“I heard that.” Senora Mari swung around like a bull about to charge. “You cannot eat the healthy ones either, missy. You don’t know when to stop.”
My mouth dropped open. “Since when?”
“What I want to know is, why didn’t Whip’s chili win if he and Lucky were such a dynamic duo?” Uncle Eddie flipped to page two. He always did his best to end the familiar argument between his health-conscious wife and his traditional mother.
“That’s the answer, isn’t it?” I said. “He couldn’t muster the know-how without Lucky. And imagine, he’d suffered a terrible trauma.” I hadn’t actually tried Whip’s entry. Maybe my uncle was right.
The cowbell clanged and Lightfoot and Ryan walked in together. The two men were roughly the same height, with Ryan edging out the older man by a couple of inches. Lightfoot wore his now-familiar detective’s uniform of blazer, pressed jeans, button-down shirt, bolo tie, and a tan Stetson over his ebony hair and short ponytail. Ryan, though, had dressed for the football field: khaki shorts, West Texas University coach’s golf shirt, and a baseball cap over his short, brown, wavy hair. Both familiar faces wore their typical smile of greeting, Ryan’s a wide schoolboy grin and Lightfoot’s a small lift at the corners of his mouth.
“Yip.” Lenny spun around, showing off his folklórico costume of white satin pants and jacket. The white embroidered sombrero would be added at the last minute.
“Hey, Lenster. Love the costume.” Ryan picked up my canine sidekick and rubbed him behind the ears.
“Morning, Detective.” Uncle Eddie stood and tossed his paper onto the bar. “What’s the news on your investigation?”
Ryan rounded on Senora Mari and gave her a hug. He was the only one who could get away with it outside of our family. “What is that fantastic smell?” Ryan asked with a grin.
“Would you like huevos rancheros, Coach Ryan?” She gave him an inviting smile.
“You betcha.”
She eyed the detective’s somber face for a moment. “I could make you some Texas Eggs, if you want.”
“What’s that?” Lightfoot asked politely.
“Don’t mind her,” I said. “It’s sort of the same thing, but more cheese and fewer jalapeños.”
He chuckled. “No, thank you, though I’m sure either one would be delicious.”
“Can I get you some coffee?” Uncle Eddie asked.
“That’s why I’m here,” Lightfoot said with a smile.
“How do you take it?”
“Black,” Lightfoot and I said in unison.
You could have heard a pin drop in the next room. Everyone was staring at the two of us as if we’d suddenly sprouted corn husks out of our ears.
“We appreciate you stopping by to give us an update.” Aunt Linda gave Lightfoot a big smile. “Have you figured out whether or not Lucky Straw was murdered?”
“The JP’s sending the body off today to the state lab. He’s not ready to say it’s a murder, but he did state Lucky died under suspicious circumstances.”
With a glance at Lightfoot, Ryan walked over to my barstool. “Just stopped by to wish you good luck on your dancing today. Though you’re so talented, you won’t need it.”
I opened my mouth to deflect the intimacy of his comment with something witty, but he interrupted.
“Uh-uh.” He placed a finger on my lips. “Accept a compliment for a change. It won’t hurt you.” Gooseflesh immediately chased any comeback right out of my head and into the next county. Not to mention, my cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “What’s going on this morning besides the big debut at the parade?” He ran a hand down Lenny’s back.
“I was just about to ask Eddie if he had heard whether or not the town council was pleased with his chili extravaganza,” Aunt Linda said.
Uncle Eddie handed Lightfoot a cup of coffee and climbed back onto his barstool. “Another dead body is all anyone’s talking about.” With a sigh, he dropped his gaze to his food.
“That may be true of the locals, but I met some folks from Arlington at Two Boots last night.” Ryan clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “They were extremely pleased with your decision to restart after a short delay. You scored some points, Eddie.”
“I hope the town council agrees, my friend.”
“These huevos will make you big and strong.” Senora Mari delivered Ryan’s breakfast to the bar. If anyone could cheer up my uncle, it was his fellow coach.
When I looked up, Lightfoot caught my eye and gave a slight nod of his head in the direction of the front door. I followed him outside.
“You have something.”
He nodded with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure no one else had followed. “Pacemaker data shows an interruption around the time of Lucky’s death.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but wouldn’t it be interrupted if he died?”
He narrowed his eyes in disapproval. “No. Death is recorded in the data as termination. This was something in the programming of the pacemaker itself.”
“No. Way. You’re saying someone killed him by hacking his pacemaker?”
“Hold on.” He raised a hand. “That would only happen in the movies.”
“Is that where the stun gun comes in?”
“Not sure, but the serial number proves it was stolen from Pinyon Pawn.”
“Could it have interrupted the pacemaker?”
“There’s a one-in-one-thousand chance it could happen. The odd thing is that the data report from the pacemaker shows a programmed interruption.”
“As in planned?” My heart beat faster.
He nodded. “I need to find another expert at the manufacturer who can tell me without getting all defensive what the report means by a ‘programmed interruption’ and if the stun gun could have caused the pacemaker to fail.”
“What about electrocution?” I asked.
“You lost me.”
“Remember the extension cords in his tent?”
He shook his head. “Forget it. There were no signs of electrical shock on his body.”
The door opened and Ryan poked his head out.
“Hey, you, taking off?” I pasted on a smile and shot a glance at Lightfoot, who suddenly found the need to
