The Pot Thief Who Studied Billy the Kid (Pot Thief Mysteries) Page 9

“I could have sworn—“

  “She’s Canadian.”

  “Oh,” she said, slightly confused. “Well, she is very pretty.”

  “She is.”

  “Have you known her long?”

  “I’ve known her for three years or so. She works for my dentist as an assistant and a hygienist. Saturday was our first date, but it won’t be out last.”

  “You’ve asked her out again?”

  “She asked me. Women not only bring flowers these days, they also invite men on dates. I’m having dinner at her house on Saturday.”

  20

  Even though I had brushed, flossed and gargled with minty mouthwash before retiring, I woke up the next morning with the taste of pumpernickel in my mouth.

  I repeated those oral hygiene procedures in the morning, but a faint taste of pumpernickel seemed to linger.

  Tristan arrived with the maps I’d requested and breakfast burritos from Casa de Benavidez up on 4th street. They were stuffed with egg, potatoes, red chile and carne adovada. One whiff of those burritos and dieting seemed like the worst idea since that product for bald guys called Hair in a Can.

  I suspect Sharice would disapprove of my not brushing again after breakfast, but I figured leaving the red chile and carne adovada juices in my mouth all day was the only way to rid it of the pumpernickel taste.

  “Since you can’t drive, I thought I better bring you some nourishment.”

  “You’re a life saver. I don’t have any food in the house except for some leftover Irish casserole.”

  “From Miss Gladys, no doubt. I bet it has corned beef. I like corned beef.”

  “I don’t. But the worst part is the pumpernickel.”

  “What soup is in it?”

  “Cream of celery.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense.”

  “The entire casserole makes no sense. It has ranch dressing.”

  “I like that, too.”

  “Well, at least I’m having a great breakfast thanks to you.”

  “You’ve got to get a car.”

  “I can’t afford a car right now. Besides, I may get one free.”

  ”How so?”

  “Susannah and I have a wager going. If I lose, I get her car.”

  “And if you win?”

  “Then she has to keep it.”

  He laughed and asked me what the wager was.

  “I used the remote you rigged up for my winch to lower myself into a cliff dwelling to look for pots.”

  “I figured you wanted it for something like that.”

  “I didn’t find any pots. What I found was a human hand. I assume it was connected to an entire human body, but I can’t be sure of that because I immediately covered it back up.”

  He frowned. “Cliff dwellers didn’t bury their dead where they lived.”

  “That’s why I’m going back. Susannah thinks the body is a modern person. I think it’s an ancient person. I’m going to unearth the hand again to see which it is. That’s what the wager is.”

  He stared at me in disbelief. “You’re going to dig up the body again just to settle a bet?”

  “No, no. You know how I feel about digging in graves. I’m not going back to settle a wager. I’m going back because if it’s a modern person, I need to report it to the police.”

  “Why not just report it to the police and let them do the digging?”

  That was my original plan. Now I was trying to remember why I had changed it.

  Tristan saved me the effort. “Wait, I know. If you report it, you’ll get in trouble for the digging.”

  “Right. But if it’s an ancient mummy, then I won’t have to report it, but at least my conscience will be clear.”

  “And if Susannah is right?”

  “Then I’ll report it and throw myself on the mercy of the court.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say. But I have a better idea. You’re more squeamish than I am. You’re also afraid of heights. And you’re handicapped with that cast. I’ll go down and check the hand for you.”

  I love that kid.

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Sure you can.” He gave me one of those big dopey smiles of his. “If it will make you feel better about it, we can call it an exchange. I’ve saved enough this summer to pay half my tuition. You pay the other half, and I do a chore for you.”

  “It’s not a chore,” I said. “And it’s illegal. I’ll pay half your tuition anyway. How much is it?”

  “Thirty two hundred this semester.”

  “Wasn’t it twenty nine last semester?”

  “Tuition goes up every semester.”

  “The university hasn’t heard about the recession?”

  “Universities are recession-proof, Uncle Hubert. Tuition at public universities across the country has risen more than 65% over the past decade while median family income has risen only 5 percent.”

  I remembered reading a similar statistic about healthcare. At the rate those two are inflating, all our income will eventually go to improving our minds and repairing our bodies. There won’t be anything left for groceries or rent.

  Or buying pots.

  “When I was a student, tuition was five hundred dollars a year.“

  “Yeah, and gas was a dollar a gallon. Hey, I can get a student loan.”

  “I don’t want you to do that. It’s crazy to graduate and have to use most of the income from your first job to pay off loans.”

  “I’ll have to pay you back just like paying back a bank.”

  “We’ll discuss that when the time comes. I’m more flexible than a bank. I’ll have the money for you next week.”

  I didn’t know where I would get it.

  “When we were at your dentist’s office,” he said, “you told me you had a date with that hygienist.”

  “Sharice.”

  “Yeah, how did it go?”

  “Great. She came to my place because it was easier than going out with this cast.”

  “And who would date a cast anyway?”

  “Oh, no. You’re beginning to make my kind of jokes. I enjoyed the evening, and I think she did, too. She’s invited me to her place this coming Saturday.”

  “Excellent.”

  I asked him how much the maps cost so I could reimburse him.

  “Thirty two cents.”

  “Funny. How much were they really?”

  “I’m not joking. They’re free from the U. S. Geological Survey online. The only expense is the paper and ink to print them off. It costs me eight cents a page to print the four adjacent maps you asked for. It would have been more if I printed them in color. You didn’t need them in color did you?”

  I thought about it then said with a smile, “No, black and white is good.”

  21

  Tristan took the Irish casserole. He thanked me for giving it to him, and I thanked him for taking it.

  Susannah had to work the lunch shift at La Placita so I had a few hours to kill before we departed.

  I wanted to read to get my mind off the upcoming task, but I’d had enough of Lew Wallace. Ben-Hur and The Wooing of Malkatoon were both due back to the library. I had enough time to return the books and check out some new ones.

  It wasn’t until I stood up that I remembered the pottery on my foot.

  Tristan was right. I needed a car.

  The bong sounded, and I looked up to see Dolly Madison Aguirre entering my shop.

  She wore a broomstick skirt in a red bandana print and a fitted white blouse that showed off her ample breasts. Her dark hair was in a bob, and her skin was as lustrous and smooth as I remembered.

  I came out from behind the counter and said “Hi” because a simple greeting seemed the best way to brush aside the unpleasantness of our last meeting.

  “Hi, Hubie. What happened to your foot?”

  “I sprained my ankle. No big deal. How are you?”

  When she opened her mouth to speak, her chin trembled slightly. She close
d her mouth, swallowed hard then said, “My father passed away.”

  “Oh, Dolly,” I said and hobbled towards her. We hugged while she continued to sob.

  When that passed she moved out of my arms.

  “Let’s have coffee,” I said. “I have some New Mexico Piñon brewed.”

  “That would be nice.”

  When the coffee was poured and we were seated at my table, I asked her when her father had died.

  “A little over two weeks ago. I knew you would want to know. I called you several times. Then I came by two days in a row both during the day and at night. I guess you were out of town.”

  I was out of town all right. The first night sleeping in a cliff dwelling with a dog and a coyote and the next night out in the open with the same two companions.

  “The funeral was the day after my second visit. Then I came back to tell you about a memorial service at the school, but you were gone then too.”

  Making a round trip to the Inchaustigui ranch to get a truck to go back to the place where I was digging up a dead guy when I should have been paying last respects to a man I liked and admired.

  I was feeling lower than a gopher in a gulch.

  “I’m sorry I missed the funeral and the memorial service. And even sorrier I wasn’t here for you. I remember how I felt when my father died.”

  “I still can’t believe he’s gone. Even though we knew he was dying, it still came as a shock. I guess nothing can prepare you for the reality of it. The finality of it.”

  I put my hand on the table. She squeezed it.

  “Where is he buried? I’d like to at least visit his grave.”

  A sad smile formed on her face. “He was cremated and his ashes scattered as he directed. You’ll like this, Hubie. You remember that grove of trees next to the irrigation ditch where we picnicked?”

  I nodded.

  “He used to go there to read. His will directed that his ashes be dumped in the irrigation ditch when it was full and flowing. He said…” She choked up for a minute. When she continued, she said, “He said he wanted to be absorbed by tree roots and aspirated into the atmosphere as oxygen to help make up for all the carbon dioxide he had put into the air with his long lectures.”

  We laughed and cried simultaneously.

  “He did get wound up when it was a topic he loved,” I said.

  “And he loved them all,” she replied.

  We sat in silence for a minute.

  “I feel lucky our paths crossed,” I said.

  “No hard feelings?”

  “You’re the one who should have hard feelings. I was a typical insensitive male who didn’t even bother to ask myself why your behavior had changed a bit.”

  “Changed a bit? You mean morphed from Dorothy into the Wicked Witch of the West?”

  I laughed. “It wasn’t that bad. All I remember are the good times. And if it weren’t for you, I never would have reconnected with your father.”

  There was another long silence.

  “What will you do now?” I asked.

  “You’re going to think I’m still having mood swings and making snap decisions, but I really did think this out even though it’s been barely more than two weeks. I’m booked on an around-the-world cruise.”

  It was such an unexpected announcement that I made no response whatsoever. But my expression must have given me away.

  “You think I’m crazy,” she said.

  “I’ve always thought you were a bit crazy. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

  “But this is more than just a little crazy, right?”

  “You know I don’t like to travel, so I’m the worst possible person to make a judgment on a long cruise. And it doesn’t matter what I think. If a cruise is what you want, you should do it. I know you loved caring for your father, but it did confine you. I bet you haven’t been out of Albuquerque for five years.”

  “Nine, actually.”

  “When will you be back?”

  She looked down for a moment. “I don’t know. I have a flight to San Diego in the morning. We embark in the afternoon. We go to Cabo San Lucas, Puerto Vallarta, Costa Rica and then through the Panama Canal. From there we go to Aruba and Martinique before crossing the Atlantic to the Canary Islands, Casa Blanca and past Gibraltar into the Mediterranean.”

  “I’m seasick just thinking about it,” I said.

  “I’ve forgotten where we go next, but the cruise has an option of staying in any of the ports of call and then catching the next ship a month or so later. When I find a place I really like, I’m going to do that.”

  “Will you send me a post card?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Sure. I’ll never visit any of those exotic places, but I’m still interested in them. And I’d like to know how you’re doing.”

  There was another long silence.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “Rats. I was hoping we could have a roll in the hay before I left. But maybe it’s just as well. A girl could be injured by that cast.”

  I appreciated the break in the tension.

  “Maybe when you get back, I won’t be seeing anyone. I don’t have a track record of long relationships.”

  “At least you haven’t been divorced three times.”

  So that was the number. I have to admit I had wondered

  “All that proves,” I said, “is there are three dopes in the world.”

  “That’s nice of you to say. I felt like such a failure, divorced for the third time and moving back in with my dad. But mom had died, and he needed me. It turned out to be a happy arrangement. He appreciated me more than any of my husbands did, and taking care of him made me feel useful. Then you came along and added romance to my life.”

  “Gee, I thought it was you adding romance to mine.”

  She stood up so I did the same. She offered her hand and I took it. We walked to the front door. Actually, she walked and I hobbled using her hand for balance.

  We kissed.

  “Goodbye, Hubie.”

  22

  “You seem kind of down.“

  Susannah and I were in the truck headed north on I 25. It was their ranch truck, but it still had a few creature comforts like air conditioning and useful tools like a winch and a rifle mounted on a window rack in case a coyote got too close to the sheep.

  “I am a bit down. Someone came to see me this morning.”

  “I know. Tristan brought you breakfast.”

  “After he left. It was Dolly. She wanted to tell me her father died.”

  “Oh my God. I’m sorry, Hubie.”

  “He died while I was looting a grave.”

  “Don’t get melodramatic. You weren’t looting a grave. You didn’t even know it was a grave.”

  “If I weren’t a criminal, if I had an honest profession, I would have been home when she came by to tell me her father died. I could have comforted her, at least gone to the funeral.”

  “Come on, Hubie. Even if you had a regular job, you could have been away. You might have been making a sales call, attending a training session, whatever. Being a pot thief is not the only job that can cause you to miss a funeral.”

  I stared out the window.

  “Okay, spit it out,” she said. “What’s the real problem?”

  “When she told me her father died, I realized I never loved her.”

  She glanced at me briefly. “I don’t get it.”

  “I felt for her. I know what it’s like when your father dies. But I felt the same for her as I would have felt for anyone who told me she lost her father. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no sense of truly sharing in her loss. It seems to me…”

  I was groping for the right phrasing.

  “Don’t over think it, Hubie. Just say what you’re feeling.”

  “If I truly loved her, her pain would be mine. But it wasn’t. I felt for her loss, but I didn’t share it. I actually felt wor
se about Frank than I did about Dolly.”

  “Well, duh. Frank was the one who died. No wonder you felt worse for him. Dolly can overcome her grief, but Frank can’t overcome death.”

  “I almost proposed to her last fall.”

  “I remember that. But she was the one who blocked that by telling you she had no interest in trying marriage again.”

  “Who can blame her? Three strikes and you’re out.”

  “She was married three times?”

  I nodded.

  “I wondered what the number was,” she said.

  “After she left, I felt relieved that I didn’t ask her to marry me.”

  “I thought you didn’t care about her previous marriages.”

  “I didn’t. Still don’t. The reason I felt relieved about not proposing is I realized I didn’t love her. I like her a lot. She’s a good person. We had fun together. But I wouldn’t have wanted to marry her. And that made me feel sad, as if I had misled her or just used her.”

  “You’re an obsessive analyzer, you know that, Hubert? She wouldn’t have married you even if you had asked, so stop worrying about it. You didn’t use her. If anything, she used you, going out with you with no willingness to make a permanent commitment. She even told you she didn’t mind if you saw other women.”

  “Yeah, but I never did that.”

  She smiled and said, “What about Maria, the saucier?”

  “Sleeping on someone’s love seat is not a date.”

  “You were headed for her bed before you fell asleep.”

  Which led us into a rehash of my misadventures in a restaurant in Santa Fe called Schnitzel at first then Chile Schnitzel in its reincarnation as Austrian/Southwestern fusion. It was fun to look back and joke about it, and it perked me up a little.

  It might have perked me up even more had I not been dreading what lay ahead.

  We took the relief route around Santa Fe. I think the normal phrase for it would be a bypass, but nothing is normal in Santa Fe.

  I brought the conversation back to Dolly. “You remember the picnic Dolly and I had at Casitas del Bosque?”

  “How could I forget it? It was your second lame stakeout of the neighborhood.”

  I chose to ignore her comment.