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Authors: Rita Mae Brown
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Neither does the department.” He meant the Sheriff’s Department. “Solvingmurders, robberies, that’s what gets the headlines and that makes the department look good.”
Pete tilted his head slightly. Lonnie was right.
They rode in silence.
Lonnie noted it. “What’s on your mind?”
“I, well, I don’t know, but I feel like we’re standing at the edge of an arroyo and we think the ground is solid. Then it starts to slip. You hear a little slide first, see a few rocks. Can’t shake it.”
“Hope you’re wrong.”
“Me, too.” He turned left onto Dry Valley Road.
Jeep had called earlier about the skeleton and they were just now getting to it. Given recent events and the fact that Jeep felt this was quite an old skeleton, it wasn’t first on their list.
Lonnie brightened. “Jeep?”
“Um-hmm.”
“Isn’t that something? Finding an old skeleton in the barn?”
“Yes. And going back to what you were saying, if we find out who that old body is and then find out who killed him, that would make the news, but probably no one will much notice if we catch our bomber.”
Lonnie smiled broadly. “Crazy.”
CHAPTER NINE
“H ow’s that strike you?” Standing next to Pete in the barn, Jeep cast her eyes upward to meet his warm brown ones, eyes much like her own. “Sounds like a plan, but you know I’ll have to run it by Sheriff Haley.” Pete was a deputy sheriff and a young one at that—testimony to the regard in which Pete was held by his superiors.
“They should give the human bones to us.”
Baxter felt strongly about this. He looked from Mags to Jeep to Pete and Lonnie.
“I can find better bones than these.”
That said, King did not disagree with the wire-haired dachshund.
Baxter glowed at his small social victory. Given the few phone calls he’d overheard Mags make back to New York City, he realized they would be at Wings for a long time. Of course, Mags had told him that, but hearing it over and over in her conversations drove the fact home. He knew he’d better work out some accord with the shepherd mix.
He agreed with King.
“Bet you can.”
“Easier when the snow melts.”
King sniffed Lonnie’s shoes.
Jeep suggested to Pete that given budgetary restraints and the fact that this murder most likely occurred one hundred and thirty years ago, at least, it wouldn’t look good if the department spent taxpayers’ money carefully unearthing these remains. Better to let the UNR do it and keep the whole story quiet until they found out who he was, if they could. No telling what kind of gold diggers would show up, claiming this was their long-lost great-grandfather.
As did all Reno residents, Jeep referred to the University of Nevada–Reno as “UNR.”
“Do they have an archaeology department?” Mags inquired, as this wasthe first time she’d heard this idea from Jeep. Not that her great-aunt discussed her ideas all the time.
“Yes, ma’am.” Pete smiled. “Mostly they work with Native American sites, sometimes abandoned mine towns. This would be different. A novelty, maybe. Great idea, Miss Reed.”
“And they’ll be careful.” Jeep motioned for the two men to follow her out of the building. “Come on, let me warm you up. I know you’ve got a million things to do, but fifteen minutes in my kitchen won’t put you that far behind. And, Pete, if you call me Miss Reed one more time I will beat your ass with a wooden spoon. I’ve known you since you played second base in Little League. You’re old enough now to call me Jeep to my face. What you call me behind my back, keep to yourself.”
Before Mags could step up to Aunt Jeep, a grinning Pete gallantly offered his arm. Lonnie offered his to Mags, not sure whether this big-city girl would take it the right way, but she slipped her arm through his, so he relaxed.
In the kitchen, Carlotta fussed over the officers, taking their coats, pouring coffee, offering cinnamon rolls freshly baked that morning. She was vaguely
Pete tilted his head slightly. Lonnie was right.
They rode in silence.
Lonnie noted it. “What’s on your mind?”
“I, well, I don’t know, but I feel like we’re standing at the edge of an arroyo and we think the ground is solid. Then it starts to slip. You hear a little slide first, see a few rocks. Can’t shake it.”
“Hope you’re wrong.”
“Me, too.” He turned left onto Dry Valley Road.
Jeep had called earlier about the skeleton and they were just now getting to it. Given recent events and the fact that Jeep felt this was quite an old skeleton, it wasn’t first on their list.
Lonnie brightened. “Jeep?”
“Um-hmm.”
“Isn’t that something? Finding an old skeleton in the barn?”
“Yes. And going back to what you were saying, if we find out who that old body is and then find out who killed him, that would make the news, but probably no one will much notice if we catch our bomber.”
Lonnie smiled broadly. “Crazy.”
CHAPTER NINE
“H ow’s that strike you?” Standing next to Pete in the barn, Jeep cast her eyes upward to meet his warm brown ones, eyes much like her own. “Sounds like a plan, but you know I’ll have to run it by Sheriff Haley.” Pete was a deputy sheriff and a young one at that—testimony to the regard in which Pete was held by his superiors.
“They should give the human bones to us.”
Baxter felt strongly about this. He looked from Mags to Jeep to Pete and Lonnie.
“I can find better bones than these.”
That said, King did not disagree with the wire-haired dachshund.
Baxter glowed at his small social victory. Given the few phone calls he’d overheard Mags make back to New York City, he realized they would be at Wings for a long time. Of course, Mags had told him that, but hearing it over and over in her conversations drove the fact home. He knew he’d better work out some accord with the shepherd mix.
He agreed with King.
“Bet you can.”
“Easier when the snow melts.”
King sniffed Lonnie’s shoes.
Jeep suggested to Pete that given budgetary restraints and the fact that this murder most likely occurred one hundred and thirty years ago, at least, it wouldn’t look good if the department spent taxpayers’ money carefully unearthing these remains. Better to let the UNR do it and keep the whole story quiet until they found out who he was, if they could. No telling what kind of gold diggers would show up, claiming this was their long-lost great-grandfather.
As did all Reno residents, Jeep referred to the University of Nevada–Reno as “UNR.”
“Do they have an archaeology department?” Mags inquired, as this wasthe first time she’d heard this idea from Jeep. Not that her great-aunt discussed her ideas all the time.
“Yes, ma’am.” Pete smiled. “Mostly they work with Native American sites, sometimes abandoned mine towns. This would be different. A novelty, maybe. Great idea, Miss Reed.”
“And they’ll be careful.” Jeep motioned for the two men to follow her out of the building. “Come on, let me warm you up. I know you’ve got a million things to do, but fifteen minutes in my kitchen won’t put you that far behind. And, Pete, if you call me Miss Reed one more time I will beat your ass with a wooden spoon. I’ve known you since you played second base in Little League. You’re old enough now to call me Jeep to my face. What you call me behind my back, keep to yourself.”
Before Mags could step up to Aunt Jeep, a grinning Pete gallantly offered his arm. Lonnie offered his to Mags, not sure whether this big-city girl would take it the right way, but she slipped her arm through his, so he relaxed.
In the kitchen, Carlotta fussed over the officers, taking their coats, pouring coffee, offering cinnamon rolls freshly baked that morning. She was vaguely
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