Murder at the Tremont House (A Blue Plate Cafe Mystery) (10 page)

“
What choice did they have? I’m the law. And I see these people every day.”

“
That’s just it. No one sees the Smith family, except Bonnie as she does a few errands around town. Cary goes to school, hangs out with some senior boys, and spends a lot of time with the math teacher, according to Ava.”

“
Maybe he needs help with math. Lots of kids do. I needed help with reading, but I got it from a great teacher, and now I read all the time. Just finished the latest by that guy who wrote
The Kite Runner.
What’s his name? Hosseini! That’s it.”

“
Stop trying to distract me. I’m glad you like to read. Maybe someday Cary will become a mathematician. But who knows anything about the father in that family? I think his name is Roger but I’m not sure of it. They don’t go to church. He doesn’t bowl or do anything with other men, hasn’t joined the Rotary, works in Tyler. Why’d they even move to Wheeler? Why not live in Tyler?”

“
Kate, Kate,” he reached across the table and took my hands. “You’re asking questions that aren’t any of our business. Maybe they’re just very private people. Maybe they wanted Cary to grow up in a small town, go to a small high school where he’d get individual attention. And apparently he’s getting it.”

“
And maybe they’re hiding something,” I retorted.

I think
he would have left if I hadn’t offered to fix him a roast beef supper of leftovers from the café. He got himself a second beer and sank back down in his chair, “Just declared myself off duty.”

“
You can’t do that. There’s no one to declare on duty.”

“
There’s always Tom. I’ll have to break Stu Wallace in sooner or later. It’s just…well, I don’t know much about him. Guess I’ll have to ask him a few questions and do a background check.”

“
You can do that on Stu Wallace but not the Smiths?” I asked archly.

“
If Roger Smith applies to be a deputy, I’ll do a background check. But I don’t think that’s gonna happen. And don’t you start scheming about how to make it happen.”

I gave him my most surprised, innocent,
“Who, me?” look but he was unimpressed.

I fixed myself a small plate, and as we ate Rick said,
“You know, between cooking classes and your preoccupation with Sara Jo Cavanaugh, we haven’t had much fun lately. Can you get away for an hour or so tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll take Huggles out to the country and throw a Frisbee for him? Bob Greenough has an empty pasture that edges up to one side of the small lake on his property, and he said to come out anytime. I can give him a call.”

“
Sounds good, and yes I can do that on a Monday afternoon. But you’re responsible for keeping Huggles out of the water. And we’re going in your car, so if he does get wet….” I let the threat dangle and trail off.

“
Bring lots of towels and blankets,” he said, laughing.

We went out to Greenough
’s property all right, the next day. But Huggles didn’t get his run and spent more than an hour confined to the car, barking pitifully. Some of the rancher’s cows had gotten out and were wandering along the Farm-to-Market Road. Even I was put to help rounding them up. Since it had been years since I rode a horse—I was good at one time in my youth—Rick put me in the electric mule while he and Bob were on horseback.

“
Fence was cut,” Rick told me tersely. “I bet we find some cows missing.”

And we did
, though I don’t know which is more trouble to deal with—a skittish yearling steer or an electric mule. When I thought I was turning left, it turned right; when I tried to stop, it speeded up, so that at one point I was headed right for a cow.
Serve it right if I plowed into it.
The cow moved, and I found the brake. It wasn’t that operating that mechanical monster was physically tiring; it was wearing me out with worry. When we got all the cattle we could find herded back into their pasture, Bob Greenough said he was short two steers he had planned to take to market in a couple of weeks or so. City dwellers may think rustling has disappeared as a problem for ranchers, especially in East Texas, but I knew better.

Bob Greenough gave Rick a picture of his brand and described the markings of the steers. It always amazed me cattlemen knew each animal and could tell them apart.
It amazed me even more that Rick Samuels, the city boy, was so at home on a horse, herding stray cattle, and taking notes on markings on the missing animals.

With the animals safely corralled again and the fence patched, we let Huggles out for a run in the pasture with no cattle and a lake. He ran and chased and jumped on us when he came back, sometimes with muddy feet. We laughed and hugged him and sent the Frisbee flying again…until Rick did it. Sent it into the lake.

“Oops, guess my aim isn’t what it used to be.”

The Frisbee was lost but Huggles hadn
’t figured it out, so he dove into the lake and began swimming, while we both shouted from the shore, ordering him to come back. He ignored us, and I was sure he would drown.

Rick gave me a scornful look.
“Dogs don’t drown, unless they get exhausted. He’ll come back before then.”

I was only partially reassured.

To our amazement, he came swimming toward us, proudly carrying the Frisbee in his mouth. Once on land, he shook vigorously, sending dirty lake water all over both of us. I yelped in protest, Rick laughed, and Huggles ran to comfort me, getting me wetter than ever. Rick ran for the towels and blankets in the car, and we toweled the dog as best we could and then tried to towel ourselves. But there was no hiding the fact we both looked like we’d been rolling in the mud. Rick looked at me and laughed again, but I thought he ought to see himself before he laughed too loudly.

“
He who laughs first….” I intoned.

“
Laughs best,” he finished.

“
You know that’s not how it goes!”

“
I double dog dare you to go into the café without changing.”

“
You know I won’t do that!” The very idea would have sent Gram down from above in person to take over her café.

But when we drove into town, a crowd of people stood outside the café, including all the employees, even Gus, the dishwasher.

Rick screeched to a halt, I ordered Huggles to stay in the car, and we both leapt out. “What happened?” I asked, rushing up to Marj.

“
Customer complained of smelling gas. Volunteer fire department evacuated until they can find the source. I didn’t never smell no gas.”

Rick looked startled.
“Why wasn’t I notified?”

Marj gave both of us a long look.
“Tried to call you both. No luck.”

Rick looked down at his phone, as though to shake it in anger, but then, sheepishly, he pressed the button to turn it back on.
“Must have turned it off so as not to scare those damn cattle,” he said. And then he rushed into the restaurant.

Rick soon restored order to the restaurant
. The gas leak came from a faulty pilot light on one set of burners, and we would simply have to do without those burners until I could get a plumber out from Canton to make the repair. Meantime it was business as usual. I told Marj to re-serve the evacuated customers and comp their meals. I was going home to change.

Putting a leash on Huggles, I got him out of Rick
’s car and headed home, but Sara Jo waylaid me. Trust her to be Johnny-on-the-spot when there was trouble in Wheeler.

“
You look like you’ve been rolling in the mud,” she observed.

I didn
’t detect any journalistic detachment in her comment. In fact, I thought she was savoring the moment.

I shouldn
’t have felt the need to defend myself, but that’s just what I did. “Huggles got into a lake. Excuse me, but I have to go put both of us in the shower.”

“
You shower with your dog?” she asked incredulously. And then she went on, “Pardon me asking, but where were you and what were you doing?”

I could see the headline now:
SMALL TOWN RESTAURANT OWNER SHOWERS WITH HER DOG.

“
Separately,” I said icily.

“
Well, I heard something about loose and stolen cattle. Were you helping Chief Samuels with that? Has he deputized you?”

I fought the impulse to say,
“No, he hasn’t done a background check on me yet.” Instead I said, “We happened to be at the Greenough ranch when the cattle were discovered missing. Naturally, we did what we could to help. You’ll have to ask Chief Samuels if you have more questions.” I turned and fled, giving her no chance to follow.

Huggles came first. Whereas he loved the lake, he hated the shower, and cleaning him was a battle of both the wills and my strength against his. I honestly thought about leaving him outside, dirty, until Henry could come after school, but I thought that was cowardly. So I fought with him, dumped shampoo on him, talking lovingly all the while. Finally I got him rinsed and toweled dry—I
’d already started one load of towels and cotton blankets from the ranch and would have to do another. When he was reasonably dry, I released him, gave him a treat, and told him to go to his bed, which, being a good, obedient dog, he did. Then I cleaned myself up, noticing my chinos were torn at the knee. Honest, I can ruin more good pants without even trying. Finally, though, I was showered, shampooed, dressed in clean clothes, and ready to take on disaster at the Blue Plate Café. Huggles was sound asleep in his bed. Briefly, I wanted to be a dog.

Henry heard about the episode—how do things travel that fast in a small town
?—and stormed into the café after school, demanding, “Aunt Kate, what did you do to Huggles? Is he all right? Can I go see him?”

“
Henry,” I sighed, “I didn’t do anything. He jumped in Mr. Greenough’s lake and got us all dirty. He’s clean and on his bed. If he’s dry, you can let him out to play.”

Mollified, he left, only to return within thirty minutes to report
Huggles was dry and glad to be outside and he forgave me for putting him in the shower. I almost yelped for the second time that day.

Sara Jo came in for supper that evening and, to my surprise, ordered the
meat loaf. I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking if she was falling off her diet. She sat at the counter, so I served her, and it was clear she wanted to talk.

“
You know,” she said, “I find you interesting.”

Well, gee whiz. What am I supposed to say about that?
’

She never noticed my hesitation.
“You had a good career and life in Dallas…yes, I checked…and you came back here to this Podunk town and seem okay with it. And you sort of are with the chief of police, but you sort of aren’t. Would you come to the B&B some night, let me give you a glass of wine and interview you?”

I started to explain how busy my evenings were and then I thought,
Why not? Maybe I can turn the tables on her and learn something…if I don’t drink too much wine.

We agreed on two nights later, and I began scheming. She finished her meat
loaf, gave me a nice tip…
doesn’t she know you don’t tip the owner?
…and left, confirming our date.

Rick came in just before closing time for a cup of
coffee. “Actually I’d like a beer. Are you entertaining after you close up?”

“
I could,” I said. “Haven’t you had a long day though?”

“
Yeah, and I’m not used to riding horses any more. I expect to be sore in the morning. Besides, you sent Sara Jo to me about rustling. You owe me.”

I giggled.
“I knew she’d run right to you, and you’d probably be angry. But I had to get Huggles and me both showered. She wanted to know if we showered together.”

He actually laughed out loud.
“Good Lord, I hope not.”

“
No, but we’re both clean now, thank you very much. And I told her we showered separately. He went first.”

He laughed again and left, saying,
“See you in about thirty minutes.”

After I closed, tallied the charge slips and locked up the cash, I headed for the house only to find Rick waiting for me on the back porch, comfortably rocking in one of Gram
’s big chairs. He had a beer in his hand.

“
Helped myself. Hope you don’t mind.”

“
No, that’s good. I’ll get some wine and join you.”

I did, and we didn
’t talk about rustlers or Sara Jo. Instead, I said, “You were pretty comfortable on a horse today, but I thought you grew up in Dallas.”

He snorted.
“No such luck. I grew up in Brewster County, ‘‘bout as far from Dallas as you can get. On a ranch. Rode before I could walk.”

“
I don’t even know where Brewster County is,” I confessed.

“
So far west in Texas it’s almost not on the map. Alpine is the only city in the county. My dad was supervisor of schools there, but we didn’t live in town.”