“Kate has a message for you,” he told Natalie while finishing Ronnie’s order. “She said to tell you the bomb is a dud, whatever that means.”
“It means the cheese has slid completely off Kate’s cracker,” Claire said, shooting a narrow-eyed glance at the order window.
“I believe she’s talking about the flash drive she ‘borrowed’ this morning from Deputy Dipshit,” Natalie told him.
“What are you talking about?” Mac asked, grabbing two glasses for Claire’s beer order.
“You know, the reason why we ended up in jail today. Well, that’s not the actual reason because the deputy doesn’t know about the borrowed drive, which Kate plans to return as soon as she can.”
Mac did a double take. “You were in jail today?”
She turned to Claire. “You didn’t tell him?”
“He’s been gone all day. We haven’t had a moment alone … yet,” she followed that last bit with a wiggle of her eyebrows in his direction.
Mac winked back at her.
He’d spent the day in Yuccaville. He’d started with a visit to the pawnshop to see what sort of self-defense weapons he could find for Claire that fit her criteria, coming away with a leather sap she could conceal in her back pocket. He figured he’d hit up some stores in Tucson for more non-firearm options before returning on Monday.
Next, he’d grabbed some lunch at The Mule Train Diner. After enjoying a piece of tart cherry pie made by Grady’s sister, who owned the joint, he’d headed to the library. Digging through county and state records, newspaper articles on the microfiche reader, and local history books for information about his aunt’s Humdigger mine and Joe’s childhood home had taken up most of the afternoon. On his way back to the RV park, he’d swung by two of Ruby’s other mines, hiking up to the entrances to make sure the barricades Claire’s grandpa and he had erected were still in place—and they were, thankfully. They had enough problems to deal with at the moment between the diamond killer and other shadows from Joe’s checkered past coming to collect what the bastard had skimmed from them.
He hadn’t had time yet to tell Claire about his findings or show her how to use the leather sap since he’d been shanghaied into working as soon as he’d walked through the door of The Shaft.
“What is it with your family and the hoosegow?” He asked both women as he handed Claire her drinks. “Is this some kind of twisted game of jailhouse musical chairs?”
“Maybe it is, smarty-pants,” Natalie said.
“Unfortunately, Kate’s in charge of stopping the music,” Claire said and then left with her order.
“So, why exactly were you in jail?” he asked Natalie.
“That very question has been on my mind all day,” Grady Harrison said, taking the vacant seat next to where Natalie waited for her order.
She grimaced at the sheriff. “It wasn’t my fault, I swear.”
The sheriff let out a low chuckle. “You’ve been taking lessons from your cousins.”
The little bell in the order window dinged several times. When Mac looked over, Kate was giving Natalie the come-hither finger-wag.
“Be right back,” Natalie told them and escaped through the swinging doors leading back to the kitchen, supply room, and Butch’s office.
“You’re playing bartender tonight, huh?” Grady asked while peering around The Shaft. He was dressed in his work clothes still, but his hat was missing along with his badge.
“Butch’s usual guy called in sick.” Mac grabbed the vodka for Natalie’s cosmopolitans. “Ronnie’s at table seven next to the jukebox.”
“Where did you learn how to tend bar?” Grady asked, turning back to Mac.
“I did it here and there during college to help pay the bills. Turns out I have a good memory when it comes to mixing drinks.”
“I heard you paid a visit to the library today.”
“You must have talked to your aunt.”
Grady’s aunt Millie and her rough-and-tough gang of knitting grannies were hanging out near the library’s bank of computers and microfiche reader when Mac had been researching Joe’s house. She’d recognized him from the Thanksgiving dinner they’d shared here at this very bar, introducing him to her “compadres” when he’d asked if anyone was using the computer. After meeting Millie’s “gang,” he couldn’t understand why Claire and Kate had issues with the old dames. They were very sweet, flirty even, and shared their butterscotch candies with him.
“She stopped by my office before I left. Were you looking into that mine you told me about last night?”
Yuccaville had the best mining library in the state due in part to the Copper Snake Mining Company, which owned some of the deepest open-pit copper mines west of the Rockies. The company headquarters was located at the north end of town amongst multiple huge open pits, bright green settling ponds, and giant trucks and bulldozers.
“That and Joe’s old house. I was curious who owns it now.”
“J.M. Kessinger, isn’t it?”
Mac nodded. He wasn’t surprised Grady knew that detail; he was the county sheriff, after all. “I expected it to be owned by the bank. Why would someone pay taxes on that property and yet let the house rot on its foundation?”
Grady shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. There are several properties like that around town, leftovers from when Copper Snake was booming and the town was raking in the money. The housing market was tight and people bought high, but then copper prices tanked and the mine started laying off folks. Many walked away from here bankrupt due to being upside down in their mortgages. Others moved on and yet kept their property here, letting buildings turn to dust under the desert sun.”
“The mining industry is a fickle son of a bitch that way.” Mac poured the cosmopolitans into long-stemmed glasses.
“Yep, same history, different town.”
“I have to head back to Tucson tomorrow to deal with something that’s come up at a jobsite.” He grabbed
