what to say next Finally she blurted out, "He picked someone up. Out front. Just now."

  She was fighting tears, and the tight voice reminded me of the little girl I had so adored. "Don't you see? He came and got someone:'

  "Honey, did he pick up your mother?"

  "No! She's doing her demonstration. Someone else. He didn't see me." She swallowed a few times, then took a shuddery breath. "It's a long story."

  "I'll take you wherever you want to go, but you have to explain." And then I waited in silence while we bounced over the bumpy road and around a pothole. Up ahead I could just make out a red glow that might have been tail lights or a jackrabbit carrying a flashlight.

  Shannan took several breaths. "My dad has been acting weird lately. He goes out at night, and he always says he's going to some off-the-wall place. Like Golfsmith or the woodworking shop. Places Mom and I would never go. And he always leaves around seven-thirty, but he doesn't get home until late. Sometimes after eleven."

  "Okay." That wasn't great dad behavior, but we were talking about Mo-Ron, so I didn't see any reason to panic.

  Although there was something odd, since most stores close at nine or ten. "Tell me why that upsets you?"

  "I followed him a couple of times, and he didn't go where he said he was going." Dear God. "At first I always lost him, but then I realized that he wasn't paying any attention to the cars behind him. Only one night I was so busy staring at him that I had that accident."

  She had rear-ended another vehicle. Luckily, the damage had been minor, and the other driver understanding.

  "Can't you hurry?" she asked.

  I swerved, narrowly missing a pothole. "Not on this road," I said. "Go on; you followed him." And we were following him again. Except I hadn't heard another car at camp and the lights ahead of us could be anyone's. I sincerely hoped they belonged to some innocent passerby and we were on a futile mission.

  "He went to Weldon and Company," Shannan said.

  "You know that big fancy hardware store south of town?"

  "Did you talk to him? Did he know you were there?"

  "No." She was straining forward against the seat belt as if the extra effort would make us go faster. "I got scared. I was afraid he'd be mad at me, so when he pulled into the parking lot, I just drove past. Finally, I went home. Well, it was a school night, and I knew that mom would start yelling if I stayed out late . .."

  "It was the right thing to do; you needed to go home:' We came to the stoplight at the highway. "Which way now?"

  "Turn right. We're going back to Weldon and Company!"

  I had serious misgivings about this little venture, but I turned as she directed. "Maybe he's just planning some home repair project," I said.

  Now that was lame. I could not imagine Ron Fairfield contentedly browsing through an aisle of bolts. His hobbies were watching football, playing golf, and running. He wasn't handy with his hands, and even he admitted he could make a major project out of changing a lightbulb.

  "Maybe the night you saw him he was getting something for the office_ An extra key, maybe." That wasn't any better.

  Ron is a partner with a law firm. He doesn't do office maintenance, he has people for that. Lots of people.

  Shaman was calmer now and getting quieter, but her focus was still on the road and cars we were passing. If she expected to see her dad's black Lexus, she was disappointed. "But he didn't go out just one night, remember?

  He does it all the time."

  I drove in silence for a few minutes, moving in and out of the late evening traffic with more alacrity than usual, but the haste was for Shannan's sake. I didn't really think the few extra minutes mattered; Ron was either going to be there or not. I kept trying to convince myself he was not.

  "Honey, I know you're worried about your dad, but you haven't said why. What do you think he's doing?"

  "I don't know. I just want to go and find ont if he's really there."

  Which meant she had a good idea and wasn't ready to tell me. I had a suspicion, too, but I hoped I was wrong.

  "Are you positive that was your dad's car at the camp? A lot of cars look alike these days and it's black, so in the dark—"

  "I know his license number. It was him, and he did pick someone up. I'm not crazy, honest?'

  "A woman?"

  She hesitated. "I, I don't know?'

  So that settled it in my mind—Shannan suspected her father was having an affair. It was the only answer I could think of for his behavior, if Shannan was reporting it accurately. I couldn't see him as part of the Mafia, and he didn't have the balls to be a terrorist. Running drugs was strictly out of his reality, since he once chastised Beth for taking a Vicodin after a root canal.

  I took a breath, my eyes on the road. Ron Fairfield might not be one of my favorite people; however, Beth was, and if he was doing something that would hurt her, he needed to be stopped. But was Shaman was the one to do it? Or me?

  "You know," I said, as I exited the highway just down from Weldon's. "He might not be there. And if he is, what are you going to say to him? I think we ought to skip this and—"

  "No!" She shook her head. "I have to see. Don't you understand? I'm not a child, and I need to know what's going on. I love my dad, and I'm the one person he'll listen to if he's doing something ... I don't know, Something." When I didn't say anything she added. "It's for my mom, too."

  I wanted to put my head on the dashboard and cover it with my arms, but that was out of the question since I was driving.

  I certainly didn't want to find Shannan's dad; luckily, the chances of him being at the same place were slim. And why in the world would he be at a hardware store? The whole thing made no sense to me.

  "All right," I said, as I spotted the bright lights of Weldon and Company's parking lot up ahead. "We'll check for his car, and if it's there we'll decide on our next move. If not, well, we'll have to go back to camp."

  She took in a breath. "Okay, but he's going to be there.

  You'll see."

  "I'm sorry," I said to Shannan as the exit doors slid open in front of us. We stepped out into the dark night that was turning muggy.

  Ron Fairfield was not at Weldon and Company. We had checked the parking lot for his car first, and then we'd gone up and down every aisle of the store, just in case. There was nowhere else to look; I slid an arm around Shannan.

  "Honey, maybe he's already gone home."

  She didn't look convinced, but she pulled out her cell phone. "I'll call the house and see." She dialed the number, listening to the ringing as we walked to the Land Rover.

  After a moment she hung it up. "He's not there;' she said.

  "I know, I'll try his cell phone."

  I thought it was a bad idea, but I didn't discourage her.

  She dialed a second time, _and I heaved a sigh of relief when she still didn't get an answer. By then we were at the Land Rover, climbing in. "I'm sorry," I said again, putting the key in the ignition. "At least we tried." I couldn't imagine confronting him and a possible girlfriend in the middle of a hardware store. And why here? That still puzzled me, but there had to be a logical explanation for all of this, and to be fair, which I didn't really want to be, there was still the chance that it was an innocent explanation.

  I swung the car to the left to avoid an oversized pickup that was coming toward us
, then turned again. We were at the far corner of the lot.

  "Tante Kitzi! Look!" Shannan said. "There's another parking area back there."

  Behind the loading dock and down a sloping ramp was a small area for cars. It was dark, inconvenient, and when a truck was unloading as had been happening earlier, completely inaccessible. Now I could see that a half a dozen vehicles were parked there looking like dead bugs on a black rug.

  "Probably for employees," I said.

  "No! Wait. Slow down." I did as instructed and she stared down, her nose all but pressed against the window.

  "He could be there—just let me look a minute."

  I stopped completely. "Take your time." A few more minutes and we'd be headed back to Green Clover. I'd be having a well-deserved glass of wine. Despite what Cordy said, I liked that wine—

  "He's there! That's my dad's car, Pm sure of it. On the right. See it? Under the trees, almost all the way down."

  There were cars parked along the building on the left, and some on the right under huge trees where there wasn't much light. It was difficult to tell if Shannan had really spotted her dad, but there were cars. One was something like Ron's Lexus. At that distance and at night a lot of cars look alike.

  "We can't be positive."

  "I'll go see—" She was about to the open the door, but I stopped her.

  "Hold on. We need to think about this. If it is your dad, what in the world is he doing, and what are you going to say to him?"

  "I don't know." She took her hand off the door handle.

  "Maybe we should just drive down there so we can see for sure. I mean, I could be wrong." Suddenly she was worried again.

  The bad ideas were piling up, but since we'd come this far...

  "Okay," I said. "I will."

  "But turn off your lights. Please."

  I nodded and switched them off. "Here we go, Double 0 Seven." She didn't smile, and I didn't either.

  I drove slowly down the ramp, then into the lot, keeping as far to the left as I could. I went past the Lexus in question almost coasting, then backed into a space across from it so we could observe it more easily.

  Shaman gasped. "It is daddy's car." Only this time she