Free High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) by Marjorie Thelen Page A

that would stop the
cattle rustling.”
    Jake shook his head. “We may have a new crop of thieves.”
    She sighed. “It’s always something.”  
    “Lately it seems to be,” said Jake. “Here we are, gals. Watch your
step. You need help out, Fiona?”
    “No, thanks. I got two good but hurting feet.”
    “I’ll put out some cold cuts for supper,” said Opal, heading for
the house. “I made some fresh cole slaw today. Come
in when you’re ready.”
    “I’ll get Fiona a bottle of wine. You look like you need it,”
Jake said. “Have a seat on the porch. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    Jake found a bottle of red wine and two glasses, thinking he
might have a sip himself. Fiona was in a bad mood but after a little wine and a
rest she’d be okay. He hoped she wasn’t thinking of leaving.
    He poured her a healthy glass and one for himself and sat by her
on the love seat made of finished juniper. Opal had put on nice cushions that
made it a real comfortable sit. He held his glass up for a toast.
    “Here’s to a better day tomorrow,” he said.
      “Thanks, Jake. You’re very
kind. Give me a minute to unwind, and I’ll be fine. The wine helps. I’m sorry
to hear you lost more cattle.”
    “There’s another mystery for you to solve.” Maybe if she had
enough mysteries to solve she wouldn’t leave.
    They sat in silence and watched the sky change from deep rose to
dark violet. A small flock of sparrows skittered around in the trees. The old
black rooster crowed from his favorite perch on the corral fence. Evening was settling, and they with it. The usual cool down set in, and
a breeze ruffled the grass that stretched through the fields in front.
    Since Fiona wasn’t offering any small talk, Jake ventured a
question. “Did you find anything to buy today?”
    She took a long sip from her glass. “We spent most of our time
talking to everyone in town. We picked up the tools you ordered. They are in
the back of the truck. I ordered furniture at Lauren Brooks’ store.”
    Jake laughed. “It’s a big social event going to town in a
community this small.” He looked at her. She didn’t join in the laugh. “This is
a totally different way of life out here. You’re not used to it.”
    She stirred. “What did you say? I was thinking about bones and
cattle rustling.”
    “I said you aren’t used to the life style here.”
    She shrugged. “It is different. I have to say things are not
turning out as I envisioned. I thought I’d arrive, have some redesigning to do,
meet some interesting people, see some pretty vistas, you know the usual
pie-in-the sky dreams.”
    “Do you ever think you’d get used to it?”
    She finally smiled. “After less than a week it is hard to tell. Have
you noticed that when we get together, dead things turn up?”
    “No, I haven’t. The stars shine brighter when you’re around. I
don’t think about dead things.”
    She leaned toward him and smiled that soft, sexy smile. “I’m glad
I have some influence on the stars.”
    He put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against him. They
listened to the evening. A pack of coyotes yipped their way from one ridge to
another. A cow bawled for her calf. The breeze played a soft lullaby.
    She said, “What do you know about Brewster, the guy that was here
this morning about painting the bunk house.”
    “Brewster? You mean Jim Brewster? You’re using him to paint?”
    “Yes, why not?”
    Jake shrugged. “I guess that’s okay. I don’t know much about
painting so I couldn’t say. I don’t know him that well. He seems a little flaky
to me.”
    “He’s a bit touchy but artist types can be. Anyway, he found me
at the furniture store and told me this odd story about a lady friend of his
who was supposed to visit him and never made it and that I was supposed to tell
the Sheriff because they had some run ins, and then he stalked off without
telling me anything else. Do you think I should mention it to Hoover?”
    “Brewster