Linda Crowder - Jake and Emma 02 - Main Street Murder Page 4

  Kristy stood up and drank the last of her glass of wine. It wouldn’t do any good to sit here and stew. She had front row tickets tonight and Cheri was expecting her. She was going to her first rodeo.

  Emma tapped her toe impatiently and checked her watch for the tenth time. “Jake, aren’t you ready yet?” she called.

  Her husband, who was shaving, heard the tone though he couldn’t quite make out the words. “I’m coming,” he answered her, wincing as he nicked his chin. He sighed and rinsed off the razor. Emma had given him an electric razor for his birthday but he couldn’t bring himself to give up his old habits. Blades give a closer shave, he’d told her.

  He daubed at the cut, hoping Emma wouldn’t notice then put the razor in the medicine cabinet and went out to find his wife. She was standing in the living room, playfully tossing a catnip mouse down the hall and watching their youngest cat Sparki race after it.

  The fluffy white cat pounced on the toy with her front paws while her back paws slid down the hall, effectively turning the cat around. Sometimes, Sparki would be traveling so fast, she slammed into the wall but it didn’t slow her down. Sparki would trot proudly back to the living room, toy mouse in her mouth, and drop it at Emma’s feet to be tossed again.

  Emma turned to look at Jake as he came into the room. “It never gets old,” she told him.

  “Me or playing catch with the cat?” He asked.

  Emma put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Both,” she smiled. “But you take longer than any three women to get ready.”

  “Maybe I need more work than any three women,” joked Jake.

  Emma tossed the toy one last time for Sparki, who tore down the hall and slid into the guest room door. Shaking her head, the little cat batted the mouse like a hockey puck then rolled onto her back and held the toy in her front paws while “killing” it with her hind paws.

  Emma laughed and walked over to pet her older, sedate cat, who had been watching the game from her perch atop the cat tower. “Goodbye, Peachy. Don’t let Sparki get into too much trouble while we’re gone.” The cat purred and rubbed against Emma’s hand.

  What she was thinking, Emma didn’t want to know since there was no love lost between the two cats. Peachy had been ruler of the roost until Jake came home with the bedraggled orphan kitten who promptly took over the house much to Peachy’s dismay. The only time Emma had seen Peachy defend Sparki was when a neighbor’s dog strayed into the house during a barbeque.

  The dog had good naturedly “treed” a frightened and hissing Sparki on the dining room table. Peachy had raced up to the dog, fangs barred and claws flying. The poor dog had yelped and run out of the house, leaving a grateful kitten who would from that day on follow her heroine around and nuzzle against her - much to the annoyance of the older cat.

  “I hope we’re not going to be late,” said Emma as they pulled into the very crowded parking lot across from the rodeo arena. “Everyone in the County seems to have turned out tonight.”

  “More like everyone from this side of the state,” observed Jake, noting the license plates with a variety of county numbers. In Wyoming, each county was assigned a number, based on their assessed property valuations when they began using number in the 1930’s. That number, from 1 to 23, was displayed on the left side of the license plate.

  Oil rich Natrona was assigned the number 1, pleasing Casper residents and annoying mineral rich counties like Sublette (23) and Campbell (17). It also aggravated residents of the state capitol in Cheyenne whose Laramie County plates bore the number 2.

  Periodically someone would suggest the numbers be re-assigned based on population. Since that would come at a significant cost, to drivers and counties alike, Casper continued to claim top honors in the license plate game.

  Jake found a parking space at last and eased his truck into it. He took Emma’s hand as they walked to the crossing and waited for the officer directing traffic to signal them across. Jake smiled down at his California-transplant wife dressed in her best Western wear for the evening.

  Emma wore cowgirl boots, tan with silver and turquoise accents. Her denim skirt just touched the top of her mid-calf boots, topped with a sleeveless checked shirt. A silver chain belt with black and turquoise clasp cinched the shirt at her waist. Her tan cowgirl hat topped the outfit and Emma carried a light jacket. Even summer evenings could be chilly in Casper.

  “Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight?” asked Jake after they’d crossed the busy street and were walking toward the arena gates.

  Emma blushed. “That never gets old either,” she told him. They handed their tickets to the volunteer at the gate, who tore them in half and handed their portion back to them.

  “Have a great night,” he said. They worked their way through the happy crowd, stopping here and there to say hello to friends on the way to their seats. Jake liked to sit on the aisle, the better to accommodate his long legs so when they reached their row, the couple stood on the steps chatting with other rodeo-goers until the seats began to fill.

  Emma left Jake talking with one of his former rancher clients and worked her way through the crowd to the bottom row where Kristy and Cheri sat. She perched on the cement ledge in front of their seats and asked if Kristy if she was looking forward to her first rodeo.

  Kristy smiled, “I sure am. I can’t believe I’ve lived in Casper this long and I’ve never gone to Summer Solstice. I had no idea what I was missing.”

  “It is a great crowd,” agreed Emma. “And the riders are top-notch.”

  “They’re getting into form for Frontier Days,” agreed Cheri. When both ladies looked at her with surprise, the banker explained that many of the riders in Casper would be competing to earn their way into the bigger event.

  “I never knew that,” said Emma. “I thought the Solstice attracted mostly college riders.”

  Cheri shook her head. “It’s a professional rodeo with a cash purse,” she explained. “Nothing like Frontier Days of course, but enough to make it worthwhile for riders who are working to get established.”

  “Impressive,” said Kristy. “I didn’t know you knew so much about rodeo.”

  Cheri laughed. “You can’t live in Wyoming for 20 years and not learn about rodeo.”

  “Absolutely,” agreed Emma. “I asked Jake so many questions at the first rodeo he took me to that the man in front of us kept turning around and glaring at me.”

  The women laughed. “Well I didn’t want to be accused of being a tenderfoot,” said Cheri. “Besides, the bank is one of the Solstice’s Gold Buckle Sponsors so I’ve been treated to a non-stop diet of rodeo trivia for years. I had to learn in self-defense!”

  The announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker urging patrons to take their seats and Emma excused herself to return to Jake. The rodeo started with a parade of riders, introducing each entrant - rider and horse - to the cheering crowd.

  Barrel Racing was the first event and Emma found herself caught up in the excitement. She shouted encouragement at the local riders and gasped when one rider’s horse nearly lost footing coming around the outside barrel then stood with the crowd when horse and rider righted themselves and finished the event in surprisingly good time.

  Mutton Busting was an event that never lost its charm for Emma. In it, very young children simulated bronc busting by riding on the back of a sheep. Some small riders stayed on their sheep for the requisite eight seconds but many tumbled good naturedly into the dirt.

  Jake’s favorite event was Bull Riding, something that frightened Emma. She watched rider after rider being bucked off and nearly trampled if not for the courage and daring of the rodeo clowns. Bull Riding closed the opening half of the night’s competition.

  The competitors took a break while the Summer Solstice Rodeo Queen and her Court entertained the crowd with precision riding. Emma marveled at the seemingly effortless communication between horse and rider as the young women completed their routine.

  She was caught up i
n the excitement of Team Roping, which followed the Queen’s presentation, when the action was brought to an abrupt halt by a frantic scream. Jake, Emma and the crowd around them turned toward the sound to see a woman urgently waving her arms at a volunteer usher.

  “Call 9-1-1!” she screamed. “There’s a woman bleeding to death in the ladies room.” The crowd rumbled with anxious voices while two white-shirted paramedics, always on hand at rodeos, hurriedly followed the woman. A few minutes later a man and a woman with a stretcher made their way through the crowd while the volunteer security crew held back the crowd.

  “Kristy!” gasped Emma, as she saw her friend emerge from the restroom, following the ambulance crew with the victim on their stretcher. Her face was pale and there was blood on her hands and shirt. Looking grim, she followed the stretcher out the gate toward what Emma knew would be the waiting ambulance.

  Emma turned to Jake, gripping his arm so she wouldn’t be knocked over by the crowd, which after holding its collective breath during the crisis was now pushing in panic toward the exits. Jake put his arm around Emma and they stood on the steps like stones in a river, letting the crowd surge around them.

  Emma listened while one siren signaled the departure of the ambulance then sirens in the distance heralded the approaching police. “I don’t know where people think they’re going,” Jake said to Emma, putting his mouth to her ear to be heard over the frightened crowd. “The police are going to want to get names of everyone here and they’ll want to talk to anyone who may have seen the victim.”

  “Do you really think they’ll stop people from leaving?” asked Emma. She looked around at the people streaming toward the exits and didn’t envy the job of any police officer who had to hold back that tide.

  “They’ll have to,” said Jake. “At least until they find out if there were any witnesses to the incident.”

  “Wouldn’t they assume any witnesses would voluntarily stay?”

  Jake nodded. “The witnesses usually do, but the perpetrator? Not likely. If they can get ID’s for everyone here, they can run them to see if there are any names that jump out as being persons of interest.”

  “That’s crazy,” said Emma. “There must be thousands of people here tonight. It would be like looking for one grain of sand in the desert.”

  “Tedious, I agree, and not as likely to produce results as those crime shows on TV,” Jake paused as he watched a belligerent man push another man out of his way. A volunteer wearing a yellow “Security” vest intervened. “You watch, they’ll block the exits to the parking lots and take names before anyone gets to go home tonight.”

  Jake was right and it was well past midnight when he and Emma finally saw the lights of home. Jake unlocked the door for his wife then went to the barn to check on the dogs, as he did every evening. Charlie and Casper barked a welcome as they heard him approach.

  Emma walked into the quiet house to find two cats sleeping on separate levels of the kitty tower. A quick scan of the room revealed nothing broken, tipped over or shoved onto the floor so she concluded Peachy must have kept Sparki out of trouble as requested.

  She was slipping out of her cowgirl outfit and into a loose nightshirt when her cell phone started to ring. Emma saw Kristy’s picture come up and grabbed the phone. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she answered, “Kristy? Oh my gosh, what happened? Are you ok?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” came her friend’s tired voice. “Can you come pick me up? I left my car at the rodeo grounds when I rode with Cheri in the ambulance.”

  “Cheri?” gasped Emma. “It was Cheri who was hurt?”

  “Yes,” replied Kristy. “They rushed her into surgery when we got here.”

  “How is she?” Emma looked up as Jake came into the bedroom, his eyes asking the question. Emma put her phone on speaker. “Honey, Jake’s here too. I’m putting you on speaker. It was Cheri in the ladies room, Jake.”

  “Oh my God,” was all Jake could say, dropping onto the bed next to Emma.

  “She came through the operation just fine,” came Kristy’s voice from the phone Emma held between them. “The doctor is ‘cautiously optimistic’ about her prognosis.”

  “Oh Kristy, I’m so sorry,” said Emma. “You sound exhausted. Let us come pick you up and you can tell us about it when you’ve had some sleep.”

  “Sleep would be good,” agreed Kristy, “though I don’t know how I’m going to get any for awhile.”

  “Don’t think another thing about it right now,” suggested Emma. “Whatever needs to be said or thought or done can wait for tomorrow.”

  “We’re on our way,” Jake broke in, “we’ll pick you up at the north entrance.”

  “Stay inside with the security guard until we get there,” added Emma. Kristy agreed and Emma dressed quickly, passing up the cowgirl clothing for more practical jeans and a t-shirt.

  When she was ready, the couple went out to the car and started the drive back into town. It was ten miles of dirt road before they reached the highway and five miles from there to the hospital. Neither spoke on the way, each lost in their own thoughts.

  When Jake pulled up outside the designated entrance, Kristy came out and got into the back seat. As Jake pulled away from the hospital, she slumped into her seat and thanked them for coming out in the middle of the night to pick her up.

  “Of course we came,” said Emma, twisting in her seat to see her friend. “I’m glad you called us.”

  Kristy sighed and closed her eyes. “It was just horrible,” she said at last. “Cheri told me she needed to use the ladies room so when the Queen’s Court came out, we dashed up to see if we could get back before the team roping.”

  “Did you see what happened?” asked Emma.

  “No,” said Kristy, her voice shaking. “I left before Cheri and went to get something to drink. When I got back, she wasn’t in our seats so I went up to find her.”

  Kristy’s voice trailed off. The car was silent for a mile or two, with only the sound of the engine and the sparse late night traffic. “I found her laying on the floor in the ladies room, blood pouring out of her stomach.”

  Kristy started to cry. “I screamed for help and ran to her. I tried to stop the bleeding.” Kristy looked at her hands, almost invisible in the dark car, remembering the blood that had seeped between her fingers no matter how hard she pressed.

  “It’s ok,” said Emma softly. “You did great. You saved Cheri’s life.”

  Kristy took a ragged breath and brushed the tears from her eyes. “I hope so,” was all she said.

  Jake offered to drive Kristy’s car for her while Emma drove home with Kristy. “Why don’t you stay with us tonight?” Emma asked her. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  Kristy accepted their offer and moved to the front seat as Emma slipped into the driver’s seat and Jake took Kristy’s keys to let himself into her Chevy. His knees hit the steering wheel and he quickly located the lever and moved the seat as far back as it would go. He pulled out of the parking lot and Emma fell in behind him for the long drive home.

  Reaching the house, Emma showed Kristy the guest room and put out fresh towels for her. Kristy thanked her and dropped onto the bed, falling asleep before she could even take off her shoes. Softy, Emma slipped Kristy’s shoes off her feet and laid them by the bed.

  Her heart ached at the sight of blood staining the arms of Kristi’s shirt and she said a quick prayer for Cheri. Then Emma took an afghan that always laid across the foot of the bed and gently covered her sleeping friend. She switched off the light at the door, quietly closing it behind her.

  “Sleep well,” she whispered.

  7

  Emma was making coffee when Kristy came into the kitchen the next morning. She was freshly showered, wearing a blue bathrobe that Emma kept in the guest bath, but her eyes were red and her face was puffy.

  “I should be making the coffee,” said Kristy.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Emma. “We’re not at work, you’re
my guest.”

  “A guest who makes much better coffee than you do,” Kristy said. Emma laughed and relinquished the coffee pot to her friend.

  “You have a point there,” she said. Kristy scooped coffee into the filter and ran water for the pot while Emma pulled cereal boxes out of the pantry. “You look exhausted.”

  “I feel exhausted,” agreed Kristy. She sighed and closed her eyes. “I just kept thinking about finding Cheri. All night long, every time I fell asleep I dreamed about it and whenever I woke up she was all I could see.”

  Emma put her arm around Kristy’s shoulder. “You saved her life,” she told her friend. “Thank God you went to look for her when you did.”

  “That was part of what kept me awake last night, thinking what if I’d just sat down and watched the rodeo? What if I hadn’t gone looking for her?” Kristy’s shoulder started to shake and Emma gently turned her around and hugged her.

  “But you did, honey. That’s all that matters. It’s out of our hands now.” The two women stood like that, one comforting the other, until the quiet was broken by the ringing of the phone. Emma moved to answer it while Kristy went back to making coffee and poured herself a bowl of cereal.

  Kristy was sitting at the breakfast bar, munching cereal and reading the paper, her coffee cup beside her when Emma returned. “That was Jake,” said Emma, reaching into the cupboard for a bowl and pouring cereal for herself.

  “I wondered where he disappeared to,” said Kristy.

  “He had to go to court,” Emma explained. “One of his kids was busted for possession last night and Jake had to go to the arraignment this morning.” Kristy nodded. Many Casper businesses worked limited hours during Solstice Week - Emma’s included, since she found few of her clients wanted to schedule appointments with the rodeo in town. The courts were open for business as usual though and defendants were entitled to a speedy arraignment.