Trouble at the Red Pueblo Read Free Page B

his wake.
    “Who is it, Mattie?” The woman’s voice was querulous. As she stood in the driveway, she looked like she was ready to fold in on herself, and Spider veered to her side of the car.
    Her son reached the driver’s door and opened it. “Get in the car, Mom.”
    Spider took her arm and opened the passenger door, supporting her as she slid into the front seat. “My name is Spider Latham. I was supposed to be talking with Mr. Taylor right about now. Brick Tremain asked me to come over, see if I could lend a hand with the trouble.”
    The driver leaned over and frowned up at Spider as he stood by the open door. “Come to the museum at nine tomorrow morning. We can talk then about ‘the trouble’ as you call it. I’ll tell you one thing, Mr. Latham. When I find out who did this to my father, I’m going to kill him.” He started the car and shifted into reverse. “Now shut the door. We’re going to the hospital to see if my dad is going to survive the night.”

THE NEXT MORNING, Laurie stood on the balcony of their hotel room and called through to Spider, brushing his teeth in the bathroom, “Have you ever seen sky so blue?”
    “Not from where I am right now.” He rinsed, put the cap on the toothpaste, and strolled out to join her. “What makes this sky bluer than the one in Lincoln County?”
    “I think it’s the red cliffs. They just bring out the blue.”
    “Well, I’ll give you the red cliffs, but I’m not sure about the sky.” Spider tapped his watch. “We’re due at the museum in fifteen minutes.”
    Laurie leaned on the railing, looking at the towering sandstone mesas that ringed the town. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.”
    “You said that as we drove in last night. C’mon. We’ve got to go.” Shooing her through the sliding glass door, he closed it behind her and followed through the room and out the door, making sure it was locked.
    When they were in the pickup headed south on Highway 89A, as the country faded from red sandstone to brown, Laurie asked, “What is the son’s name?”
    “His mom called him Mattie. He looks more like a Matthew. Or a Matt.”
    “Does he work at the museum?”
    “Don’t know.”
    They rode in silence, dropping down in elevation as they crossed the state line. A few houses perched among the rocky cliffs to the left, and a tumbledown package liquor store stood next to the highway, ready to serve thirsty Utahans willing to travel the few miles into Arizona.
    Topping the next rise, they could see Fredonia below.
    “I wonder how Mr. Taylor is,” Laurie said.
    “We’ll know soon as we find the museum.”
    “It’s on this end of town. Just beyond all the refinery tanks.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I saw the sign when we came through yesterday afternoon. It’s called the Red Pueblo.”
    “Huh.” Spider scanned the small town’s outskirts, noting the missing metal on the huge steel tanks of the idle refinery and the vacant appearance of the surrounding buildings. “It doesn’t look like a prosperous place.”
    “But the museum looks good. See the sign ahead?” Laurie pointed.
    Spider followed the line of sight from her finger and saw three adjoining small square buildings painted red ochre. He looked at his watch. “We’re five minutes late, but it doesn’t look like it’s open yet.” He slowed and turned left into a drive that led to a padlocked gate painted the same hue as the buildings. He pulled up beside an older SUV with a dimpled roof that looked like a near kin to the one on his own pickup.
    An older couple sat inside. The lady in the passenger seat had her silver hair trimmed short with bangs that fell over her brow. She turned and smiled so broadly at Spider that her eyes crinkled shut. She motioned him to roll down his window and lowered her own. Spider noticed for the first time that she had oxygen tubing over her ears and going to her nose.
    She pointed to an area above him. “What happened to you?”
    It took