Fool's Puzzle by Earlene Fowler (reading eggs books .TXT) 📕

“Get that look out of your eyes,” I said. “There’s no story there. She didn’t see a thing. Besides, she’s out of town right now.”

His pale marble-blue eyes narrowed. “I’ve known you a long time, Benni, so quit jerking me around. You’ve got something up your sleeve. What did your cousin ...”

“Benni!” A soft, high voice interrupted him. “Everything looks so great. Grandma Harper’s quilt never looked better. Pretty dress.”

“Thanks,” I said to my sister-in-law, Sandra. “I’m glad you came. Is Mom Harper with you?” I turned to her thankfully, ignoring Carl’s aggravated look.

She shook her head, her brown eyes sober. “No, she stayed home with the kids. They’re all coming tomorrow to the festival. We’re stopping at the mall first to see Santa Claus.”

Carl grabbed my arm. “There’s someone I need to see. I’ll get back to you later.” He strode away, his back rigid with irritation.

“Did I interrupt something?” Sandra asked. Her smooth forehead puckered with worry as she tugged at a strand of straight brown hair curled in a slight flip, a hairdo she’d worn the whole sixteen years I’d known her.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I wasn’t giving him exactly what he wanted and we know how much men like that. Speaking of pushy men, did Wade come with you?” I surveyed the room quickly.

A tremulous smile fluttered across her waxy pink lips. “No, he’s ...” Her eyes grew shiny with tears. “To tell you the truth, Benni, I don’t know where he is.”

“Sandra, what’s wrong?” I laid a hand on her softly rounded shoulder. “Oh, he isn’t drinking again, is he?” Wade’s nights out with the boys had caused problems between them before. The number of times Jack and I drove to town in the chilled darkness of early morning to pick up Wade and his truck blurred in my memory into one huge sleepy trip.

“Not that bad.” She shifted her eyes from my face to her square, blunt-nailed hands. Though she was a large, sometimes awkward woman, Sandra had a quiet gentleness about her that made her easy to be with, something I especially appreciated the first few days after Jack’s death.

“What is it?” I asked. “You know I’ll help wherever I can.”

“I hate to bother you with this ...” Her face flushed with embarrassment, or as I peered closer, possibly anger, something I rarely saw in Sandra all the years we’d lived at the ranch.

“You’re family, Sandra. Let me try and help.”

“I think Wade’s cheating on me,” she blurted out, then burst into tears.

I patted her on her shoulder as she cried quietly into her napkin. When I realized people were beginning to stare, I steered her toward a corner of the room, near an open window.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“There’s no other explanation.”

“For what?”

“This.” She opened up her large leather purse, pulled out a folded white Trigger’s cocktail napkin and handed it to me. “I found it in his jacket a couple of months ago.”

A phone number was raggedly jotted onto the crumpled napkin. My stomach lurched when I read it. “Have you tried calling it?”

“I only got up enough nerve to try about a week ago,” she said, her voice trembling. “No one answered. Not that I’d have had enough courage to say anything anyway.”

“Have you talked to Wade about it?”

“No. I don’t know how to bring it up.”

“Maybe there’s an explanation. Maybe it’s not what you think.” I was trying to convince myself as much as her, because what was going through my mind right then was unthinkable.

“Could you talk to him? He’s always listened to you.”

This is not your problem, I told myself, as I studied the napkin and its incriminating numbers. Let Sandra fight her own battles.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do. Let me keep this for now.”

“Thank you,” she said with a sigh. “You can have it. I don’t ever want to see it again.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow at the festival. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this. Maybe it’s just a feed salesman or something.”

She gave a small laugh. “Thanks, Benni. I knew you’d know what to do. Gosh, I miss you out at the ranch.”

“Go enjoy the exhibit.” I squeezed her arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I watched her move toward the food table, I mentally kicked myself for what I’d so blithely offered to do. I stared at the napkin, my heart sinking, knowing good and well why no one was answering the phone. The only question was, just exactly what Wade was doing with Marla’s phone number in his jacket pocket.

10

I STOOD AT the window with my back to the crowd and searched for answers in the dark parking lot. It never ceased to amaze me how I managed to tangle myself up in other people’s problems. There were times when I wished I could move away to a place where no one knew me, where no one would walk up to me with those magic words—“Do you think you could ... ?”

“Ms. Harper,” a low, masculine voice said about a foot from my ear. “I hardly recognized you in your grownup clothes.”

“Think up your own lines, Ortiz.” I turned around and confronted his smiling face. Inspecting his perfectly tailored navy suit, I wondered where a gun could be concealed. Did police chiefs even carry guns or was that something they left to the peons in uniform?

“Something going on out there I should know about?” He leaned over and peered out the window.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Just supporting the local arts.”

“Right.” I looked back out the window.

He leaned against the adobe wall, watching me with his suspicious cop look. “What’s got you bugged?”

“What makes you think anything is bugging me?”

“You have the face of a monkey, Ms. Harper.”

“Excuse me?”

He laughed, white teeth brilliant against his dark face. “What I mean is, you show your emotions on your face. I hope you never bet your life