Red Velvet Revenge (18 page)

“Since you’re already dishing, Ruth, add a slice of pie to my tab,” Whitley said.

She gave him a look that said he needed pie like a sinking boat needed a cinder block but politely said nothing.

Mel could see the yellow and red of the peaches glistening between the flaky crusts as Ruth cut two generous wedges and placed them on the thick white dishes with the cobalt blue edges. Without asking them, Ruth warmed the pie in the microwave and then put a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream on each before placing them on the counter in front of them.

“I think I’m drooling,” Angie whispered, and Mel nodded in understanding.

“I hear that,” she said, and surreptitiously checked her chin.

Whitley, however, was not one to be distracted by pie. He waved his fork at Ruth as he continued his discourse.

“I bet Slim and Ty had another falling-out,” he said.
“And I’m betting one of Ty’s boys shot Slim, and as retribution Ty was found gutted in the bull pen.”

“Surely you don’t think it was Slim,” Ruth said. “The man is in a sling.”

“But his daughter isn’t,” Whitley said. Then he shoveled in some pie as if that ended the conversation.

Angie looked surprised and asked, “Is he referring to Lily?”

Ruth patted back her gray hair with one hand and frowned. “That’s just silly. Lily Hazard is one of the finest young women in Juniper Pass. She’s on the hospital board, the museum board. Why, she even works with at-risk youth in the church.”

“Huh.” Angie grunted and shoved a piece of pie in her mouth, probably to keep from saying something not nice.

Mel had forked up a bite of her own and was enjoying the taste-bud sensation of warm, tart peaches with cold, sweet ice cream in a buttery, flaky crust. Nirvana.

“Now, that sister of hers, Shelby, why, I wouldn’t put anything past her,” Ruth said.

“Well, who did you think I was talking about?” Whitley asked. “It’s the younger one that’s the wild card.”

“True enough,” Ruth agreed. “She caused Slim more heartache than any father should have to bear.”

Mel felt her curiosity rear its nosy old head. “How so?”

“After their mother died, she ran away,” Ruth said. “Slim was beside himself, but he finally tracked her down in Las Vegas. She was working in one of the casinos.”

“Then what happened?” Angie asked.

“He brought her back to the ranch, and she took up with any no-account who came along,” Ruth said. “She was determined to get to California and be a big star.”

“Might help if she had a lick of talent,” Whitley said.

“No argument there,” Ruth agreed. “Anyway, then she took up with Ty, and that was the final straw for Slim. He sent her away.”

“Why?” Mel asked. “I thought Ty was his protégé. I’d think he’d be happy if she and Ty were together.”

“Things had soured between Ty and Slim,” Ruth said. She glanced out the window as if remembering. “Ty was angry with Slim.”

“Tell them why,” Whitley said.

“That’s gossip that I want no part of,” Ruth said, and she shook her head.

“Oh, phooey, it just proves that Slim is no saint, and no one likes to admit that,” Whitley said.

Ruth glared at him.

“What? I’m just telling the truth,” he said. He put his fork down with a clatter. “I like Slim as much as the next guy, but there’s no denying that he was a hothead in his youth. And it was that temper of his that got Ty’s father, Caleb Stokes, killed.”

Mel gaped. She turned and saw Angie doing the same.

Angie recovered her powers of speech faster and asked, “How?”

“They were both bull riders on the circuit,” Whitley said. “One night they got into a pissing match—needless to say they’d been drinking—and they broke into the bull pen at the Cheyenne Frontier Days Rodeo.”

Mel cringed. She could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Caleb went first, and from the witnesses who saw what happened, it was determined that he managed to ride ‘A
Hard Day’s Night’ quite well considering his condition. But when he got off the bull, it swung around and got him in the ribs, hard. He tried to scramble out of the pen, and Slim did jump into the ring and try to draw the bull away, but Caleb fell and the fall caused his broken ribs to sever his pulmonary artery. There was nothing they could do to save him.”

“Well, I don’t see how that’s Slim’s fault,” Angie said. “It sounds like a tragic accident.”

“To a young boy who lost his father, it’s more than that. How can he help but think if Caleb and Slim hadn’t been drinking, or if Slim hadn’t lost his temper and challenged Caleb, or even if Slim had gone first, there probably would have been a different outcome and he would have grown up with a father.”

Mel let out a heavy sigh. They were all quiet for a bit.

“I thought Slim was Ty’s mentor,” Mel said.

“He was,” Ruth said. “Slim wanted to help raise Ty to make up for what happened, so he helped Ty’s mom as best he could.”

“Which was pretty good,” Whitley cut in. “That boy never wanted for anything.”

“But then, the truth will out as it always does,” Ruth said. “Someone told Ty about Slim’s role in his father’s death. Ty was devastated.”

“As compensation for his father’s death, Ty wanted part ownership of the rodeo. Slim said no. Shelby got in the middle of it, mucking it up and making it worse,” Whitley said. “They’ve been at odds ever since.”

“And Shelby has done her level best to make sure the bad blood remains,” Ruth said.

Mel glanced down at her plate and saw that it was
scraped clean. She glanced back up and saw Ruth gazing out the large picture window at the town green. She looked wistful for days gone by.

“You don’t think Shelby could actually have killed Ty, do you?” she asked.

“No!” Angie said.

Ruth, Whitley, and the family in the booth all turned to stare at her.

Angie cleared her throat. “What I mean is, that’s really none of our business, right?”

Mel knew where she was going with this. Angie thought Mel was a big buttinsky and that she needed to back away from asking any questions about what happened to Ty, but Mel liked the Hazards, and she couldn’t help but worry about what Ty’s death would mean for them and the rodeo.

“The Hazards are our friends,” Mel said. “Slim gave us this opportunity to work the rodeo, and you have to admit business has been good.”

“I did hear about your Red Velvets,” Ruth said. “And your young man, Oz—he’s quite a character.”

“He’s also under Shelby’s spell,” Mel said.

“I figured when he showed up here asking to use my kitchen to make vegan cupcakes and all,” Ruth said. “Still, they were very tasty, and he seems like a good kid.”

“I heard the bull liked them just fine,” Whitley said with a wheezy laugh that made his belly shake.

He pushed off of his stool and struggled with his belt. He looked as if he was trying to figure out whether it would be more comfortable riding over or under that last piece of pie. He settled on under and ambled over to the cash register.

Whitley paid up and headed out the door with a wave.
Mel and Angie stood up and handed their check to Ruth, too.

“Ruth, can you tell us where the nearest craft store is?”

“What sort of craft are you looking for?” she asked.

“We need lollipop sticks and candy coating,” Mel said.

Ruth looked intrigued but didn’t ask. “Well, there are a couple of stores over in Show Low, but depending upon how much you need, you may have to trek all the way to Flagstaff.”

“We’d better get going, then,” Angie said.

Mel paid the tab with a healthy tip. “Thanks, Ruth.”

They left the diner behind, and Mel could feel Angie staring at her.

“What?” she asked as she climbed into the truck.

“Do not start asking questions about Ty’s death,” Angie said. “We need to focus on making enough money to pay Tate back for the van. That is our sole purpose.”

“I know,” Mel said. “That’s why we’re driving all the way to Flag if need be for supplies.”

Mel turned onto the main road that led to the route that would take them to a bigger town.

“So long as we’re clear,” Angie said as she fiddled with the radio. “I’d hate to have to call Joe and tell him what you’re up to.”

Twenty

Mel stood on the brakes, and the truck did a wobble and squeal. They were in the middle of the road, but she didn’t care, not even when a car coming up behind them honked and then swung around them, with the driver sending them a stiff-fingered salute.

Angie had been held in place by her seat belt, and as she leaned back in her seat, she looked at Mel as if she’d lost her nut.

“Are you crazy?”

“Me? You’re asking me?” Mel countered.

“Do you see anyone else in the car?” Angie asked.

“Listen, Angie, you’ve been my best friend for more than twenty years, and I love you, but—” Mel paused. She realized she needed to go for tactful here and not let her temper get the best of her.

“But?” Angie prodded.

“You have no reason to be calling Joe about anything,” Mel said. “And I don’t like that you dropped that little bomb on me when I could easily say the same about Roach.”

Angie sucked in an outraged breath. “I am not the one asking questions about a dead guy.”

“No, you’re the one glaring daggers at Tate and his new friend,” Mel said. “Angie, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t date a rock star and then be all hurt if Tate is spending time with someone else. He does not deserve the endless case of stink eye you’ve been blasting him with.”

“Nice change of subject,” Angie said. But her scathing tone made it clear that she found nothing nice about it.

She turned to face the window, and Mel was afraid she’d been too harsh, but it was time. Angie had to woman up and make a decision. And besides, she had no right saying that she was going to call Joe and report on Mel. That was most definitely not in the best girlfriend’s handbook.

Mel eased her foot off of the brakes and stepped gently on the gas. She could tell by the stiff set to Angie’s shoulders—well, that and the fact that she wouldn’t look at her—that Angie was mad at her. Fine. Whatever. It was going to be a long drive to Flagstaff.

They got back to Juniper Pass by early afternoon, and Mel took the truck right down to the rodeo. The man at the gate waved them on in, and Mel parked behind the cupcake van.

She was relieved to be back. Although she and Angie
had spoken while they were purchasing their supplies, they had said little else during the trip, and Mel was feeling guilty. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so tough.

When they pulled up to the cupcake truck, all thought of Angie and their tiff fled as Mel saw Tate and Sheriff Dolan going nose to nose while Deputy Justice stood next to Oz, looking as if he would Tase the boy if he made one false move.

Mel banged out of the truck and raced over to where they were standing.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“The sheriff wants to take Oz in for questioning,” Tate said.

“What for?” Angie demanded. She moved to stand between Oz and the sheriff as if she were a human shield.

“It’s just routine questioning,” Sheriff Dolan said. “Nothing to get excited about.”

“I’m sorry, Sheriff,” Mel said. “But he is a minor in my employ and under my supervision. You’re going to have to give me more than that if you want me not to call my attorney—well, my assistant-district-attorney boyfriend—in on this.”

Sheriff Dolan looked at her and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Joe DeLaura,” Mel said. “If you want to verify, you can call him. We own a cat together.”

Why ownership of Captain Jack made it seem more legally binding, she had no idea, but given the panic coursing through her at the thought of Oz being arrested, she felt the need to stack the deck, as it were.

“Joe’s also my brother,” Angie added.

The sheriff pushed back his hat and scratched his head. “All right, here’s the thing. I have a witness that says she saw Oz at the bull pens just before Ty was killed.”

Collectively, they started to argue.

“But that’s not—”

“Impossible—”

“He was baking cupcakes at the diner—”

The sheriff held up his hands and looked at Oz. “Do you want to tell them or should I?”