The Saucy Lucy Murders (29 page)

Lexie didn’t say a word. The story was really going to bury her business. Actually, bury it further—ten feet under. And there was no telling how Jack would react. Maybe he wouldn’t want to go out with her again.

Numb, she went over and made herself hazelnut flavored coffee, her favorite. The day simply had to get better. She couldn’t let events get her down. A few minutes later, she poured herself a cup of the nutty smelling liquid, liberally doused with cream and sugar. She sat down at the table next to Aunt Gladys, sipping the hot java and nibbling on a bran muffin.

She glanced at Aunt Gladys who had resumed reading the newspaper. “I forgot, where did you say
you and Frenchie are going today?”

Aunt Gladys snorted. “Criminy. Everybody tells me I have the bad memory.”

Lexie swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Frenchie’s driving us over to the pioneer museum in Westonville.” She pulled the rollers out of her hair and plopped them on the table. “Then he’s taking me out for a little shopping. Afterward we’re going find a place that will serve up some juicy steaks. I’m sick and tired of your mullet soup.”

Lexie ignored the barb. Aunt Gladys typically didn’t mean anything by her sharp tongue. Age had made her a little uncouth and she merely let loose with whatever came to mind. “Sounds nice.”

Aunt Gladys rolled her tongue around in her mouth and began to suck her teeth. “Frenchie’s …”
slurp, slurp,
“… a very nice fellow,”
slurp, slurp.
“Just like that fellow of yours, Jack what’s-his-name.” S
lurp, slurp, slurp.

“He kicked you out of the Sunrise Center.” Lexie handed Aunt Gladys a toothpick and she poked at her teeth, flinging tiny chunks of food particles across the room.

“Oh, hell, that wasn’t his fault. It was that batty old hag Alice Leone. She’s the one who started it, calling me a cheat.”

“Alice Leone? She any relation to Carma?”

“Her aunt. She lives in Snow Village up by the Ice Queen Resort. Used to work at the resort as a waitress, though I imagine she’s got too many varicose
veins to sling hash any more” Aunt Gladys quickly removed the curlers and ran be-ringed fingers through her crimped hair. “She comes down here to Moose Creek Junction once in a while to visit.”

The doorbell rang and both Lexie and Aunt Gladys went to answer it. It was Frenchie, dressed impecabbly as ever in a pair of tan Dockers, a white button down shirt and a shiny black leather jacket that didn’t quite zip around his paunchy belly. An old-fashioned bowler style hat sat atop his head and the scent of Old Spice wafted from his clothing as he gave his leprechaun grin.

“Ready, darlin’?” he asked Aunt Gladys, green eyes twinkling.

“Just let me get my purse and run a comb through my hair, Frenchie,” Aunt Gladys exclaimed. She disappeared into the other room.

“Please, come in and have a seat,” Lexie said.

“No, we’ll be on our way shortly. I’d just as soon stand on the porch and breathe the fresh air.”

Lexie folded her arms across her chest. “I’m so glad you could spend some time with Aunt Gladys today, Mr. Duckworth. There are just a couple of things I need to tell you. She’ll need another dose of her blood pressure medicine in the afternoon. Don’t be surprised if she gets a little ornery and forgetful at times.”

“Frenchie, please call me Frenchie.” He patted her arm and gave her another toothy smile. “Don’t worry about your aunt, Alexandria. She’ll be right as
rain with me.”

“Thanks.” Lexie liked the dapper old fellow even more than she had before.

Aunt Gladys shuffled back into the room a few seconds later. Frenchie gently gripped her elbow and guided her to his Mercedes-Benz parked along the curb in front of the house. The shiny black car, obviously expensive, gleamed in the morning sunlight. It appeared Aunt Gladys had found yet another rich old codger to sport her around. As outrageous as she was, she continued to have a way with the men and probably would until the day she passed over.

Aunt Gladys was nearly a head taller than Frenchie, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Like a little peacock, he strutted beside her, opened her car door and helped her inside. Frenchie waved at Lexie before he got in and drove off.

The Mercedes-Benz was barely fading in the distance when Jack Sturgeon pulled up to the curb in his Ford F-250. After parking the rumbling vehicle, he jumped out and sauntered up to Lexie. He wore Levis that hugged his long legs, a green workman’s shirt, a tan Carhart jacket, and work boots.

“Bet the fish are biting like crazy.” He winced when he looked at Lexie’s bruised forehead. “How’s your head?”

“Good.” The smell of Irish Spring soap drifted into Lexie’s nostrils and she stiffened. “Did you read the paper this morning?”

“Why?”

“That story in there by Barnard Savage. What did you think?”

“He’s a straight up fool. You ought to sue him.”

Lexie relaxed. “You still want me to hang out with you today?”

He grinned. “Hell, yes.”

She smiled. “Come on in. I need to get a couple of things.”

Jack followed Lexie into the kitchen where she grabbed her purse, a jacket, and a small cooler with macaroni salad and sodas in it.

“This is a neat old house,” Jack said.

“It’s been in the family for many years.” Lexie glanced around lovingly. “I grew up here.”

“Lucky you. I was a city brat, born and bred.” He grinned. “Guess that’s why I love the outdoors so much.”

The drive up to the cabin revealed the landscape’s glorious autumn hues of russet, gold, and burnt-orange. Lexie had been on old Highway 40 many times as a kid, and back then was used to the way things looked. But after years of living near seascapes, scrubby gray-green trees and ice plant-covered sand dunes, she found the mountain scenery refreshing.

The higher the truck climbed into the foothills, the more wild and tangled the foliage became. Green pine and blue-green spruce trees carpeted the slopes in gentle waves with the quivering yellow leaves of aspen trees folded in. Sunlight refracted sparkling white diamonds off the rippling surface of
Crazy Woman Creek that meandered like a serpent along with the road.

Nature didn’t seem to be affected by the drought one bit. It was still putting on a typical fall display with all the splendor of past years.

Lexie enjoyed her conversation with Jack, as well as her proximity to him. He was well-educated and passionate about conservation. “We simply can’t keep taking our environment for granted.” He waved a hand at the forest splendor outside their windows. “The planet’s resources will only go so far.”

“I agree,” Lexie said. “I’m doing my part. Like when I brush my teeth. I always shut off the water until it’s time to rinse. Don’t want to be wasteful.”

One brow raised, Jack glanced at her to see if she was being serious or being a smart aleck, which of course she was.

Laughing, Jack pulled off onto a bumpy gravel road lined with clumps of dusky green sagebrush and yucca. Wildflowers of blue, yellow, red, white, and purple rippled along with tall prairie grass in the mountain breeze: Indian paintbrush, sunflowers, vervain, coneflowers, and Canadian milk vetch. Even this late in the year, they clung tenaciously to life, unaware that according to the calendar, they should be long gone.

Jack had driven about a mile when Gun Smoke Lake appeared in the distance, glimmering like blue jewel in a sea of gold, russet, and green trees. Dry brown peaks of mountains rose in the distance
beyond the water, craggy and immense as they brushed against the sky.

A small log cabin appeared, nestled amongst pine, spruce, and aspen trees. Jack pulled up to it and parked in the gravel drive. “This is it,” Jack announced. “Home away from home.”

“It’s breathtaking,” Lexie told him. “If I could paint, I’d spend forever up here doing nothing but that.”

“Next time we come bring your canvas and oils,” Jack said.

Would there be a next time?

Lexie’s cheeks tingled with warmth as Jack came around and opened her door and guided her toward the cabin. He unlocked it and they went inside. It was a typical mountain log home and had a definite masculine flair. A kitchen with a willow branch table and chairs took up space on the northeast side of the room and a living area filled the other side with heavy pole furniture, Navajo wall hangings, and sturdy brown carpets. A stone fireplace with iron candleholders on the mantle dominated one corner and wooden blinds covered the windows. A collection of antique oil lamps filled a wood table in another corner. Several stuffed wildlife figures were positioned strategically throughout the room, along with a couple of sets of mounted antlers.

“You’re a hunter?” Lexie asked.

Jack nodded. “Pheasant, elk, deer—nothing earth shattering.”

“But you got these?” Lexie pointed at the taxidermied
items.

“Sure. I like a little sport now and then.”

“Wow. This is a great place.”

“There are a couple of bedrooms upstairs, too.” He pointed to a wooden staircase. “Unfortunately, I don’t get here as often as I’d like. It’s kind of lonely to come up by myself. But I think I’m going to start coming more often.” He smiled at Lexie.

Lexie cleared her throat. “Like you said, fish are early risers. Guess we’d better go sink a line.”

“Right on.” Jack pulled fishing poles from the wall. Outside, he collected a metal box from the back of his truck. Lexie assumed it contained bobbers, hooks, bait and the like. As they walked toward the lake, Lexie breathed in the fresh pine scent and basked in the warm sun caressing her face. This was the way to live.

At the water’s edge, Lexie could see crumbling white rings where the water depth had slowly receded over the dry years. Hopefully, this winter they would get some decent moisture. It was a shame to see the lake like this.

Jack handed Lexie one of the fishing rods. He pulled out a small white carton of night crawlers and baited his hook. No longer afraid of the wriggling worms, Lexie squished one on her hook, wiped her slimy fingers on her jeans and sailed the line into the sparkling lake. She heard the responding splash as it landed in the water. It gave her a thrill she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“It’s been forever since I’ve fished,” she told Jack.

“How long?” He smiled over at her as he cast out his line, causing ripples to radiate toward the middle of the lake.

“Mom and Dad used to bring my sister Lucy and I up here when we were kids. I loved it, though my dad always baited the hook and gutted any fish we caught. That was not a fun part for little girls.”

“You don’t seem to mind it now,” Jack commented.

“I used to bring Eva to visit Mom and Dad and we’d go fishing. Since I had to bait her hook, I got over my squeamishness. Being a mom does that to you.” Memories flooded her mind and she sighed. “Lucy and Otis brought Carl, too, and the cousins would have a blast trying to see who could catch the biggest fish.” She paused a moment. “I miss that a lot.”

“Things change,” Jack said. “Not always for the worst. We just learn to make new good times.”

Lexie felt a tug on her fishing line. Feet planted firmly, she jerked the line up and began to reel it in. The fish surfaced and splashed, struggling to free itself. Lexie wasn’t about to let it go. At last the good-sized fish dangled at the end of the line.

“Whoo, hoo!” she shouted. “I still have the touch!”

Jack pried the hook from its mouth and held it out by its gills. “Good girl. You’ve earned your supper.”

As the day wore on, the sun rose higher in the sky, taking away the morning chill. Between the two of them, they had caught several fish that were
tethered to a sturdy fishing line Jack had staked in the water. Definitely a feast fit for a king or at least a very hungry cat.

Lexie pressed her sleeve to her damp forehead. “Man, it’s getting warm.”

“Sure is.” Jack found a forked stick and propped his fishing pole up on the shore. “Watch this, will you? I’ll gut what we’ve caught so far and put them in the refrigerator.”

Slowly he pulled in the line of fish staked in the cool shallows and moved down the shore a ways. One by one he slit their bellies and cleaned them, tossing the guts into the water. Seagulls flew past, their eyes on the delectable fish entrails gleaming in the sun. Once Jack finished his job and moved out of the way, the birds dove down to gobble up the treats. They took to the wing again, crying out their pleasure.

Jack hefted the string of fish over his shoulder. “I’ll be back with some sodas.”

“See you in a bit.” Tired of standing, Lexie sat on a boulder and watched Jack until he disappeared into the tree line. She glanced at her watch, noting it was nearly noon. The fish weren’t bitingg any more

A familiar honking drew Lexie’s attention to the sky. Shading her eyes from the sun, she watched a flock of geese flying south in a V-formation. Her stomach grumbled and she put a hand to her abdomen. The muffin she’d eaten at breakfast wouldn’t last much longer. She was more than ready for a fish fry.

Closing her eyes, she let the warm sun relax her.
The smell of fresh pine was intoxicating. It would be wonderful to come here when life got overwhelming. Jack was lucky. There was no better place to worship God than the great outdoors.

Jack’s angry shouts broke the reverent silence and Lexie’s eyes flew open. She dropped her fishing pole, slid off the boulder and ran through the brush and grass up the shore. “Jack,” she called. “Jack!”

No answer.

Breathing heavily, Lexie plowed through the trees and arrived at the cabin. At first all she could see was the string of fish splayed in the dirt beside a bush. Her heart froze in her chest. Pivoting on one foot, she continued to look for Jack. In a split second, she saw him. He was standing against a pine tree, his midsection pinned to the trunk with an arrow. Blood covered his shirt, jacket,and jeans with a reddish stain.

“My God, Jack—”

“Lex,” he said as blood dribbled down his chin. Barely breathing, he raised his head and looked at her, eyes glazed and pain-filled.

“What happened?” Tears ran down Lexie’s cheeks. She felt so helpless.

“Sh-shot me … look out …” Jack coughed, his body spasmed and he slumped.