“Sheesh! Who taught you how to talk? Porky Pig?” Kate tucked the phone down the front of her pants again.
“You can kiss my porky—”
“Keep it down back there,” Deputy Dipshit hollered down the hall from the front office.
Claire and Kate sent middle-finger salutes at his back.
Kate returned to her spot holding up the wall.
“So that’s how you know Gramps is coming,” Claire said. “You texted him.”
“Actually, I texted Ronnie. But she has no money for bail, so she’ll have to bring Gramps.”
In other words, Gramps to the rescue. “Great. He’s going to blow a gasket again and lecture us for a month and a day about obeying the law no matter what.”
“You should try to be more positive, like me.”
“You’re not positive. You’re just nuts.”
“I could whine about not being able to fit in most of my clothes anymore,” Kate continued as if Claire hadn’t spoken. “Instead I focus on the fact that I’m getting bigger tips for waiting tables at The Shaft now that I have a few more curves.”
“Do I need to remind you that the reason we are behind bars currently is because of your sensitivity to comments about your weight?”
She shrugged Claire off as if that was yesterday’s news. “But on a positive note, as long as you’re behind bars, you’re safe from the diamond killer.”
“Shhhhh.” Claire frowned toward the front office. “The sheriff wants us to keep quiet about that, remember?”
A couple of months ago, Claire and Ronnie had found a stash of glass eyeballs in the undercarriage of a camper at the Dancing Winnebagos RV Park, which was owned by their step-grandmother, Ruby Ford. Inside the eyeballs were diamonds, and inside of the camper were two older ladies acting as “mules” who’d recently sneaked the black market stash over the Mexican border. At least that was Ronnie’s theory based off an article she’d found about a mass murder in a border town involving a killer searching for diamonds.
After a series of unfortunate events that started with Claire up to her neck in a water-filled mine shaft and ended with two very dead drug mules, Claire and Ronnie were in a bit of a pickle. First, they had a handful of stolen diamonds. Second, a trail of bread crumbs led to the stupid diamonds. Third, a single-minded bread crumb aficionado was murdering his or her way to the diamonds … and by association, Claire and Ronnie. The latest victim had bought the dead mules’ camper from a police auction, but that murder had hit the newspapers six weeks ago.
Six very long weeks of Claire watching over her shoulder and diving for cover every time a car backfired.
Sheriff Harrison had taken the diamonds off their hands after Ronnie had spilled the beans about the whole mess, tucking them away for safekeeping. What Grady had done with the stones, Claire didn’t want to know. All she cared about was that he—and the FBI agent in town assigned to keep an eye on Ronnie—kept their firearms handy day and night with their fingers hovering over the triggers.
“Deputy Dipshit can’t hear us,” Kate said, bringing Claire back to her current snafu. “He has too much baloney jammed between his ears.”
She snorted. “That doesn’t make sense, Crazy Kate.”
“Call me crazy again and so help me, the next time you’re sleeping I’ll—”
A buzzing sound from the front office announced the arrival of someone from the world outside, followed by a low rumble of voices. Claire peered out between the bars.
“You think my pizza is here?” Kate joined Claire, sniffing the air. “It doesn’t smell like pizza.”
Ronnie stepped into view at the end of the hallway, her shoulder-length brown hair corralled by a red and white polka dot headband that matched her dress. It appeared their sister had been visiting the 1950s before coming to their rescue.
Ronnie rushed down the hall to their cell, her bright red heels clomping on the concrete floor. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”
“It’s good to see you, too, June Cleaver,” Claire said with a grin. “What’re Wally and the Beaver up to this morning?”
“It was the deputy,” Kate said, her chin lifted. “Ernie was out of line again.”
Ronnie growled, lines fanning out from her brown eyes. “Katie, you tried to run the deputy over with a shopping cart for no reason whatsoever.”
“That is not an accurate account of what happened,” Claire said, defending her loony little sister. “Deputy Dipshit goaded Kate, poking the bear repeatedly.”
“And you.” Ronnie turned on Claire. “You tackled an officer of the law. What were you thinking?”
“She tripped.” Kate looked at Claire. “Someone has been blowing smoke up Ronnie’s ying-yang and I’m betting his name rhymes with lip-spit.”
Claire scowled at their older sister. “You don’t really believe what the deputy said after our past experiences with him, right?”
“He’s not the one who filled me in on this mess. After I received Katie’s text, Grady called. He’s stuck at an accident scene and told me to come get you two out of his jail.” Her nostrils flared. “Again!”
“Oh, get off your high horse, Ronnie,” Kate said. “It’s not like we haven’t been in jail before.”
“Grady was only repeating his deputy’s big fish stories,” Claire explained.
“Is he letting us off the hook again?” Kate asked.
“For now.” Ronnie crossed her arms. “He’s going to stop by the RV park later and take your statements, then make his decision about what to do with you two.” Ronnie leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Dang it, Claire. You know better than to let Katie near Ernie. How’s this going to look for Grady if he has to keep springing his girlfriend’s sisters from jail? The sheriff of Cholla County is an elected position, you know.”
“Do you think I wanted to come here today?”
