Beef Stolen-Off (14 page)

Someone like Bobby Carvella, who was now top dog on Santana’s ranch.

As expected, the response to Bella’s recipes was phenomenal, and once again, Jordan had been summoned to Egan’s office. This time he wanted to gloat and remind her how right he’d been about her Sunday dinners with Lucas and Bella being beneficial to her column. If he hadn’t been so comical, hitching his bushy eyebrows up and down after making her admit it, she would have been annoyed.

But she had to agree it hadn’t been too bad. Watching Danny’s expression when she’d casually mentioned he was eating stroganoff made with Wagyu was also a plus. He’d nearly choked when she’d told him, since it was probably the only time he’d ever get to try the expensive beef.

Given the beef’s hundred-dollars-a-pound market value, it was definitely her last time, too. Bella had already announced that next Sunday’s dinner would be something with a cheaper cut of beef, sending a message to the average
Ranchero family that you didn’t have to pay a lot of money for good dinners.

Jordan looked up as Sandy Johnson approached her desk and waved. The plan was for Lola to go with them to Sandy’s grandfather’s house tonight, do a quick séance, and be home before eleven, which worked for Jordan. Although she didn’t completely buy into the whole ghost thing, she had no desire to be in that house after midnight.

“I’m kind of nervous about tonight.”

“Me too, but Lola’s an amazing medium.” She tapped her fingertips on the desk, relieved Sandy didn’t know her well enough to realize this was something she did when she lied.

She had no idea if Lola was able to converse with ghosts or not, but she herself was a skeptic of all things psychic. Granted, some of the proclaimed spirit whisperers were gifted with incredible skills of observation, but talking to dead people?

No way!

She was reminded of one of her favorite TV shows, in which the main character had used these same abilities to scam people before becoming a police consultant to help solve crimes. Just when you thought he might really be psychic, he’d explain how he’d discovered the truth, much like a magician who reveals the “tricks” of his magic. Most of the clues came from his knowledge of body language.

When Jordan had first approached Lola for help with this, the older woman had been hesitant, saying she’d never claimed to be a true psychic. Her business was reading tarot cards and the occasional crystal ball, if the price was right. Lola had agreed to give it a shot only after Jordan
reminded her that Sandy was about to lose her grandfather’s house.

Jordan confirmed plans to pick up Sandy at seven. It would already be dusk, the perfect time for confronting ghosts. Though she hated that Lola would have to deceive Sandy to make her believe she was really talking to ghosts, the end result was worth a white lie—along with a little smoke and mirrors.

On the way home, she stopped at Burger Hut to pick up dinner for her and her brother. Thursday was her night to cook, and Burger Hut had a buy-one-get-one-half-off sale. Danny was sitting at the kitchen table hunched over a slew of papers when she opened the door.

Glancing up, he wrinkled his nose. “Burgers again?”

“Unless you can whip up a couple of Chicken Cordon Bleus,” she retorted, a little annoyed.

Like he ever mixed up the menu. Since he was almost as broke as she was—thanks to the hefty monthly payment on his new pickup—his offering was usually a five-dollar pizza from the Pizza Palace when it was his turn to cook.

“Smart-ass! You don’t even know what that chicken-corded-whatever is.”

“For your information, I do know. I did an Internet search on fancy chicken dishes a few weeks ago for a recipe to use in my column.”

“That doesn’t count.” He gathered up the papers and sauntered over to the fridge. “Diet Pepsi or beer?”

“Diet Pepsi, please. You might want to take it easy on the alcohol yourself, bro.” Jordan pointed to the three empty bottles on the counter.

“Who died and made you the beer police?”

She ignored him and sat down. Opening the bag, she
pulled out a burger and half-empty bag of fries, wondering if anyone ever made it home with a full bag.

Danny sat down opposite her and shoved the Diet Pepsi her way. He made a point to set his beer bottle down on the table hard enough to get her attention, while his narrowed eyes dared her to make a comment.

Knowing he was trying to provoke her, something he always did when he drank, she snickered to herself. “So what were all those papers?” she asked, instead of taking the bait.

“Rusty’s autopsy report and details on the latest theft out at the Lazy C Ranch in Collin County.”

“How many did they get this time?”

“Eight. We have no clue if they stole them all at once or just a few at a time,” he said, shaking his head. “If I don’t make some progress with this soon, I might have to start updating my résumé.”

“Is it that bad?” she asked between bites. “I told Santana you had some new leads.”

“You lied,” he answered, draining the beer bottle and sprinting to the fridge for another. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out how they can make something as big as a cow disappear without a trace. We’re checking every cattle auction held in the state of Texas, as well as the neighboring states, on a daily basis. They’ve got to be sending them across the border, but we haven’t seen any stolen livestock showing up at the checkpoints.”

“Is it possible the owners are lying about the stolen cattle? If they have insurance on their herds, which I’m sure they do, wouldn’t it be to their advantage to collect the insurance money while the beef market is so depressed? Maybe get their money back on a dead or sick animal? I’m guessing no one goes out to the ranches to count cows.”
She got up, gathered her dinner wrappings, and took them to the trash can.

“That might make for a great
Law and Order
episode, Jordan, but it doesn’t hold water in this case. I’ve interviewed those ranchers about the thefts, and I can tell you, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere in the county when they find the culprits.” He grinned. “There are some very pissed-off cowboys out there.”

“I’m just saying it’s something to think about.” She headed to the bedroom just as the front door opened and Victor barged in.

“I’m glad my doorbell’s working,” she deadpanned. “What’s up?”

Victor made a beeline to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. Popping the cap, he sat down at the table across from Danny. “The evening DJ called in sick down at the radio station, so Michael’s working an extra shift. I came by to see if either of you wanted to play a round of miniature golf over at the new place in Connor.”

“Can’t,” Jordan said.

“Why not? It’s Thursday, and we all know you have no social life,” Danny said.

“Oh, like you do?” she fired back. “Actually, I’m going out to Lake Texoma with Lola and Sandy.”

“Sandy Johnson?” Danny asked, suddenly very interested. Since the night Sandy had gone with them to Beef Daddy’s, Danny had been asking all sorts of questions about her.

“That’s great,” he said when Jordan nodded. “Since Vic and I don’t have anything else planned, we’ll go with you.”

“No way. This isn’t a social gathering. We’re on a mission, and we don’t need two guys tagging along, especially when they’ve been drinking.”

“I only had one beer,” Victor protested, holding up the bottle. “I’m watching my calories since Michael called me his butterball.” He reached down and grabbed one of Danny’s fries.

“The answer is still no,” Jordan insisted. “Sandy is already so nervous she’s about to come unglued. Besides, if you think I’m making it easy for you to hook up with my new friend, you’re badly mistaken, Danny. She’s so not your type.”

“Who said I was interested?” Danny moved closer to her. “So what’s the secret mission?”

“I never said it was secret.” Jordan threw her hands in the air. “Criminy! You must be taking drama-queen lessons from Victor.” She turned to her neighbor. “No offense.”

“None taken. I’m proud of the fact that I’m—what’s the word—demonstrative?” He waved his hand in an air Z. “Now tell us what the secret mission is.”

Jordan couldn’t help it and laughed. “We’re trying to convince Sandy her grandfather’s house isn’t haunted. That way she can move out there and keep the IRS from seizing it to pay off the back taxes.”

“Yeah, she told me about her money problems the other night,” Victor said. “But she never mentioned ghosts were the reason she didn’t live out there. I just assumed it was because of her memories of her grandfather.”

“You gotta let us go with you, sis. I’m great at chasing ghosts away.”

Jordan huffed. “Don’t you have ‘ghosts’ mixed up with ‘girls,’ Danny boy? I seem to recall your track record for lasting relationships with the fairer sex would verify this.” She took two steps toward the bathroom before turning around. “You two go play miniature golf. This is a me, Sandy, and Lola thing. Sorry.” She made it to the bathroom
and slammed the door behind her, shutting off any further discussion.

When she finished her shower, she found herself all alone in the apartment and was relieved Victor and her brother were no longer there to bug her about going along. She had to smile, recalling how quickly Victor and Danny had become friends that first night. It had taken longer for Danny to feel comfortable with the others. He’d been so eager to prove he was qualified to be the lone agent assigned to Ranchero, he’d acted reserved around the older residents of Empire Apartments. It was only after they’d teased him about loosening up that he’d let down his guard around them. Victor and Rosie were his clear favorites since they were as mischievous as he was.

After throwing on a little makeup and running a comb through her hair, she locked the door behind her, hoping Danny had remembered to take his key with him.

Then she knocked on Lola’s door and waited.

Lola emerged wearing one of her long, flowing caftans, a scarf around her head, and hoop earrings the size of large plums. “Too much?” she asked with a grin.

“Not if you’re aiming for the Carmen Miranda look,” Jordan teased. She hooked her arm through Lola’s. “Come on. Let’s go. Sandy will be impressed, I’m sure.”

“Let’s hope I can convince her I’m really talking to ghosts. You do remember what I told you to do, right?”

“Absolutely. I will be the best ghost buster you know.”

Lola squeezed her hand. “Make that the best ghost buster’s assistant. I’m going for an Academy Award tonight.”

After they picked up Sandy, the three women headed out of Ranchero just as the sun hit the horizon and dropped out of sight. Forty minutes later, they turned off the gravel road onto the circular driveway of a quaint little cottage
with the largest magnolia tree Jordan had ever seen dominating the front yard.

“Wow! This is really nice.” Jordan hopped out of the car and followed Sandy up the porch steps with Lola right behind her.

“Yeah, Gramps spent a lot of money fixing it up,” Sandy said, unable to hide the sadness in her voice. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Although she tried to act indifferent, Sandy looked terrified. Jordan prayed Lola could ease her fears. It would be a shame to hand this wonderful house over to the government when it meant so much to her new friend.

Walking into the small house, Jordan did a slow circle to take everything in. Decorated in rich browns and greens, the living room seemed eerily quiet, sending spurts of anxiety through her body. Scolding herself for being silly, she focused on the heavy green linen drapes that covered the windows on both sides of a large rock fireplace and the exquisite Oriental rug in front of it.

“Gramps brought that home from overseas when he was in the Marines,” Sandy explained, apparently noticing Jordan’s interest in the rug.

“It’s impressive.” She turned to Sandy. “I can see why you want to live here. It’s so homey.”

Sandy snorted. “It has two bedrooms, Jordan. Care to join me out here with my invisible houseguests?”

“There won’t be any houseguests after tonight,” Lola said, winking at Jordan out of Sandy’s view. “Where shall we set up?”

“Gramps has a card table and chairs in the garage for when his buddies came to play poker. Can we use that?”

“We’ll set it up on that rug over there.” Lola bobbed her head toward the fireplace, then shivered. “It’s cold in here.”

“I’ll turn up the heat,” Sandy replied. “I don’t want to start a fire since we won’t be here that long.” She adjusted the thermostat on the far wall. “First, I want to show you the lake out back, and then I’ll make us one of Gramps’s favorite drinks for a cold night.”

As the furnace kicked in, the curtains on both sides of the fireplace fluttered, and all three of them jumped.

“Thank heavens I’m putting liquor in the drinks,” Sandy said with a forced laugh. “I think we can all use it.”

Jordan glanced at Lola, who was surveying the room as if deciding in which corner the ghosts were hiding. She hoped she wouldn’t regret coming up with this ridiculous idea.

Jordan blew out a breath, trying to hide her uneasiness from Sandy. “Where’s the liquor cabinet?”