Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 04 - Saddle Up (6 page)

“Okay, fine.”

“That also explains your strange behavior on the phone.”

“What strange behavior?”

He got off the chair and sat on the ottoman facing me. He took my hands and said, “I could have sworn you were crying when I talked to you earlier in the week. I didn’t understand what was going on. That’s why I came early.”

“The guy didn’t take a plea?”

“He did, but I had enough paperwork on my desk to keep me busy until Wednesday. But I knew you were struggling with something and I came to make sure it wasn’t the way you felt about me.”

“I love you, that won’t ever change,” I told him.

“I’m glad,” Tom leaned in and kissed me, then continued, “and I’ve decided that we can talk about your dad anytime you’d like. As long as I don’t see him, I don’t have to arrest him.”

“Really?”

“Yes, so did you have a nice visit with your dad and Jordan?” Tom went back and sat on the other chair.

“Yes, I did.” And I told Tom everything we had done together, from playing games to cooking. I felt like most of the weight had been lifted off my chest. As long as Tom and my dad stayed apart, things would be great.

When I was finished, Tom said, “What did your dad think about the phone call?”

After I told him what Dad had said, I asked, “Didn’t you say that you had been to a few rodeos?”

“Yes, some during my high school years and quite a few when I was in college.”

“Pam liked rodeos?”

“Pam was a Rodeo Queen.”

Pam was Tom’s ex-wife. I had never met her or even seen a picture of her, but I had this vision of a young woman with long flowing hair riding around an arena on a beautiful horse. Tom interrupted my vision.

“I don’t think you will be able to do anything until you know what city the deaths occur in. There are hundreds of rodeos in the valley and you’ve already missed a few.”

“Really?”

“Sure, you got the note the first of August. There were several rodeos in August and September and the California finals were in October. They all start again around the first of March.”

“Does
that include the Henry Picket R
odeo and the Gay Rodeo?”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “I see Justin’s been busy on this. I don’t know much about either of those circuits.”

“Well, Justin has gathered up some information. Dad and Jordan offered to help, too.”

“That’s great. The more people who help you – the less chance you’ll get into trouble.”

I frowned and Tom kissed me on the nose, then said, “Get dressed up. I made dinner reservations for us.”

“Really? Where?”

“In San Francisco, so wear that lovely black dress that Dorian bought you on the cruise.”

“And the matching lace black undergarments?”

A smile slid across Tom’s face.

I jumped up to change before dinner was cancelled and we would go to bed and re-heat leftovers from my refrigerator later.

While I was in the shower, I heard Tom in the bedroom rummaging through his duffle bag. He must have brought a nice change of clothes, too. But anything less than a tux just wouldn’t do my long slinky black dress justice.

After I dressed, I piled my long red hair up, letting a few curls fall down each side, then added some makeup. I pulled out the blue sapphire and diamond earrings and necklace that Dorian had purchased to complement the outfit. He bought it when he thought he could woo me away from Tom. It hadn’t worked, but I got to keep the outfit.

When I walked out into the living room, Tom stood up. He wasn’t weari
ng a tux, but he had changed in
to black dress slacks and a tailored sports coat that fit his muscular frame like he was poured into it and made my heart skip a few beats, too.

At the same time, we both said, “You look wonderful!”

We laughed. Tom extended his hand and said, “Let’s buy you the biggest piece of meat we can find.”

“That works for me.”

Traffic was horrible on the way to the city and several times I saw the look in Tom’s eyes that said, ‘Let’s go back and forget it.’ But we didn’t and an hour and a half later we pulled into the Hilton Hotel.

“We’re going to a hotel?” I asked.

“No, the restaurant is close and they don’t have their own parking.”

The restaurant was tucked down an alley next to the hotel. My first thought, although I have no experience with such things, was that it was decorated like a bordello with its red-on-red décor.

When we walked up to the entrance, Tom winked and said, “I know you like the color red.”

“I do.” I said.

“My favorite words,” Tom said, as a slow grin slid across his face.

When I frowned, understanding the reference to marriage vows, he added, “They serve the best steak in the city.”

That brightened my mood. The inside of the restaurant was filled with thick drapes, gilded chandeliers, plush leather booths, and starched white napery. They tucked us in a booth near the back of the restaurant where we had lots of privacy.

Tom ordered for us, steak for me and salmon for him. According to our waiter, the steaks were from corn-fed Midwestern beef, aged four weeks and grilled over mesquite. When they served my dinner, the New Y
ork steak covered my entire plat
e and I cut it with my butter knife. It was fabulous!

While we ate we talked of nothing and everything. I filled in more details from things that were happening at school and to my co-workers and he did the same. We didn’t talk of marriage, although he skirted around the issue a few times, making references to several obviously married couples who came into the restaurant. One older couple was celebrating their sixtieth wedding anniversary with their children and several grandchildren.

On the drive home, we didn’t talk at all, which was okay. Tom hummed and sang along with the music and I enjoyed looking out the window at the stars and city lights. I thought about how nice being married to him would be, growing old together, having children and then grandchildren. Those wonderful thoughts were interrupted with visions of separate holidays, vacations, and celebrations and the nightmare if Tom and Dad every accidentally ended up at the same one.

When I sighed, Tom said, “You okay, Liza?”

“Just full from the dinner,” I told him, which was true but not the reason I had sighed.

He reached over, picked up my hand, and kissed it. “It will all work out, Liza.”

I gave him my best reassuring smile, then went back to watching the scenery. I hoped he was right, but deep down in my heart, I knew it wouldn’t because I couldn’t come up with a scenario that would end happily for everyone.

When we got home, Tom slipped off my dress and we made love, slow and easy. I pushed my doubts and fears out of my mind and enjoyed the moment.

In the morning, Tom gathered up his stuff.

“Time to leave again,” I sighed.

“I can get you an application for the school around the corner from my house,” he offered.

“I can get you one from the San Ramon Police department,” I countered.

We both laughed.

He pulled me close and we shared a wonderful kiss.

When he released me he said, “I’m going to miss you.”

“Me, too.”

“Let me know what Justin finds out about that library place and if you decide to take a trip to see a rodeo, I’d like to be with you from the start on this one, okay?”

“Sure,” I said.

Tom left and life returned back to its normal routine – school, long phone conversations with Tom, and an occasional weekend together. Christmas turned out to be pretty much the same as Thanksgiving. My dad and Jordan came in early, we celebrated together, they left, and Tom arrived. This time Tom asked when they were going home and made sure he didn’t arrive until the next day. He didn’t want a repeat of Shelby’s performance or to take the chance of having to arrest my dad.

Like Tom suggested, Justin spent days researching the library research division and couldn’t find anything that seemed important. He learned that the division is part of the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. You can go onto the Internet and ask questions and a librarian will research it. People use an extensive phone network to work on projects together. They leave and retrieve information in specific coded files. My code was just one of thousands. Anyone could set a file up by using the Internet without leaving their name or any other information.

Every Saturday I made the same call and nothing changed until March 27
th
. I dialed the number, not expecting anything new, so I was half listening.

“April 15th, 2010. A rodeo star’s entire family was brutally murdered today in Ridgedale. The police have no suspects.”
A pause and then the next message
“Updates to this event will be entered into the library as they occur.”

Wait a minute, I thought. That didn’t sound right. I played it again. This time there was a city’s name.

I called Justin.

“Hey, Teach.”

“Justin, the recording changed.”

“Really?” His voice elevated in surprise and anticipation. “What’s different?”

“There is a city’s name now. It’s Ridgedale.”

“I’ll look up everything I can find on the place and call you back.”

He hung up.

I dialed Tom.

“Hi honey, how’s it going?”

“I have no time to talk. I’ve got a city’s name.”

“To what?” he asked, clearly confused.

“The recording has a city’s name in it now. Ridgedale.”

“I’ll see what I can find out. I’ll call you back.”

Call number three.

“Hi, Liza, how nice to hear from you,” Dad said.

“No time, Dad. I’ve got a city name.”

“From the recording?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s Ridgedale.”

“I’ll call my people and see if I can find anything that might help.”

“Great. Thanks.”

I sat back in the kitchen chair and tried to slow my heart rate. After seven months of nothing, we finally have something to go on and I have three people looking into Ridgedale. I felt like the manager of a private investigation firm with operatives to search out the information for me.

Finally something had happened.

Could we save the family and stop the murders just by visiting the rodeo? I doubted it. Hopefully Dad, Justin and Tom could find out enough information to get us started. It was kind of nice that it was
us
and not just
me
this time. As long as I kept Tom and Dad separated during my investigation, things would work out great.

CHAPTER 6

Sunday morning, Justin was the first to check in.

“Hey, Teach, I’ve got some information for you.”

I took out the yellow pad of paper and said, “Okay, give it to me.”

“Ridgedale’s rodeo is on April 3
rd
and 4
th
, but the events start on the Tuesday before that.”

“Really, like what?” I asked.

“Local team roping contest on Tuesday, nothing on Wednesday, and then the Miss Ridgedale Rodeo Queen contest on Thursday. Women’s barrel racing and Slack Starts, if they need them, start on Friday.”

I wrote down everything he said, but then stopped and asked, “What’s Slack Starts?”

“According to the Internet, when they have an over flow of contestants in a particular performance, a slack is held.”

“Okay, you explained it and I’m still not sure I understand,” I told Justin.

“I think it’s when they have too many people to compete in a particular event so they hold a semi-final to see who gets to be in the actual rodeo.”

“I get it. What happens on Saturday?”

“The parade starts at nine and then the actual rodeo events begin at 1:30 with a Grand Entry which is like one big pageant, where flag-carrying riders in satin and sequins lead the way. Community leaders, stock show officials, and competitors follow on their own horses, weaving between the first set of riders and filling the entire arena. It sounds pretty cool. After all the rodeo events on Saturday, there is a dance and then Cowboy Church on Sunday morning at the Lagoon. On Sunday afternoon the rodeo events start again with another Grand Entry at 1:30. It finishes that evening around five.”

“Wow, it’s a full schedule,” I said, looking down at the yellow pad. It was filled with information.
It felt good
. I thought. We were finally moving forward instead of being idle as we had been for so many months.

“That’s for sure. When will you go up there?”

“I can’t be there starting on Tuesday, but I may go on Friday morning. What have you found out about the town?”

“Not much from their one page website. The population is barely 2,000.”

“Where is it?”

“About an hour north of Sacramento.”

“What else did you find out?”

“The only event in that town is the rodeo; I couldn’t find any festivals or other celebrations. I read through several news articles in their local paper,
The Ridgedale Reader
.”

“Can you send me the link in an email so I can read them, too?” I knew I would never be able to find the newspaper myself. I was definitely computer-challenged.

Silence.

“Justin?” I asked.

“If I send you the link in an email, will you know how to open it?”

“Just click on it the way you showed me, right?”

“The teacher can be taught!” He chuckled.

I laughed with him. “Is there anything else about the town that strikes you as different or unusual?”

“Not really. It’s just a little town in the middle of nowhere. They don’t have any major businesses – only one small grocery store, a vet’s office, post office, a bar, feed store, and a couple of restaurants. Nothing like a Denny’s or Perko’s, just a local café and a Mexican burrito shop.”

“What about a hotel?” I said, thinking I would need a place to stay.

“No hotel or motel, but they do have a small place called the Ridgedale Inn. It’s got ten rooms but I’d bet the pictures on the Internet have been touched up.”

“I’ll call and get a room anyway. I have to stay someplace.”

“I’ve got the website up now on my computer, you want me to get you a room?” Justin offered.

“Sure, you still have my credit card information?”

“Yes. I think this place is going to make the Nordic Inn where you stayed in Long Beach before the cruise look like the Taj Mahal. Why don’t you stay in the next town? It can’t be much of a drive from there to Ridgedale.”

“No, I want to be in the town. It’s hard to absorb local color and feel if you spend your time commuting.”

“I’m not sure you want to absorb anything from that place, Teach.”

“Dead family, remember?”

“I’ve looked at the satellite photographs of this town. It has two trailer parks, a bunch of run-down houses, and not much more.”

“Where do you think the people in the town work?”

“If I had to make a guess, I’d say they’re either on state assistance or run a meth lab.”

“Justin, when did you get to be such a cynic?”

“Take a look at the place, Teach, and give me your impressions. I can send you the satellite link, too.”

“No, I want to see the real thing.”

“Take lots of disinfectant with you and maybe even an antibiotic,” Justin suggested.

“Oh, brother.” I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me. “Send the other link and I’ll check the newspaper articles out.”

“Okay. I’ll keep surfing to see if cyberspace can find anything else.”

“Thanks.”

As I replaced the phone, Shelby ran in and barked. Close on her heels was my dad. It’s amazing how I’ve gotten used to him just showing up. His attire of shorts, Hawaiian shirt, and Birkenstocks warmed my heart every time.

“Hi, Dad,” I said and got to my feet.

He gave me a big hug. “How are you doing?”

“Chugging along.”

“Like a train – slow and steady.”

“Yep. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the visit, but I just saw you two days ago. What’s up?”

“Can’t a father just visit his daughter? Does he have to have an ulterior motive or hidden agenda?”

I blew out an exasperated breath and repeated my earlier question, “What’s up?”

“Okay.” Dad put his hands on his hips.

I had seen this move before. Usually when he was going to say no to something I wanted.

“I’ve done some research on your little town. I don’t want you going there!”

“What? I’m a grown women – I can go anywhere I want!” I responded to his serious tone with the attitude I usually reserve for Tom when he was trying to control me.

Dad’s demeanor deflated and he pointed to the couch. “Sit down and let me tell you about Ridgedale.”

I moved to the living room and curled up on the couch, waiting to hear his complaints. Dad paced.

“I’m not sure where to start. That town is in serious trouble.”

“Start wherever you like, just get it out and sit down.”

Dad took the recliner and said, “Ridgedale is at first glance a little nothing of a town in the middle of nowhere, but it’s a hotbed of problems.”

“Environmental problems?”

“Oh yeah. First off, it’s a cancer cluster center. Many of the residents have died from non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

“I hadn’t heard about that.”

“It’s a small town, so if they lose people, nobody really cares except the families and friends. But look at the percentages, one percent of their population has been diagnosed with that specific disease and close to half of those have died in the last year.”

“That doesn’t sound like much. Wouldn’t normal illnesses and accidents cause that many deaths? Doesn’t L.A. County have a death-rate of six percent?”

Dad smiled. “Good girl, you’re right.”

“How could I forget the fifty-page report Mom made me do when I was a senior? I compared the death rates of six major cities around the world and charted the trends based on what caused the deaths.”

“But remember, that number includes all kinds of deaths. LA County has an incidence rate of .02 percent of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

“Wow, why hasn’t anyone done anything about Ridgedale?”

“Didn’t you know that cancer is everywhere and the entire world is a cluster?”

“Who says?”

“All the politicians and governmental agencies that don’t want to take responsibility for their screw-ups.” Dad got up and paced again, a clear indication that he was unhappy about the situation in Ridgedale and, of course, his feelings toward elected officials and our government.

“So what do you think is causing the cancer?”

“Take your pick. Ridgedale sits in the middle of a bunch of crap. North is the Aspin Power Plant, south is the Emerald Lagoon and the entire city was built on pesticide-rich farmland. Those would be the second, third, and fourth things wrong with that area.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll bring bottled water and thick soled shoes.”

“I’d recommend a gas mask, too,” my dad replied. And he was serious.

“I’m surprised that you guys aren’t up there picketing and doing whatever eco-terrorists do these days.”

My dad turned away from me and didn’t respond to my last statement.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re planning something during the rodeo?”

“It’s the only time that town gets any recognition, Liza.” Dad turned around throwing his hands in the air. “The other 360 days out of the year, nobody even knows they exist.”

“Great. I will be there, Tom will be there, you and your little band of terrorists will be there, too. There are only ten rooms at the inn, where
in hell are we all going to
stay?”

“There is no way we’ll stay in that town. My group is driving in.”

“What are you planning?” I asked.

My dad raised his eyebrows.

“Oh God, never mind. I don’t want to know. Maybe you’re the reason that family gets killed?”

“Nope, we make sure that nobody is hurt except the big corporations that pollute the water or air.”

“So maybe somebody screws up.”

He shook his head, but a hint of doubt was in his eyes.

My phone rang.

I glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Tom,” I said.

“That’s my cue to skedaddle.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and left through the sliding glass door.

I answered the phone. “Hello, love.”

“Hi, honey. How’s your Sunday going?”

“Rather busy.”

“Really? Usually you watch a movie and get your mind ready for school on Monday.”

“I haven’t started that yet,” I said, glancing at the yellow pad full of words. I needed to add the information that Dad had just given me too.

“What’s been going on?”

“Justin called and gave me some information on Ridgedale, and then… , I hesitated.

Tom finished my sentence, “Your dad stopped by or called you to give you his information.”

“Yes.”

“Well, that sucks. I came in number three. I’ve got to get faster at being your minion or you might dump me for someone else.”

“Minions are slaves, Tom. You are not my slave.”

“I’m a slave to your love,” he said.

I rolled my eyes – I seemed to be doing that a lot today. “So minion number 3 – what did you find out?”

“Ridgedale is a nothing town.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Okay, let’s see if you know this. Their police department and fire department are all manned by volunteers. They do have a mayor.”

“Really? What’s his name?” I picked up the pad, flipping to the next page.

“It’s a woman and her name is Priscilla Banner.”

“What else do you know about her?”

“She’s the one with the money and power in the town. She owns just about every piece of land in the area, a power plant and some kind of lagoon recreation area, and leases it out to the town. Her daughter runs the local newspaper.”

“
The Ridgedale Reader
?”

“Yes, you must have gotten that from Justin. He’s the computer minion and I’m sure it’s available on the Internet.”

“He sent me the link.” I jotted some notes onto the yellow pad.

“I wouldn’t put much stock in what it says. The newspaper is run by the Mayor’s daughter, Grace Banner. It’s probably a little biased.”

“What does her husband do?”

“She’s a widow.”

“Any other kids?”

“Nope, just the one daughter.”

“Can I ask you a cop question?” I asked, setting down the pad on the coffee table.

“Sure.”

“Why does an entire family get killed? It’s different than one death, which I know can have the usual motives.”

“That’s a good question. I don’t have any experience with it, but it seems to me it would have to be something major like you see in gang wars, where they wipe out an entire family. Or one of the family members or associates might be crazy and do it for a motive you or I wouldn’t understand.”

“It’s such a small country town; I wouldn’t think there would be a gang problem in Ridgedale.”

“You’d be surprised how gangs have spread out into rural areas. We even have problems here now and again.”