Richfield & Rivers Mystery Series 3 - Venus Besieged (29 page)

The
ride back to town in the Jeep was quiet. We were all tired and exceedingly
lucky and, ironically, we were in pairs. Three couples. Manaba and Nizhoni,
Barrett and Ramona, Callie and me, and of course Elmo, who was still in search
of basset love. There could not be three odder couples, I thought as I glanced
in the rearview mirror to see Nizhoni and Manaba asleep on one another.

"We
drop Manaba off at any particular tree stump?" I murmured so only Callie
could hear me.

"She
wants her cabin back, now that she has Nizhoni."

"She
rented us her cabin."

"And
now her need is greater," Callie said calmly.

"My
need is pretty great—"

Picking
up on the conversation, Barrett leaned over and patted me on the shoulder.
"You'll stay at my cabin. I'm staying with Mona."

"Maybe
Ramona would like to stay at carrot-boy's cabin, and then we could stay with
Squash Blossom the jeweler's—"

"Change
in her environment makes her sarcastic," Callie said, taking my hand.

"My
poodle is like that," Ramona commented in a lovesick, lazy voice that made
me swivel my head around to see if it was really her. "By the way, very
butch entrance into the cabin, blowing the door handle off, very
exciting," Ramona said, then suddenly pulled Barrett in for a sizzling
kiss and I decided, like Barrett, damned near anything could turn her on.

An
hour later, we'd dropped Ramona and Barrett off and pulled up in front of our
cabin, now Manaba's.

"It's
the right thing to do. They've both been traumatized and haven't seen each
other in weeks," Callie whispered and patted my leg.

"Are
they going to sleep on our sheets?" I nearly mimed so they couldn't hear
me in the backseat.

"I'll
wash the sheets," Callie said.

"Because
I don't want bear grease in my bed. That's all I've got to say on the
subject."

I
jumped out of the car and dashed inside the cabin and gathered up toothbrushes,
nightshirts, makeup, Elmo's dog bowl, and our laptops, not planning on being
displaced by Manaba for more than one night or I would move us to the comfort
of a hotel.

When
I returned to the Jeep, Manaba, her head bandaged, stood by the passenger side
of the car with Nizhoni, both of them talking to Callie in what looked like a
strained and awkward conversation.

When
I approached, Nizhoni smiled and said, "Thank you. Balance is
restored." The first words I had ever heard her speak and I wondered how
Manaba had ever put the move on a woman like Nizhoni. It must have taken a
really long time, since conversation didn't exactly flow from either of them.

"Truth
is restored." Manaba spoke and I thought she might have added a bit more
in light of the fact that she'd nearly gotten both of us killed.

Callie
nodded, saying nothing else, and Manaba and Nizhoni departed as Callie got back
in the car.

"Not
big talkers, these Indian friends of yours."

"They
say all there is to say."

"So
I guess in their eyes, I'm a babbler," I said, and she took my hand.

"Say
only positive things about yourself, Teague. The soul remembers every negative
word."

"There's
a positive word for babbling?"

"You're..
.expressive," she said and kissed me to keep me from expressing any other
thoughts.

Inside
Barrett's abode, I felt like a break-and-enter. All her stuff was lying
around—slacks over the backs of chairs, cuff links on the dresser, leftover
dinner in a plate on the sink. Barrett Silvers, pressed and perfect, coiffed
and quintessential butch, was sloppy around the house. "I guess she didn't
know we were coming," I said, clearing a path to the bedroom. "In
L.A. she has a maid. Now I know why."

Callie
pulled back the covers. "I'm not sleeping on these sheets."

I
rummaged through the cedar closet and found another single sheet, stripped off
the old one in favor of tucking in this loose but clean one, and crawled into
bed, tugging Callie in beside me.

Neither
of us spoke, and I knew she was squirming. "Hard to sleep on someone
else's sheets," I said. Without further conversation we got up, dragging a
blanket with us, and went out to the couch where we lay so close together the
circulation in my arm almost stopped, but I felt so good I didn't care.

"I
want to stay in bed, or 'in couch,' with you forever and do nothing...and I
guess that's possible since I blew my whole scriptwriting gig." I laughed
at the thought—the whole blowup with Jacowitz.

"You
didn't read me your alien pages." Callie's fingers made lazy circles up my
leg.

I
clicked open my laptop on the table but had trouble focusing on pulling up the
screen due to Callie's toying with me.

"Am
I disturbing you?"

"I
like being disturbed by you. In fact, your look, feel, and taste are constantly
disturbing to every molecule of my body." I sat up and suddenly pulled her
onto my lap. "Hmm, reminds me of chair sex. One of the first times I tried
to make love to you in L.A., you were sitting on my lap."

"Yes,
and it caused an earthquake." Callie grinned mischievously. "Read me
what you wrote?" She trapped my hands.

"So
the way I've got it worked out is that it's Halloween and the married gal is
attending a costume party and she goes off to the library of this big home to
keep from crying in public over her husband's infidelity, and an alien, who she
believes is a costumed guest, enters the room. The alien—face oddly attractive,
body androgynous—moves a little closer to her. The woman is a bit twittery,
aware that something is odd about this person, but it's hard for her to be
suspicious of a person in a blue costume.

"The
alien, incredibly strong for its size, lifts her easily into its arms and
carries her over to a couch as she protests, giggling. Whipping its head toward
the door, it spies the bolt, and with that look the door locks. The woman is
unable to make a sound. Lifting her hips to its mouth, the alien watches with
great interest as she finds enormous pleasure in this sex act—and then it
morphs into a beautiful woman from another dimension.

"Let
me act it out for you," I said, and slid my hand between her legs,
playfully, pretending that if the manuscript didn't satisfy her, I might.

"It's...
actually—"

"Terrible.
And Jacowitz knows it. He sent me a personal note bypassing Barrett to say he
didn't appreciate my turning his suggestions into a farce. How can my writing
this scene be any more of a farce than his suggesting it?"

Callie
slid off my lap, excited now about something other than my close proximity to
her body. "The characters in your story have been everybody in the world
from nuns to hookers to therapists. Why can't the two lead characters be an
older woman with power and position who has been around the block and a younger
woman who has slept with everyone but never found love—

"Who
are they? What brings them together?"

"One
is on the board of a motion-picture studio and one is a development
executive."

"You
want me to write the story as if it's Barrett and Ramona? How prostituting is
that?"

"A
thought," she said with a shrug.

"But
they're characters Barrett will fight for, stand up for against Jacowitz
because she has a personal stake in them. Pretty smart."

"Trying
to be helpful." She kissed me and I realized that might be what a mate
does.. .comes up with ways to fix things for you.

I
emailed a quick note to Barrett suggesting the new plot outline and sent it to
her in an instant ping. "You've now become my own personal
plotmeister."

"Do
you realize it all turned out exactly as the chart said?" Callie changed
the subject, never overly interested in screenwriting. "Venus was
besieged, women under attack: Nizhoni, Manaba, you and me, and really all the
Native American women who wanted that land back but didn't get it. Eyota,
Manaba's grandmother, was tricked into signing over her land, like the chart
said, with Mars, a man, at her back threatening her, and Neptune's
disillusionment, the loss of her land, ahead of her. It said Nizhoni wasn't
dead and she wasn't."

"And
it said a woman would save the day and I would say that's you."

"And
you," she said, kissing me.

"So
when we were fighting off Luther, you were pretty damned strong. Where did that
come from?"

"I'm
a lot stronger than you think. Besides, it's all in my chart. Speaking of
charts." She pulled up an astrological wheel with today's date at the top.
I recognized the grouping of planets and panicked.

"Don't
tell me we're heading into another besiegement."

"We
are. But there are two kinds: malefic, as old-world astrology calls it, and
benefic. We've been through the malefic one, and I thought it might interest
you to see a benefic one. Mercury bounded by Venus and the Sun." At my
look she elaborated. "Mercury, or communication, sitting between woman or
lover and the Sun's ardor and vitality."

"I
want to communicate my ardor with vitality." I tackled her and she
laughed.

"Is
that the only thing you ever have on your mind?"

"No.
It's the only thing I have on my mind when I look at you."

The
following Saturday, the sun broke over the red cliffs, preparing to highlight
the mall groundbreaking and surrendering the ancestral ceremonial site on which
it had shone for so many centuries to the developers, poised with heavy
equipment and television cameras for this, the first day of construction.
Callie and I gathered with crowds of people waiting to see the ribbon cutting
and wishing along with many others that this sacred earth could remain
untouched.

Cy
Blackstone, alive and ready for the news conference, was decked out in his
black pants, white cowboy-cut shirt, and black bolo, holding his black hat in
his hands and looking rugged, if not a few pounds thinner after his hospital
stay.

Ramona
had gone to see him and told him she'd be happy to help him halt the
construction of the mall. He said that even with Luther gone, he had to press
on. It would make him look bad in the community, and everyone would lose money.

Nizhoni
and Manaba both spoke to him and begged him, but he wouldn't give in. Despite
his blaming so much on Luther, now that he had the chance to release the land
to the Indians, he wouldn't do it.

"Senator,
could I see you for a moment?" Ramona Mathers extricated herself from
Barrett Silvers long enough to sidle up to the senator and say something very
coquettish in his ear. When she pulled back, Blackstone reared up as if he
might get angry, but her large, bejeweled hand gripped his arm.

The
heavy yellow dozers, skid loaders, and earth-moving equipment were taking their
positions, strategically placed for the cameras to get a shot of the massive
construction about to begin.

The
young TV announcer addressed the camera, saying this was the big day—the moment
for which all parties had waited, as they determined if the mall would or would
not happen on this disputed site.

As
she spoke, women began appearing over the hillside, at first dozens, then
hundreds, and finally what appeared to be a thousand. So many women that the
video engineer in the truck could be heard through the open door asking what
the hell was going on and shouting for a wide shot.

The
camera pulled back and captured the hillside teeming with women in native
dress. Finally, even Cy Blackstone looked back over his shoulder and did a
double take.

When
the announcer asked Cy what was going on, he looked stunned and didn't say a
word, so Ramona took the microphone and said, "As friend and attorney for
Senator Blackstone, I want to share with you that the senator is overwhelmed by
the wonderful outpouring of Native American women wanting to keep this
ceremonial site as their home. He has decided to donate this land to them and
use this earth-moving equipment on land south of here, but not here—not where
so many women have danced and prayed and sung."

The
onlookers broke into wild applause as Ramona handed the microphone to Cy, who
paused only a moment to assess the political landscape, then said he was happy
to restore this land to the Indians because he'd always been an advocate for
Native American women.

After
that, Manaba took the microphone and, ignoring Blackstone, said a blessing over
the land and all the grandmothers who had danced upon it. Nizhoni stood by her
side, the two of them looking strong and happy.

The
newspeople were so excited they forgot to be cynical, reveling in getting this
scoop live.

By
the time the cameras had cut and wrapped, and Cy had privately cussed Ramona,
and the women had disappeared back over the hill, Callie and I were staring at
each other in disbelief.

"What
did you say to Blackstone?" I asked Ramona as she strolled back over to
Barrett, who stood beside us.