The Saucy Lucy Murders (38 page)

She and Lucy exchanged a glance.

“No, thank you,” Lucy told Mitzi.

“Sure.” Mitzi popped her gum again and shimmied her curvy little backside down the hallway. She returned a few moments later walking closely beside Carl, her big, doe eyes staring worshipfully at Big Daddy’s assistant manager.

Carl’s wavy chestnut hair had the same texture as his mother’s and it was the color of Otis’s back in his younger days. When he still had hair. Carl also had an athletic build that would put Adonis to shame. He was a handsome young man. No wonder Mitzi the poodle was hanging onto him for dear life.

“Mom,” Carl said and walked over to give his mother a hug. “And Aunt Lexie.” He hugged her also. “What’s up? You two have been keeping to yourselves lately.”

“There’s been a lot going on, dear.” She glanced at Mitzi, then back at her son. “Can we talk privately
somewhere?”

“Let’s go outside,” he said.

When Mitzi started to follow them out the door, he turned to her and said, “Stay and listen for the phones, Mitzi.”

Her lavishly made up face fell. “But—”

“I’m expecting a call from a very important customer, sweetie. Be a nice secretary and listen up for him, OK? You’d be doing me a huge favor.”

She grinned broadly. “Of course, Carl.” Twirling, she flounced back to her seat and plopped down.

Outside the trailer office at the feet of the giant cowboy, Lucy took her son’s arm. “Please tell me you two aren’t still seeing each other.”

Carl glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I know Mitzi can’t add two-plus-two, Mom. But she is the boss’s daughter. I have to be nice.”

“Do you have to date her, for Pete’s sake?”

He shrugged. “Once you get to know her, she’s not so bad.”

Lexie, who had been quietly standing by, imagined Carl was thinking if he married Mitzi and became Big Daddy’s son-in-law, he’d stand a better chance of inheriting the dealership. He wasn’t such a dumb kid, but sacrificing himself to Mitzi the poodle was a pretty big move. It would be interesting to see what the future held.

“What’s up with you two?” Carl walked them past rows of vehicles. “Why do you need to borrow a car?”

“It’s a long story,” Lucy said. “I’ll let your Aunt Lexie explain.”

They stopped beside a small red Miata with a ragtop and Lexie told Carl from start to finish about the murders, the threats on her life, and finally the fire and how the police even seemed stumped. She could feel perspiration clamming up her skin by the time she’d finished telling her story. Either the sweatshirt she’d worn was too heavy in the warm autumn sunshine, or she was nervous. Either way, she wished she didn’t have to do this.

“Your mother and I need to go up to the Ice Queen Resort and check out some leads,” Lexie said. “I’m tired of waiting for the cops to do their job.”

“It’s not smart to interfere in police business,” Carl said. “I can’t believe Dad agreed to this nonsense.”

Lucy put a hand on Carl’s arm. “Your father doesn’t know. We told him we were going up to a religious retreat in Burns Valley. You
have
to keep this quiet.”

Carl groaned. “Dad’s not going to like it.”

“It’s not up to him,” Lexie said. “Besides, he’s busy with the election. He doesn’t need to know anything.”

Carl scratched his head. “You two have no clue what you’re getting into.”

“We’ll be careful,” Lexie promised. “We need a different car to drive up the mountain so we won’t be recognized.”

“The police are probably working as hard as they
can on the murders,” Carl warned. “They don’t always tell everything otherwise it might compromise the case. If you two go snooping around, it could make things worse.”

“What could be worse?” Lexie exclaimed. “Aunt Gladys is already in the hospital and someone nearly burned down the café Someone obviously wants me dead.”

“I understand you two are wigged out, but it’s pretty hare brained to chase after dangerous criminals.”

“We’re only trying to get information to help the police,” Lexie said. “I think they’ll appreciate it in the long run.”

“Damn,” Carl said after a few minutes of stewing. “I shouldn’t do this, but I’m going to. I’ll loan you a vehicle. I’m warning you though, it’s not the fanciest transportation.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lexie said. “We need wheels.”

Carl directed them down another row of cars and into a large, dirty white garage where the clank of tools and buzzing equipment punctuated the air. Greasy men worked diligently on all makes and models of cars, rotating tires, doing bodywork, and changing oil. Carl led them past the busy mechanics and up to a van parked in a stall.

Lexie’s jaw dropped as she stared at it. The first thing that came into her mind was the old hot dog commercial and the accompanying jingle.
Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer weiner…

The vehicle, originally white, had been painted
with murals of cookies, doughnuts, bags of peanuts, popcorn, and every type of junk food imaginable on the planet. The most outstanding food of all rested on top of the unsuspecting van. A giant hot dog sat nestled in a bun, complete with mustard, ketchup, and relish. It must have been three feet long, Lexie figured.

“Oh, my Lord,” Lucy muttered, her face drained of color.

“I told you it was bad.” Carl knitted his brows.

“It’s perfect.” Lexie shoved her hands on her hips. “How well does it run?”

“She’s still in pretty good shape. She’ll get you up the mountain.”

“That’s all we need,” Lexie said.

“It’s hideous,” Lucy complained.

Lexie turned to her sister. “Look at it this way. Who would ever believe it was the two of us riding around in a weiner-mobile?”

Lucy groaned. “For Pete’s sake, the things you get me into.”

T
HE WEINER-MOBILE WAS THE PITS, BUT
L
EXIE
, who had opted to drive, wasn’t about to admit it. It could definitely have used more soup, more squirrels or something under the hood. It ran like a little old lady in a marathon, chugging slowly up the mountain past meadows, spruce and pine trees and aspen groves in fading autumn hues of russet, orange and brownish yellow. The mountains in the distance seemed light years away.

Lexie ignored the strange stares and glares of fellow travelers when they pulled around and zipped past the hot dog truck. “Rubberneckers,” Lexie grumbled. So what if their mode of transportation was somewhat questionable. It was none of their business. When a man in a hunting cap roared past in an old Ram Charger shaking his fist at them, Lexie stuck out her tongue.

“Alexandria Kathleen,” Lucy barked. “You’re going to get us in trouble. Ever heard of road rage?”

Lexie shrugged. It wasn’t a terribly long drive up the mountain, but she was anxious. The bottom of the van might drop out at any minute. Then they’d really be in trouble. Hopefully, they’d make it safely to their destination.
Please.
To pass the time, she counted sagebrush and antelope. The herds thinned out as the weiner-mobile climbed lofty heights to the Ice Queen Resort, leaving sagebrush the winner in Lexie’s counting contest.

On the passenger side, Lucy sat ramrod straight, looking neither right nor left. As though if she moved, something would jump out at her and attack. Lexie knew exactly what was bugging her. Lucy regretted lying to Otis. To top it off, she was going to spend time at a gambling resort. Two major sins committed in one day.

No doubt Sister Lucy would have a stiff penance to pay once she confessed her transgressions to Reverend Lincolnway. He might even take away her church-cleaning privileges.

Lexie glanced at her long-suffering sister. “Are you all right? Do we need to stop so you can stretch your legs?”

“Keep driving. I want to get this over with.” Lucy set her mouth in a firm line.

“You look like you swallowed a skunk.”

“I might as well have,” Lucy said. “I feel sick to my stomach. It smells like stale ketchup and mustard in here.”

The nose knows.

Lexie wasn’t aware that ketchup had a smell. “We’re almost there—”

“Stop!” Lucy shouted, her face white as cauliflower.

“But—”

“Now!”

When Lucy clamped a hand over her mouth, Lexie quickly veered onto the shoulder. After the van had rolled to a halt, Lucy jumped out, leaving the door swinging. Lexie watched as she hustled her support-hosed legs through the brush and finally leaned over a bush, her shoulders heaving.

Lexie winced.
Now she’s really going to be pissed about coming up here.

A few minutes later, Lucy climbed back in the van and slammed the door. She pulled a wet wipe from her purse and washed her face and mouth, then popped a breath mint onto her tongue. Leaning back, she rested her head against the seat.

“Are you all right?”

“This hot dog van is completely ridiculous. I may have to walk the rest of the way.”

Lexie bit her lower lip. “It’s not much further. Can you hang on?”

Lucy sighed. “God help me, I’ll try.”

The silence between the sisters was intense as Lexie drove on. Finally, she rounded a bend and drove into Rawhide City. Only a few miles more, Lexie thought.
Any longer and Sister Lucy might just kill me before anyone else gets the chance.

Rawhide City was a typical mining town from the 1880s. False front buildings had been restored along with solid brick buildings of the era, complete with gingerbread outcroppings. These sentinels of yesteryear lined the narrow streets, teasing tourists with promises of antiques, tourist gadgets, and gambling parlors. Everything in the town was Old West themed and Lexie knew the city council along with the historic preservation society reviewed every new business’ building plans to make sure all structures retained the flair of Rawhide City’s frontier beginnings.

The town itself had not started with such careful planning. Initially, prospectors had climbed up to the remote spot and searched for gold, finding only small amounts, but staying around long enough to establish mercantiles, bars, and blacksmith shops.

One die-hard, Potato Creek Tommy, despite many grubstakes, hadn’t been so lucky at the start of his mining career. He spent years looking for the mother lode and had only come up with small bags of gold dust. Tommy never found that elusive gold. He did find a silver vein and became an instant millionaire.

Like many successful prospectors who hit pay dirt, he bought himself a mansion in Rawhide City and imported only the finest food and wine for his dinner table. However, he had an eye for ladies of the evening and spent a large portion of his fortune on the sporting houses on Hobble Street. Eventually, he irritated the wrong person and wound up getting himself shot at the Thin Dollar Saloon. By that time,
he’d nearly spent himself broke.

It was your typical rags-to-riches-to-rags story and Potato Creek Tommy was only one example of a miner who got caught up in the glamour of a high lifestyle and fast women, only to lose all his hard-earned cash and ultimately his life. The sad scenario happened over and over in mining towns across the West.

Rawhide City relied on gambling casinos and tourist shops to stay alive. It also served skiers from the Ice Queen Resort a short distance up the gulch. The atmosphere was charming and yuppie. People came from miles around to vacation, either for the gambling or for winter and summer sports.

The typical tourist season ended in October, so it was quieter this time of the year. People browsed the shops and wandered into gambling establishments, but not the surging crowds usually associated with summer.

“Dens of iniquity,” Lucy muttered as she looked at casinos lining the narrow street.

Lexie noticed a café called the Buffalo Steak House. “Want to stop and rest? You still don’t look so good.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. Keep driving through this heathenish place. The sooner we get this trip over with, the better I’ll feel.”

Lexie wondered how someone born and raised in Moose Creek Junction could be so snobby. It was amazing to think her sister was also married to Otis Parnell who could win a Corny Sheriff of the Year
award hands down. Not to mention her son worked for Big Daddy’s where a giant cowboy statue stood sentinel and big-haired Mitzi smacked her gum as she answered the phone and painted her nails blood red.

Oh, well. That was Lucy.

Lexie tooled the van higher up the mountain toward the Ice Queen Resort. She shifted the weinermobile into a lower gear. Ignoring the alarming whine and click the engine emitted, she concentrated on the road that climbed past dilapidated mine shafts planted on the reddish brown hills.

Groves of aspen with sparse, rusty orange leaves dotted the mountain ridges like melted butter, interspersed with spruce and pine trees and old cabins with mossy, caved-in roofs.

Crazy Woman Creek, which crossed Potato Creek further up the gulch, gurgled at the bottom of the ravine lining the steep, narrow road. Ancient tailings raised mounds along the water’s edge. Lexie could tell by the old waterline the creek was down, no doubt because of the drought. A prick of alarm touched her, but what could she, a mere human do against the ravages of nature? Nothing.

So, Miss Know-It-All, what do you think you are going to do about a crazed murderer?
Lexie shrugged off the unsettling thought.

“For Pete’s sake.” Lucy vigorously rubbed her ears with her fingers. “My ears are ringing.”

“Mine, too,” Lex agreed. “It’s the altitude. Swallow hard a few times.”

The sisters began a swallowing session during which they both admitted their ears had “popped” and felt better. Lucy rescued gum from her purse and they chomped and swallowed, chomped and swallowed.

While concentrating on pushing her tongue into a gum bubble, Lexie noticed the line of vehicles stuck behind them. Too bad, so sad. What was she supposed to do? There was no making this beast of a van go any faster and she couldn’t pull over. She did her best to ignore them until the road leveled out.

They dropped into a broad bowl of land where the Ice Queen Resort, a large brick edifice with pine shutters, wooden porches, and railings dominated the grassy meadow. The Grand Tetons rose in the distance, ringing the resort with mountain majesty. Lexie noted the drought had been just as severe up here.