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  Shadow Canyon

  A Coyote Wells Mystery

  Published by Castletown Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 Vickie McKeehan

  All rights reserved.

  Shadow Canyon

  A Coyote Wells Mystery

  Copyright © 2018 Vickie McKeehan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, locales, some landmarks, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, businesses or companies, is entirely coincidental.

  Castletown Publishing

  ISBN-10: 1985861941

  ISBN-13: 978-1985861947

  Published by

  Castletown Publishing

  Printed in the USA

  Titles Available at Amazon

  Cover art by Vanessa Mendozzi

  You can visit the author at:

  www.vickiemckeehan.com

  www.facebook.com/VickieMcKeehan

  http://vickiemckeehan.wordpress.com/

  www.twitter.com/VickieMcKeehan

  “May the stars carry your darkness away.

  May the flowers fill your heart with beauty.

  May hope forever wipe away your tears.

  And above all, may silence make you strong.”

  CHIEF DAN GEORGE

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  Cast of Characters

  Shadow Canyon

  by

  VICKIE McKEEHAN

  Castletown Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 Vickie McKeehan

  1

  During the Sun Bringer Festival, Coyote Wells burst at the seams with tourists. Crowds jammed the streets, often overwhelming the five-man police force. Visitors came from as far away as Colorado, Montana, and Idaho to compete in the local marathon or to participate in the steeplechase held by the Longhorn family every year.

  The park around Lighthouse Landing turned into a midway with carnival rides and games set up for the kids.

  Out-of-towners brought their RVs and their money. They posed along Water Street for pictures with the natives dressed in beaded regalia, wearing their tall headdresses adorned with bright feathers and decorated buckskin. The local tribes didn’t disappoint. Yuki performed alongside Penutian and Hokan as families strolled through the shops buying trinkets and souvenirs to take back home. They browsed through the line of vendors selling Indian jewelry, original handwoven baskets and blankets, and pottery made by artisans from the reservation.

  Some came for the beach and all it offered. Sunbathers in their barely-there bikinis sported skimpy thongs and slathered themselves with enough suntan oil to keep their skins slick and brown. Others drank beer and played beach volleyball, while still more never left their thin piece of towel as they soaked up the rays.

  Since the celebration always coincided with the summer solstice, it brought out its share of kooky New Age types looking for a Stonehenge vibe. If they were seeking knowledge from a Merlin, they’d have to settle for a shaman or getting advice from a slew of out-of-town fortune tellers who’d paid their fee to set up shop in a tent with a crystal ball.

  Everywhere she went, Gemma Channing cringed at how the Sun Bringer Festival had changed from what she remembered as a kid. She’d seen her share of floats and parades and innocent enough enterprises through the years. But this time, the three-day event seemed to bring out a cheesy element. The fortune tellers were just a hint of what had gone wrong with the celebration originally meant to honor the town’s founding father, Sun Raven Coyote, and those who’d followed him off the reservation to start a new life.

  Once upon a time, the powwow had started out as a family favorite. Gemma wasn’t sure she could say that about it now. But she was too busy at the moment to do anything about it.

  Every day the Coyote Chocolate Company had seen long lines out the door. Demand was so great, she had trouble keeping up with inventory. She glanced over at her only employee, Lianne Whittaker, who’d worked her butt off for three straight days waiting on people, cleaning up, hauling trash out to the dumpster, all chores that allowed Gemma to focus on making chocolate. Hiring Lianne had been the smartest move she’d made to date. Without her help, Gemma would’ve been swamped and overwhelmed.

  She hadn’t seen Lando since early that morning when they’d started their day by grabbing a quick muffin and a cup of coffee. But with so many people in town, they were both stressed and stretched way too thin---Lando keeping the hordes in line, keeping the peace, even making a few arrests, and Gemma attempting to satisfy everyone’s sweet tooth.

  As if reading her mind, Lianne spoke up. “You’ll never believe what I saw when I took my break this afternoon, walking down to Lighthouse Landing for some fresh air. Lando broke up a fight over at Babe’s, pulled both men out of the joint and cuffed them right there on the sidewalk.”

  Gemma blew at a stray lock of toffee-colored hair that had fallen out of its band and into her amber eyes. Swiping it back with her forearm, she continued to wipe down the stainless-steel counter to a shine. “It happens even at restaurants where long wait times can make people crazy and cause tempers to reach a boiling point. Lando says fights break out all the time these days during the lunch and dinner rush during the festival. I remember a much calmer crowd when I was younger. Lando says it’s not like that anymore.”

  “Over food?”

  “Over anything. Even though business has been great, I’ll be glad when tonight gets here and people start heading back to wherever they came from.” Gemma made a face. “That sounded sort of rude. But I can’t help it if I want things back the way they were. And I want Lando to have a little peace and quiet for longer than five minutes.”
>
  “Not rude,” Lianne clarified. “It’s perfectly reasonable to want things…calmer around here. Maybe not so many people crammed into the heart of town. Although have you noticed the uptick in our online orders? Wow.”

  “You bet I have. A welcome sight. It’s not unusual now for us to get twenty orders in one day, and even more page visits that might turn into customers in the future. I keep track of the web traffic. And the orders are coming in from all over. I packed up one shipment this morning going to Boston. I’m not even sure how they found the website, but I’m glad they did.”

  “The reviews are coming in kinda slow, though,” Lianne pointed out.

  “Yeah, I know. So far, we only have eight, all five stars. But overall customers seem not to bother unless they’re complaining about something.”

  “Luckily we haven’t had anybody complaining, except that one.”

  Gemma lifted a shoulder. “Not a verified purchase. Did you notice that? I suspect it’s someone local who just wants to run down the product and the store. After all, we ship same day and the chocolate is first-rate. What’s to complain about?”

  “I have some idea on that. Not to point fingers or anything, but do you remember telling me to steer clear of Mallory Rawlins?”

  Gemma frowned. “Sure. That woman’s as crazy as a bag of hungry rats and doesn’t care who she zeroes in on. Why? You didn’t mess up and go near her, did you?”

  Lianne looked remorseful. “Not on purpose. I bumped into her at the post office when I went in to buy stamps. She cornered me after I left the window. She really doesn’t like you, not one bit. She spent twenty minutes telling me what a mistake I was making working for you. I tried to make excuses and bolt, but she followed me to my car. Everything that came out of her mouth is the reason I think Mallory is the one who left that one-star negative review.”

  Gemma rolled her eyes in disgust. “Probably. She’s petty enough to do stuff like that just to make sure the shop doesn’t succeed.”

  “She all but admitted it, daring you to do something about it.”

  “That woman is such a bitch. It’s a wonder Rance McIntire didn’t make her one of his victims.”

  “Yuck. The idea that Mallory slept with a serial killer is so…off-putting. That’s something you don’t do every day.”

  Gemma chuckled. “More like repulsive. Even for Mallory that’s a new low.” She glanced up at the clock and then out the plate-glass window looking at the foot traffic on Water Street. “Thirty more minutes and we close the door. Th,e street vendors are already packing up. I’m ready to get off my feet. I know you are, too. I must be a glutton for punishment or maybe it’s greed. This is the only time of the year Gram broke her own rules and opened up on the weekends. I followed her lead and it really paid off. I can see why she picked this weekend to keep the doors open. I might be able to make a profit for the first time since taking over.”

  From behind the counter, Lianne grinned. “Look at you. You aren’t the failure Mallory said you’d be.”

  Gemma hooted with laughter. “She’d love nothing better than if I failed. I don’t want to talk about Mallory anymore, though. I’m getting jazzed about the fireworks over the water tonight. Do me a favor, though. Remind me tomorrow morning to make Duff Northcutt a batch of chocolate covered cherries. He always comes in on Mondays. I’d hate to disappoint him.”

  “Why don’t you just write it on the calendar?”

  “Good idea.” Gemma went over to the chalkboard where she’d written each kind of candy scheduled for the upcoming week and added Duff’s favorite. “There. Now there’s no excuse if I forget. Do you and Luke have plans for tonight?”

  “He’s been running himself ragged at the clinic. That’s why we’re staying in, watching the fireworks, ordering Chinese takeout from the Happy Wok, and binge-watching Stranger Things. How about you and Lando?”

  “I’m stopping by the house and grabbing Rufus, then heading over to Lando’s place at the beach---perfect spot to take in the show. I’m hoping he’ll stop at the Grill when he’s ready to go home and pick us up something to eat. I’d cook but I don’t want to see a kitchen again until tomorrow morning when I come back here. I don’t even want to smell buttercream or chocolate for at least twenty-four hours.”

  “Same with me.”

  Their last two customers of the day turned out to be two teenage girls from Crescent City who ordered an entire box of dark chocolate bonbons filled with strawberry crème filling. Gemma watched them giggle out the door, talking about boys and nibbling on a swirl as they headed for the beach. “Leia and I used to act like that when we were that age. Who was your bestie?”

  “Collette. As sisters we were always so close we did everything together. We hardly ever fought.”

  “How is it living in her house?”

  “Strange. But it’s like she’s there, you know. It’s helped to have friends like you and Leia to get me through her death. And meeting Luke has been a godsend. He’s so wonderful to me. Don’t tell Lando but I think his brother might be the one.”

  “Luke’s a sweetheart.”

  “And Lando?”

  “Lando is the love of my life, but he’s harder to fit into that sweetheart mold. The cop side of him is just too hard-edged.”

  “But you love him anyway.”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s my best friend.”

  The women watched the clock tick down and at a few minutes before five, Gemma turned the lock and flipped the CLOSED sign around. “That’s it. We’re out of here,” she announced. “See you tomorrow. Enjoy your evening. And stay off your feet.”

  Lianne grabbed her purse and headed for the back door. “You too.”

  Gemma followed Lianne out into the alleyway. While Lianne jumped in her little Volkswagen bug and took off, Gemma rounded the corner on foot, heading for home.

  She could tell the tourists had loaded up their cars, done with their three-day adventure, by the way the street parking had opened up. Vehicles had cleared out, no longer lined up bumper to bumper on the side streets and parked haphazardly next to the curb. They’d left behind a string of trash and debris, bottles and cans, and all types of litter lining the pavement.

  Clean-up on Monday would no doubt be a bitch, Gemma decided as she approached Peralta Circle.

  The property she’d inherited had started out as the town’s administrative offices. But at some point in the 1950s the building had fallen so far into disrepair that the town moved its government offices two blocks over to Water Street for safety reasons, where they remained today. The structure had survived several earthquakes that left a foundation dotted with cracks that needed fixing.

  By the time her grandparents snapped it up for a song, it had been rezoned and was badly in need of remodeling. Over a span of ten years, Marissa and Jean-Luc had put a ton of work into the project, adding on a series of rooms bit by bit to the main building to make it large enough for the family they hoped to have.

  The combination of carpentry from a series of different contractors and from the work Jean-Luc had done himself made for an interesting blend of Pueblo and Spanish Colonial architecture not seen in any other part of town. The structure’s terra cotta roof and rounded archways was often the reason people mistook the building for an old mission rather than the place where Gemma now lived. Tourists often pulled up to the driveway expecting a tour of sorts only to find a sign that read: Private residence. No trespassing.

  Gemma understood the draw and the curiosity. Her “hacienda” included grounds that might be seen in a fanciful European setting, like the courtyard, and the fountain out front, with at least a half-acre of gardens on the side and around back.

  She’d seen to it herself to improve her horticultural skills, determined to turn her brown thumb into a growing machine that could get lavender to thrive within the same general ground space as rosemary, and lilies and monkeyflower to flourish in the same raised bed.

  Instead of simply hiring a gardener, she’d re
ad every book in her grandmother’s personal library on soil and plant care, determining when to water and when to let the soil dry out.

  Not only that, but she was still reading through all the journals her grandmother had left her hidden in the cairn, the one built in memory of her grandfather. The journals were almost a how-to guide on getting through life in Coyote Wells, a fascinating look back at the 70s and 80s from Marissa’s point of view and unusual way of thinking.

  Gemma let herself in the front door only to have Rufus, her chocolate lab, slide on the tile floors scampering to greet her.

  She brushed a hand over the dog’s muzzle and brought him in for a hug. “You’re full of energy and ready to get outside, I bet. We’re having us a sleepover tonight at Lando’s place. How does that sound? Feed you first and take a few treats with us. And don’t worry, I’ll even pack Mr. Sock Monkey. Wouldn’t want you to have to sleep without him.”

  The dog woofed in delight.

  “Gotta pack a bag even for an overnighter,” Gemma mumbled to herself as she let the dog out the back door. She glanced briefly at the doggie door, an expense she now regretted, and looked fondly at the hound who refused to use it. “Waste of money installing that thing, huh? Wish you could’ve clued me in before I wrote the check.”

  Again, the dog yipped on his way to pure enjoyment at smelling fresh air. He sniffed at every rock and leaf as if he’d never seen them before today. After initially going from one bush to another, he raced out into the garden and bounded toward the nearest patch of grass, eager to roll on the lawn.

  “I wish that’s all it took to make me happy,” Gemma grunted as she headed into the bedroom to throw a change of clothes---and the Victoria’s Secret teddy she’d bought just for this occasion---into a little travel bag.

  Snatching up her toothbrush, she thought about taking the car and driving to Lando’s beach house, but decided it was too much trouble to navigate what was left of the festival traffic. “Better to walk and give Rufus plenty of exercise so the jaunt will run some energy out of him.”