Trouble at the Red Pueblo (36 page)

Not believing his own words, Spider rapped on the door. “Dorrie,” he called. “It’s me, Spider Latham.”

Silence.

Spider’s chest tightened, and his palms started to sweat. Should he call the police? Not yet. Better find out the lay of the land first. He pounded on the door again. “Dorrie! Open up!”

He stood on the porch, wondering what to do next, when he heard a sound from inside. Just a tiny sound, like someone shifted their weight. Spider grabbed the doorknob and turned it. “I’m coming in,” he shouted, and he opened the door.

The interior was dim because the shades were drawn. The evaporative cooler seemed to be working well, and the air felt moist and comfortable. Spider stepped in and looked around, and what he saw on the couch made him draw in a breath.

Dorrie sat there, staring at him out of eyes that were dark, sunken pools. Her hair lay in a rusty mat atop what looked like a skull with freckled wallpaper stretched over it. When Trey hopped over to her and nuzzled her hand, she didn’t respond.

“Dorrie?” Spider was relieved to see her eyes shift ever so slightly when he said her name. He stepped to the kitchen area and started opening cupboards. “You look like you haven’t had a drink in days.” He found a glass and put a bit of water in the bottom.

“Here you go.” He carried it to the couch and crouched down in front of her. “Just a bit at first. Don’t want to overdo it.” He held the glass to her lips and watched in relief as she swallowed the water. “Good girl. I’ll give you some more in a minute.”

As he took the glass from her, he noticed a brown discoloration along the palm and heel of her left hand. Gently opening her fist, so he could get a better look, he traced around the stain with his finger. He looked up and met her eyes.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“You can talk in a bit. Let’s get you something with calories in it.” He stood and went to the refrigerator, holding the door open while he perused the contents. Milk? Not enough sugar. Yogurt? Ditto. Apple juice? Bingo. He grabbed the juice and a bottle of sports drink and carried them both to the couch. Mixing a cocktail of the two, he handed her the tumbler. “Drink just a bit,” he said.

Her hands trembled as she brought the glass to her lips, but she downed a couple inches.

Spider took the drink from her. “Let’s wait a minute, see if that stays down. Now, what were you trying to say?”

She licked her lips, and the word came out in a croak. “Austin.” She turned her left palm up on her lap and pointed at the rusty stain. “His blood.” A single tear seeped out and ran down her cheek.

Spider gave her the juice cocktail and watched while she took another hefty drink. “You been sitting here since Sunday morning?”

She nodded as she held the glass in her lap with both hands.

“You been hoping to die?”

She finished off the juice and wiped her mouth with her hand. She looked up at him and nodded again.

He crouched by her and took her hands. “You want to talk about it?”

“I went to see him Sunday morning,” she said in a voice that was little more than a stage whisper. “I found out where he lived, and I rode Goldie there to surprise him.”

Spider squeezed her hands. “Okay, Dorrie, before you go on I want to tell you that if a policeman asks me about what you’re telling me right now, I’ll have to tell him what you said.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to tell him myself.”

“All right. Let me get something to sit on, and then you can tell me the rest.” He dragged one of the kitchen chairs over and sat in front of Dorrie. “Go on. Take your time.”

She drew in a breath and exhaled a ragged sigh. “I got there about nine o’clock. I was just coming around the garage when the front door opened and this… this woman came out.”

Spider didn’t try to fill the silence as she paused. He sat, elbows on knees and hands clasped, as he waited for her to go on.

“The woman was hanging all over him, acting like a floozy. She had on tight britches and high heels. Drove a fancy red car. She kissed him and petted him, and he kissed her back. Then she finally left.”

Spider picked up one of her hands again. “What were you thinking as you were watching them?”

“I was thinking that wasn’t Austin. He wasn’t like that. She had lured him into evil ways.” Dorrie licked her lips. “Could I have some more water?”

“Sure.” Spider took her glass to the sink and filled it half full this time. He carried it back and handed it to her, noticing she was able to hold it in one hand. He sat down and asked, “So, what did you do after she left?”

“I waited a bit after he went in the house, trying to get over what I just seen. Then I remembered that time he said he loved me. That made me strong, so I went and rang the doorbell.”

“What happened then?”

Dorrie laughed. It was a wry, sad-sounding laugh, almost a sob. “I was trying to surprise him, and I guess I done that. But he didn’t act like it was a nice surprise. He said what was I doing there, and his voice was hard, you know? Like how my papa talked to a lazy ranch hand.”

“Yeah, I know. He talked to me that way one day, too.”

“Did he? I didn’t know he could be like that.”

“What did you do then?”

“I told him I missed him. I said I wanted it to be like when he’d come out to the ranch, and we’d go riding or just sit on the porch of an evening. I told him I wanted to be his girl again.”

Spider’s face screwed up in pain. “Oh, Dorrie.” He couldn’t bear to think of her laying herself open to the hurt that Austin would and could dish out without a moment’s thought.

“He called me a cow.” Dorrie’s voice was stronger now. “Said I was ugly as a plate full of worms. Said I was dumb. I can’t remember all the things he called me. What I do remember is the look on his face.” She slowly wagged her head from side to side. “I wanted to wipe that look off his face for good.”

“And did you?”

“I did. It happened without me even thinking about it.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “There was this rock thing hanging on the wall. I grabbed it quicker than he could think, and I caught him right over the eye. Kind of where that scab is on your face.”

Spider touched his temple. “And after you knocked him down?”

Dorrie covered her face with her freckled, sun-bronzed hands. “I think I went a bit crazy.” She let her hands slide down her cheeks and cocked her head, as if pulling something from memory. “It felt so good just to bash and bash and bash. I kept thinking, ‘I may be a cow. I may be ugly. I may be dumb. But. You. Are. Dead.’”

Spider rubbed his jaw. “Okay, Dorrie. Let’s talk. You’re saying you want to tell this to the police yourself?”

She nodded. “But before that, I got to do something about Goldie and Trey.”

Spider poured another half glass of apple juice and handed it to her. “You got family that can take them?”

She shook her head. “Before Papa died it was just me and him. Now it’s just me.”

“Well, you can sell Goldie and send Trey to the pound, or Laurie and I will take care of them until you can take them back.”

Her eyes fixed on Spider’s. “Would you do that?”

“Would you trust them to us?”

“Well, yes. Of course. Remember when Trey went to Laurie? She’s never done that.” Dorrie took a deep breath and exhaled. “I feel lighter, like I just got rid of a heavy load.”

“You’ve done a good deed, too, Dorrie. Another man is in jail, accused of killing Austin. He can go free now.” He took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Toby’s number. “I’m going outside for a minute and call a deputy from over in Kanab. He’ll come and get you. He’s a pretty good fellow, and he’ll treat you well.”

Spider stepped out on the porch and closed the door. He dialed Toby’s number, and the deputy answered on the third ring. “Hi,Toby. Spider here. Where are you? St. George? Great. Listen. Tell Sergeant Whipple to start on release papers for Matt Taylor. Why? Because you’re going to bring in Austin Lee’s real killer. I’ll tell you about it when you get here.” Spider pulled the piece of envelope out of his pocket and read the address for Toby. “See you in about twenty minutes? Fine.”

Spider rang off and went back in the trailer. Dorrie was standing, drinking out of the apple juice bottle.

“I’m feeling stronger,” she said. “Lighter and stronger. Now, if you’ll help me, I’d like to go see Goldie.”

AS SPIDER DROVE
up Jack’s driveway, the shadows of the poplar trees looked like dark chocolate that had melted and run in the late afternoon sun. The dusky image of his pickup and Dorrie’s horse trailer was elongated and cartoonish, too.

The pickup’s shadow dropped behind as Spider made the turn behind the trees and drove to the paved circular drive. Braking suddenly, he slowly pulled around the gray hearse that was backed up to Jack’s door. “That doesn’t look good, Trey girl,” he said to the dog on the seat beside him.

Driving around the house, he pulled up in front of the barn, setting the brake before he got out. He held the door open and called to the dog. “Let’s go see what’s happened in there. A lot of sadness going around today, I think.”

Trey scrambled down. Spider closed the pickup door and headed across the gravel to the back of the house where the paved patio began. When he got to the sliding glass door, he told the dog to stay.

No one was in the living room when Spider stepped inside, but he heard voices from the kitchen. Walking to the doorway, he leaned a shoulder against the framework to observe. Laurie sat at the head of the table, frowning at a piece of paper in her hand. A silver haired man in a dark suit sat on one side of the table, and a youngish fellow in cargo shorts and sandals sat on the other. A stack of papers sat in the middle of the table.

Laurie looked up, and her face broke into a smile when she saw Spider. “Hello,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

The younger man stood. “Are you Mr. Latham? I’m glad to meet you.” He grasped Spider’s arm above the elbow as he shook his hand as if to emphasize his pleasure. “I’m Major Smith.”

Spider took off his Stetson. “Glad to meet you, Major.”

“Mr. Smith is Jack’s attorney,” Laurie explained.

“Oh. Are you in the reserves?”

“I’m not in the service. Major is my name, not my rank.”

“Ah. Sorry.” Spider looked at the silver haired gentleman, also standing.

“I’m Bernard Fordham. Fordham’s Funeral Home.”

“I saw the hearse,” Spider said. “Does that mean that Jack—?”

All three at the table nodded.

“He went so quickly,” Laurie said. “And he took care of everything beforehand. He had given instructions to Major about things he wanted done as soon as he was gone. Same with Mr. Fordham.”

Mr. Fordham reached his hand for the paper that Laurie held. “If you’ll give that to Mr. Latham, he can sign it, and I can be on my way.”

“Sign what?”

“It’s permission to take the body.”

“Beg pardon?” Spider looked at Laurie and then at Major Smith.

Laurie raised her shoulders and compressed her lips in a helpless-bystander gesture. “Apparently Jack appointed you as executor of his estate. In the absence of any family, you’re the one to give permission for the mortuary to take the body.”

Spider frowned. “I just got here. I’ve known the fellow for all of a week and a half. Not to speak ill of the dead, but what was he thinking?”

Major took the paper from Mr. Fordham and walked to where Spider stood. He handed it to him along with a pen from his own pocket. “He thought you were a man who could be counted on,” he said. “Please sign.”

Spider scanned the paper, saw that it was pretty straightforward, and came into the kitchen as far as the island counter. Setting his hat down, he inked his signature at the bottom. He handed it and the pen back to Major, who passed the form on to Mr. Fordham.

The mortician slipped it into a black leather folder and noiselessly pushed his chair in. “I’ll be leaving now. As you know, Dr. Houghton asked that he be cremated with no ceremony and no gathering. But, he does want certain people to scatter his ashes. Major has the list of participants and the map.”

Laurie stood. “I’ll see you out, Mr. Fordham.” She followed him as far as the door to the living room, but she paused there and spoke to Spider, still standing at the counter. “If you’ll sit down, Major has something to talk to you about.”

“I’ve got a horse I’ve got to unload,” he said.

She put her hand on the doorframe, her brows raised in question.

Spider pointed toward the patio with his thumb. “And a three-legged dog to find a bed for.”

Laurie’s face grew pale. “It was Dorrie?”

“I’ll show myself out,” Mr. Fordham called from the living room.

Laurie didn’t even glance at him as he made a soft-footed exit. Her eyes grew shiny, and her chin started to quiver. “Oh, Spider! You’re sure?” She drifted into the arms he opened to her.

He folded her in, feeling each small convulsive sob that forced its way over her usual defenses. Laurie didn’t cry easily. His heart ached for her, and he held her more tightly. Putting his cheek against her hair, he murmured, “Shh. I know. I know.” He knew she was crying for Dorrie and for Jack. He knew she was crying because she had been powerless to help either of them. He felt like crying himself.