Chapter 9
Luke
I’ve acquired an intriguing and beautiful sidekick. Either she’s the best spy in the West or she’s truly never heard of alpine-parsley. I choose to believe the latter. Hopefully her pretty face hasn’t clouded my razor-sharp mission acumen, because I could use some help identifying suspects and doing surveillance.
“Do we know who our suspects are?” Kaylee says as she grins happily at me. My heart flips and I scold myself for letting her worm her way into my life as far as she has. I can keep this professional, right? The minute I return to California, the distance would break any personal relationship apart.
As Mom would say, I’m brewing up trouble by not keeping Kaylee at arm’s length. She and her dog are already sneaking their way into my heart. I shove aside the warning bells .
“Do you think the group in the VW van might be the parsley gang?” Kaylee murmurs as she nods at a campsite on the other side of hers. A run-down classic VW bus is parked beside a tent resembling mine. Two kids chase a Golden Retriever, their laughter floating through the air. The parents look bored as they watch from the picnic table, sipping what I assume is coffee.
“They’ve got kids and a dog,” I point out.
“An excellent cover. No one will suspect them.”
“When do they go harvest the plants?” I ask. “Wait until you see how difficult the climb is to get there. The hike certainly isn’t for the average Joe and I highly doubt kids would make it.”
Her eyes narrow. “The guy looks fit. He sneaks off at dawn while the woman feeds the kids Cheerios. No one will suspect a thing.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them,” I say. Mostly to appease her, not because I suspect them .
“We should keep notes on our phones,” she says as she whips hers out of her back pocket. “What shall we call the suspects?”
“Family with kids and dog?” I suggest.
“Bo-ring,” she says. “We need an alias for them.”
“Alias? This isn’t a spy movie,” I joke.
She rolls her eyes, obviously not intending to listen to my input. “How about the VW Bus Gang?”
“That’s so much better,” I say between chuckles.
“Ssh! They’ll hear you.” She scribbles on her phone with a stylus for several seconds, then says, “What about the old man and the basset hound?”
“What about him?”
“Could he be suspect number two?”
This time a skeptical snort escapes. “He’s ancient! There’s no way he can hike up to the plants.”
She points the stylus at me. “Exactly. He wants you to overlook him. I’ll add him to the list. ”
Amused at how quickly my new sidekick is getting into her role, I sit back, letting her create the list. She looks like she’s having fun.
“Did you notice the new group that just arrived over there?” she asks, jutting her chin towards a campsite two down from mine. When I swivel to look closer at them, Kaylee shout-whispers, “Don’t stare! They might get suspicious.”
“I’ll pretend I’m looking at that bird,” I say.
“Which bird?” she asks, her eyes narrowing as she looks in the direction I gestured. There’s no bird, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“It just flew away,” I say with a shrug. Since I’m already looking their way, I study the couple setting up camp. They’re driving a high-end Land Rover. Their tent looks like the very latest and greatest model you can buy. They’re outfitted in designer hiking gear and they both look very fit, certainly able to hike up to the alpine-parsley patch. “Um, you might be on to something with them,” I say .
Nodding, she focuses intently on the tiny screen, adding more notes to her phone. “Richie Rich campers added. Everyone is under suspicion until proven otherwise.”
For the next ten minutes Kaylee provides a litany of observations about everyone at the campground as she adds them to the suspects list, assigning aliases as she goes.
Woman wearing yellow galoshes and cargo pants . “Those pants are so out of style, but wouldn’t all those pockets be handy for collecting plants?”
“Can’t argue with that, although she sure stands out wearing those yellow galoshes.”
Kaylee points the stylist at me. “Exactly.”
Huh? What kind of logic is that?
Couple lugging three coolers from vehicle . “Who needs that many coolers? Maybe they’re putting the plants on ice?”
“Maybe they like to drink beer.”
My partner rolls her eyes .
Man with the fishing rod. “I saw no tackle box or net!” Kaylee huffs. “It’s obvious he’s putting on an excellent ruse, and I bet he doesn’t even know how to fish.”
Laughing, I say, “I brought a fishing rod and haven’t used it yet, put me on the suspect list.”
“Nope,” she says as she tucks the stylus back into the phone.
Ping!
“There. I just shared the file with you so you can add your own observations,” she says.
The General is going to love this woman!
“How did you make all these observations in the short time you’ve been here?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Elizabeth Taylor and I have made two loops around the campground, and I bumped into Yellow Galoshes in the shower house. I mean, who wears boots like that while showering?” she says behind her hand as if the highly suspicious galoshes wearer is listening .
“Maybe that person has an aversion to getting her feet wet,” I suggest.
“How does she ever get her feet clean? It’s very disturbing behavior.”
I howl with laughter, and she tosses me a glare which quickly stems my mirth.
“When I saw her later wearing the cargo pants, I got a bad vibe.”
Kaylee is one of a kind. She’s kept me laughing the entire lunch.
“So you noticed all those things on a casual walk?”
“Yep. My favorite pastime is observing people.”
“When did you have time for all this observation? We’ve only been here one night!”
“When you were busy doing all your mountain manly things,” she says in a prim and proper tone.
The only time I was not at my campsite was when I took the hike up to the alpine-parsley patch. “Mountain manly things? ”
She holds up her hand and ticks things off on her fingers. “You found more wood for the fire... you chopped said wood... you did some kind of stretching exercises... you hung your T-shirt on a limb to dry—”
Chuckling, I hold up my hand to stem the flow. “Okay, okay.” Not sure all those things qualify as mountain manly things, but my heart flips knowing she’s been watching me.
Laughing, she adds, “The best thing was when you fought off that ferocious spider on the picnic table. The dance you did was quite entertaining.”
“You saw all that?” I squeak. Not my finest mountain man moment. I chased the insect around with a newspaper, swatting at it like a deranged person. “I don’t like spiders.”
“Don’t worry, Indiana Jones, your secret is safe with me. I’ll be happy to help with any spider relocation in the future,” she offers.
At her mention of Indy, I frown. Come to think of it, I don’t like snakes either, but I’ll keep my lips sealed about that .
“Just so you know, the stretching was my pre-hike routine. I didn’t want to get a charley horse on the climb.”
“Very wise. Speaking of hike, when are you going to take me to the alpine-parsley patch?”
“You’ll want to wear long pants and hiking boots, and you’ll need a windbreaker when we get to the upper altitudes,” I say since she’s currently wearing shorts and a T-shirt.
Hopping up from the bench, she says, “I’ll be right back.” She marches off, and the little dog runs to keep up with her long strides.
Who is this woman? Not scared of spiders... Observant as a hawk... Likes hot dogs.
Frankly, I’ve never met a woman like her. I’m either going to regret or rejoice in making her my partner. But at a minimum, she’s going to keep things interesting.