Ten-Gallon Tensions in Texas: A Kate on Vacation Mystery (The Kate on Vacation Mysteries Book 3) (10 page)

At the sheriff’s department, José flashed a smile at the sight of them. “Great hat, Kate. All you need is a little bit of a tan and you’ll look like a true Texan.”

She chuckled softly. “I’m Irish, Sheriff. I don’t tan. I just burn and peel.”

José’s expression sobered. “We’re all set up. Kate, there’s coffee in the break room.”

She headed in the direction he pointed.

Skip followed the sheriff down a short hallway and into a small, dimly lit room. The window on one side wall was black.

“They won’t be able to see you,” José said. “It’s a one-way mir–”

“I know. I’ve been on the other side of this routine enough times as a cop.”

José nodded. He leaned over and spoke into a microphone. “Send them in.”

The room next door was still dark, which was not standard procedure. The light from the door that opened was the only illumination as six men trailed in, their heads down.

“Put on your hats, gentlemen, and face the back wall,” José said into the microphone. After a moment, he flipped a switch on the panel in front of him. The lights came on, revealing a line of men’s backs, all clad in fringed leather jackets and Stetsons.

“Start at one end, Skip, and look each man over carefully. Tell me if you recognize the man you saw from the back in the men’s room.”

“You know this won’t hold up in court.”

“Yeah, I know that, but it may give me a string to tug on, see what I can unravel.”

Skip nodded and looked at the man on the far right. He was pretty sure it was Bobby Joe Bradley. He closed his eyes for a moment and brought up the image from the men’s room.

He looked again at Bobby Joe. The man he had seen might have been a little shorter.

He moved his eyes slowly down the row of men’s backs. They stopped of their own accord on the next to last one. He paused for a moment to be sure, glancing down at the man’s feet–in dirty sneakers.

“That’s him, I think. Number five.”

José paused, giving him a chance to say more if he wanted to, or to change his mind.

Skip shrugged. “I can’t be sure, but I think that’s him.”

José leaned over the microphone again. “Turn around, gentlemen.”

As Skip had suspected, number one was Bobby Joe.

And number five, the owner of the dirty sneakers, was Willy Carlton.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

That evening started out as one of the best of the whole vacation. Skip herded his family onto the front porch of a 1950s vintage bungalow that had several odd-shaped additions sticking off to the sides.

“This house used to belong to José’s parents,” he told Kate as they waited for someone to respond to their knock. “They’re both gone now. His father was real handy. José was the second oldest of five kids. Every time his mama had another baby, his dad built another room.”

The door opened and Janet Gutierrez beamed at them. “Hey y’all, come on in.”

Skip took off his hat as they entered.

José strode across the small living room, tucking a denim shirt into his jeans as he came. He thrust out his hand. “Hey,
mi amigo
.”

Skip was suddenly sixteen again, being greeted by José’s papa, and feeling the warmth of the Gutierrez household envelope him.

José grabbed his hand and pumped it, then slapped him on the shoulder with his other hand. “We got time for a beer before dinner. Kate, what would you like, wine or beer?”

“Chardonnay if you have it,” she said.

“Sure do. Come on.” José gestured for them to follow him and headed toward the back of the house where Janet had already disappeared. Wonderful fragrances rolled over them as they entered the kitchen.

Two dark-haired children, a boy and a girl, jumped up from the table. They were around Edie and Billy’s ages, but reversed. The boy was older, and he was also the bolder one. He stepped forward. “Hi.”

His sister peeked shyly around him.

Skip looked around for his own two. They were being unusually bashful, hanging back.

“This is Miguel–Micky,” José said. “And Rosa.”

Billy edged up next to him, Edie a step behind. Skip nudged them forward. “Edie and Billy.” He stooped down to his kids’ eye level. “Sheriff Gutierrez and I went to school together, and these are his kids.”

“Isn’t Aunt Rose’s real name Rosa?” Edie said.

“Yes, it is.” Skip was impressed that the little girl remembered that.

“Micky, show Billy and Edie the playroom,” Janet said from where she was stirring a pot on the stove. “Dinner’ll be a little bit yet.”

“Come on.” Micky ran out of the room. The other kids trailed after him.

José was giving Skip a curious look. “Aunt Rose?” He opened the refrigerator and reached in with both arms. One hand came out holding two long-necked bottles of Coors, the other a bottle of wine.

“Rose Hernandez. My partner in our private investigation agency.” Skip gestured to include Kate. “And a good friend of ours.”

José handed one of the beers to Skip, then poured Kate a glass of wine. He lifted his own beer bottle in the air. “Cheers.”

Janet nudged a glass sitting on the counter with a knuckle. “You are neglecting your wife, sir.” She held a big spoon to her lips and took a small taste, then nodded. “I held back some on the chili peppers. I wasn’t sure if you liked spicy food.”

“Oh, we’re used to it,” Kate said. “Our housekeeper is Guatemalan.”

An uncomfortable silence descended.

Skip winced.
Way to go, Kate.

He considered trying to bail her out but opted to let it go.

She didn’t. “Maria is Rose’s cousin. She started working for me when Edie was a baby and I was a single mom, a new widow. She took care of the baby so I could work, but then she took over the cooking, in self defense.”

Skip was impressed by his wife’s smooth delivery of the explanation. He helped her out with a chuckle. “Kate considers cooking one of the great mysteries of life.”

She gave him a smile. “The only food I can make is sandwiches.”

“I hate to tell ya, darlin’, but even those are a little dry.”

José handed his wife her refilled wineglass and raised his beer bottle toward the ceiling. “
Gracias, Dios mío
, for my lovely wife, who can also cook!”

Janet had a mischievous glint in her eye as she took a sip of wine. “As good as your mama?”

“Oh now, don’t push your luck, woman.” He grabbed her and gave her a noisy kiss.

She laughed and smacked him on the arm. “Behave.”

When it was time to eat, José produced a second round of beers and topped off the ladies’ wineglasses. They talked and joked through dinner, catching up on life during the last few decades. Janet had set the kids up in the kitchen with hamburgers and macaroni and cheese. “No point in wasting prime beef and chili peppers on unsophisticated taste buds,” she’d said.

Her Tex-Mex enchiladas were delicious. Skip mentally compared them to José’s mother’s. He thought they were as good, or pretty darn close. He helped himself to a second serving.

Janet sat back from the table and patted her stomach. “So, Edie isn’t yours, Skip?”

His jaw clenched for a second. The flash of anger took him by surprise. Why was he so on edge?

“She’s mine.”

“
Si
,” José said. “
La hija de tu corazón
.”

“Yes, the daughter of my heart.”

Janet leaned forward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

Skip gave her his best smile. “No problem.”

“But Billy isn’t that much younger.” José flashed him a grin. “You work fast,
mi amigo
.”

Skip mock groaned. “It didn’t seem fast at the time. This woman drove me crazy for months. She wouldn’t let me touch her. Kept saying it was too soon after her first husband’s death.”

He caught the touch of sadness on Kate’s face and quickly added, “Fortunately I had Maria on my side. I think she spiked Kate’s food with a love potion.”

The subject of Maria led into an explanation of why she had fled her native Guatemala, then generalized into a discussion of Central and South American politics and social problems.

“The state of things in Mexico today…” José shook his head. “It makes me
very
glad that I was born in the good ole U.S.A.” He raised his empty beer bottle in a salute. “Hey, you want another beer, Skip?”

Kate glanced at her watch and tilted her head to one side.

“One more,” Skip said. “And then we’d better get the kids back to their granny’s house and to bed.”

“They could bunk down with our kids for tonight if you want?” Janet offered.

He exchanged a look with Kate. She shrugged and then smiled.

“Sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. They seem to be getting along great.”

Kate laughed. “At least, we haven’t heard any screaming coming from the playroom.” She stood up. “I’ll go tell them they’re spending the night.”

Janet rose too. “We’ll get them settled down. You boys enjoy your beer. It’s not like you have to drive anywhere tonight, Skip.”

He chuckled. “Nope. No town ordinances against drunken walking, are there, Sheriff?”

José laughed as the gals left the room. “If there were, I’d play hell enforcing them. Go sit in the living room. I’ll be right back.” He headed for the kitchen.

A couple minutes later, José came into the living room with two more sweating bottles of Coors. He handed Skip a beer, then pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket. “Want one?”

“No thanks. I never developed a taste for them.”

“Ya mind?”

“Not at all.”

José settled into an armchair across from Skip and took his time preparing the cigar. He finally lit it, puffing several times until it had caught good. Then he eased back in the chair and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“Janet lets you get away with that?” Skip asked with a slight chuckle.

“Hell no. Warn me when ya hear them coming.” José took another puff on the cigar and blew a smoke ring into the air.

The pungent scent of the tobacco elicited more memories. “That the same brand your daddy smoked?”

“Yup.” José blew another smoke ring.

“Hey man, I’m really sorry that I didn’t stay in touch.”

José glanced sideways at him. “Would’ve been nice if you’d stopped in when you were here visitin’ your folks, but I think I understand. This town wasn’t all that kind to you.”

Skip took a swig of beer. “What happened with Willy today?”

“He swore he wasn’t in the men’s room at the time of death. Said you were loco.”

Skip shook his head. “From the back, he looked like the guy I saw. But my wife, the psychologist, will tell you that human memory is a fickle thing.”

José nodded. “His sneakers aren’t an exact match for the partial we got off the toilet seat either.” He puffed some more on his cigar, then took a sip of beer. “Autopsy report came back from the M.E. in Madisonville. Sam had cocaine in his system.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

“Yeah but not all that helpful. I don’t think it was a drug deal gone wrong, in the community center’s restroom during a high school reunion.”

Skip snorted softly. “Not unless it was a really dumb drug dealer. You ask Willy about the cocaine?”

“Yeah. He got all indignant, but he’s a lousy actor. My guess is he’s using it too, or at least knew that Sam was.”

Skip shook his head. “What’s my innocent little hometown comin’ to?”

José snorted this time. “It never was all that innocent. We were just naive.”

At ten-thirty, they said their goodbyes to José and Janet, promising to fetch their children first thing in the morning, and then headed back toward his mother’s house.

His wife let out a contented sigh. “They’re good people.”

Skip took her hand. “Yeah, they are.”

They walked a block in companionable silence. He was trying to sort out the undercurrent of restlessness he’d been feeling for the last few days. He knew Kate was bored. Was that what he was feeling too?

Or was it about being back here? Not just visiting his mother and sticking close to her house, but actually interacting with the town and his old classmates again.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. That third beer might have been a mistake. He wasn’t used to having more than one or two at a time.

He truly regretted having let the friendship with José slide, and vowed not to let it go again.

They rounded a corner. Some of the streetlights in this block were out. Skip stepped carefully through an area of shadows, not wanting to trip and appear drunk in front of Kate.

A hard object drove into his stomach, doubling him over. Air whooshed out of his lungs.

Kate screamed.

Something heavy landed on his back. He staggered forward.

“You can’t seem to keep your nose where it belongs, now can ya, Skippy?” a voice hissed in his ear.

Skip started to straighten. The shadow of an arm cocking back in front of him. This time he was expecting the blow. He grabbed the pipe and yanked it out of his assailant’s hand. His fingers slipped. It clattered to the pavement.

Tightening his stomach muscles, he ignored the fists pummeling his abdomen and torso and the other man clinging to his back. He swiveled his head around, looking for Kate. Where the hell was she? Had another asshole dragged her off somewhere? He had to find her.

A fist came at his face. He jerked his head to the side and took a glancing blow on his jaw. He staggered backward, and intentionally let the weight of the guy on his back take them over.

A yelp from underneath him. He rolled to his left. The sneaker coming at him just missed.

He was on his feet in a second, crouched, braced for them now. But the guy who had jumped him was still lying on the ground wheezing, the wind knocked out of him.

He turned to the other one, just in time to hear him scream as he crumpled sideways.

Kate materialized next to Skip, patting his shoulder, his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Run back and get José.”

“But–”

“Go!”

She took off.

The guy on the ground rolled over and staggered to his feet. He tried to go after Kate, but Skip landed a foot in the middle of his rear end. He fell forward. A sickening crunch when he landed on the pavement suggested that some part of his face or head was no longer intact.