nine o'clock, and the sky still held a high, thin blue. Only a few clouds crouched on the horizon, waiting to erupt into the crazy pastels of the impending sunset: pinks and oranges, peach and yellow, eventually morphing to red against the navy sky. The splash of colors to come reminded me of the bamboo I'd been hoping to try in my lesson with Ruth. The stuff would be like spinning clouds, so the soft colors were more than fitting. I wondered whether the woman who dyed the roving, a local named Thea Hawke, had felt compelled to imitate the sunset as she'd chosen her dyes and lovingly applied them to the ethereal fiber.
Oh, brother, Sophie Mae. Get a grip. Stop musing about spinning and think about what you're going to say to Barr when he gets here.
My stomach growled again. The oblique angle of the light niggled at my memory. This was the time of day that, as a child, was unavailable in the other seasons. After dinnertime, still light enough to play outside, offering the promise of packing in more activity before parental summons brought you in for bed. Innocent times. Long gone times.
Sometimes being an adult got pretty darn old, I thought. Was there any possible way to account for Hannah's appearance out of nowhere, her looks, her wifeness? I couldn't imagine a scenario in which Barr hadn't lied to me. Just flat-out lied.
I hated being lied to. My anger flared again, accompanied by a hot, sick feeling.
My head jerked up at the sound of a slowing engine and tires on concrete. Barr's car door opened and cowboy boots hit the ground. He strode toward me. Slowly, I stood.
'What a nice surprise, finding you here,' he said. 'You're not going to believe it, but we already have a pretty viable suspect.'
His arms encircled me, and I stifled the urge to push him away. Instead I stood quietly and waited. Barr pulled back, a puzzled look in his eyes. 'Ariel was having an affair with Scott Popper. We think Chris may have had something to do with it.' Regret passed over his features, and I couldn't help but remember his obvious pity for Chris at the funeral.
Then he shook his head, and his features smoothed. He smiled down at me. 'You look great, by the way. Did you do something different with your hair?'
Chris? Had killed Ariel? Confusion nearly swamped me. 'But-' I stopped myself. Concentrate, Sophie Mae, concentrate.
'Anyway, I for one, wouldn't mind a little help from an interested citizen who might be able to get information through, uh, unofficial channels.'
Huh?
When I didn't respond, he said, 'Hey, what's wrong with you? I thought you'd be happy to be off the hook. Plus, I thought you'd jump at the chance to help out.' He tousled my hair.
I jerked away from his hand. 'Knock that off. You know I hate it.'
Slowly, his arm lowered. 'What's going on?'
I started to bite my lip, then stopped myself. 'I came by earlier. While I was here, your wife stopped by. Hannah. She wanted me to tell you she's staying at the Horse Acres Bed and Breakfast.'
Barr rolled his eyes. 'Great. I should've known she'd come scratching at the door about now.'
Well, I don't know what reaction I'd expected, but that wasn't it.
'You're married?' I asked, appalled.
'What? Of course not.'
'Have you ever been married?'
He raised his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. 'Sophie Mae, please, you have to-'
'I don't have to do anything.'
He dropped his hands. 'You knew I was married.' He actually dared to sound irritated.
'I did not!'
'Listen, can we go inside to fight? Or would you rather the neighbors take part?'
Teeth clenched, I stomped into the house. He went into the kitchen and returned with two beers. Twisting the top off of one, he handed it to me and sank into his favorite TV-watching recliner. I sat on the ugly plaid couch and put the bottle on the spool from hell. It nearly tipped over on the rough surface, and I just managed to catch it.
'I hate this table,' I said.
'Okay. We can get a new one.'
'It's the homeliest piece of furniture I've seen in my entire life.'
A flash of amusement crossed his features. 'I told you about Hannah,' he said.
'Oh. Right. And when exactly did you do that? You tried in the car after we had Thai food the other night, but then we had to go chase an ambulance. And you never had the courage to 'fess up any of the times I've asked you since.'
His forehead wrinkled. 'What are you… wait a minute.' His face cleared. 'You think that's what we needed to talk about?'
Now I was unsure. 'Isn't it?' I took a shaky sip of beer.
'No, no. Nothing like that. Remember when I told you that ten years or so ago I was involved with a woman who works at my parents' dude ranch? That it was a mistake, and didn't work out?'
'Sure'
'That was Hannah.'
I gaped at him. 'Involved? Getting married is `involved'? What are we then, acquaintances?'
He sighed. 'It only lasted a couple months. It was a long time ago. I wasn't trying to keep anything from you; I really did think you understood that we'd been married for a short time.'
Damn it. That took the wind right out of my sails. Barr had indeed told me about that woman. It was just possible I'd misunderstood the level of their 'involvement'
He'd neglected to mention what she looked like, though.
'Well, you certainly do like a type, don't you.' I felt bitter and defeated at the same time.
'Type?'
'She looks just like me. Or rather, I look like her, since I'm the Janey-come-lately. At least I used to look like her.' My hand started to go to my short hair, but at the last moment I scratched my nose.
'God,' Barr said. 'Sometimes I just want to shake you.'
And I just want to shoot you, I thought, but didn't say. A bolt of understanding hit me, a very personal glimmer of how crimes of passion can occur.
'So why is she here?' I asked.
He looked uncomfortable. 'I can't be sure, but I imagine she wants to get back together.'
Great. As mad as I'd been, as much as I'd already considered that we might be done and over with, that still hit me hard in the solar plexus. 'Do you want to get back together with her?'
'Of course not, you dope. I love you.'
I took a big swig of beer and considered him. 'She still loves you?'
'Maybe. I doubt it. What Hannah loves is money. Always has.'
Another swig. My stomach gurgled. 'I don't get it,' I said. 'You don't have money.'
Now he looked uncomfortable. 'That's what I was trying to tell you.'
What the heck? I put the beer bottle back on the table, and it started to tip over again. I caught it and directed another glare at Barr.
But he was looking out the window. 'My uncle died earlier this year. It turns out he left some money to my mom and dad, my brother and sister, and me.' He looked directly at me now. 'A lot of money. That's what I've been trying to figure out how to tell you.
My mouth dropped open.
'You have a sister?' I practically shrieked the question.
He looked startled. 'Sure. Glory. She and her husband live outside of Missoula.'
'You never told me you had a sister!'
'I didn't?'
'No. You didn't. Any offspring around that you also forgot to mention?' I wasn't kidding. All of a sudden, it seemed like a valid question.
He laughed. 'No'
I very pointedly did not laugh. 'You can't expect me to be happy to suddenly meet some woman who says she's your wife. You can't expect me to move in with you when that same ex-wife is staying in town.'
His eyes widened. 'Listen, Sophie Mae…'
I shook my head so hard my hair whipped across my cheek. 'I don't know who you are, Barr Ambrose. I thought I did, but it turns out that I don't.'
He tried again. 'Listen to me.' His voice was reasonable, down to earth, all the things I loved about the guy.
Aargh.
'Hannah must know about the inheritance from my uncle. It would be just like her to think she could get to it through me. Mom will know. I'll call her after dinner.'
'Your mother? Why would she know?'
'I told you: Hannah works at the ranch.' Barr's parents owned and operated a touristy dude ranch in Wyoming.
