Give First Place to Murder by Kathleen Delaney Page A

her horse breeding operation and the barn that she rented to Bryce. The front forty was used for the transport business Wes and Linda Fowler ran for her. The mobile home the Fowlers lived in was there, as well as the transport office and the barns that housed the trucks and trailers. It was this parcel, along with the horse vans, that Irma was thinking of selling. I was to give Irma some idea of what the land was worth.
    Right. I had never, in my vast six months experience as a real estate agent, sold or listed a piece of ranch property, and was terrified I’d make a mistake. Irma had become Susannah's friend over the last few weeks. I didn't want to let her, or my daughter, down.
    Not that I hadn't done my homework. My broker, Bo Chutskey, an old friend of my parents, had put me through a crash course on ranches, wells, cost of fencing, and so on. I felt somewhat prepared, and was excited by the opportunity to do this new thing. Also relieved that I had someone to back me up when I ran out of knowledge.
    My mood greatly improved with coffee. I called Pat. "We're barbecuing tonight. Dan's bringing the beer, we get to do the rest. You and Carl want to come?"
    "Of course. The first one of the season. What fun. Let’s see, I have avocados, some shrimp, how about if I improvise?"
    "Sounds wonderful. I'm going to call Aunt Mary. She'll bring potato salad, she always does. At least she used to."
    "Did Dan say anything more about that poor boy?"
    "Rusty? No. Actually he didn't say much of anything except he would see us tonight." I didn't tell her I hadn't given him a chance.
    "I hope they find out who killed him soon and what it’s all about. Drugs and all that really worry me. You don't expect it in a small, quiet town like this."
    “ No, you don’t,” I agreed, “LA, it’s everywhere, but not here.” We hung up, but I kept thinking about Rusty. Could anyone connected with Irma’s barn ---? No, of course not.
    “ I wish that kid had gotten himself murdered in someone else’s barn,” I told Jake, who sat in the middle of the chopping block contemplating the gold fish, “then I wouldn’t have to worry about Susannah.”
    Jake jumped down, sat in front of his empty bowl and looked at me. I took this to be disapproval of his lack of breakfast, not my callous statement. “If you were a mother, you’d feel the same way,” I told him but I filled his bowl before reaching for the phone.
    Aunt Mary was home from church and more than willing to barbecue.
    "I'd love to come,” she said immediately. “What shall I bring?"
    "Potato salad. Everybody used to say yours was the best."
    "Imagine you remembering that. About five thirty? I hope Dan has some information for us. I don't like this talk of drugs one little bit."
    I had long since given up wondering where Aunt Mary got her information, but she always knew everything and somehow she always had it right! Age of information nothing, Aunt Mary was light years ahead.
    Humming, I put out a jar of sun tea and started the hunt for my summer dishes, tablecloths, and outdoor candles. I still had boxes of stuff unpacked, stuff Brian hadn't had the guts to refuse to let me take. I knew I could lay my hands right on it. An hour later, and quite a bit grumpier, I found everything in a box labeled Christmas decorations.
    I had just enough time to hit the shower and head for Irma's. I’d stop at the store on my way home and pick up meat, buns, ice cream and fresh corn. Tonight we would feast.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    Irma's place was only about ten minutes out of town, but it was a different world. The two-lane road wandered through a gently rolling countryside filled with grape vines, barley fields, and cows. The pale gold of the grass showed off the emerald leaves of the vines and the black green of the massive oak trees. The sky was the clearest of blues and the few fat white clouds lay still, looking like mounds of whipped cream. Dan was right. It was a beautiful day.
    I drove slowly