Starlight Dunes (9 page)

“Hi there.
I’d give you the grand tour but I doubt you could make it up the incline. Thanks to your father I got to slide down into the crevice today. It’ll have to be shored up some more before we get serious but I got some great shots to send to my team so they’ll know what to expect.”

H
er enthusiasm reminded him of a kid with a new birthday toy. When she finally paused to take a breath long enough for him to comment, he asked, “Where are they? Your team?”

“
It took them a couple of days longer to shift gears. They had to pack up the RV in the middle of Alabama marshland. That’s where we were working, a Coushatta site. We thought we’d hit the big time there until we heard about this one. Now we’re jazzed and ready to go.”

“And
Pelican Pointe is the big time? It’s a shame we don’t still have a newspaper. I’m sure the town would like knowing they’re now in the big leagues when it comes to the spotlight.”

She cracked a grin. “
At the moment Pelican Pointe is it. And to answer your question, I’d say about now my team is somewhere in Texas, in the process of crossing that stretch of I-10 and fighting boredom behind the wheel. They have close to eight hundred miles of highway to travel from border to border in Texas alone. I expect them here this weekend though. And if I know Julian he’ll try to stay on schedule as much as he can.”

“How long were you in Alabama?”

“Hmm, let’s see, almost five months. The place was a humidity nightmare that made for a brutal summer. Outside of the heat, among other things, we fought mosquitoes the size of bumblebees. I still itch at night just thinking about them.”

“But it sounds like you were
right at home. You certainly get excited about dirt. I’ve never seen a woman who had that gleam in her eye over mud and sand.”

“True. Are you just out stretching your legs
or what?”

“According to my physical therapist it’s a requirement.
How do you feel about barbeques?”

She gave him an odd look.
“I believe they’re as American as apple pie. If you’re taking a survey, you can put me down in the ‘for’ column.”

He grinned. “Then how would you like to spend Saturday night at one?”

Her grin vanished. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I’m asking the newcomer to my parents’ house for a steak dinner
grilled next to the beach under starry skies.”

“
Ah, so Marcus and Lindeen want me to come to a cookout? Sure. What can I bring?”

“Not a thing. I’ll pick you up out at Promise Cove
around five-thirty.”

“That isn’t necessary. I can drive into town
, we can leave from here.” Sensing an awkward moment and to prevent that from taking root, River suggested, “Why don’t we walk over to the Diner? Maybe get a cup of coffee. I need to take five anyway,” she said, mopping her brow with her forearm as she hopped down from the slope. Tilting her head to one side, she noted the look on his face. “You don’t seem too thrilled about the invitation. Is something else the matter?”

Yes, he thought, something was definitely the matter.
For one, he was too damned old for these kinds of silly games. At that moment, he could’ve easily given Lindeen Cody a piece of his mind. Probably wouldn’t do any good anyway, he grumbled as they headed toward Main Street.

The
Hilltop Diner
did its best to look like a malt shop straight out of a
Happy Days
rerun.
The
b
l
ack
-
an
d
-
whi
t
e
checkere
d
f
l
oo
r hadn’t been new since the place had opened its doors in 1965. E
ight
padded
re
d
s
t
oo
l
s were tucked under the b
l
ack
ma
rbl
e
coun
t
e
r
and
bolted to the floor. A
l
l
had been patched several times over with red duct tape.

The
W
urlitzer
jukebox
a
t
th
e
en
d
of
th
e
coun
t
e
r
provided music from six in the morning to nine at night. In all that time it had only been
ou
t
of
order once. That was when Myrtle Pettibone had walked in, aimed a .22 rifle at her husband, Clete, and fired. It had been the same morning she’d caught the lying, cheating son of a bitch in bed with
Nola Davenport. After considering all her options, Myrtle had dug out Clete’s gun from its hiding place in the hall closet and followed him to the Diner. Even though Myrtle might’ve missed Clete’s ear by a scant two inches that day, she’d caught the Wurlitzer dead center in its electronic heart.

It was the only time in almost fifty years the jukebox had been out of commission.

Even with all that, the dining area hadn’t changed much since its opening. There were eight mismatched square tables and four red-vinyl booths
that
lined
th
e
f
ront
wa
l
l
,
each offering
a window
v
ie
w
to
M
ain
S
tree
t
.

River and Brent
slid into a booth across from one another.

Over
pumpkin pie topped with pistachio ice cream, which he learned was River’s favorite fall concoction, they deliberated the ins and outs of paleontology. For another fifteen minutes she went on and on about uncovering interesting tidbits in the books she’d read about his thousand-year-old ancestors.

When he could take it no
longer, he finally stopped her in mid-sentence and said, “How can you eat that? I’m pretty sure you’ve ruined pumpkin pie for me for good.”

“Oh please.
This is delicious. Want a bite?” she asked, holding out her spoon.

“No thanks,” he said as he dug into his own apple pie with vanilla ice cream.

She stared at the typical pairing on his plate and said, “No imagination with desserts, huh? Why am I not surprised? I might point out that anyone can order vanilla but it takes someone willing to experiment to come up with blending two flavors together to make them rock.”

“Are you willing to experiment
, River?” Brent asked, cocking his head in a devilish dare.

She grinned. “I’m a scientist. What d
o you think? Maybe if you told me what you have in mind, we could cut to the chase.”

Brent
waved his hand to get Mona Bingham’s attention. The waitress sauntered over to their table with her order pad. “Need something, Sheriff? More coffee?”

“That’
d be great, Mona. But what I really want is for you to bring us two thick chocolate milkshakes made with chocolate fudge ice cream and double chocolate syrup.” He looked over at River, raised a brow. “Can you handle the triple-triple? Better tell me now.”

She sighed. “I’ve never ever said no to chocolate
before in my life. I swear between the Diner and Jordan’s cooking, I’m gonna gain ten pounds while I’m here.”

“
You’re what five-nine? Your work must keep you physically fit. Where’d you get a name like River anyway?”

“
I come from a long line of Zuni people who were mostly farmers. Water is essential for survival. My parents wanted to give me a strong name hence; I’m River.”

“I thought you were Pueblo.”

River threw him an incredulous look. “Zunis are one of the Pueblo peoples. I guess I thought since you were Native you’d know that.” Eyeing the expression on his face, she realized something else. “I’m surprised you don’t. In spite of the fact your father’s a walking information databank about the Chumash, you on the other hand, know relatively nothing about your tribe other than surface stuff. Why is that?”

Brent let out a long breath. “I’m afraid that’s true. After growing up listening to
his stories, I guess there was a point where I started tuning him out. Ethan did it as well.”

“That’s a shame
because he truly knows his stuff. Would you like to tell me what’s really behind this invitation to supper? Your father’s great and all but he really didn’t strike me as the friendly sort who would ask me over for a meal. He doesn’t completely trust that I’ll treat the artifacts with respect and the reverence they deserve. Of course, he’s wrong…but that doesn’t play into your angle.”

“You’re perceptive.”

“That’s what they tell me. So what gives?”

Brent decided to level with her
and began to relay the plan. He knew almost immediately he’d made a huge misstep. Watching her eyes narrow, watching the temper flare in those dark brown orbs, he began to realize something else. He was attracted.

“So let me get this straight. You want me to show up,
uninvited
, like a surprise for both your parents?”

Brent knew he was in
double trouble when she pushed her plate to the side so she could lean across the table to make her point.

“How dare you? Not only
would that ridiculous idea embarrass your mother by inviting me without her knowledge— but you’d put me in a very awkward position with the man acting as liaison on
my
dig—therefore putting my entire project in jeopardy. I won’t even address the fact that you would no doubt humiliate this Julianne woman.” She wadded up her paper napkin, threw it on the table.

He was surprised it didn’t end up in his face.

“Sometimes I don’t even know what goes through men’s brains or what passes as brain matter. Reasoning seems to fly out the window.”

River stood up, dug in her
jeans pocket for a twenty dollar bill which she tossed on the table. “I believe I’ll pass on being part of your childish plan.” She shook her head. “How old are you?” She held up her hand. “On second thought, I don’t care. You’re old enough to know better.”

With that,
Brent watched as River Amandez turned on her heels and stomped to the door while the other patrons suddenly got busy finishing their lunch.

About that time
Mona brought over the two chocolate shakes, glancing at River’s back as she disappeared out the door. “I take it you’re gonna want these to go now, right?”

Before
Brent could answer, he spotted Troy Dayton making his way inside. Troy passed River on the way out. The young man crossed to where Mona stood at the table.

Tall and lean with curly white-blond hair, Troy slid into the
booth River had just vacated. The young carpenter nodded in Mona’s direction, then Brent’s. “How’s it going?” But Troy caught the definite lingering tension in the air and added, “Did I miss something? It’s a little early in the day to get stood up.”

But it was Mona who answered for Brent. “
He didn’t. Get stood up that is. That archaeologist got mad about something. She just up and took off. She yelled at the sheriff here. How rude is that?”

Troy cracked a smile
in Brent’s direction. “Women troubles, huh? We’ve all been there. Not that long ago Mona dumped me over that whole Gina Purvis mix-up. It’s been kind of a sore spot with us since, hasn’t it, Mona?”

Mona eyed Troy. “I’ve never known anyone who got arrested for murder
before. It sort of gave me the creeps to think you could’ve done something like that. Just thinking about it...gives me cold chills now.”