Loose Screw (Dusty Deals Mystery) Read Free Page A

my stomach swayed.
    “It isn’t that bad. Don’t be a sissy.”
    In other words, yes, expect worm talk .
    Trying to think of some polite way to avoid answering, I peeked at my cell. The numbers glowed three o’clock. If I left now, I’d still have time to take Kiska, my Alaskan malamute, for a walk up the mountain and fix dinner before a new, highly publicized reality TV show began. The ads promised a very intellectual look at two families forced to choose between large amounts of cash and daredevil acts—like pushing their mother into a giant vat of chocolate pudding (a secret fantasy of my own).
    Luckily, my ploy worked. Rhonda got sidetracked into a conversation with a woman who frequented her shop, and I was able to beat a fast track to the door without having to commit to a lunch fraught with worm talk.
    Outside, the afternoon sun hit me with a blinding glare, and I almost smacked into the man in buckskin for the second time that day.
    He stood with his back to the Civic Center talking on a cell phone in that too loud voice people always use. Still, thanks to a wind that had picked up since my arrival this morning, I could only catch fragments of what he said. “Tomorrow, after…funds…verified…You better…first thing…morning.”
    Exhausted, I didn’t even have the energy to hang close and pick up more tidbits of his conversation for Rhonda. Instead, I clutched the Roseville in my arms and headed home to my dog and a night of reality T.V.
    I might not have won the big prize today, but my life really could not have been better.

 
     
    Chapter 2
    Twenty minutes later, I pulled into my garage. I left my purchases in my rig to take into the shop the next day and hauled myself up the hill to my house.
    I lived about eight miles out of Helena in an old mining community. Tulips bloomed between the original settler’s cabin and my house, and the acrid smell of smoke from a neighbor’s stove spiced the air. Water rushing through the creek across the road drowned out most other sound.
    Most, but not all. There was a distinct ruckus coming from my home.
    Kiska stood with both paws pressed up against the glass of my front door, howling and complaining about the lousy treatment/lack of food he had endured in my absence. Slipping my key into the lock, I apologized to him profusely. Once inside, I attempted to buy my way back into his good graces with a cookie and a promise of a walk. The accusing expression in his Pepsi-colored eyes told me I wasn’t getting off that easily.
    I tossed him another cookie, and while he did his imitation of a land shark in pursuit of a milk bone, I gathered up his harness and lead. We traveled up the road to the old town. In the early 1900’s, this had been a booming mining community. Now, I was one of 21 year-round residents. The remainders included an eclectic mix of would-be miners, retired couples, young families, and a certifiable crazy or two.
    We walked until we reached the edge of the original settlement. Here the road became rougher and climbed more steeply up the mountain. It continued on, winding past waterfalls and beaver dams, until it eventually came to a stop. At the end sat a reservoir. It was a beautiful sight, but tonight Kiska and I made do with a short stroll.  We had, after all, other plans.
    Back at the house, Kiska settled in for a snooze and I flipped on the TV. I watched mesmerized as a family slowly picked each other off in a food fight for cash. When the mayonnaise-smeared victor pushed the final competitor, his mother, into the vat of chocolate pudding, I stood up and cheered.
    I never tired of seeing what people would do for money.
    o0o
    The next morning, I woke eager to get to my shop and make a little money of my own. After wolfing down our breakfasts, something that came almost as naturally to me as it did Kiska, I snagged a Diet Pepsi and poured it, plus a generous dollop of milk into a thermal mug. My caffeine requirement for the day provided for, I