him, Rhonda Attwood hadn't moved during the course of Ralph's and my exchange. He looked down at her and seemed to see her for the first time.
'Excuse me,' he said politely, releasing her arm and then holding out his hand. 'Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Ralph Ames, Mr. Beaumont's attorney. His roommate was your son? I'm so sorry.'
She took his proffered hand and shook it. 'Thank you,' she said. 'My name is Rhonda Attwood.'
While a look of total consternation passed over his face, Ralph Ames did a complete double take. He stepped back a step, a full step.
'The water-colorist!' Ralph evidently knew the lady. If not personally, at least by reputation.
Rhonda inclined her head gracefully. 'Yes,' she said.
'But your son's name…'
'Attwood was my maiden name,' she explained.
'Of course,' Ralph said, nodding. 'If there's anything I can do to be of service…'
'I'll let you know,' Rhonda said, completing his sentence. 'And since you're here to pick up Mr. Beaumont, I'll be heading back to Sedona.'
She started away then stopped and turned to me. 'I heard you tell the detective inside that you will be staying with Mr. Ames here. Is that where I could get in touch with you if I needed to?'
Ralph groped in his pocket and extracted a card. He handed it to her. 'Both my office and home numbers are on there,' he said. 'Feel free to call any time. If we're not in, be sure to leave a message.'
Rhonda nodded her thanks and walked away.
'Who the hell is that?' I asked.
'You should know. You were with her.'
'But you acted like you knew her.'
'You mean you don't?'
'No, dammit. All I know is her son was my roommate and he got himself killed. When they shut down the bridge in Wickenburg tonight, she gave me a ride here to Prescott. Let me tell you, she may be a nice lady, but as a driver she's scary as hell.'
Ralph Ames looked at me and shook his head sadly. 'She's developing quite a reputation throughout the state as one of the most up-and-coming young water-colorists. As far as I'm concerned, she's still terribly underpaid, but she's also very, very talented. She does such marvelous work and yet here you are complaining about her driving?'
'Somehow water-coloring didn't come up in the course of conversation. Survival takes precedence over aesthetics. Now shut up and take me home, Ralph. I'm dead on my feet.'
CHAPTER 11
When I woke up it was two o'clock in the afternoon. I lay there for a while on the huge bed in Ralph Ames' guest room, looking out the window and across a pristine backyard swimming pool at the huge mass of ocher sandstone that forms the hump of Phoenix's famed Camelback Mountain.
There was a discreet tap on the door. 'Come in.'
Ames entered wearing a three-piece suit but playing butler. He handed me a snazzy cordless phone. 'Telephone for the birthday boy,' he announced.
Birthday? Was today my birthday? Somehow the arrival of my birthday had gotten lost in the frenetic shuffle of the past few days.
'Hello?'
'Dad? Is that you? Are you all right?'
It was Scott. His voice sounded tight and worried. 'Of course I'm all right, Scotty. Where are you?'
'Home,' he said. 'In California. We all drove home to Cucamonga last night. I don't know what you said to Mom. She was furious. I've never seen her that mad. I don't think Dave had ever seen her like that, either.'
'She thought I was out drinking.'
He hesitated. 'Were you?'
'No. It was all a big misunderstanding. Your mother saw me in a bar and jumped to the wrong conclusion.'
'That's what Dave tried to tell her,' Scott said ruefully, 'all the way home, but she wouldn't listen. Anyway, I just called to wish you a happy birthday.'
'How did you know I was here?'
'I didn't. I called Mr. Ames to see if he could tell me where you'd gone, and he said you were right there in his house, that you were still asleep.' He paused. 'Is it true that you found a rattlesnake in your cabin and that's why you left?'
'Yes, it is.'
'You didn't drop out of the program because of us, did you? Decide not to finish because of anything else that happened, I mean, like with Kelly or anything?'
'Somebody tried to kill me, Scott, and the people at Ironwood Ranch weren't the least bit interested in finding out who that person was. Calvin Crenshaw threw me out rather than call the sheriff and report it.'
'Oh,' Scott said. He sounded relieved.
'And I'm planning to go back,' I added with considerably more conviction that I felt. 'As soon as all this business gets straightened out, I'm going to make them take me back into the fold. You just wait and see.'
'Good. I'll tell Kelly. She was afraid you wouldn't go back. Oh, and one other thing.'
'What's that?'
'Yesterday, when we were in that private conference with Burton Joe, he told us all about that other girl, Michelle, about her being pregnant and everything. It seemed like he really was on your side. He told Kelly she was being unreasonable. Anyway, Kelly wants you to know that she's not mad at you anymore.'
'Good. Tell her I'm not mad at her, either.'
There was something else I wanted to say, a question I wanted to ask, but I hesitated. In the past few days, Scotty had more than demonstrated his loyalty. I didn't want to push him away again, but I needed information. Despite the strictures against tattling, he was the only person I could turn to.
'Did Kelly say anything about what went on?'
'What do you mean, Dad?'
'Between her and Joey.'
'Like did they go to bed together or something?'
His answer was far more blunt than my question. 'No, that's not what I meant,' I backpedaled. 'I was wondering if he might have said something to her that would be helpful in the investigation. Is Kelly there? Can you put her on the phone?'
'Sorry, she's not here. I'm back at school.'
'When you talk to her, tell her to give me a call, would you?'
'Sure thing, but I don't know when I'll talk to her again. You could call her at the house.'
I thought about the way Karen had looked at me in the Silver Spur Saloon. I didn't want to have to fight my way through a verbal war zone without having a guarantee of actually speaking to Kelly on the phone.
'No, I don't think so,' I told Scott. 'Give her this number. I'll wait for her to call me.'
'Kelly's not bad for a girl,' Scott said as a brotherly afterthought. 'She just has terrible taste in men.'
They were words to chill the cockles of a father's heart. 'I noticed,' I said bleakly.
'Come on, Dad,' Scott said. 'It's your birthday. Cheer up. She'll probably grow out of it.'
As I hung up the phone, I was feeling better. After all, Scott had given me a very real gift for my forty-fourth birthday-himself. I felt closer to him, in fact, closer to both my kids, than I had in years.
I was still holding the phone in my hand when Ralph Ames returned to my room carrying a tray laden with a coffeepot, cups and saucers, and two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice.
'What exactly did you do to Louise Crenshaw?' he asked pointedly, pouring me a cup of coffee in a handsome cup and saucer with geometric borders designed to look like some brand of Indian pottery.
