Forbidden Entry (7 page)

“I suppose it's possible,” she said grudgingly.

“And if, as you say, they were seasoned outdoors people, they would already know the dangers of using it in an enclosed area, right?”

“I'm thinking yes.”

I palmed my hands skyward. “So, it stands to reason that they obviously didn't plan to fall asleep, but did and were overcome by the fumes. Given what we know now, what other explanation is there?”

She pursed her lips appearing uncertain. “Well, I guess that all sounds real logical, but…”

“But what?”

Her golden eyes signaled doubt. “You know what? Maybe I've been hanging around you too long or watching too many crime shows on TV, whatever, but something about this don't pass the smell test and I can't tell you why.”

As the significance of her assertion slowly sunk in, another wave of uneasiness settled over me. “Ginger, are you suggesting that it was not an accident?” If I combined Marshall's refusal to provide his confidential information with the vague reference to two other deaths in the same area, the missing cell phones and then added in Fritzy's involvement, her allegation gained merit. Or not. Intriguing as it all sounded, I cautioned myself not to jump to conclusions. We both stood silent for several seconds before I ventured, “Ginger, what did Marcelene mean when she said Jenessa of all people would know better? Know better than what?”

The faint lines on her forehead deepened as her gaze turned blank. “I think she might've been referring to some kind of accident that happened to her way back before I moved out here…but I can't say as I remember the details clearly.” Her shoulders slumped and her eyes welled up with tears again. “I'm sorry, sometimes things just go in one ear and out the other. Or maybe I'm just not thinkin' straight right now.”

“Don't worry about it now. If you think it's significant, call me later.”

“Thanks for listening to me ramble on.”

I laid a comforting hand on her arm. “Hey, you're my best friend. You can ramble anytime. And, considering the circumstances, it's perfectly understandable.”

“It's just so doggone hard to accept. Them being so young and, like Nona always says, full of piss and vinegar.”

I nodded, concurring with the archaic phrase borrowed from her wise but colorful grandmother. “Listen. Don't worry about coming into work tomorrow. I'll text Tugg and see if Louise can sub for you and maybe a few days next week, if necessary. Marcelene is going to need your help. Please don't feel obligated to come to the barbeque tomorrow night either. Everyone will understand.”

“Oh no, I want to! I was really lookin' forward to that! Doug is going to be bartending so maybe I'll just drop by for a short spell.”

“Whatever works.” I embraced her again, and when I finally climbed into my Jeep and started the engine, only then did I realize how profoundly exhausted I felt. I rummaged around in my purse and pulled out my phone. My quick text to Tugg contained minimal details and suggested that his daughter man the reception desk for a few days. I hit the send button, lamenting that since my very first day at the
Castle Valley Sun
we had been perpetually understaffed. I glanced at the digital clock and was surprised to see it was after eleven. No wonder I was so fried.

I wished I could inform Tally of today's turn of events, but it was far too late to call or even leave a message. I always teased him that he went to bed with the chickens but woke early enough to personally wake the rooster. Instead, I sent him a text briefly explaining the day's events and that I'd call him in the morning with additional details.

It was kind of eerie driving alone along the deserted streets, now dark except for a smattering of Christmas lights. I was anxious to get home to the cozy ranch house I'd been renting and would continue to rent until after the wedding. I'd made it clear that I could not live in the same house with his chain-smoking, screwball mother. Happily, the plans for the new house Tally was having built for us were being finalized next week. It would be great fun showing everyone the building site and plans.

Once on the main highway, I headed into the open desert, as always marveling at the striking beauty of the radiant starlit sky. Fifteen minutes later, I swung onto Lost Canyon Road and stared ahead at the moonlit silhouette of Castle Rock sporting a ragged crown of silver-rimmed clouds. Spellbinding! The solitude of the desert provided a soothing balm to the conflagration of emotions engulfing me as the disturbing events of the day looped endlessly in my mind. What irony. This perfect day I had built up in my mind for so long had turned out to be possibly the most imperfect day I could have ever imagined.

CHAPTER

5

The insistent rumbling purr and gentle kneading on my chest woke me from deep slumber. So much for my plan to sleep in. Being a recent and first-time cat owner, I was still getting accustomed to the unique personality and subtle demands of my ginger-colored kitten, Marmalade, and I wryly acknowledged what long-time cat owners already knew—that cats rule and are benevolent enough to allow humans to live in their house. When I didn't respond immediately, she gently nipped the end of my nose. “Okay, okay, I'll get up and feed you.”

The second my eyes locked with her luminous turquoise ones, she let out a plaintive meow, stretched to her feet, circled around a few times and then vaulted off the bed. She raced to the doorway, stopped and turned see if I was following. Laughing aloud, I threw off the covers and padded after her to the kitchen where she sashayed back and forth, eyes aglow with anxious anticipation, her tail curled into a fluffy question mark. “Here you go, baby,” I murmured, spooning the canned food into her bowl. As she ate, I stroked her soft fur, lamenting the fact that I could have had my family stay here if my mother wasn't so deathly allergic to cats. But then, considering the prickly relationship that currently existed between her and Sean, perhaps it was best they had not.

The dawn sky, pearl grey and cloaked with wispy clouds, slowly brightened to a soft buttery yellow as I sipped hot coffee and tried to fight off the clutch of melancholy as memories from yesterday flooded into my mind. So many unanswered questions. A call to Fritzy might be in order after I finished filing my story at the office. Would she tell me if she'd found anything unusual at the scene or would that, too, be confidential? Considering the volume of material I needed to review, it was just as well I'd been awakened early.

After a quick shower, I dressed in my favorite Western outfit—jeans, blue and white checkered shirt, leather boots—and then slid the tooled leather belt around my waist, cinching it snugly. The impressive silver and turquoise belt buckle Tally had given me for a birthday gift last August completed the look I was going for. Marmalade, demanding more attention, brushed against my ankles as I surveyed the results in my full-length mirror with satisfaction. Like my dad had said, I was an Arizona girl now and I intended to look the part.

I pulled my felt cream-colored western hat from the closet and murmured, “Come here, sweetie.” Scooping my ball of fluff onto one shoulder, I returned to the kitchen to check my emails. Junk and nothing else that couldn't wait. For a few minutes, I scanned my favorite site for local news and came across a story regarding the horrific car accident that resulted in the traffic backup where I'd been stranded yesterday. There had been four fatalities, a young mother and her two small children along with the driver of a pickup that had crossed the centerline and plowed into them. Authorities suspected the pickup truck driver was under the influence of a controlled substance and had ordered an autopsy. Awful! Struggling to erase the mental image, I pulled my phone off the charger, surprised to find a return text from Tally sent at 4:30 am. Wow. He'd actually turned his phone on for a change. Yes! Progress. Not one to waste a single word, his succinct message read: CALL THE HOME PHONE.

I dialed the number wondering if he felt the same level of apprehension that I did regarding a potential meltdown by Ruth. We'd had more than one heated discussion and when I'd voiced my concerns about his unstable mother, he'd attempted to allay my doubts by asking, ‘What's the worst that could happen?' Of course, he was accustomed to her erratic behavior patterns, and perhaps he was right. But then he was pretty laid back, where I tended to overreact. Or as Tally liked to point out, especially during an argument, that while he appreciated my admirable qualities, my sizable list of shortcomings, which included being overly impulsive, short tempered, impatient and mulishly stubborn at times, tended to annoy the hell out of him.

Tally's sister Ronda answered on the second ring. “Hey, Kendall. What's up?”

“Oh, this and that. Is Tally around?” His younger sister, also not one to mince words, had never really warmed up to me. While she wasn't as brooding and withdrawn as their mother, she didn't go out of her way to be sociable towards me either.

“Hold on.” I heard her set the phone down and shout, “It's Kendall!” Less than a minute passed before he came on the line. “Good morning, pretty lady.”

“Hey there, cowboy. Marmalade and I sure missed you last night.”

“Same here.” He lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “What would you think about sneaking away to the barn for a while during the barbeque?”

His suggestive tone sent a delicious heat coursing through my body. “You are so naughty!” I answered, unable to suppress a chuckle. “That's a very tempting invitation and I will definitely keep it in mind.”

“You do that.”

I hated to terminate our playful exchange, but I was running short on time. “How are preparations going for the big bash?”

“Good.”

“You are a sweetheart to go to all this trouble for my family.”

He laughed. “Well, thanks, but I couldn't do it without Ronda's help.”

“And I will tell her how much I appreciate it when I see her. Oh, by the way, did you book Buzzy and his band?”

“They weren't available.”

“Oh no! So…we're not going to have any live music tonight?” Damn! I'd had my heart set on having a live western band to create just the right ambiance for my family.

“Well now, hold on before you get yourself all worked up into a tizzy,” Tally advised calmly. “I did arrange for Randall Clay and his guys to come.”

“Randall? How on earth did you manage to get him away from the Hitching Post on a Friday night?” The newly remodeled Hitching Post was a favorite hangout among the town's genteel citizens and tourists alike, famous for western fare served up on tin plates and served on rows of long picnic tables.

I wondered why he hesitated a fraction of a second before answering matter-of-factly, “Let's just say a friend pulled a few strings.”

His cryptic answer puzzled me but I didn't press the issue. “Okay, well, I'm impressed. What about the food?”

“Gloria's two sisters are here and they're whipping up a feast right now. Miguel's got the ribs and steaks marinating and I've got George, Juan and a couple of neighbors helping too, so I think we're covered.”

I said a silent prayer of thanks that his housekeeper, Gloria, had returned from Mexico in time to spare us all the horror of having to endure any more of his mother's wretched cooking, which I had to pretend I enjoyed. “Yum! I can hardly wait!” At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled and I knew there was no way I could wait until after nine to eat something.

“Ah…sorry to hear about your dad. I'm guessing the trail ride is off the table.”

“Well, I think my mother and Sean could still ride out to the building site with me. I really wanted to show off Starlight Sky,” I mused wistfully, referring to my new Appaloosa mare Tally had recently bought for me. “Maybe he could go with Jake in the truck.”

“Do you think he's even up to that?”

“Knowing my dad, he'll insist on participating somehow. If not, we'll figure something out. And speaking of my family, get prepared for the invasion of the fighting Irish. And I mean that literally.”

“What's going on?”

I gave him a brief overview of the situation with my brother and he whistled softly. “Are you bothered because he's a pothead or because he was dealing drugs?”

“Both. My folks are royally pissed off and I'm guessing he and I will get into it again before the trip is over. He's got pretty strong opinions on the subject.”

“And unsurprisingly, so apparently do you,” came his quiet reply. “This is a subject we've never talked about.”

I put the phone on speaker and rummaged around in the cupboard, pulling out a pre-breakfast snack of peanut butter and crackers. “I guess we haven't. Well, just so you know, I've never had the inclination to do any kind of drugs.” Jokingly, I added, “Have you?” The absence of his immediate response stopped me cold. Tally was about as straight-laced a guy as I'd ever met in my life.

“I…uh…tried pot a few times in college.”

His answer stunned me. “You're kidding! You never struck me as the kind of person…”

“Hey, don't make this out to be more than it is,” he interjected. “I was young, I was stupid, I didn't like it and I never tried anything else, end of story.” His dismissive tone signaled that the subject, at least as far as he was concerned, was closed.

“Okay, well, I can't say that I haven't done some stupid things in my life.” I spread peanut butter on a cracker, hoping my super-calm tone had concealed my shock. Tally and drugs didn't go together in my mind.

He chuckled softly. “And I can certainly attest to that Miss Daredevil.” I knew he was referring to the chances I was willing to take in order to snag an important story.

“Point well taken,” I answered lightly, mindful that I could no longer postpone the pressing question that weighed on my mind. There was no diplomatic way to ask him about his obstinate, irritating mother and I hated to tick him off, so instead of blurting out how I really felt about her, I attempted to be diplomatic. “By the way, how is Ruth feeling on her new medication? Do you think her ah…mental state has improved any?”

A hesitation. “I think so.”

“You think?” What a lame answer.

“I can't really tell if the new pills are working yet, but I did ask that she try to be civil to everyone.”

“And?”

“We can only hope.”

That didn't sound encouraging. Part of me would just as soon not have my family meet her at all, but if there were going to be any issues, I preferred to face them tonight where she could escape to the sanctuary of her room if things got dicey, rather than risk having her make a scene at our party.

“All she has to do is be cordial for a couple of hours. Do you think that's too much to ask of her?”

Tally's exasperated sigh hissed in my ear. “Ronda and I have lived with her mood swings our entire lives. Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll be in a good place tonight.”

“And if she's not?”

“I don't know, Kendall. What would you suggest? That we put her to sleep?”

I'd become somewhat accustomed to her mercurial mood swings and understood that, being her son, Tally was far more forgiving of her squirrely behavior. The peanut butter caught in my throat as I imagined how Ruth might react to meeting my family, especially my mother, whose critical, sometimes cutting observations could slice a person to the bone. It would be a toss up as to whether the visit would go well or be a complete disaster.

“I wasn't thinking of going quite that far,” I joked, hoping to lighten our exchange. “I just don't know if I'll ever have the patience to tolerate it like you do.”

“That's understandable since you don't possess one ounce of patience.”

He was right, I didn't. “Tell me something. Do you think she's still pissed off at me about how things turned out with…you know, my story on the judge?”

“What do you want me to say?” he groused in my ear. “That she's finally forgiven you for humiliating her by forcing her to disclose the secret she kept from me all these years?”

Okay, he sounded officially ticked off now and I wondered if deep in his heart, he'd actually forgiven me. “Hey, I didn't force her to…well, maybe I did, but it was her idea to get me involved in his murder, remember?”

“Yes, I do. So, we'll just hope for the best,” he said, sounding brusque.

“Okay. Just asking. I don't need any more bad news on top of everything else.”

“Oh, right. You mentioned in your text that you'd share details,” he said, his attitude moderating somewhat. “Sounds like yesterday was no picnic for anybody.”

“That's putting it mildly.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

A quick calculation told me that I had another ten minutes before I absolutely had to leave so I quickly filled him in on what I'd learned about the young couple, where they were found and apparent cause of death.

“That's a damn shame,” Tally said gruffly. “I know that area. It's near the McCracken Ranch. How's Marcelene holding up?”

“She's devastated.”

“That's understandable. How about Ginger?”

“Predictably stressed. But get this. She's not buying that it was an accident.”

“Carbon monoxide poisoning? How could it be anything else?”

I took another bite of peanut butter-laden cracker and replied, “She swears they were both too savvy to use a charcoal grill in an enclosed space, even if they were freezing.”

Tally, who volunteered for Search and Rescue with the sheriff's department, sighed heavily. “I've seen this sort of thing happen before. People don't intentionally set out to kill themselves, it just happens. What did Marshall say?”