Calamity Jayne Heads West (22 page)

It was only when I shoved myself upward and spot-ted the crotch of a man’s pants that I realized that the dude in the snake eyes seat had moved. The unfortu-nate occupant of the chair chose that moment to look down and our eyes met. I managed a weak wave and equally weak smile.

The man’s eyes grew big as Joe Townsend’s had been earlier as he sat across from Gloria Grant.

“Well, hullo there!” The owner of the crotch in question said. “I’ve had dreams of moments like this in a dark movie theater. Wet ones. Wicked ones.”

I gulped. Great. Of all the seats in the place to pop my head out from under, I’d picked the one occupied by a dude with triple-X fantasies.

“Hello,” I responded. “How are you today? I’m with the IMAX staff and I’m trolling for gum violations,” I said, visibly wincing at how lame this cover story was, but going with it just the same. “You didn’t, by anychance, leave this little memento of your visit to this fine establishment behind, did you? I asked, forcing myself to pick up a disgusting wad of pink chewing gum—cotton-candy flavor if I wasn’t mistaken—and hold it up for him to see. “Here at the Grand Canyon IMAX theater we have tough rules prohibiting the damage of our fine facility and regulating the disposal of debris within the theater proper. Did you know you could be fined up to five hundred dollars for deposit-ing this wad of gum under your seat?” I asked.

The dark dream weaver shook his head. “It’s not mine. I swear!” he responded. “I only chew spear-mint!”

I gave him a long look. “You do understand I’m only doing my job, right, sir?” I asked. He nodded. “I’m go-ing to take your word for it that this isn’t your gum. However, I’ll need to clear the chairs of gum on either side of you. For your own benefit, you understand. I’d appreciate your discretion as I continue to perform my duties,” I added. I handed him the pink wad of gum. “Thank you, sir. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

I quickly slid to the next chair and began a hurried up search of the bottom. My heart rate picked up when my hand came across an envelope taped to the inside of one of the seat legs. My fingers shook as I peeled the tape away and freed the tiny package.

Sticking it in the front of my pants, I changed direc-tion and started pulling myself toward the back of the theater, catching myself before I automatically reached out to dislodge hard wads of gum en route like a for-real wad terminator.

I maneuvered myself into the same row but across the aisle from Taylor, trying to get her attention, but her eyes were once again focused on the screen. The glutton for punishment.

I bit my lip, trying to figure out a subtle way to signalher that it was time to go, remembered the hard, round missiles that were within my very grasp, and I reached out and pulled off a wad of dried gum. I lobbed it in Taylor’s general direction. The gum missed her completely but hit a guy in the head two rows up. I winced and waited a moment before select-ing another gum wad and letting fly.

It bounced off the Dumbo ear of the greedy little kid who’d profited from my generosity earlier.

That’ll teach him, the little greedy Gus, I thought. But dang. My arm wasn’t what it used to be. I so needed to sign up for a summer softball league.

Sensing the end of the film wasn’t far off, I grabbed several wads of the disgusting cast-off cuds and com-bined them to make one super large, super-dooper, superwad. This time I took aim before I sent it sailing. It smacked Taylor in the side of the head. Yes! I still had it!

Taylor looked quickly in my direction, and from my prone position, I waved and smiled and pointed to my wrist where my watch should have been and then to the exit, nodding to see if she got the point.

She simply sat there.

I did my
Let’s get the heck out of Dodge
routine again, punctuating it by slipping out into the aisle on my belly, making my way to the exit like a seriously messed-up sidewinder snake.

The climax of the film exploded onto the huge screen, featuring abrupt drops and twists and turns that left your belly in your throat, continuing with the stomach-wrenching, three-dimensional wild ride through the rapids. The audience screamed and oohed and ahed. One audience member moaned. I’d know that moan anywhere.

A gust of air hit the back of me as Taylor rushed by,a hand to her mouth. I waited for her to vacate the the-ater before I resumed my crawl in her wake.

I’d made it to the door and was just about to crawl around the corner when something grabbed hold of my ankle and I felt my body being dragged for the sec-ond time that day. Instead of pavement burns, how-ever, I felt my knees warm with the sting of rug burns.

I reached out and took hold of the door frame and started to kick my legs to dislodge the manacle around my ankle when the cell phone I’d copped from Nick Townsend began to play. The Iowa Fight Song rang out.

The pressure on my right foot continued and I found myself in a bizarre tug of war—with yours truly as the rope.

“Tressa?” I heard above me. I twisted around to see Kelsey Townsend staring down at me. “Uncle Rick! Uncle Rick! I found her! I found her!”

“I see that,” I heard, and recognized the shoes that appeared in front of me. The hold on my foot disap-peared and I was catapulted at Townsend’s feet in a heap.

I groaned.

And thus this little Hawkeye’s fight song ended on your basic sour note.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I handed over the cell phone to Townsend, and I stood guard as the theater emptied several minutes later, ready to confront Raphael the Romeo Rat—now that I had ample backup in the form of Ranger Rick, Sophie, Taylor and the munchkins, that is. I waited. And waited. But Raphael never came out. I ran back into the theater. It was empty except for a mainte-nance man who was mumbling that he’d like to take varmints who drop huge wads of gum on the floor for others to step on and ground into the carpet and slow roast ’em over a spit. I hurried out of the theater.

“What’s with taking off with my car?” Sophie asked.

I shrugged. “It was her idea,” I said, pointing to Tay-lor. “She wrote the note and everything.”

Taylor shot me a dark look. Her face was flushed now. Kneeling over a toilet bowl will do that to you.

“Tressa wanted to ‘bond,’ ” Taylor said, wiping her upper lip with a tissue. “Just us two sisters.”

I saw Rick Townsend raise an eyebrow. “You had to travel two thousand miles across the country to bond?” he asked. His tone was liberally laced with disbelief—and suspicion. “Why here? Why now?”

I wrinkled a brow. Townsend had the knack for ma-neuvering through the BS and cutting right to the chase.

“Why not here? Why not now?” I responded, know-ing it really irked the ranger when I answered his questions with questions of my own. It also gave me time to come up with some plausible explanations. Well, semi-plausible.

“For one thing, your sister here gets dizzy if she stands up too fast,” Townsend pointed out, and I saw Taylor flinch.

“Now I wouldn’t say that—,” Taylor began.

“Secondly, considering the one-woman thug mag-net you seem to have become, it probably isn’t a good idea to go gallivanting all over northern Arizona with-out letting anyone know,” Townsend continued.

“Especially in someone else’s automobile,” Sophie interjected.

I looked at the face of each of my jurors in turn. Seemed like someone was always weighing every action I took, and indicting me for one offense or another.

“Uh, we did let someone know,” I said. “Taylor left a note, or you nice supportive folks wouldn’t be here now.” I paused. “Considering this reception, maybe next time I won’t bother to leave a note.”

Townsend took a step in my direction. “If you have a death wish, Tressa, that’s one thing. You’re an adult,” Townsend said, and I couldn’t help but notice the slightest hesitation when he got to the word
adult.
“But don’t involve innocent children in your over-the-top escapades.”

I staggered back a step and stared at Nick Townsend. Why, the no-good little snitch! He’d gone running straight to Uncle Rick as fast as his knobby little kneescould carry him and blabbed everything. The Snow-bowl. Raphael. The clue. The foot chase. Tressa being towed.

And innocent? That kid was about as innocent as O.J.

“I’ll have you know your ‘innocent’ nephew there blackmailed me into taking him along,” I told Townsend with a sneer.

“Oh yeah. How’d he do that?”

“He threatened me.”

“Threatened you? How could a ten-year-old threaten you?” Townsend asked, crossing his arms across his chest and waiting for my response.

“He said he’d narc me out to you and Whitehead,” I said. “And while I knew what I was getting with you, frankly I didn’t trust the ranger woman. Any gal brazen enough to slip some guy she just met her card, and to set up a date with him with the girl he’d brought to the party standing right there didn’t in-spire confidence. Or confidences.”

“I see. You didn’t trust me enough to let me know what was going on,” Townsend said.

“I didn’t trust Whitehead,” I corrected him. “Plus, I wasn’t even sure I wasn’t chasing a phantom story,” I said. “I wanted to be sure.”

“Sure of this story? Or sure of me?” Townsend asked. “Or sure that I wasn’t in a position to stop you from putting yourself at risk once again? There’s a word for people like you, Tressa,” Townsend said.

“Investigative journalist? Adventurer? Soldier of truth?” I suggested.

“Impulsive, sensation-seeking, neurotic risk-taker,” Taylor, ex-psychology student turned short-order cook, supplied. I shot a quick
screw you
look at her.

“You don’t get it, do you, Tressa?” Townsend said, running an agitated hand through his dark brown head of hair. “If you keep chasing off half-cocked onthe latest misadventure that comes your way, you’re going to have a sight more than shredded Skechers and ruined Riders to contend with. One of these days you’re going to bite off more than even you can chew.”

I blinked. “Excuse me. Is that a jab at my overbite?” I said. “Because I’ll have you know I went through four years of orthodontic trauma to pull these babies back in place. It’s not my fault my jaw kept growing. And as far as leaving you out of the loop, as I recall, Mr. Ranger, sir, I shared my theory about the thefts and Kooky with you early on and your response was to laugh in my face. Like I felt comfortable confiding in you after that! Still, I suppose I ought to be used to that kind of reception from you by now,” I added. “Good ol’ Calamity Jayne, always good fer a belly laugh. Hardy har har.” I moved toe to toe with Ranger Rick. “The only time you aren’t laughing at me, buster, is when you’re trying to get in my drawers!” I said, pok-ing him in the chest with my index finger. Townsend’s mouth popped open. “But now that I think about it, maybe that’s just another joke on me, too!” I stepped away. “Sophie. Taylor. I’ll be at the car.”

I tromped across the lobby of the visitors center with my nose in the air. Interestingly enough, there were no tears to swallow, no snot to suck up, no self-recriminations to recite this time.

I was too damned pee-ohed. It seemed the harder I tried to promote credibility and inspire confidence, the more people were bent on forcing me back into the blond bimbo caricature I’d fought so hard to shed. I frowned. It occurred to me for the first time to won-der whether that dumb blonde persona had not only been comfortable for me for so long, but also, in some bizarre way, equally as comfortable to those around me. After all, it was the yardstick, the known and un-changing constant by which I’d been observed andmeasured for so many years. I never considered it might take others some time to catch up and come to terms with a new and improved rubric for evaluating a new and improved Tressa Jayne.

But how much longer did I have to wait? At this rate I’d receive my due in credibility right about the same time as my first social security check. If I lived that long. According to Townsend, if I kept up my ‘sensa-tion- seeking risk-taking’ I’d be pushing up daisies long before I reached retirement age. Nice.

I leaned on the car and fumed. Sophie and Taylor showed up a few minutes later.

“Where to?” Sophie asked, getting behind the wheel and buckling up, adjusting the rearview mirror so she could make eye contact with me in the back seat. I had let Taylor have the front so she wouldn’t get pukey again.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why ask me?” I said. “I only still have to buy a dress for a wedding in two days and tame the wild beast I call a head of hair. Oh, and there’s also the little matter of figuring out the signifi-cance of
this
little beauty,” I said, holding up the turquoise necklace while Sophie did a double take. “Some people might say I discovered this here charm as the result of my neurotic need for impulsive sensation-seeking risk-taking misadventures. Then again, it could be that I discovered it as the result of Clue Nu-mero Uno in an
Amazing Race
Arizona-style. Hmmm. And there’s always the issue of the latest clue I just dis-covered taped to a seat in the IMAX theater that still needs to be decoded and followed up on. But I imag-ine you two ladies have other, more important things on your agenda for the day, so you know, whatever you two want to do is peachy keen with me.” I sat back. “I’m just along for the ride.”

Sophie’s body did a one-eighty in her seat—not easyconsidering her girth and the steering wheel. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you were right about Kookamunga?” she asked.

“Kookamunga?” Taylor said.

“Someone
was
after him?”

“After whom?”

“He did hold a secret?”

“What secret? What are you two talking about?” Tay-lor didn’t bother to hide her exasperation.

I looked at her. “I’m not sure I should share the de-tails,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to put you innocent chil-dren at risk.”

“Would someone please tell me what the hell is go-ing on?” Taylor yelled, and I looked at her with wide eyes. Holy shat. Taylor never swore. Not ever.

“Maybe it would be safer if you just went back inside and waited for Ranger Rick to conquer the rapids and take you home, Taylor,” I said, reaching up and pat-ting her on the shoulder. “Like a good little girl.”

“Screw you, Tressa!” Taylor shrieked, and I sat back stunned.

Hello, Sybil. This was a side of Taylor I’d never seen. Not certain if I should scold or applaud like crazy, I opted to let it go.

“Rick did say he wanted us to hang around until they got done so he could have a nice long talk with you, Tressa,” Sophie said. I made a face. I’d been the guest of honor at more than a few of Townsend’s nice long chats, and frankly, I failed to find anything remotely nice about them. Unless it was the way his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated and the way his dark hair fell over his forehead when he banged his head. Sigh.

“Tressa?”

I shook myself out of my trance and removed the latest clue from my pocket and opened it. A colorful piece of pottery fell into my palm.

“Well, would you look at this?” I said. “Hmm. Looks like it might’ve broken off a larger piece. Could be a pot.”

“Let me see that!” Sophie snatched the pottery piece out of my hand.

“I’m no authority, but this looks real,” she said.

I frowned. “Of course it’s real. Did you think I imag-ined it?” I asked. “I admit I’ve got a pretty vivid imagi-nation, but even I can’t make other people see things that aren’t there.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

Taylor took the pottery from Sophie and looked at it. “I think what Sophie means is that this appears to be an actual artifact,” Taylor said. “Not from a recent piece, but from a much more distant past.”

I sat back up and leaned over the seat. “How dis-tant?” I asked.

Taylor and Sophie shook their heads.

“Too distant to not be in a museum somewhere, I’m thinking,” Sophie said. “Dad would know.”

I put a hand to the turquoise necklace hanging be-tween my boobs. “Do you mean that the pieces I’ve found are actual, honest to spirit-in-the-sky, bona fide artifacts made by the hands of the inhabitants of this area long, long ago?” I asked.

“Why else would they be of such urgency to some-one?” “But what are they doing taped in public places where only someone with these clues can find them?” I asked, still not on top of what we were dealing with.

Sophie shook her head. “I’m not sure why all the in-trigue,” she said. “But I know safeguarding Native American artifacts is a constant problem. Smuggling rare and valuable Hopi or Navajo artifacts is a lucrative business. People will pay a lot of money for authentic Native American artifacts.”

“So, what are you saying? That we stumbled onto an illegal smuggling ring?” I asked.

“I don’t know what I’m saying. We can’t know what any of this means until we find out if these two pieces are true artifacts,” she said. “But, one thing we do know: It all started with Kookamunga.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Taylor reached over and yanked So-phie’s keys out of the ignition. “You don’t get these keys back until someone tells me what the hell you’re talking about! Who is this Kookamunga? What is his secret? What clues are you yammering about? And why should we get involved? We’re here for a wedding!”

Sophie and I looked at each other.

“I have all the time in the world,” Taylor said. “And from the time, I’d say Rick and the kids should be fin-ished in a couple minutes. So what’s it going to be, ladies? The truth or the consequences?”

I stared at my sister. I’d never have believed she had it in her to be so underhanded. So tricky. So calculat-ing. So much like . . . me!

“Oh, Taylor,” I yelled. “You’ve made me so happy!” I patted the top of her head. “Now give the keys back to Sophie and I’ll tell you everything you say you want to know—and will probably regret asking,” I told her.

She gave me a long look and finally handed the keys to Sophie.

“Now, step on it, Soph!” I said.

“Where to?” she asked, starting the car.

I caught the Townsend trio exiting the visitors cen-ter in the passenger-side rearview mirror.

“Just drive! Drive!” I yelled. “And don’t spare the rubber!”

Sophie peeled out of the parking lot, and I looked back just in time to read Rick Townsend’s lips as he jogged in our direction. Tsk, tsk, Mr. Ranger, sir. Itdidn’t take a code-talker to figure out it wasn’t role-model language. Not even close.

I filled Taylor in on the events surrounding my ac-quisition of Kookamunga, the thefts, Raphael, Num-bers, (she was so not believing this one) and my suspicions about the fertility figurine. I then took both Sophie and Taylor through finding the clue in the fig-urine, what the clue said, how the sneaky little back-stabber, Nick Townsend, had forced my hand and convinced me to take him along, our encounter with Raphael at the Snowbowl, our inauspicious escape, the precautions I took to protect the newest clue and the necklace, and my tug of war with a masked man, and how that latest clue had brought Taylor and me to the IMAX.

“So that’s what was behind all that ‘bonding’ balo-ney,” Taylor said. “I knew there was more to it. And that ridiculous riddle.”

“Hey, you figured it out, sis!” I said. “Bravo! Bravo!” She frowned at me and shook her head. “Well, with the exception of the snake eyes reference, of course, and that was all me.”

“Snake eyes. First row. First chair. So that’s what you were doing crawling around the IMAX theater like a maniac,” Taylor said. “I thought you were going to get us thrown out of the place.”

“Like you’d have minded, Miss Bilious,” I said, and she shook her head again.