High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) by Marjorie Thelen Page B

while. This is a pretty cold
case. We’ll have a diver go in there and see what else comes up. What were you
thinking?”
    Fiona pursed her lips. “I think it was a woman.”
    Hoover nodded his head. “Why do you think that?”
    “Because of the two women missing in the Hank Little case. Those bones looked small even though the clothes looked like a man’s.”
    “I thought of that, too. Those two women are on the missing
persons list. Great detective minds think alike, Fiona.”
    “She’s very good,” said Opal. “She helped solve the mystery of my
brother, Albert’s demise back in Virginia. She has natural detective ability.”
    “Is that right?” said Hoover. “We’ll see what the diver finds.
Meanwhile, I better get on down the road. Sure you don’t want to go with me,
Fiona?”
    “No, thanks,” she said. “I have to wait for the contractors.
Besides, Opal and I might drive to town later.”
    After lunch and resigned to the fact that the electrician and
plumber weren’t coming, Fiona decided she might as well drive Opal to town.
    “Where’s the car?” asked Fiona.
    “Rig,” said Opal. “We’ll go in Old Faithful. Wait here. I’ll
bring her around. I can at least do that much.”
    Fiona waited in the hot sun on the front walk, feeling dejected
that her bunkhouse improvement project was going nowhere fast. She had had such
hopes for the day.   A shopping trip would
cheer her up. From behind the house she heard a muffled roar. Old Faithful back
fired into sight and rolled to a stop in front of the house on a rough idle.
Opal smiled from behind the wheel, a jaunty red cowgirl hat perched on her
head.
    “Climb in,” she said.
    Fiona didn’t move. “You want me to drive that?”
    Opal looked puzzled. “Don’t you like her? Isn’t she a beauty?”
    “Does she bite?”
    Opal laughed. “Of course not, honey.” She opened the door and slid
off the seat. “Go on and get the feel of her. She’s hell on wheels, this rig
is. Hell on wheels.”
    “I don’t know if I can climb up that high.”
    “No problem. Put your foot on the running board and hitch
yourself up.”
    Before Fiona could make a move, the truck gave out a great
shudder and died.
    “Are you sure this truck is going to get us to town and back?”
    “Of course,” Opal said. “Don’t you worry. Old Faithful has made
many a trip to town.”
    Fiona walked around the truck, trying to think of a way to beg
out of the trip. The truck sported huge wheels and looked more like it belonged
in a demolition derby than on a ranch. The paint job had long ago faded and now
looked silvery pink more than the red it must have been in its heyday. Fiona
came back to where Opal was standing by the driver’s door.
    “She may not be much to look at,” Opal said, “but she’s never let
me down.” She paused and smiled. “Well, hardly ever. I got all we need in the
tool box in the bed of the rig if we run into trouble, and we got our cell
phones. There’s plenty of room to store our purchases.”
    “Is it automatic?” Fiona asked.
    “Sure is,” Opal said. “She handles like a dream. You’ll see.
Climb in and start her up.”
    Fiona looked in the cab. The bench seat was covered with a furry
leopard skin print.
    Opal grinned. “Don’t you love the seats? I recovered them since
the original plastic was tearing open in places.”
    Fiona couldn’t recall ever using leopard skin pattern in
anything. She steeled herself and hopped up into the cab.
    “Atta girl,” said Opal. She slammed the door and went around to the
passenger side. With a yee -haw and a mighty pull on
the door bar, she catapulted onto the seat.
    Fiona turned the ignition key, and Old Faithful roared back to
life. The gear shift was on the steering column, and the black metal steering
wheel was pencil thin. She wasn’t going to ask what year the truck was, but she
was sure there were no computers in the engine of this vehicle.
    “Okay,” she said. “Here we go.”
    The