Alberta Alibi (3 page)

Outside, she heard voices, the slam of a truck door, the roar of a diesel engine and the rumble of tires rolling down the driveway. She held on tight to Silver to keep from running after them.

If it weren't for Katie and Rusty, Sheila would have put that saddle right back on Silver and taken off into the green hills that lay at the foot of the mountains. She wouldn't have come back until dark. But she was the one who had invited her friends to stay here with her while their grandparents took a well-deserved break. She couldn't very well desert them as soon as they arrived, when neither of them wanted to be here in the first place. Katie wasn't much interested in ranch life, or in cattle or horses for that matter. All she seemed to care about these days was being the Great Detective.

As for Rusty, Sheila suspected he was scared to go near horses or cattle, even though he would never admit it. For sure, Rusty had proved he could be brave when necessary but, even so, he was the most nervous kid she had ever met. Of course, he had good reason to be; he was also the most accident-prone kid she had met in her life.

If she took off now, they would be stuck alone with Dad and that horrible boy. So she led Silver into his stall, checked his food and water and walked slowly from the barn.

4

S
he should have known Katie would be taking notes. Seated on a folding chair, curled over her notebook, Katie turned her head to study the old blue truck. She tapped her pen against her forehead, then scribbled like crazy again.

Sheila ran over. “Where is everyone?” she demanded. Her voice came out loud and angry, surprising her. Sheila didn't feel anything like her normal self today. Instead of the quiet, thoughtful girl most people thought she was, today Sheila felt like yelling at everyone. There must be something in the Alberta air— maybe it was the high altitude that made her feel this way. Or maybe it was her dad or that boy, or maybe it was Katie.

Katie looked up, startled. “Uh, your dad asked the boys to help him carry the groceries. They're going to make hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner. I'm starved, aren't you?”

“Hmm.” Sheila plunked herself down on a chair near her friend. She leaned back, stretched out her legs and stared at the toes of her white running shoes. “What are you writing about?”

Katie kept scribbling, ignoring her.

“Katie, I asked what you're writing about.”

“Nothing. I'm just making notes about the truck, you know, and the mud stuck up in the wheel wells? I took a sample.” She waved a little plastic bag. It was from the package Katie had purchased in Calgary, and it had a little clot of black mud in the bottom corner. “And,” she picked up another bag, “this was stuck in the front bumper, so I collected it too.” The bag contained a twig with flat green leaves attached.

“What for?”

“So we can prove where the truck has been in case, you know, the police come by. So we can prove he's innocent.”

“Of course he's innocent! Do you think my dad goes around shooting people?”

“No, Sheila, I just think…nothing.”

Katie returned to her notes. She glanced at Sheila and quickly looked away. Sheila couldn't help but notice the bright pink patches on Katie's cheeks and the way her dark eyes danced in all directions but never landed directly on Sheila's face.

Katie started to close her notebook. Without stopping to think, Sheila burst out of her chair, dived at Katie, snatched the notebook from her hands and ran. “Give that back! No one reads my notebook!”

Sheila kept her finger in the book to mark the page, tucked it under her arm and took off around the barn. From there she ran as fast as she could across the field. She could easily outrun Katie, she knew that. Sheila was the fastest runner in their school. Maybe the fastest in Victoria if getting all those first-place ribbons in the previous month's track meet meant anything. She ran to the far end of the field and stopped at the fence. A quick glance over her shoulder told her she had just enough time. Katie was barreling toward her like an angry bull.

She flipped open the notebook and read quickly.

July 21

Examined truck. It's an old, blue pickup all
right, with loads of rust.

Found mud, still damp, stuck up behind the
fenders above the back wheels. Where did that
come from? Is there black mud between here
and town on a dusty, hot day like today?

Also found a piece of tree caught in front
bumper. Think it's aspen, need to check tree
book. How did it get there?

Truck doors locked. Gun rack across back
window. No gun.

There were more scribblings, but Katie arrived then and snatched the book away. “What do you think you're doing?” she screeched. “That's
my
book, you have no right to take it!”

Katie looked spitting mad, but Sheila was angry too. Deep down, sizzling angry. “What are you trying to do? Send my dad to prison?” she yelled.

“No, Sheila, I want to help!”

“Then you'd better mind your own business from now on.” Sheila stomped back toward the barn. This was the worst day of her life. No, it wasn't. It was the second worst. The worst was two years ago.

She should never have come back here, and for sure she shouldn't have brought Katie. That girl always meddled in everyone else's business, and right now Sheila had no idea why she had ever thought of Katie as her best friend. Well, not anymore. She was tired of Katie's nosiness and tired of trying to keep Katie out of trouble.

Sheila had to get out of here. She would march right into the barn, saddle Silver and take off into the hills. No telling when she might come back. Maybe she would ride all the way home to Victoria. Wouldn't that surprise them all?

She stormed around the corner of the barn.

And stopped in her tracks. Katie came up beside her. They both stared at the white SUV parked next to the blue pickup truck. It had a yellow, red and blue stripe along its side, a crest on the door and a small blue silhouette of a horse and rider on the back fender. Across its roof was a row of lights. The RCMP.

“They must be in the house,” Katie whispered.

Sheila thought that was fairly obvious, since no one was in sight, but she didn't say a word. She only stared at the SUV and thought about her mom. Police cars often stopped in front of their little house in Victoria. On-duty officers sometimes came by for coffee when her mom wasn't working, because they were friends.

Mom was a police officer too. Dad wasn't. And Sheila had a feeling the Mounties were not here for a cup of coffee and a home-baked muffin.

“I wonder if they have searched the truck yet,” Katie mused.

“Not without a search warrant,” Sheila informed her. She thought that was right, that police needed a search warrant before they could touch private property, but she wasn't sure. She wished Mom were here so she could ask her.

“If they do, they'll find the mud and the rest of that tree branch. I just broke a piece off, I didn't take it all.”

“So?”

“So nothing. I'm just saying…”

“Let's go see what's happening.”

“Okay.” Katie walked over to the chair, tucked the two plastic bags inside her notebook and picked up her pen from the ground. She carried everything with her toward the door.

Sheila didn't object. She had to admit that Katie was pretty good at figuring things out. After all, she had solved the mystery at the old house in Victoria and figured out where the gold was hidden at Barkerville. Of course, Katie couldn't have done it without her help, and Rusty's too, but if her dad was in trouble, maybe it was a good thing to have Katie on the job. Unless he was guilty…but she wouldn't even think about that.

The two girls walked side by side toward the house. “Just don't annoy them by asking questions, okay?”

“Of course not.”

“I mean it!” Sheila whispered fiercely as they stepped onto the front porch.

“You know me,” Katie replied.

“That's the problem.”

Sheila tried not to look at the ugly red door as she pushed it open. And she tried not to worry about what Katie might do next.

Inside was a square entrance hall with a dark plank floor worn to a wide groove down the center by the passing of many feet. On the wall to the right of the door, a row of wooden pegs stood empty except for a couple of black cowboy hats hanging side by side. The larger one had a long, pure white feather sticking out from a white, braided-leather hatband. On the floor below the hats were two pairs of brown leather cowboy boots, one large enough for a man, the other pair much smaller. Sheila scowled down at them.

Beyond the pegs, through a wide post-and-beam entrance, she could see most of the living room, with ancient black leather couches and chairs arranged in front of a huge stone fireplace that soared up to a vaulted ceiling.

To the girls' left, a steep staircase of battered wood steps led straight up to the second floor. A wooden handrail, painted white, ran up one side. Sheila gazed up the stairway. Her room was up there at the end of the hall, the room she had slept in almost every night for ten years. She didn't remember it looking so gloomy up there before.

Straight ahead was a bright, wide hallway that led to the kitchen. Neither girl spoke. They stood silent, listening. But they heard nothing. No voices. The only sound was a gentle
tick-tock
,
tick-tock
of the tall grandfather clock that stood below the stairs.

“Where is everyone?” Katie whispered.

“Who knows? Follow me.” Sheila started to walk, one slow step at a time, down the hall, trying not to make a sound. Katie was so quiet Sheila wasn't sure she was still there and glanced over her shoulder. Katie was creeping along, almost stepping on her heels. They tiptoed into the big, old-fashioned kitchen.

Sunlight streamed through wide windows that overlooked the patio and vegetable garden behind the house. White countertops were cluttered with bags of hamburger and hot-dog buns, a package of wieners, jars of relish and mustard, and a couple of paper grocery bags, filled to bursting. A toaster with dry crumbs scattered around it; a coffeemaker containing an inch of coffee, black as grease; a dirty pot on the stove with a wooden spoon sticking out of it; a soggy-looking dishtowel crumpled up near a sink full of dishes. The kitchen smelled like grease, burnt toast and rotten bananas. It never looked, or smelled, like this when Mom was here.

Katie looked at her with a question in her eyes. Sheila shook her head. She had no idea where everyone was. And then she heard the whisper of a sound. Katie heard it too. Sheila nodded in the direction of her father's office, at the end of a short hallway.

Side by side the girls tiptoed toward it.

The two boys stood at the end of the hall, slightly bent at the waist, their ears pressed tight against a closed office door. Sheila and Katie crept toward the boys, who were listening so intently they didn't notice.

Suddenly both boys leapt away from the door and bolted down the hall. Huntley darted between them, but Rusty smashed so hard into Katie she fell over backward, and he crashed to the floor beside her. Her notebook fell open and the two little plastic bags tumbled out just as the office door opened.

5

B
y the time Sheila's father stepped into the hall, Huntley had reached the kitchen and stood by the counter, calmly removing groceries from a paper bag. Sheila bent over the two cousins, sprawled on the floor at her feet. She scooped up the two little evidence bags and handed them to Katie.

“What's going on here?” her dad demanded. Tall and muscular, he towered over them. He pushed back a tuft of sandy hair that fell across his forehead.

Sheila leaned over Rusty, her arm stretched out in an effort to hide Katie's attempt to stuff the two plastic bags back inside her notebook.

“It's only Rusty.” Sheila grabbed Rusty by the wrist and helped him to his feet. “He bumped into Katie and they both fell over. Did I mention he's a bit accident prone?”