Apples, Appaloosa and Alibis by Maria Swan (feel good novels TXT) 📕

such. It wasn’t my birthday. M. Baker. That’s all that was on it. I picked it up cautiously.

“It doesn’t bite,” Brenda said.

I turned it around, sealed.

“I’m pouring myself a glass of wine. How about you?” I nodded, my eyes on the envelope. Oh, what the hell? I ripped the back open. Inside was a folded sheet of typing paper, and when I opened it, I recognized Tristan’s handwriting. I gulped, totally unprepared.

Will call you this evening, around nine. T.

I knew Brenda was watching me. Was I supposed to not tell anyone? Why all the secrecy? I handed the note to Brenda and waited for her reaction.

“Why this?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Monica. The poor man must be going through hell. Bob said there is an APB out for Angelique Chervais. Her Escalade was found in the long-term parking of the Mesa-Gateway Airport. They are going through every flight to figure out where she went and if she used an alias. She must have acted pretty fast. I bet she left that criminal who attacked you high and dry. Why would he have been hanging around the house if he didn’t expect to meet her there? At least that’s what I’m thinking. I’m keeping the news on to see if something else shows up.”

“What’s an APB?”

“All-points bulletin. That’s the term used when they don’t know exactly where someone wanted by the law is. The notice goes out nationwide.”

“My money is on Mexico.” I sighed. “I’m guessing they don’t think Angelique was the body in the burned car?”

Brenda shook her head. “Bad people tend to die last.” She slammed down the wine glass, and I knew her anger was toward Angelique. “Look, Rogelio is locked up, Tristan is accounted for, and Angelique, well, I tend to agree with you regarding Mexico. But maybe that’s too obvious. What I’m saying is that the only other one unaccounted for is... Lois. Except I can’t figure out how she even had anything to do with this mess.

“Tristan was telling the detectives that Lois was hired after he came back from Mexico with his father’s ashes while Angelique was in a private clinic due to her so-called bad health and injuries from the car accident. You know what? Let’s stop guessing, and maybe we should eat a snack. Is Tristan going to call you on your cell?”

“I don’t know. But that reminds me, I need to call my buyer to confirm tomorrow’s inspection time. You know that home he’s buying for an adult assisted living? All my paperwork is in the car. I’ll get it while you make the snacks.”

“Good idea, I’d feel better with you sticking around here until we know they’ve found Angelique.”

“Oh, Brenda, Angelique doesn’t care about me. I have nothing she wants, and I certainly can’t hurt her.”

“See? Big mistake. Never underestimate the adversary.”

“Adversary? Brenda, seriously... I think she hated Tristan’s mom even though she never met her. Why else would she have burned the room where Tristan kept all of his mom’s stuff?”

“I think she set fire to the place to hide the fact she stole everything of value, including personal jewelry that Tristan had from his mom. And she emptied the ranch’s bank account.”

I didn’t answer. Somehow deep down I knew Brenda was right. I got up to go back to the garage to retrieve my folder with Greg Coste’s info, and Dior beat me to the back door.

“Oh, poor baby, I can’t take you for a walk right this minute, but I will before I go to bed? Okay, big boy?”

He didn’t approve, but I meant it about the walk.

Brenda said a young lady delivered the letter. Who? I couldn’t wash away a nagging feeling, I remembered Detective Reid’s comment. “He’s staying with a friend.” I was ashamed to admit to myself that I was jealous. Maybe it was the lack of food. I couldn’t possibly be so shallow, could I?

“Can I help? Should I set the table?” I asked Brenda. On the TV screen a local reporter was interviewing one of the influencers and her entourage. I would have liked to know what they were talking about.

“Nah, I’m making a salad, warming some rolls, and that’s it. I haven’t had time to go get groceries since I got back.”

“I have salt,” I offered. We looked at each other and laughed.

Brenda’s snack consisted of a scrumptious salad she put together with some of the apples from the ranch and plain lettuce, plus walnuts she always kept handy since they don’t spoil. Had no clue what type of dressing she used, buttermilk?

I had to call Greg Coste before it was too late in the evening.

“Hello, Monica, are we still on for tomorrow?” He sounded in a very good mood.

“Yes sir, absolutely. Eleven o’clock. If you have questions regarding the items the inspector will be checking out, don’t hesitate to ask. I usually suggest buyers make themselves notes, because it can be overwhelming at times, and you may forget.”

“That’s a very good suggestion,” Brenda chimed from the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Greg Coste asked.

“Oh, that’s Aunt Brenda. I’m at her house. I often invite myself to eat since she’s such a good cook.”

“Right, I remember... the one you told me about, the expert regarding adult assisted living. Why don’t you ask your aunt if she’d care to come and take a look? Four eyes are better than two, correct?”

Four? How about me? My eyes didn’t count?

“I will; I promise. You’ll like her. She’s very, very knowledgeable.”

I said goodbye and got off the phone five seconds before the dishrag Brenda flung at me hit my shoulder. And poor Dior was getting very confused about this game that he didn’t understand but we seemed to enjoy.

Brenda ended up taking a walk around the neighborhood with Dior and me, and I talked up Greg Coste like he was a movie star or something until she finally agreed to go to the inspection with me the next morning.

“You need to wear nice clothes,” I said. “He