Ms. Got Rocks (25 page)

Rocky leaned back in her chair exhausted and stunned.

“Now that you know, I have to call the Sheriff, and he will call Washington, so they can start tracing her into Russia,” advised Justin.

“What am I supposed to do, who do I call if she wants to come back here? I have to have some reason she can’t come back here,” Rocky asked.

“Frankly, Rocky I don’t know. Maybe they will get her this time and that issue won’t come up. If she does call, maybe you should call the Sheriff at his office and let him know,” Justin said, knowing that he was not helping a bit.

Then the real issue occurred to Rocky.

“You left me alone with a killer, and you didn’t even warn me a little. Justin, oh my God she could have killed me and no one would have ever known. She could have gotten mad and drown me easily a dozen times over this afternoon.”

“Yeah, she could have, that’s for sure.” Justin agreed.

“I thought you were my best friend in the whole world, that our relationship was going to be more than friends, but there is a level of trust…" Rocky paused."Well, that was a real lack of trust.” The tears have sprung to Rocky’s eyes and she could barely get the words out.

“I was doing my job,” Justin was trying to explain, he looked thoroughly miserable.

“Your job could have included scraping my brains off the kitchen wall,” Rocky sobbed.

“I’m going now, you’ll feel differently in the morning. I’ll call you,” Justin was out of the door like a rocket on a mission.

Rocky listened to the squad car turning on the meadow as Justin returned to patrol.

“You can call Justin, but that doesn’t mean I'm going to answer. I won’t feel any different in the morning,” Rocky pillowed her arms on the kitchen table and cried for the loss of not one, but two friends in one night.

Rocky cried herself to sleep with her head on the old chrome dinette set.

C
hapter 24

The pounding and Phoebe’s barking woke her; the noise made her head hurt when she stood up.

It was Callaghan knocking on the kitchen door with the morning sun blazing behind him.

“Cripes, no wonder I ache everywhere I slept on the table,” Rocky muttered as she opened the door.

“Callaghan,” Rocky’s mouth was sticky icky enough she did not think it would work beyond that single word.

“Are you alone, Got Rocks?” Callaghan said trying to look around her into the cabin. “You don’t look good, Rocky, are you okay?”

Rocky pulled her head out from under the cold water faucet, letting her hair drip into the sink.

“I’m anything but okay. Callaghan, you are a persistent bastard, but the object of your affection and everyone else is gone,” Rocky still dripping, attempted to close the back door on Callaghan.

Callaghan had to jump back onto the porch but he grabbed the edge of the door before Rocky could get it closed and pushed back at her.

“Did Harris hurt you?” Callaghan asked without the Irish accent and a complete change of expression on his face, something more professional, harder, more intense, none of the casual Irish charm to it.

“Not physically,” Rocky now had a functional brain and a fully functional bladder. “Go away, Callaghan, she isn’t coming back.”

She closed the door on Callaghan, and reminded herself, “I gotta go pee."

Twenty minutes later, Rocky opened the bedroom door and smelled coffee and something cooking.

She leaned around the door frame and looked down the hall toward the kitchen where Lovie was sitting in the doorway. Rocky knew that dog trick. The dog was blocking the door so whoever was cooking could not leave. Lovie’s brain had a direct connection to her stomach.

She had some idea who Lovie had trapped in the kitchen.

“Callaghan why are you here, other than handing me coffee?” Rocky asked as she was presented with a mug of hot coffee as soon as she stepped a foot into the kitchen.

“Seriously, I came to find out where Jasmine Harris was and to make sure that you were all right,” Callaghan sipped his coffee and looked under his brow ridges at her with those incredible eyes.

His expression told Rocky that the man was thinking much more than he was expressing.

Rocky looked extremely glowing in her teal green camp shirt and khaki safari shorts and sandals. Her hair was darker red, still wet from the shower.

“Well, she obviously isn’t here and I don’t know where she lives. I don’t think she is coming back. And even more to the point, she doesn’t like you very much, Callaghan,” Rocky said, as she drank the final sip of coffee.

“Hah, darlin’, the feeling is mutual, I don’t like her at all,” Callaghan said leaving no room for wondering. “In fact, Jasmine Harris is the vilest, most hate filled, devil women in the world, bar none.”

“Let me understand this, you don’t care for her,” Rocky was smiling at his vehemence.

“No, I detest everything about your friend, her life is abhorrent to all I honor and care for in this world…,” Callaghan was debating with his conscience on how much he can tell Rocky concerning Jazz.

“Evidently you have wonderful taste in people. Last night Deputy Dixon told me that Jazz is a Mafia Don,” Rocky said. “If you can believe that? Callaghan, it has been a dream talking to you, but I work for a living. I have to go to work.” Rocky said moving toward the back porch door.

“Justin told you this about Jazz? Why would you believe this of your best friend?” Callaghan was stiffly standing next to the apple shaped cookie jar. He had a whole new body language Rocky was at last seeing.

“What the hell is that two bit cop thinking, telling you? If this blows the case, I’m personally seeing him working at the nearest landfill,” Callaghan said, running scared in his mind.

“He told me because I wanted to tell him that Jazz caught the kid who knocked over the mailboxes and she dropped him off the bridge,” Rocky said. “After seeing her do that I had no difficulty believing that Justin was telling me the truth.”

That statement was so far off the center of what Callaghan was thinking, that for a brief moment in his life, he could say nothing.

“She did what?” Callaghan shouted when the law enforcement genes kicked back in.

“She dropped him off the bridge; he went straight down and landed on his head,” Rocky reported, getting confused at Callaghan’s reaction to the story.

“You saw her do this?” Callaghan asked, with a slight reduction in volume of his voice as he grabbed Rocky by the arms.

Rocky was now definitely wondering at the cross examination.

“Yeah, I was standing two feet away from her on the bridge,” she said, with a quizzical tone to her voice. “What’s it to you?”

“I think I have her now. Rocky, this is most important, was the child hurt,” Callaghan’s hands slid down her arms taking Rocky’s hands. He was holding them hard, like he expected her to blow away before he had the data.

“The child was more like a teenager,” Rocky tried to clarify.

“That doesn’t make any damn difference, not an adult person,” Callaghan sounded as though he was reading from a law book inside his head. His face had broken into the smile that brought new meaning to the phrase ear to ear smile.

“I don’t think he was hurt, perhaps his ego, but I think she…,” Rocky did not get to complete her sentence.

He yelled back over his shoulder as he ran out the back door.

“Gotta go, I work for a living, gotta go to work.”

He was running across the meadow toward the RV parked on his patch of land by the American River.

C
hapter 25

“
C
allaghan slow down, say it again, you are on the speaker phone now,” said the voice from the Washington DC office.

“Harris is in Moscow, she arrived there a little while ago. Clancy is not involved, I have definite proof. She turned Harris into the locals for attempted murder on a kid. Get a warrant started, I’m going over to talk to the local Sheriff and get the case.”

“We got this one tight?” the boss asked.

“Clancy is an eye witness. She was standing next to Harris while she dropped the kid off the bridge,” Callaghan stated firmly.

“Not a lot here, Callaghan, she can wiggle out of this easily, she will be out of jail in an hour.”

“No, she left California and went to Russia. I think we can show she is definitely a flight risk with the personal jet. Get her in jail and keep her there a while, and jail in two bit county jail, not a Federal facility,” Callaghan was beginning to enjoy the possibilities.

“We will need to get a warrant to look at her home. That is how we, maybe, can nail her for tax evasion, illegal trafficking in weapons. We are on it, Callaghan. Talk to the locals and then get back here ASAP,” the Boss said.

Ryan the new guy on the team said, “We can’t pick her up in Moscow, we wouldn’t get across the street with her, much less out of the country. This may be a hurry up and wait.”

“I think I spooked her off, I have this feeling that she isn’t in Moscow on business. She went there knowing that she would be safe,” Callaghan said. “She only went there to get away from me.”

“Yeah, but we think she hates Moscow, she never stays there very long. Boston is beautiful in the fall, I think she will want to come home soon,” Ryan said to the others listening on the conference call.

“Let’s get it done, and then we can figure out where to pick her up. Get to it guys, this is the first real break we have had in two years, let’s use it,” the Boss punched the disconnect button without preamble.

*   *   *

After the horribly boring, do nothing weekend Rocky was one cranky woman for lack of something to do.

Margie had given her the go ahead to try driving around the place with the finger cage on. These past few days have been rough physically for Rocky, trying to load the heavy scrap metal onto the truck and protect her hand at the same time.

Mr. Wilkinson called a friend in the junkyard recycle business and by Wednesday, he had set up the prospective deal for Rocky. Rocky was feeling blessed to have a get it done friend like Mr. Wilkinson.

Nevertheless, she had a load on the truck and in the morning she was going to drive to Sacramento. The sale of first load would at least pay for the gas and groceries for the week, she hoped so anyway.

But in the meanwhile, the auto parts company owner came out to Whiskey Gap and made an offer on some of the auto metal sitting in the meadow.

While Rocky was pitching used pieces of this and that into the truck, she kept her new old camera close by. You never know when something will pop out of what you have seen everyday, one day it might turn into something remarkable.

The river was especially wonderful and Rocky never tired of taking shots of it or the birds and deer visitors. The photo shoot was even more exciting than a lazy river. As Rocky turned over a hollow pile of metal to throw onto the truck, she turned over another nest of young rattlesnakes. As the babies unwound themselves and became used to the bright sunlight that they possibly had never seen before, Rocky ran off ten shots of them. Afterward she had to kill the entire nest of them. That many rattlers are too dangerous to let crawl around the property, especially with a curious old dog like Lovie around. Rocky watched for the parents of that nest, but they could be anywhere. The foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains are rattler country, and one can never underestimate them nor stop watching for them with each step or handhold. Rocky might be able to use one of those shots in the Donner party story. The photos will not go to waste.

The recycling man had come and gone. He would be back the next day to take the first load out. Rocky was stunned how much he was willing to pay for this metal rubbish her Dad collected. Suddenly the sky was bluer; the clouds were finer, the breeze was singing.

Dinner was nuking in the microwave and the dogs were dancing waiting for their dinners. The cell phone chimed its silly song, it was the deputy, finally. But, not Deputy Dixon, it was the Burglary Detective.

“Hello, Ms. Clancy, I have good news. We have made several arrests in the case,” he told Rocky.

“That is wonderful, I’ll sign whatever papers you need signed,” Rocky assured him, excited to get the chairs back.

“When can I come get my chairs?” she asked him.

“Not just your chairs, but some china and a Persian rug. There are some tools also, Deputy Dixon thought they belonged to your Dad,” Detective Jones continued.

“So Callaghan got them all, huh. That pond scum, lowlife,” Rocky expelled a string of expletives into the phone.

“Callaghan, who’s Callaghan?” the Detective asked her, when she had stopped her rant.

“Ah, the guy who took the tools, and Dad’s scale.”

“Oh no, it wasn’t him. I don't know who he is. No, the leader of the group was the Itsy Bitsy Antiques store owner and her husband.” The detective told her.

“What? Not Callaghan, but we thought...” was all Rocky could get out.

“Yes, no, not Callaghan, Eva and Mo Carrington,” the Detective continued.

“Looks like they had quite a nice thing going for awhile. They would watch houses in the area, especially older folks and when they went to the hospital or passed away.”

“Never heard of them,” Rocky interrupted. 

“Then, this grisly pair would make a quick tour through the house, grab any antiques and collectibles and split,” he said.

“Some they would sell locally, but many pieces went to flea markets all over Northern California,” the Detective told the astonished Rocky, who was not ready to revise her opinion of Callaghan.

“When do I get my furniture and things? I have to go to Sacramento tomorrow, but the next day I’m free,” Rocky questioned, getting a grip on the situation.

“Oh, it won’t be that soon, the items are in evidence and will be there for awhile,” he said.

“That sucks big time,” Rocky was disappointed,in the very least.

“It was a mistake that your chairs got into the display window in the first place. The chairs were supposed to have been shipped to San Diego to the gang’s store there. I’m glad you are getting your parents things back and thank you for helping break this burglary ring,” he said.

Later, Rocky bit into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, admired the check from the metal dealer propped up with the salt shaker on the kitchen table. She smiled at the thought of the almost antique chairs back in the living room. All was okay with her little world right now, right here. All right except for the lowlife Callaghan and Jazz Harris.

“Holy Cow, I think, that is more than I have made at one time since I left home in the spring, including the sale of the monster nugget,” Rocky told the dogs, who were lingering around for a bite of the sandwich.

The car parts recycle owner came with his lowboy truck and offloaded his bobcat dozer. They spent the rest of the afternoon in car part heaven discovering old parts that they could easily resell. The first piece that he wanted was the old Mustang chassis that Rocky’s Dad had sitting all by itself like he was intending to do something with it. Rocky got the most money for it. The driver of the lowboy was more excited about the Pontiac Firebird parts which he could spot in a whole pile of what look like identical parts to her.

By the end of the day they had struck a deal. The men would be back tomorrow to pick up another load that they had marked. When everyone took a break Rocky told them of her plan for flying the plane up there for the winter to save the tie down fees.

Mr. Sanchez wanted to know "Why don't you have it trucked up, if you are not supposed to fly. We could load it on the lowboy for you and bring it up in the morning."

"I can't pay cash, but I have a couple of gold nuggets and maybe some Firebird parts."

That swap worked for all of them. Before they left for the day, she made a hurried call to the aviation mechanic. The mechanic was available tomorrow morning to take the wings off, then the plane would fit on the truck. In a devilish way, Rocky giggled, hoping the men knew how big that plane really was. The bird would probably fit on the lowboy; maybe, the plane was one long baby.

Rocky could put off taking the pickup down to the recycling place in Sacramento until Monday. Her father must have had an idea of the gold mine of scrap metal that he had scattered around the place.

“Wait till Devlin gets a look at that check,” Rocky told the dogs.

The second check would not be as big, but would be plenty respectable and the plane would be on the home place for the coming winter.

As evening fell it was too hot in the cabin to be inside. The big moon was rising through the heat haze. In the city, Rocky would have to brave the mall and get jeans, shirts, and a business suit and oh mercy, heels. Because her yard was a mess, that did not mean she must look like a mess, as well.

As the foursome lazed on the porch watching the bats chasing their dinner, she finally took a look at the lack of junk in that part of the yard. It had opened a really nice view of the bend in the river. Rocky felt an incentive to get the front yard free of metal pieces as soon as possible.

It was well past pitch dark, Rocky was dozing on the porch. That was how worn out she was, all there was to sleep on was the porch floor. There she dozed off. The dogs at least had their beds from the airplane to lie on. Thumper cuddled next to Lovie on her bed.

Rocky finally pulled herself inside to bed; she did not close the windows. Even with all the awful things that have happened in the past weeks, she felt good and at peace.

Next morning that Bobcat machine moved the plane off the lowboy truck. It moved around the house to the side of the garden spot where Rocky wanted it. She thought they would take it off the truck and she would have to drag it around with the pickup somehow. What a deal.

By four Friday afternoon, the men and Rocky were on a first name basis. She had the name of a man with a couch to sell cheap, the men have some old car parts that seem to thrill them to bits, the front meadow was much neater though not bare of metal pieces by any means, and Rocky had two checks totaling seventeen thousand dollars.

Manny Sanchez and Marvin Bleu would be back in the morning to pick up the rest of the load included in the seventeen grand. Before they left, Manny handed Rocky his business card, and told her if she found any more Mustang parts he wanted first dibs. They shook on the deal. Rocky could not wipe the grin from her face. It had been a long time since the world had been graced by that smile.

The Levi’s took a beating today. With her dive knife she made shorts out of the pair she was wearing. The dogs were having a swim; Rocky slipped out of her newly made shorts and washed them without soap in the river above where the dogs were swimming. She washed them and concentrated, not on her butt hanging out in the hot breeze with panties on, but on buying the plumbing pipe and having the septic tank dug. She moved along to speculating about Deputy Dixon.

The weekend was spent with much neglected cleaning cabin chores and the dredge maintenance after pulling it out of the water, for who knows how long that would be.

Rocky developed the snake photos at the drive through and they are creepy enough to her that they should sell in some venue. She made a couple of postcards from them and added them to the animal postcard variety pack she had been compiling. The rest were in the portfolio for future sale.

No phone call from Deputy Dixon. He definitely has a woman friend, probably engaged by now. She missed him. She wondered how she could be angry and hurt at him and still miss him.

Rocky had a list of things that she needed to do in Sacramento the following week. The list had grown long enough that she prioritized it to what could be done and what she cannot live without.

Rocky hoped to make enough money on the load of scrap to cover all of the list purchases.

Selling the scrap metal took no time at all. Rocky did not get enough money from her weensy puny pile to do much beyond filling the truck gas tank. She was glad to have the two checks deposited into the bank on last Saturday. She could get the rest of the stuff on the list anyway.

Rocky drove in the general direction of Costco, she was on the look out for a pancake house. Costco did not open until eleven. She had ninety minutes to kill. Spotting a cafe Rocky pointed the truck into the parking lot.

While waiting for her breakfast, Rocky saw the other store she had been watching for. There was a yarn store across the street in a strip mall. Rocky without apology gulped down her pancakes.

“Oh what fun it is to be in a yarn store,” Rocky was actually singing while she crossed the street. The shop wasn’t as big or well stocked as Jen’s knitting palace in Anchorage, but it was a delight for Rocky.

Rocky reluctantly left the shop. Though she left loaded with sock wool for three pairs, a pale peach wool blend to go with an apricot wool for a pullover sweater for herself, and three skeins of a sheep wool and alpaca blend for ski hats for Margie, Dev and herself she still went reluctantly into the good day.