Let Loose (13 page)

With my thirtieth birthday approaching in the
next year, I appreciated being called young, but in love? I
couldn’t be dumped and in love. Even my life couldn’t be that
unfair. And so far as Peter doing anything stupid, she had
obviously never met him.

“Has he?” she prompted, smacking her cane
against the floor.

I sniffed and replied, “I doubt it.” Peter
was always smart and under control. It’s what made us such a good
pair. He needed me to offset all of that “rightness.”

The gaze she leveled at me was steady and
disbelieving. “I’d say he’s doing something stupid right now.”

My lips curved just a little. I appreciated
her support, but she didn’t know what I’d done... or almost
done.

She watched me for a second, like she was
analyzing me in some way. Then she smacked her cane against the
floor again and yelled, “Snap out of it. Licking your wounds won’t
get you anywhere. Either fight for him or throw him back, but don’t
let him yank you under if he’s dead weight.”

Pep talk apparently over, she stomped out the
door.

I sat for a minute, numb, letting her words
sink in. Was Peter dead weight? The question was ridiculous.

The bell to the shop dinged. “Lucy? Are you
here? What’s been going on—”

Phyllis. Which meant I was going to have to
pull on my grownup bloomers and act like everything was under
control.

I slapped myself on the cheeks to add a
little color to my face and stepped into the main part of the
store.

All evidence of the poker game was gone, and
the ladies involved milled around the main room like any other
shoppers.

“Oh,” Phyllis said, dropping a 40 pound bag
of dog food onto the ground. “I hope this is enough,” she said,
beaming at Ethel.

Ethel poked the bag with her cane. “Is that
all they had?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she looked
at me. “What do you think, Lucy? Will this get you through a few
days?”

Looking confused, Phyllis’ gaze turned to
me.

“It’s for Red’s dogs,” Ethel announced.
“Humane Society was low on funds so we decided we could kick some
in.” Her poker crew stopped what they were doing and watched
me.

“Oh, yes,” I replied.

“Forty pounds won’t last you long, but it’s a
start. We paid the feed store enough for you to get at least ten
bags, and once that’s used, let us know, and we’ll see if we can
come up with more.” She looked at Carol who nodded.

I thanked them both; then spun to include the
rest of the group in my response. They all smiled back at me, and
suddenly everything felt better. I had people who cared about me. I
wasn’t alone.

Feeling all warm inside, I, of course, did
the polite thing by adding, “And if there’s ever anything I can do
for you—”

Carol patted me on the hand. “So sweet of you
to offer. It just so happens...”

She went on to explain that she and Ethel
were in need of a ride to Bozeman the next day to attend a
snowmobile rally.

“The swap starts at 10,” Ethel said. “And
it’s a two-hour drive.”

“But we’ll want to stop for snacks,” Carol
added.

“True.” Ethel tapped her cane. “Seven work
for you?” she asked Carol.

Carol nodded and the two of them turned to
me.

“Seven? In the morning?”

“Yes, seven should do,” Ethel replied.

“Unless you want to pick up the coffees
before you get us,” Carol offered. “I’ll take a peppermint mocha.”
She glanced at Ethel.

“Black for me.”

The two stared at me again.

Mocha and black. Seven a.m. I ticked the
items off in my brain before realizing driving to Bozeman had not
been in my plans for the week. I had a life, I had things to do...
No, I realized, I didn’t. At least I didn’t unless you counted
keeping Red’s team entertained.

And George had mentioned that Frank Kelly was
hoping to get released in time to make a snowmobile rally. This
might be the perfect opportunity for me to talk to the number one
suspect in Red’s death.

I couldn’t pass that up. Well, I could, but
since I was pretty sure neither Ethel nor Carol was going to let
me, I might as well pretend that there was something in the trip
for me besides an early morning latte.

The next morning I got up at the god awful
hour of five a.m., shoved my nine companions out into the snow, ate
a bowl of cereal and then went through a circus routine of tricks
to get them all back inside.

Hot dogs, squeaky toys, a whistle and a firm
but caring voice netted me one malamute and zero huskies. Oh, they
came to the door, and they acted like they would come inside, but
as soon as I stepped back to let them pass, they danced backward
and laughed.

Yes, they laughed.

While my attention was on them, Kiska found
my stash of lures and sucked down two full packages of hot dogs,
plastic wrapping and all.

I closed the door and lay on the floor, ready
to admit defeat.

The phone rang. It was Carol, switching from
peppermint to caramel.

I hung up and faced the huskies again, but
they showed no shame and no inclination to come inside either.

I couldn’t leave them outside all day. So I
did the only thing I could think of: I called Rhonda and begged for
her help.

Twenty minutes later, with Rhonda on her way
to my house to keep an eye on Red’s team, I headed to town to pick
up my coffee orders and my octogenarian passengers.

o0o

I’m not sure what I expected from a
snowmobile rally, but as we approached Bozeman, I was shocked by
the number of trucks pulling trailers that we passed. It seemed
everyone who had ever sat on a snowmobile was headed to Bozeman
today.

“Let’s start at the Swap Meet,” Ethel
ordered. She glanced over her shoulder at Carol who replied with a
terse nod.

I followed their directions to a parking area
where we left the Jeep and then waited for a shuttle to take us to
the Swap.

“Is there something in particular you’re
looking for?” I asked. I had a hard time imagining either one of
them on the back of a snowmobile, but it seemed rude to assume they
weren’t shopping for themselves.

“You could say that,” Carol replied.

Ethel tapped her on the shoulder with her
cane, and gave her a look I couldn’t see.

“Carol’s husband lost two of his sleds a few
weeks ago,” Ethel explained.

“And you’re going to replace them?” I
asked.

Carol pulled her coat up around her face.
“Something like that.”

The shuttle pulled up and we climbed on. The
trip to the lot where the Swap Meet was being held was a short
drive, but I was glad for the brief relief from the cold.

As we drove, the driver pointed out other
parts of the event. “The freestyle competition starts there
tomorrow morning at 10,” he announced waving toward an area that
appeared to be a snow-covered race track. In the center of the
over-sized oval were man-made hills and jumps. About twenty
snowmobiles circled the track slowly.

“Safety class going on now,” he
explained.

Ethel touched me on the leg. “You should look
into that.”

I raised my eyebrows, but didn’t reply. I’d
already tried one new sport in the past week. That was well over my
yearly quota.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the hotel
lot where the Swap was in full swing. We walked toward the
exhibition hall, a makeshift building constructed of metal poles
and plastic walls.

“There are a few exhibitors in the hotel
too,” Carol explained. “And then most of the sleds for sale are out
back.”

I nodded and followed, wondering why if Carol
was shopping for replacement snowmobiles, we didn’t just head to
the offerings. But then, I had a mission of my own: finding Frank
Kelly and learning what I could about him and possibly Red’s
murder.

Finding Frank was easier than I’d expected.
The Skyers’ table was just four booths in, and Frank was standing
behind it holding a clipboard. It was immediately obvious that he
knew both Carol and Ethel.

“I heard about Roger’s sleds,” he said to
Carol. “That’s a dozen in the past month.” He frowned.

Ethel and Carol exchanged glances. I stood
beside them feeling like the wallflower friend who was dragged
along to prom.

Ethel lifted her chin and met his gaze. The
simple gesture made her appear to grow about a foot in height. “So
there have been more. We’d heard that, but didn’t know who besides
Roger had one taken.”

“Well, there was Mitch Black, Tony Petes and
Fitz McGowan. And then just a week ago, Craig Ryan lost two
more.”

“We heard about Craig. Didn’t we, Carol?”
Ethel’s gaze slid to her friend.

“Yes, we did.” Carol’s eyes narrowed.

“That was a week ago?” Ethel asked as if this
was some kind of revelation.

Carol held up her hands and widened her
eyes.

Confused, I frowned.

The two of them paused, as if letting
something settle in. I had no idea what.

Ethel peered at me. “That was the night of
the Tap for the Silver Trail fund-raiser, wasn’t it, Lucy?”

Frank’s gaze immediately shot to me,
assessing.

I, however, was still wondering why they were
acting so strange. It was interesting that Craig had had two
snowmobiles stolen and that the older women seemed to know who he
was, but then Helena was Helena. People knew each other.

Ethel swiveled back to Frank. “You were at
the fund-raiser too, weren’t you, Frank?”

His gaze still on me, Frank answered. “I
was.”

“I guess most of Helena was.”

“Cuts down on suspects for the crime,” Carol
added.

“Yes, it does,” Ethel agreed. “Of course,
whoever did it may have planned it that way.”

It was Carol’s turn to agree. “Yes, that
makes sense.”

“And whoever did it must own a snowmobile
trailer,” Ethel tacked on.

The two women stared at each other and then
turned their gazes to Frank.

He jerked. “I guess so,” he responded,
looking uncertain. “Unless they drove the sleds away. At Craig’s
they could have done that. I wonder if he saw tracks—”

Carol pressed her hand to her mouth as if
suddenly remembering something and grabbed Ethel’s arm. “Oh, Ethel,
you must not have heard. Frank was...” She glanced at Frank as if
asking his permission to continue. “Well, maybe we should change
the subject away from crime and such,” she murmured.

Frank flushed, but then puffed out his chest
and shook his head. “No need. It’s no big deal. I was arrested, but
not for the missing snowmobiles. I was a victim too, you know.

“Just the police grasping at straws rather
than doing their jobs on Red’s murder.”

He shook his head, showing sadness with a
tinge of disgust. I wasn’t sure if it was for Red’s murder or the
police’s mistake arresting him. Maybe both. “They heard I had a gun
the same type as what was used on Red and they decided to make a
production out of it.”

“Was it an unusual gun?” I asked, hoping my
question came across as innocent.

Kelly stared at me for a minute, but then
answered. “No. Not at all. I know three other guys that own that
gun, not to mention mine was stolen over a month ago, and I
reported it then.” He shook his head. “They have nothing on me. My
lawyer says so too.”

I wondered if that was true, both that the
police had nothing real on him and that Gregor agreed with the
assessment. In my experience, Gregor was painfully honest about
such things.

Before I could ask another question, a man in
his early twenties walked up. He was wearing Carhart overalls, snow
boots and a wool hat pulled down to his ears.

Frank looked relieved to see him. “Allen, can
you bring more flyers from the truck? I’m almost out.”

Allen nodded at Carol and Ethel in a way that
told me they were acquainted. I stood awkwardly by their side,
realizing I hadn’t been introduced to him or Frank, although from
the way Frank talked to the younger man I guessed they were father
and son. Finally, I corrected the obvious oversight, offering my
hand to Frank, which he took, and giving my name. By the time I
held it out to Allen, however, his attention was on a group of men
further back in the room. I tucked my hand back in my pocket and
tried to act like I hadn’t just been slighted by a boy who probably
wasn’t even old enough to drink, legally at least.

“So you were at the fund-raiser?” Frank
asked, looking at me with suspicion.

“Lucy’s taking care of Red’s dogs,” Carol
offered.

I smiled weakly. Based on what I had seen of
Frank at the fund-raiser, I doubted he’d be impressed by my
sacrifice. However, his face turned somber.

“That’s great.” He paused. “If you were at
the fund-raiser, you probably saw that I wasn’t real happy about
the change in route.”

Despite the fact that I wanted to hear what
he had to say, I tried to wave off his response. His face was drawn
and he looked truly upset. It was uncomfortable to watch him.

“I didn’t appreciate Red pulling strings and
getting that trail closed to our club, but I never...” He shook his
head. “Red and I were friends. We had our differences, but we both
loved the trails, and before this year, we’d worked together to
keep the trails up so both groups could enjoy them. We even set
aside no motor times for the dogs. I was just shocked that he’d
gone behind my back.

“He even called me the next day. I didn’t get
to talk to him, but I’m sure it was so we could work something
out.”

“He called you?” I asked.

He nodded. “I was out, but Allen spoke to
him. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear about it until two days ago.”

Two days ago. When Frank was arrested.
Something else the police had on him, I guessed. Not that Frank was
making it sound that way, but if the police had records showing Red
had called Frank, and Frank had denied it, that couldn’t have
looked good for him.