High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) (15 page)

Brewster looked at her for the first time. Olympia was not an
unattractive woman. But she was a lot to handle. He looked like he was
assessing whether he wanted to take her on.

“Yeah.
I remodel.” He smiled at her.
“I’m not cheap though.”

Olympia matched the smile. “Can you suggest any house in
particular that’s for sale that you’d consider a good buy?”

He wiped his forehead by pulling his T-shirt up.

Fiona smiled inwardly at the showy display of perfect abs. The
man knew how to work the ladies.

He let the T-shirt drop then said, “I’ll let you know.
Can’t think of anything right now.”

Fiona said, “This is my friend, Olympia. You can contact her
through my cell phone.”

Olympia fished in her huge purse embellished with a black
sequined horse. “You don’t have to bother Fiona. Here’s my card. My cell phone
is always on.” She smiled.

Very little that Olympia did ever surprised Fiona.

Brewster grinned. He might have decided to take her on. He turned
back to his work. “If you ladies will excuse me, I have a job to do.”

“If you think of anything else about that girl, give me a call,”
said Fiona. Maybe the hot sun was affecting Brewster’s memory. He might
remember something down the line.

He nodded and turned the saw back on.

In the car Olympia said, “My-oh-my, Fiona, what a collection of interesting
men friends you have, and you’ve only been here a short time.”

Fiona looked at her. “Are you going to hit on all of them?”

“Why Fiona Marlowe, you aren’t jealous, are you?”

Fiona laughed. “Not me. But you were sure drooling over Jake,
then Hoover, now Brewster.”

Olympia laughed with her. “I just flirt sometimes.”

“You are too much.”

 
“You’ve known that for
years.”

“Let’s check out the Animal Head Saloon and have drink. It must
be close to happy hour.”

“Now you’re talking.”

They parked on the street and checked out the windows in a few of
the shops nearby since it was past closing time. The front of the Animal Head
was not what either of them would have called trendy. It had a collection of
neon beer signs and a fingerprint smeared glass entrance door.

“Here we go,” said Fiona, feeling like she was about to enter a
scene from a sci-fi movie, and they were the alien invaders. Maybe they were.

A few construction worker types sat at the bar. Peanut shells
littered the floor. They stopped and surveyed the scene. A few of the booths, dolled
out in red plastic seats, were occupied.

The bar waitress shouted, “Seat yourself, ladies.”

Fiona said, “Let’s see, do we want to see the wide screen TV or
the pool tables?”

“Let’s sit at the bar. This one looks like good material. This is
real local color. Maybe these guys know something about bones and fires.”

Olympia never discriminated about the people she met.
Construction workers or corporate executives were all the same to her. Fiona
joined her on the next bar stool over.

“What’ll you gals have?” asked the bar waitress, slapping down a paper
coaster in front of each.

Fiona said, “Red wine for me.”

“Same” said Olympia.

Olympia turned to the guy on her left.
“Hi, there.
Are you
guys
local?”

He shook his head. He was having shots and beer and heaved back a
shot. He squeezed his eyes shut while the shot settled in his gullet then
slugged down a beer chaser. “We’re passing through. We’re on our way to work a big
commercial gold mine down in Nevada near Battle Mountain.”

“Gold?” said Fiona, leaning forward to see him. “Have you ever
heard that they mined gold around here?”

“Never heard that.
Up to John Day and
Canyon City and east is where the gold was in these parts.”

Fiona’s cell phone rang, and she answered while Olympia continued
her conversation with the gold miner.

“This is Brewster.
One more thing about that
girl.
She said she had relations in Rocky Point is the reason she came
through here sometimes. She didn’t say who they were.”

“Are you going to tell me her name? Maybe I can find her
relatives and see if she’s gone missing.”

“Pattie Smith is her name.”

Fiona wrote the name on a napkin. “Smith covers a lot of
territory. That’s going to be a hard one. If we can find her relations we might
be able to cross her off the missing list.” She was probably chasing the wrong
lead, but you never knew when one thing would lead to another.

 
Lauren Brooks walked in soon
after and sat down beside Fiona.

“I have something important to tell you about Brewster. The usual
for me,” she said to the bartender lady.

 
“I talked to him this
afternoon,” said Fiona. “He’s a hard guy to figure. Has he ever hit on you?”

“He hits on everybody. He’s notorious for loving and leaving
them. He’s also had a few husbands plenty mad at him.”

The waitress set a pint of dark beer before Lauren.

“Brewster’s woven quite a web for himself in Rocky Point.”

“Yes, and he hasn’t been here that long. Notorious is the word
that comes to mind when one speaks of him. I could fill a book with his
exploits, but there is one I think you should know about. Rumor has it that he
was involved with one of Hank Little’s wives. Have you heard about them?”

“I sure have. They haven’t found the remains, have they? Or at
least that is what I heard at Opal’s get together last weekend.”

“No, and my bet is that they never will. I never could figure out
what his wives saw in that little weasel.
Must have had a big
pecker.”

Fiona was in mid-sip on that one and tried to not snort her wine
all over the bar. “Now the real story comes out. I can see you are the one I
need to talk to.”

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe what I hear working in the home
furnishing business in this small town.”

“If the wives had such a nice toy at home what’s Brewster’s
attraction?”

“I’m just speculating about the toy. Have you seen Hank
Little
?”

Fiona shook her head.

“He is the ugliest, meanest, poorest excuse for a man, you’d ever
seen. Yet he attracts not one, but two pretty women and then they disappear on
him. I can understand why they’d want to leave him, but the funny part is, they
disappear and no one has heard from them.
Like right off the
face of the Earth.
Brewster’s part is the second wife. He did some work
for them out at that big spread
Little
has. Then the
rumors start about the wife going in and out of Brewster’s house.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.
Maybe mean old Hank found
out and canned the second wife. Don’t know why he did away with the first one.
Maybe for the same reason.”

“Do you think he wrapped them in an old sheet and buried them in
the bank of a hot spring? There are more bones found than fit one body.”

“I heard that and I don’t know. I’m just telling you that
Brewster may know more than he is letting on.”

“What’s the name of the second wife?”

“Bonnie Tucker. She’s from a local family, and she has loads of
relatives that want to see old Hank done in.”

“This is complicated. Brewster hasn’t told me any of this.”

Lauren laughed. “I guess not. He generates more rumors with his
behavior than a Hollywood celebrity.”

Olympia was now drinking shots and beer with the boys at the bar,
and they were getting louder and louder.

“Excuse my friend,” said Fiona to Lauren. “She gets carried away
sometimes. We better leave. Is there another place we could go to dinner?”

“Across the street is the Old Towne Brew Pub. It’s cute and has a
limited menu but decent food, like burgers and salads.”

Fiona paid the bill. “Olympia, we’re bar hopping this evening.
We’re going to another place for dinner. Say good-bye to your new friends.”

“Hey, these guys are okay,” said Olympia. “Did you know that Nevada
is filled with gold mines? These boys make good money. It’s a great set up.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” said Fiona. “Come, Olympia, we’re
leaving.” She gently tugged Olympia from the bar stool.

“Here’s my card,” said Olympia, giving the shots and beer guy her
business card. “You call when you get the next hot tip in the gold market.”

Olympia danced off the stool and out the door. No music was playing
to accompany her.

The trio made it to the Old Towne Brew Pub but weren’t seated
five minutes when the gold mining crew came in and found Olympia. They sat at
the next booth, and Olympia joined them. Soon after, a woman in uniform walked
in, looked around the room, spotted the rowdy crew and came over.

“Good evening,” said the woman in a neatly pressed uniform, who
wore a badge with the name Sgt. King, Rocky Point Police. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have
to break up this happy scene. We got a call that you are disrupting business and
upsetting customers.”

Fiona gathered her purse and rose. “I was just taking my friend Olympia
home. She gets very exuberant in the right crowd. Sorry Lauren, we best
be
going. I’ll be in touch and thanks.”

“No problem, Fiona, good luck,” said Lauren.

Sgt. King said to the miners, “You boys need to move the party
someplace else, preferably to your hotel room to sleep it off.”

Grumbling, the boys threw money on the table to cover their
drinks. Sgt. King motioned them to the door. Fiona and Olympia followed, the
latter singing
Pistol Packing Mama
at
opera house volume.

At the racy red car Fiona unlocked the doors and helped Olympia
in while she blubbered and gushed over how much fun those miners were. Fiona
would have preferred that Olympia not be quite so exuberant.

“Thank you, Officer, for your help. I apologize for my friend
here.”

Standing on the sidewalk by the car, Officer King said, “Are you
sure you’ll be able to drive home? How much have you had to drink?”

“Me?
Only a glass or two.
I’ll be fine.”
She hurried to get in the car.

“May I see your license, please?”

Oh, no thought Fiona. Not again. How could she have another run-in
with law enforcement in such a short period of time? Of course, her license was
expired. She dug in her purse for her wallet.

“Officer,” she said, pulling out her expired license, “I need to
explain.”

Officer King smiled. “They all do.”

“My license is expired.”

The officer looked at the license. “Yes, it has. And it is
out-of-state. Are you ladies just passing through?”

“I’m here on a contract job and my friend is visiting. We’re
staying at Opal Crawford’s place out in Harney Valley.”

The woman nodded. “I see. I’m going to have to give you a
citation on the license. You gals have a ways to go to get home. I’m not sure
you should be driving.”

“I’m perfectly okay, Officer.”

Lauren came out of the brew pub and walked over to where they
were standing.
“Hi, Ann.
I see you’ve met my new
friends.”

“Your new friends?
Well, then, do you
think you could give these ladies a ride home?”

She smiled. “I’ll do one better. They can stay at my place
tonight and sleep it off.”

“Then I won’t do a breathalyzer test on the driver whose license
has expired.” She pulled out her ticket book and proceeded to scratch away.

Lauren said, “Fiona, leave your car here. I’ll give you a ride over
to my place. I might even make you dinner since we never got around to ours.”

Fiona accepted the ticket with resignation. By the time she left
Harney Valley, she was going to owe a million bucks in fines.

* * * * *

Jake and Hoover rode most of the day, tracking faint outlines and
broken brush. By the time they made camp close to sundown both were too tired
to talk. The wind was blowing so hard they didn’t try to make a campfire. They
both toted hip flasks and were enjoying a whiskey and beef jerky dinner.

“I have the uncomfortable feeling we’re being watched,” Jake
said, as he finished off the jerky. His eyes searched the rim rock ridges that
crowded the narrow valley.

“You’ve been saying that all day, enough so you have me worried,”
said Hoover.

They leaned against their saddles on the ground while the horses
grazed what scant grass could be found. The last spring they had passed was
nearly dry, and the horses hadn’t had much to drink.

“Why
would anyone
be tracking us?” asked
Hoover.

“That’s what I would like to know. The rustlers are long gone. If
they were smart, they’d a kept on going. If they weren’t smart, they might be
back for more. It’s a good thing we moved what was left of the herd closer to
the ranch.”

“Their easy pickings are gone.”

Jake nodded still eyeing the ridges. “We might want to sleep with
our rifles tonight.”

Hoover nodded, watching the ridges himself.

The horses snorted and came to attention, ears up, nostrils flaring,
sniffing the breeze.

“They sense something, too,” Jake said, “though this stiff wind
makes them nervous. I might have a walk around before it gets too dark.” He
tucked the flask inside the down vest he wore and rose.

“I’ll circle the other way,” said Hoover, rising with him.

“Take your rifle,” said Jake. “I don’t like this feeling I have.”

Hoover nodded and checked his.
 
“Let’s try not to shoot each other.”

“Right,” said Jake. He picked up his rifle, checked the safety
and walked over to the horses. “Easy boy,” he said to his pinto gelding,
Blitzen. “Take it easy. No cougars around here, no wolves. Easy there.” He
stroked the horse who continued to gaze into the distance with worried eyes.
Jake followed Blitzen’s gaze. “What do you hear, big boy?”