Red Velvet Revenge (10 page)

He grinned his five-hundred-watt smile as Henry hustled over. He certainly didn’t seem at all concerned about Slim being shot; quite the opposite, in fact. He was laughing as he ordered a round of drinks for his group. It almost looked as if they were celebrating.

“Come on,” Angie said. “Let’s go. All of a sudden, it feels crowded in here.”

Mel glanced back at Marty. He was still talking to Delia, and it looked as if he’d be occupied for some time. She followed the others out into the street, which was eerily quiet after the noise of the parade and the ensuing mayhem. There were several police officers in the street, and it seemed to Mel they were trying to gauge the trajectory of the shot.

One of them glanced up and saw the four of them. He strode over, looking as if he meant business.

“I’m sorry, folks; we’re trying to keep the street clear while we investigate.”

“No problem,” Tate said. “We’ll get out of the way.”

“Do you know who did the shooting?” Angie asked.

The officer pushed back his wide-brimmed hat, and Mel noted that he looked young, probably in his mid-twenties. She glanced at the name badge on the left pocket of his tan uniform. It read,
Deputy Justice
. Good name, she thought.

“No, ma’am, we don’t have any information yet,” he said. He sounded regretful.

They all nodded and headed down the sidewalk and around the corner. A diner was on the adjacent street, and Tate suggested they go get coffee.

The rounded chrome and glass building looked like it was a spaceship that had landed in the fifties and decided not to leave. The aqua and yellow sign above it, that proclaimed it the Stardust Diner, was faded from long years in the desert sun, but it was shaped in a retro fifties sunburst that Mel found charming. They walked into the small but clean restaurant and took the empty corner booth.

A waitress came by with menus, but they all shook their heads. Coffee would do.

“Just four coffees, thanks.” Tate smiled at her.

The waitress glanced over the four of them, and Mel got the feeling she could read her customers at fifty paces.

“Did you all just come from the parade?” she asked.

Tate nodded on behalf of all of them.

“Slim’s a tough old bird,” she said. “He’ll be all right.”

The waitress said it as if there weren’t any ands, ifs, or buts about it. She was plump and wore her gray hair tucked into an old-fashioned hairnet that hung off the crown of her head. Her white waitress shoes were spotless, as were her pink polyester dress and white apron.

“Pie,” she said. “That’s what you folks need. Luckily, we have a special today on coconut custard pie.”

“No, thanks. I don’t…” Tate began, but Angie nudged him in the ribs.

“We’ll take four slices of pie and four coffees.” Angie paused to read the name embroidered on the waitress’s uniform. “Thanks, Ruth.”

The older woman nodded in approval. “Coming right up.”

“I don’t want pie,” Tate protested. “How can you possibly eat after what’s happened?”

“Are you kidding?” Angie asked. “I can always make room for pie, and if you don’t eat yours, I will.”

“I heard mini pies are going to take over the cupcake market,” Tate said.

Mel snorted. “Yeah, not likely.”

Tate raised an eyebrow at her. “Aren’t you the overconfident one?”

“Please, it’s not overconfidence. Piecrust is one of the most difficult tasks a pâtissier learns. Frankly, it was the dividing line in cooking school. Those that mastered the piecrust and those that didn’t.”

“So, you’re saying there aren’t that many good pie makers?” Tate asked.

Mel shrugged. In her experience there weren’t, but she didn’t want to sound like too much of a know-it-all.

Ruth was back in moments with their coffees. Thick ceramic mugs steamed with the hot, dark brew, and Mel grabbed the sugar shaker while Angie reached for the small silver pitcher of half-and-half.

“Do you think they’ll cancel the rodeo?” Oz asked. He was staring morosely into his mug. Leave it to the young one to voice the question weighing on all of their minds. Mel was worried about Slim, but the proprietor in her was
terrified that she was going to end up with a van full of useless frozen cupcakes.

Ruth had just reached the table with their pie. She off-loaded each one from her tray before saying, “Don’t worry. They won’t cancel the rodeo.”

“But doesn’t Mr. Hazard own it?” Oz asked.

“He does. And the rodeo grounds are on his property, so it’s big business for the Hazards. This one rodeo is what they live off of all year. So, believe me, they won’t cancel. His daughter Lily is his right hand,” Ruth said. “She’ll take over—if need be.”

Ruth looked sad, and Mel got the feeling that Slim was more than just the financial backer of the town; he seemed genuinely liked as well.

“Give me a holler if you need anything else,” she said.

Mel picked up her fork and tucked into the slice of pie in front of her. The custard was thick and creamy, and the coconut made it taste exotic. Then she got to the piecrust. It was buttery and flaky and melt-in-your-mouth delicious. No one at the table said a word until their forks had scraped the last of the crumbs off of their plates.

“That was awesome,” Oz said. He took a big sip from his thick ceramic mug and heaved a contented sigh. Mel, Angie, and Tate followed suit.

Mel waited until Ruth returned to warm up their coffees before she asked who baked their pies. Ruth gave her a big smile.

“I do,” she said. “Did you like it?”

“Sour cream in the crust,” Mel said. “Very nice.”

“And I roll it out between two pieces of wax paper,” Ruth said. “Much easier to transfer to the dish that way.”

“Did you go to cooking school?”

“Only if you count learning at my meemaw’s elbow and ducking when the rolling pin came a-swinging if I messed it up,” Ruth said.

Mel laughed. “I had a few teachers like that.”

“You should come back tomorrow,” Ruth said. “I’m baking strawberry rhubarb tonight.”

“Oh, I’ll be back,” Mel said.

The door to the diner swung open, and an older man in a sheriff’s uniform strode in. He looked a bit haggard and took a stool at the counter.

“Excuse me; that’s my husband,” Ruth said, and she hurried over to the counter with the coffeepot.

Mel glanced at her companions in the booth and at the customers surrounding them. Everyone sat completely still as they watched the sheriff. Mel could tell they were all hoping to hear some news about Slim.

“Is there any word?” Ruth asked. She rested her hand on his arm, and the sheriff gave her a small smile. He removed his hat and patted her hand with his own.

The sheriff, as if sensing the eyes of all of the customers upon him, spun slightly to address the room.

“Slim’s going to be fine,” he said. “He took a bullet in the shoulder, but it passed clear through.”

Cheers erupted in the small restaurant, and Mel sagged with relief against the cushioned back of the booth.

“Hey, Hadley,” a man from across the room yelled at the sheriff, “who shot him?”

“No idea.” The sheriff shook his head. “We think it was most likely some yahoo, shooting off his gun to celebrate.
Obviously someone who forgot that what goes up must come down.”

There were nods of agreement all around the room, and the clatter of utensils and plates resumed as everyone turned back to their food.

“That’s stupid,” Angie said. “What kind of a moron shoots a bullet up into the air when there is a crowd like the one at the parade?”

“ ‘Stupid is as stupid does,’” Tate said.

“
Forrest Gump
,” Mel and Oz cited the movie together.

“That’s more than stupid,” Angie said. “It’s criminally negligent.”

“Maybe you should have to pass an IQ test to own a gun,” Oz suggested.

“Well, that would certainly cut down on ownership,” Mel said.

Mel thought of her uncle Stan, a detective with the Scottsdale police department, and the one thing she had learned from him over the years was that by and large criminals were dumb, and most of them were armed and dumb, a deadly combination no matter how you looked at it.

“We’d better get to bed,” Angie said. “If Ruth is right and the rodeo is still happening, we have a big day tomorrow. I’m going to order a slice of pie to go for Marty.”

Tate followed Angie to the counter, swiping the check from Ruth before Angie could pay for it, which caused a small dustup between them.

Mel and Oz watched as they climbed out of the booth.

“Mel, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Oz,” she said.

“Exactly how rich is Tate?”

Mel blew out a breath.

“I know that’s rude,” Oz said. “But the T-man seems to have everything a dude could want, so he’s got to be loaded, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Mel said. “If you’re asking for a dollar amount, I really can’t say, but yeah, it’s a lot.”

They both looked back at the counter where Tate was watching Angie while she ordered another slice of pie.

“But you’re wrong,” Mel said. “He may be rich, but he doesn’t have everything he wants.”

Eleven

“Cupcakes for breakfast? No, I don’t think so.” A woman grabbed her two daughters by the hands and led them away from the cupcake truck.

Mel sighed. The rodeo’s opening ceremony had just concluded, and although she and Angie had hustled back to the van to open for business, so far they’d had no takers.

“Oh, sure, say no to a cupcake, but I bet she lets them eat doughnuts for breakfast,” Angie griped.

They were leaning out of the service window and smiling at anyone who walked by, but it was no use. They may as well have been trying to sell umbrellas on this cloudless day.

“Maybe it will pick up closer to lunch,” Tate suggested hopefully.

A guffaw carried across the way from Billy Bob’s barbecue
pit, and Mel looked up to see Billy and Bob, obviously having some deep belly yuks at their expense.

“Mel, you have to do something,” Angie hissed in a low voice so that Tate couldn’t hear her. “I refuse to lose our bet to those morons.”

Mel looked at the line the barbecue pit already had. Sure enough, they had put a scrambled-egg-and-barbecued-beef burrito on their menu, and they were cleaning up the breakfast business. Well, if folks wanted breakfast, she could do that.

“Angie, go get the message board,” she said. “We have a new cupcake to add.”

Angie took one look at her face and hurried out of the truck.

“Tate, I need you to get some supplies for me,” Mel said. Tate had taken a seat at their plastic table and was thumbing through the paper. He was not moving as fast as she would like, so she growled, “Now!”

Tate dropped the paper and hurried forward. “Sheesh, no need to get snippy.”

Mel scratched a short list onto a napkin and handed it to him through the window. He scanned the list and gave her a confused look.

“Just do it.” She shooed him away.

When Angie came back with the message board, Mel told her what to write. Then she set to work, pulling a fresh batch of vanilla cupcakes out of the freezer to thaw along with one of her tubs of buttercream.

This had to work. The rodeo had been open for only half an hour, but she could already see that the barbecue boys
were thumping them. She needed to come up with a way to cut into their business, and fast.

Slim had kicked off the opening ceremonies with his arm in a sling. The crowd had gone crazy when he took the stage in the arena to announce the rodeo was open. He had been sandwiched by his daughter Lily on one side and Tammy on the other. He looked exhausted but determined. Mel and the others couldn’t help but admire his grit.

Everyone attending the rodeo seemed to think the gunshot was a freak accident from an overzealous parade attendee, but Mel noticed that Jake Morgan, the man who had been driving Slim’s convertible, stayed close to him during the opening ceremony and kept a vigilant eye on the crowd. It may have been an accident, but they were all a bit twitchy.

Angie finished with her drawing just as Tate handed Mel’s requested ingredients through the open window of the van. Mel quickly set to work remixing her buttercream with Tate’s purchases. In fifteen minutes, she had her new offering, and she gave Tate and Angie the go-ahead to move the signboard out to the walkway.

In less than five minutes, she had a line of twenty people at the van.

“Can I have four of them French Toast cupcakes?” a man asked. “They look deeeelicious.”

“Absolutely,” Angie said with a grin. And she hurried to fill his order.

Mel kept busy loading her vanilla cupcakes with her newly mixed maple-buttercream frosting and artistically sprinkling chopped bacon on top.

Tate climbed in the van to help Angie at the window, and Mel asked over her shoulder, “Where did you get the bacon?”

“I bought it off of the barbecue guys next door,” he said.

Mel had to stifle a laugh. That was perfect.

“And the syrup?” she asked.

“I ran into Lily Hazard—you know, Slim’s daughter—and she lent me some out of the ranch’s kitchen,” he said.

“Well-done,” Mel said.