Delores pursed her lips and regarded me for a long moment before answering. "Found out about that, did you?"
"Yes."
"I don't think Juliet got that ball rolling, Thea, despite the yelling it reportedly started. This wouldn't be the first time he's been caught out, and I doubt he'd have felt too inconvenienced promising to give up Valerie. He wasn't wearing her like tight jeans because he couldn't find another pair. Melanie's full-time job is beating off the bitches in heat."
"She didn't manage to beat off Valerie. Or maybe she did."
"Let's get back to Greg and this bill of sale." She pushed the deposit slip and checks at me to double check. "I don't like all this business with Blackie. Let the police deal with who may have killed Valerie. You're the one I'm concerned with. You're getting dragged into something that should have nothing to do with you, and I don't know why. How about I have Jorge stay with you until things get sorted out?"
"I don't think he needs to. My house is pretty secure. Besides, I don't have anywhere for him to sleep."
She grumbled something about me being overconfident while I finished reviewing the deposit slip. As usual she'd made no errors. Huh. Money. Barn. An idea popped to the surface of my mind. "Where do you suppose Randy got the money for the improvements on his place?"
"A bank."
"But would a bank lend him money if his business was going down hill and the buildings were falling apart? What if he went to Valerie for the money? Kind of convenient of her to die – no one to pay back."
"Now just how would you go about proving that theory, Thea?"
"Well, I'd ask -"
"No, you wouldn't. The police will handle it. You're a small dog in tall weeds, girl. I'm going to send Jorge over tonight. He won't mind sleeping on the couch."
"No -" A knock on the door interrupted me.
Miguel came in without waiting for Delores's holler. "I need to talk to you. Both of you."
"What's up?" Delores asked.
"I have been thinking about this – trying to decide if it is important. It might be. Last night, about ten, me and a couple of the chicos from Green Gate Farm went for a beer over at the tavern up from the Texaco station on Birch Street. You know the one I mean?"
Delores and I nodded.
"There was a man, a middle-aged white guy, waving bills around and buying drinks for everybody. He was pretty drunk and bragging about how he was getting rich driving a horse rig around." He looked at us meaningfully.
"You're thinking he was the one who drove Valerie's rig?" Delores asked.
Miguel nodded. "I think it is possible."
I could barely contain my excitement. "Do you think he'll be there tonight?"
"Maybe. I never saw him before, but I do not go to that bar too often. Maria does not approve."
I didn't imagine she did, since the bar he was referring to, The Broken Axle, had a reputation for hosting a rough crowd. The bar was a regular feature in the Police Blotter section of the local paper. I chewed my lip, thinking.
Delores looked at me suspiciously. "What are you planning?"
"I don't know. Maybe if we find out who hired the guy we might have an idea about who killed Valerie. They have to be connected."
"Interesting idea for the police to look into," Delores said.
Miguel frowned. "No. I cannot allow you to go, if that is what you are planning. It is too dangerous for a woman alone. You should tell the police."
"You should go with me," I said, ignoring his suggestion. The police would surely think his was flimsy evidence, at best. "Can you remember what the guy looked like?"
"Yes, I think I would recognize him again. And no, I will not take you."
I gave him my best wide-eyed innocent look.
"Oh no you don't, missy." Delores tipped her head at me.
I put my hand on Miguel's arm, disregarding Delores. "What if we go over about ten. Is that too late for you?"
"No, ten is not too late," he said, although his expression looked uncertain.
"It certainly is," Delores commented.
"Well, you're not going."
"You're obviously planning on going. Miguel obviously won't let you do this alone, and if I don't go there obviously will be trouble. Besides, Maria will have a fit. We'll go earlier."
"Can't. I'm meeting Andrea for dinner. Anyway, if he didn't show up until late last night I think our best bet would be the same time frame. He might have a job that keeps him busy until then. But you don't need to go."
Delores snorted. "Yes, I do."
I grinned at her. Miguel's moustache twitched and the corners of his dark eyes crinkled. Delores gave us both a resigned look. This felt right. I knew we were on to something.
I stopped at the bank to make Copper Creek's deposit before going home. Once back in my neighborhood I drove around the block twice, checking my rear-view mirror constantly and examining all parked cars. Satisfied neither Greg nor Joey were hanging around, I parked at the curb, waved to my neighbor, who'd been watching me from her living room window, and made a dash for my house. I lost my momentum on the last step to the porch. A light breeze lifted the single sheet of newsprint taped to my front door, then allowed it to settle back. I snatched the thing off my door and searched for the circled words. This time there were three. "You're not listening," it said. The name of one person came to mind. Sarah Fuller. The little twit. She didn't scare me, although she was starting to annoy me. Disgusted, I crumpled the paper into a ball and nearly tossed it into my yard before realizing I'd be the one picking it out of the bushes later. I unlocked the door and went inside.
Just to make sure Sarah wasn't planning something terribly Hollywood, like popping out of a closet with an ax in her hand, I checked the rest of my rooms. Convinced no one was there but me, I returned to my office. I had work to do. I would not waste my time with people who couldn't find more mature ways to express themselves than having temper tantrums and leaving stupid notes.
I worked steadily until five, then called my uncle to check on Blackie's well-being. At five-fifteen, satisfied my horse was safe and secure, I was in my car and headed for Bellevue and The Cheesecake Factory. I didn't bother to check for company. If Greg or Randy showed up I'd call the police. If Joey joined me, he could pay for dinner. And Sarah? Well, she could write me another note.
Chapter Eighteen
Despite heavy traffic, I arrived at the restaurant before Andrea. Never mind the eatery was right down the street from her office. Her tardiness occurred with such predictability I could have put money on it. This habit had nothing to do with the sporadic rain that had me constantly adjusting my windshield wipers, and everything to do with Andrea's tendency to squeeze in "just one more little thing before I go."
A waiter showed me to a table and brought me a glass of wine while I waited. Andrea strolled in before I had time to make a dent in it.
"Thea." She gave me a hug and kissed my cheek, enveloping me in an expensive blend of flowers and spice. "It's good to see you." Her perfect eyebrows descended abruptly. "Did Greg give you those bruises?"
I touched my jaw. "Oh! I tried to cover them. Are they obvious?"
She scrutinized one side of my face and then the other. "No – a little worse on the right, but you did an okay job. People won't gasp and point." She slipped out of her stylish coat and draped it over the back of her chair. "Are you going after him for that?"
"No."
She frowned and drew a breath, but pressed her lips together instead of speaking.
"I just want him to leave me alone."
"And is he leaving you alone?" She settled into her chair.
"No."
"Oh, Thea, what happened? Tell me you're staying with Vi and Henry."
"I'm staying at home, but -"
"Jonathan is staying with you?" She cringed when she said it.
"I broke up with him yester -"