Harmful Intent: A Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels/Dawson Hughes Novel (5 page)

Chapter Seven

 

 

South Abilene

Day Five, Moments Later

Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels, PI

 

After our nails had dried, they deposited us in the great room with its high, beamed ceiling. The facility was shaped like the lines in a tic-tac-toe game, with the great room in the middle square. The same wagon wheel chandeliers displayed in the lobby hung from rustic beams along a vaulted ceiling.

A buffet table spread across one wall of the room offered an array of salads, veggie snacks and dips, plus whole grain crackers. There was more fruited water, as well as hot and iced white and green teas.

"Oh, let's see. I think I'll try their Asian salmon salad." Following the example of the woman who'd gone before us, I spooned a small amount onto a plate and selected one of the tiniest imaginable vegetable spring rolls.

"It's gonna be Caesar with chicken for me. And when we get outta here, let's go have a real lunch. This here ain't even an appetizer." Bertha grumbled, and scooped up a bit of the salad.

I led the way to a long chocolate-brown leather sofa, noted a young woman in an easy chair with her feet crossed at the ankles and did likewise. After spearing a tiny piece of sesame drizzled chicken, I nibbled as demurely as I could, while my stomach growled.

Bertha finished hers in three bites. "That was short work."

I took another small fork-full. "When Deputy Hughes took me to see Mark's house, the real estate agent, Kayla Anderson, said she first met Mark here."

Bertha dabbed her lips with a napkin and placed her empty plate on the dark-wood coffee table in front of the sofa. "Uh, huh."

"She takes a yoga class."

"Who does, hon?"

"Kayla Anderson, the real estate agent Mark knew. And we just learned Cassidy's been getting close to the yoga instructor. That's two people from the investigation who intersect at the same point."

"Yeah, namely some stupid yoga class y'all want me to take." Bertha scowled.

I gave her my best lost-little-girl pout.

She scowled harder, to the point I thought she'd crossed her eyes.

I lowered my voice. "I'd like to play one teeny trick on these people before we leave."

Suddenly a wide smile erupted across her face, and she rubbed her hands together. "Why didn't you say so, honey?"

"I'm going to pretend I have a migraine coming on. I'll wander off like I'm seeking a pain reliever. But, I'm really going to see if I stumble upon anything."

"And what should I do?" The glint in her eye was far too mischievous for her own good.

"You go in the other direction and take note of anything that seems odd."

"This whole kit 'n caboodle seems odd to me, but I know what you mean."

I left Bertha on the couch, still grinning. After rubbing my temples and affecting my best confused look, I exited the room.

Trudy emerged from what appeared to be the staff lounge. She offered a beneficent smile. "Mrs. Ingels, you look as if you could use some assistance."

"Why, yes, I probably could. You see, I've got this humongous headache."

"Dairy."

"Excuse me?"

"Dairy, you need to stop eatin' dairy immediately, and probably should avoid anythin' with gluten."

I gave a solemn nod. "Oh, yes, I'm sure you're absolutely correct, but right now what I need is an Excedrin."

She wriggled her delicately pugged nose. "We don't have Excedrin here, but you can get organic aspirin at the front desk."

"Oh, yes, thank you. That sounds like a plan." And the last place I intended to go.

She shuffled her feet. "Um... Mrs. Ingels, I never got a chance to say how sorry I am for your loss."

It was a simple statement, but her sincerity touched me. "Thank you, Trudy, that's very kind."

"I'm sure it's difficult, not to mention bein' in a strange place and all." Her gaze conveyed concern.

"I'm managing."

"It takes time. I know from when my pa passed."

"I'm sure it does. I'm touched by your concern." This was the first time anyone at the spa had attempted to connect with me on such a personal level.

"Yes, ma'am… um... the reception desk is that way." She pointed down a short hallway and I took off as if I was heading for the front. After several long strides, I snuck a look over my shoulder. She'd disappeared. Then I made an about face.

I got halfway down the hall and slipped into an empty massage room when a swelling of muffled sounds freaked me out and had me fearing I'd be spotted.

After a few minutes, I took a chance, stuck my noggin out for a brief moment, and then withdrew it.

Reece Morgan, in the massage room next to where I hid, had himself pressed against a lithe young thing with a shocking-pink pixie haircut. His hand had slid down the back of her yoga pants and massaged her rump.

When I inched my way out to see if I could get clear of them, they were so engrossed in mouth-to-mouth I was able to flee unnoticed.

After showering and changing as quickly as we could, we got out of there. Bertha directed me toward Louie's Taco Station where we shared a nacho platter as an appetizer and both of us ordered the beef soft-taco platter as our entrée.

Bertha punctuated the air with a nacho. "There's sure a whole lot more goin' on there than a healthy lifestyle."

"Maybe when we take the yoga class we can find out who the pink haired one is." I scooped some guacamole up with a nacho and popped the whole thing into my mouth.

"You know, girlie. One thing I sure do like about you is you can hold your own at the table."

My husband had dumped me for a southern femme fatale and humiliated me in public. But Bertha appreciated me because I ate like Miss Piggy. I shrugged, and popped a nacho loaded with refried beans into my mouth. You gotta take your good where you find it.

After lunch, I raced back to the Chuck Wagon and dropped Bertha off so she could get ready for the church social. She said she wanted to take a long bubble bath before getting dressed. Though how anyone could relax in that short claw-footed jobbie was beyond me.

I ran up to my room, whipped off my pale-pink big shirt and donned a black cotton tee and an apron. Then I rushed back down so I'd be on the floor at the start of dinner shift and could waitress for her.

Hoot was in the kitchen with the senior college-student we'd gotten for the night from the Star Academy Culinary in Abilene. "Now, it's pretty simple here. Y'all'll run the kitchen. The busboy busses. Ronnie handles the dining room. You got it?"

I paused at the door.

The fellow nearly shouted, "Yes, chef."

"Aw, shucks, I ain't no chef. I'm Hoot."

"Yes, Hoot."

When I walked into the kitchen, Hoot winked at me. "They must run this Star Academy like the military."

A thin black fellow with big ears, in a white chef's jacket and a Baltimore Orioles baseball cap stepped forward and offered his hand, tattooed with an onion at the wrist. "Chet Jenkins." A carrot had been etched into his forearm.

I shook hands. "Ronnie Ingels, nice to meet you."

"Chet, you need to know anythin' -- ask Ronnie." Hoot gave me a two-finger salute and left the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later, when Hoot came back down, he sported pressed Levis, a green and blue plaid shirt with a yellow bandana around his neck. He'd replaced his battered prospector's hat with a tan Stetson. All spruced up with his beard neatly trimmed, a few years seemed to fall off him. He carried a corsage box.

Bertha emerged, a country vision in a yellow gingham frock.

Hoot handed her the box. "Flowers for the purdy lady. Y'all told me you was wearin' yeller."

She lifted out three yellow roses with baby's breath on a wristband.

I was thrilled for Bertha. She deserved true romance in her life. However, it only accentuated what a dismal failure my marriage had been. One small positive... I was working her shift. I wouldn't have to spend another night alone in my room.

Chapter Eight

 

 

Arroyo

Day Five, Night

Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels, PI

 

Pete waltzed in to the Chuck Wagon around ten o'clock and ordered a full dinner. Late for him. Hughes sidled in soon after and ordered everything from soup to nuts. What was up with that?

I walked toward the kitchen shaking my head, and Chet's running monologue interrupted my musing. He declared to himself, "Son, there's sure gonna be some cookin' up in here tonight."

I laughed. What a bunch of characters.

Chet smacked the bell twice. "One pulled pork dinner, up."

I brought Pete the pork with two sides. "This kid makes his chili and coleslaw a bit different from Hoot. Everyone's liked them so far."

Pete nodded. "I'll let you know."

The bell twanged again. "Half a rack baby backs, up."

I brought the ribs to Hughes and gave him the same
spiel
about the chili and coleslaw."

He nodded. "Looks good."

"You're in here late. Have the day off tomorrow?"

"Nope. Why?" He picked up a rib and bit into it.

I shrugged one shoulder. "Just wondering."

He pointed a clean bone at me. "This is Hoot's sauce."

"Yeah, he left plenty of that all made up. How's the chili and the slaw?"

He swallowed some slaw, nodded, and took a drink of his Coke. Then he downed a spoonful of chili. "Different, but real good, both of 'em."

"That's the consensus." I leaned a hip against his table. "You got a minute?"

His brows furrowed. "Sure, Ronnie."

I sat opposite him and mentioned I'd been sleuthing with Bertha at the spa, leaving out the randy activity I'd come upon.

He rolled his eyes. "Won't do any good tellin' a PI to stay out of police business, will it?"

I scrunched my nose. "Probably not. I'm licensed to carry and snoop in Texas. Well, Jack is and that covers me."

He swallowed another bite. "I agree the spa's connected to the case. How remains to be seen. Still, at this point, all leads are good."

I gave a sigh that came out more like a huff. "Now that Cassidy's getting chummy with the yoga instructor, it could move her closer to the suspect number one spot."

"You have reason to dislike her. But at this point, there's no way to see her in that number one position."

"Yeah, well, it's all in the details." And I meant to get up close and personal with those details, one way or another. I stood and glanced around the room checking on my few remaining customers.

The front door opened and Hoot waltzed in with Bertha on his arm.

She glowed.

A piece of silverware hit the floor in the back of the dining room.

I raced back to get Pete a clean utensil.

"Sorry," he murmured as he craned his neck around me. "Gar, whadda he do to his beard?"

I plunked a new fork directly in front of him.

He leaned around me again.

"Just be careful you don't hurt yourself. Those things have tongs." My voice dripped sarcasm.

"Un-huh," he mumbled, not hearing a word I'd said.

Hughes finished his meal and paid his bill without further comment. Random muttering accompanied by head shaking occasionally came from Pete's booth until he finally left.

After closing, Hoot paid Chet, then took Rascal for a long walk out back where man and dog could ruminate. As they walked out, the coonhound's long, wagging-tail slapped the doorframe twice, once on each side, and then the door closed behind them.

Bertha came down in her jammies and bathrobe to help me fill the condiment jars.

I waved a coffee carafe at her. "Still some hot java. Want a cup?"

"Okay, honey. Don't mind if I do."

I brought two cups to the table where she filled the last of the red-squirt ketchup dispensers. "Are the mustards done?"

"Yeah, take a load off and let's us girls set a spell."

I sat and took a sip of coffee. "So, did you have a good time?" I didn't have to ask. Her eyes still glistened.

"I thought I'd never feel this way again."

"Oh, really?" I took a quick sip and gazed into my cup.

"After Walt died, I rattled around for a bit in the house we'd shared. It was lonely. I missed him so. Almost couldn't bear to sell it, but finally did."

"I see."

"I've known Hoot since childhood. He offered me a job and a place to live. I wanted to keep busy, so I accepted. I've been here almost five years and never expected this to..."

The back door opened and nails scratched on the stairs as Rascal ascended to Hoot's room.

Hoot closed the door, adjusted the holster that carried his Smith and Wesson, and tipped his old prospector's hat. "Good night, ladies. I'm gonna hit the sack."

"Nite, Hoot." We echoed back at him.

Bertha helped me put away the condiments and washed our cups. "He's a good man, honey. Fine as they come."

Maybe there could be a second chance at love. Perhaps starting out friends wouldn't be a bad idea. I'd never really been bosom-buddies with Mark... pals. It was like he created this intimate, warm bubble for us, and when I entered it, I fell head over heels for him. Madly in love, and trusted him blindly. Yeah, and look how that turned out. Friends first might not be a bad idea.

Bertha started up the stairs. "Good night, hon."

"I'll be up in a minute. Just want to make sure everything's set for tomorrow." My gaze traveled down the line of booths. All the napkin dispensers on the tables were filled. Likewise for the glass salt and peppershakers, so I headed for the back and turned off the lights.

After climbing the steps, I knocked on Bertha's door. One more glimpse of her happiness to give me hope. She was reading her Bible. "Come on in and take a load off. I'm lookin' at one of the promises."

I sat. "There are promises in there?"

"Yep, for those in a relationship with the Lord, there are."

I shrugged, "So, those promises are just for you guys?"

She laughed, leaned over and hugged me. "They're for anybody who wants 'em."

"It just seems sometimes like it's an exclusive club."

She patted my cheek. "What puzzles me is why folks who deny the Lord get mad thinkin' His promises might not include them. That don't make a lick of sense to me."

I stood. "I don't deny the Lord."

She gazed up at me with a mother's kindness. "Then there's more for you than you know in this book."

I couldn't meet her eyes. "I'm glad you had a good time tonight."

She beamed, then bounced on the bed twice like a teenager. "I had a humdinger of a time." Pink rose to her cheeks. She quickly settled and cleared her throat. "Chet work out all right?"

I nodded. "He did fine."

"Good. He better if he wants to keep makin' extra money for school. Hoot wants to take me dancin' the next time we go out."

"Gee, in that case, I think we'd better hurry up and take that yoga class to whip you into shape."

"Ain't you the sweetest thing, thinkin' of my welfare that way?"

I laughed and slipped out the door before she threw something at me.

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