The Truck Comes on Thursday Read online

  Uncle Herm opened his sack and fished out a sandwich. Peeling back a slice of bread, he smelled it. "How come I don't ever get a hot lunch?"

  Mae patted him on the cheek. "You come home for lunch, sweet peach, and I'll fry your baloney." She hugged Loni again. "Have you seen anyone sniff their food before? He's been doing that ever since he saw that rerun of M*A*S*H where Hawkeye was always sniffing his food." Mae's acerbic comments always put Loni on the floor laughing.

  "Oh, bull crap," Uncle Herm retorted. "That's so not true. I started sniffing my food when your damn cat came up to a piece of cheese I dropped on the ground and covered it up."

  She walked back to Herm and patted his belly. "It's all right, dear. I'll make you a hot supper tonight."

  "How come?" he shot back. "We going out to eat?"

  Shaking her head, Mae hugged Loni again and then Daniel. Mae was a toucher. "Keep your promise now," she told Loni as she got back into her pickup. "I'll call you about coming for breakfast."

  "I'll be there."

  Smiling, Loni dropped the notebook and cell phone into the evidence box, wondering why Larry was so interested in them, and headed back to her SUV.

  Searching Rosie's luggage, she hoped to find something, a souvenir, paperwork, or even new clothes, to indicate where they had been. Nothing. Even the labels were American. She stuffed everything back before she opened Rene's luggage. Nothing there either. She opened Rosie's purse. Again, nothing zinged. She was stuffing everything back when the phone rang.

  "What you doing, girly?" Chief's voice barked in her ear.

  "Questioning people and collecting evidence," Loni carefully responded.

  "Well, get back to traffic watch. You're not hired to be an investigator."

  "I thought since I was off duty and here..."

  "Not your job to think, girly. Get on back here and sign out. Tully will be there soon. Git, now!"

  "What about the crime scene?"

  "Didn't you hear me? Not your job!" He hung up.

  Loni wondered how far she could throw the goddamn phone. "Hirciamus!" she snarled.

  "What did you say?" Daniel was perplexed.

  "Sorry. My grandma hates it when I swear so I'm trying to learn how to swear genteelly."

  Uncle Herm laughed. "Well I'm genteel, and I have no idea what it means."

  Loni grinned. "I said he was a stinking armpit." She backed up as Tully skidded into the hangar, lights flashing and his SUV fishtailing to a stop. His closed windows must mean his refrigeration worked fine, unlike hers. Climbing out, Tully slowly strutted over on skinny bowed legs, slew footed and so Pot bellied that his gun belt disappeared into his gut. His scraggly beard was a failed try, and dried sweat ringed his armpits. Loni wondered how long it had been since he pressed his uniform. Or, for that matter, even washed it. "Well, shit!" Loni spit out, forgetting her promise.

  "Be cool, girl," Herm warned her as Tully approached. "You can't fix stupid."

  "Is that ol' bastard really dead?" Tully's belly stuck out like a tank protecting him as he stalked up to Loni and nodded toward the cemetery at the end of the runway. His hat was so big that every time he turned his head, it forgot to turn with him. Maybe a brown color at one time, it was colorless, shapeless, and tired. "Well," he drawled, staring out toward the plane that was barely visible beyond the split tree trunk. "Good thing he don't need to fly anymore."

  "You do like to tell it like it is, huh, Tully," Uncle Herm said. "What was that genteel word you used earlier?" he asked Loni as he walked away. "Hermaphrodite?"

  Staring at Uncle Herm's back, Tully took out his cell phone and called Roland's Wrecking.

  Mouth hanging, Loni gaped at Tully. "You can't do that," Loni objected. "Rene's still in there. It's a crime scene, for god's sake!" She shook her head, exasperated. "Besides, you need a hoist to lift the plane off the tombstones."

  Glaring at Loni, Tully sullenly redialed the phone and called the mortuary for a body pickup. Loni couldn't even find the words to tell him she had already called. Flipping the phone shut, Tully bared his brown teeth, which were badly stained from the chewing tobacco he spit at her feet. She stepped back, wondering if he even owned a toothbrush. "It's not a crime scene now." Tully pulled his hat off and wiped at the sweat running down his face. "Well, I suppose if he was bound for hell, at least he found the right day for it."

  Loni turned away. Back off, she told herself. It's only your second month home. Don't shoot him yet. She clenched her teeth and turned toward the door of the hangar. Over her shoulder she said, "There's the luggage and evidence box." She waved her hand. "Coco, come."

  Walking away, Loni followed the dog around behind the hangar. The heat of her anger matched the waves from the tarmac slamming into her face like an open oven as she followed the dog. She needed the walk before she got in her SUV and drove herself into a ditch.

  Watching Coco sniff the hot ground, she couldn't stop wondering why Rene was landing at this airport so early in the morning. Who was he here to see? Maybe Larry? Scrutinizing the houses along the runway, she checked out which ones had plane garages and which had open plane ports. All single stories, they had red tile roofs and white stucco walls. Maybe the roofs were red to alert pilots when they were landing. She felt a growing sense of appreciation for what her uncle had accomplished.

  More than ready to get out of the oppressive heat before she got heat sick, she called Coco and hurried back into the hangar. The dancing poodle followed her on the burning asphalt. Loni grabbed Coco's water thermos from her SUV and poured water into her bowl. Laughing, Loni watched Coco drink. She acted like a turkey, licking a bit and filling her mouth before she raised her muzzle to swallow, slopping water everywhere. When she was finished drinking, Loni opened the door of her SUV and Coco hopped in.

  * * *

  Circling the graveyard to see what headway had been made in moving the plane, she stopped to watch the boom on the crane lift the fuselage onto a flatbed. She was glad Rene had already been moved. A few curious people had stayed, huddling under the salt cedars and willing to put up with the heat. Another wasted morning.

  Loni reminded the driver to drop the plane off at the Wagner hangar before she turned back to Old Highway 85 and the police station, hot wind from the open windows burning her face. Using the refrigeration unit overheated the SUV. When she complained to Chief, he told her she didn't need it for night patrol anyway. Besides, he told her, she used less gas that way. Pissed off at Chief, Loni wondered if she could get Daniel to help her fix it.

  More than ready for her day to end, she parked the SUV in the fenced police parking lot beside her truck, and reluctantly rolled up all her windows. She had a 12 gauge Remington shotgun and Colt M4 rifle mounted on a rack behind the front seat to keep secure. Stepping out, she ordered Coco to follow her. The sun was riding high as Loni locked the SUV and opened her truck door for Coco.

  * * *

  Stopping at the general store, Loni ordered a new glass top stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher for her grandma. Jessie, the salesman, helped her. She remembered him from school, when kids called both of them "breeds." It made them connect. "Stove will be in—"

  "I know," Loni interrupted him, grinning. "The truck comes on Thursday." Loni sketched a square with her finger in the air. "Still the same small town."

  "Listen," Jessie said. "The population doubled while you were gone."

  "Really? Someone had twins?"

  "Yeah." He grinned. "I did."

  "Good for you. Boys or girls?"

  "One of each."

  "That's one way to settle the name debate." She went out the door.

  Next she stopped at the plumber, the electrician, Spud, the glass man, and finally Raymond, the sheet metal guy. She ordered a swamp cooler and refrigeration unit and a hot water heater from him. Her grandma was going to kill her, but she didn't care. It felt good to do something for her.

  * * *

  The hot sun was high overhead as Loni headed into the hangar
and saw the plane huddled in the back of the hangar like a woebegone dog. Pissed at Chief, she ignored it as she dragged herself up the stairs and opened the door to her loft apartment. The cathedral ceiling and window skylights made it a welcome sight. She had polished the wood floor to a high shine during her first few days home when she missed Maria so much she couldn't sleep, aching for her touch. The throw rugs from her aunt Mae scattered splashes of color around the square, open space. Backed up to one side of the stairwell wall were a small apartment stove, refrigerator, and sink, which doubled as a bathroom sink. On the other side of the stairs was a closet sized space with a toilet and corner shower.

  Her double bed in the center of the loft was covered with an antique quilt that barely covered the mattress sides. Each bed post sat in a tall quart jar, a reminder of the scorpions crawling around. At least they couldn't climb glass.

  Two wooden chairs were pulled up to a small square table in front of a sloping window that revealed the desert with Montezuma Mountain on the distant skyline. Under a slanted wall, Loni had shoved a large desk, deep enough to hold her laptop computer.

  Pouring fresh water for Coco, she shook the bits of dried food in her self feeder and checked the level as she struggled to shut out the small voice of doom. She tried to not think about the plane. Tomorrow. She'd worry about it tomorrow.

  Too tired to go to the ranch and visit her grandparents, Loni called them, feeling the usual guilt as she hung up.

  She struggled to pull off tan, roughout boots and peel sweat soaked socks off her feet. Looping her slacks over the back of a chair for fast access in case of a call, she stripped off the rest of her clothes as she entered the bathroom. She stayed under the cold shower until she wrinkled and shivered. Wrapping a towel around her long, wet hair, she climbed into bed buck naked and wet. A few battle scars puckered on her buff body in white lines against her olive skin, and her athletic muscles rippled across her back as she opened her laptop.

  FROM: Loni Wagner

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: July 1

  SUBJECT: Still not looking.

  It's been a few days since I've emailed. Things have been hectic. Wanted you to know that I appreciate your telling me to move on from Maria, but right now I can't do it, so I'm sticking to what I decided to do when I came home.

  I'm trying to help my grandmother as much as I can. I am so happy she's getting better, which helps make it a good thing I came back home. I am also grateful my granddad is happy I'm back. Bahb hasn't changed one day while I was gone.

  Still, I have a hard time accepting I'm really back home. You asked about how big Caliente is. An old timer will tell you that by the time you read the "Welcome to Caliente" sign, you're already out the other side. It's not quite that bad, but ranching and mining are pretty much gone. It's pretty hard to make a living. So many empty places and worried faces on the old folks as they watch their children drift way.

  Last time I told you I was through with my training crap and have become a duly noted Arizona Highway Patrol Officer. I'm on my own now, patrolling by myself. I got assigned the graveyard shift, following drunk drivers around after the bars close, ticketing speeders, and driving the desert for hours at night. It is deadening. I admit sometimes I miss the rush the LA city streets gave me. I usually get to the station in time for the changing of the guard before I go home, which feels backwards, like so much else. I know. I'm whining. It will get better. Shiichoo tells me so. But I still feel so lost. I know you tell me it's time to move on, but I can't.

  Tell the girls I miss them.

  Loni

  Hitting "Send," she closed the lid and slid down in the bed, too hot and tired to pull up the covers. Her restless brain thought about Maria's sister, Sandi, and her daughters, how much she missed seeing them. Sandi was Maria's favorite sister, and they both babysat the kids. Her thoughts drifted to Maria. Always Maria. She missed Maria's smell, like warm, sweet milk fresh in the bucket. And her feel, the soft velvet of a horse's nose. She especially missed the closeness in bed when she would wake up so intertwined with Maria that she couldn't tell where one of them began and the other left off. She missed the whispers of love in the dark of the night.

  * * *

  Coco bounced against the edge of the bed, barking in Loni's ear, forcing her out of a deep sleep. "What the —!" Loni pushed the dog away. "Stop it!" Coco rushed to the door and back again. As she shushed the dog, she heard a repeated ringing vibration from below. She grabbed her gun from under the pillow as she swung out of bed. Ordering Coco to stay, she quietly opened her door and crept down the stairs. She flipped on the light switch, flooding the hangar with light. As she saw a human silhouette, a shot rang out.

  Loni felt a brush of air beside her ear and slammed to the floor, switching the lights off as she dropped. She heard someone running and the side door open, followed by the roar of a motorcycle starting up and speeding away. Naked, she jumped up and ran outside, alternating between pissed and scared. There were too many houses around and too many people in them to shoot. A single taillight faded in the distance. Turning around, she ran back upstairs before someone came looking.

  CHAPTER 2

  July 2, 12:35 a.m.

  A FULL MOON FLOATING high in the summer sky followed Loni to work. She stopped on the side of the road, turned off her lights, and absorbed the silver glitter on the greasewood leaves and cactus needles across the desert floor. Refusing to let the shooting earlier disturb her, she waited for quiet peace to settle her. Reluctantly, she made herself drive on, arriving at the police station as Clive was coming off his shift.

  He followed her up to the booking counter where Bobby stood. Loni didn't know what Bobby's title was. He had at least five jobs she knew about: dispatcher, 911 operator, booker, interrogator, office manager. How many more were there? Skinny and tall, he towered over her and peered down at her with pale blue eyes, cautiously watching her sign in. "You patrol east tonight," he spoke softly to Loni as he nodded to Clive over her shoulder. "Just in case that shooter knows your route."

  "Wow, you really know how to cheer a girl up." Loni frowned as she took the map from Bobby.

  She stepped back to let Clive sign out. She liked his face, open and cheerful. His uniform hung snug and straight on him the way it was supposed to, his shoes were shiny, and his face was clean shaven. And it was the end of his shift. It helped when a patrol officer looked like one. Feeling messy, she glanced down at her pants and reminded herself to give them to her grandma to get them washed and pressed.

  Clive's good natured joking raised Loni's spirits.

  "How come you’re gonna change my route?" Clive asked. "Didn't want me stoppin' by your house anymore? Wife told you about us and wants to kick you out?"

  "You wish," Bobby bounced back.

  "You got that right." Clive sighed. "Tell her it's your fault I can't get there anymore." He turned to Loni, who was scanning her new patrol map. "Your new route has some good speed traps though." He pulled his map out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the counter. It was falling apart at the creases. "Give me your map and I'll mark it."

  "Hey, that's great." Loni stepped beside him, leaning over the counter to watch. "I never pick up enough speeders to make Chief happy."

  "And you never will." Clive lowered his voice, mimicking Chief, "Got to pay your own way here, boy."

  Loni watched Clive mark her map. "This one is best." He circled The Oasis Bar. "It's the only bar that's not in the town proper. Get down wind about a half mile. You can pick 'em up either hurrying to the bar or hurrying away." He handed her the map. "Good for five or so of what Chief would like. Best at closing." Clive sighed. "Stopped someone there today who had the gall to ask me if the ticket I gave him met my quota. Told him no, I didn't have a quota, I can write as many tickets as I want and would he like another?"

  * * *

  Clive had been wrong. It was three in the morning, and Loni was waiting a half mile up the road from The Oasis. She hadn
't picked up anybody, drunk or speeding. She knew bars could give drinkers until 2:30 a.m. to finish before they locked the door, but she had waited long enough.

  As Loni drove by the bar, its large garish sign went dark, leaving the adobe walls bathed in moonlight. Two cars were parked under the salt cedars. She drove on, aimlessly turning wherever the whim led her. Windows down, she enjoyed the dry wind blowing around her head. She laughed at Coco, whose fuzzy ears were flying as she stuck her nose out her window and sniffed the air.

  Falling behind a pickup, Loni watched the driver throw a can to the side of the road while four boys riding in the back were beating on the rear window and yelling. Her lights flashing, she followed the pickup for a mile before it slowed to a stop. She recognized the teenage driver and figured his rich daddy could pay big bucks. Loni handed him the ticket. "You go get your girl home now. And slow. I'm following you."