CHAPTER 4
Our high-speed chase ended with us sitting in front of Cuppers, the Jag parked between a dented Toyota with plastic duct-taped over a missing window and a Volkswagen bug even older than our van. Lots of tourists visited Prescott, and some people from Phoenix had second homes up there, but I felt conspicuous in the fancy car anyway. Of course, that could have to do with the way we had roared around the corner and into the parking space, causing the collective eyebrow raising of numerous people sitting at outdoor tables, sipping their lattes.
The motorcycles were parked farther up the street in front of the Hotel Vendome. We’d arrived in time to watch the owners walk inside—rather Temi had watched them walk inside while Simon and I kept our heads down so they wouldn’t spot us.
“You didn’t see their faces?” I asked. She’d described them as tall, slender, and clad in black leather, but I’d already digested that much when they cruised by the campground. “They took off their helmets, didn’t they?”
“They did, but they were wearing black wool caps that covered most of their hair, and they didn’t turn this way so I could see their faces.”
“Black wool caps?” Simon crinkled his nose.
My reaction was similar. Sure, it got nippy at night there in the fall, but the afternoon sun beating down upon us had passersby wearing T-shirts.
“Yes,” Temi said.
“Both of them?” Simon asked. “That’s a weird fashion statement.”
I almost giggled when Temi gave a head-to-toe consideration of his messy hair, 80s T-shirt, torn jeans, and dust-covered socks and sandals. “Yes,” was all she said. She’d never been one for overt insults.
Simon didn’t notice the slight anyway. He must have been mulling over something, for he soon blurted, “Maybe they’re Vulcans.”
“Pardon?” Temi asked.
I covered my eyes with my hand but explained. “Aliens from Star Trek.”
“With pointed ears,” Simon added. “In the episodes where the away team traveled back in time or to a planet that wasn’t familiar with Vulcans, Mr. Spock would always wear hats or wool caps to hide his ears and eyebrows. The best episode was City on the Edge of Forever when Spock showed up on old Earth without a hat, and Kirk tried to explain his ears to the police by saying his head had been caught in a mechanical rice picker as a child.” Simon grinned in fond reverence for this memory.
I whispered, “You were closer to impressing Temi when you weren’t talking to her.”
Simon seemed to remember he was in the presence of a pretty girl and flushed over his geeky faux pas. Temi merely appeared amused.
“Uhm, were the Vulcans carrying anything?” Simon outlined the precise dimensions of his prized metal detector before I could tell him to stop calling the riders that.
I hadn’t noticed anything big enough to qualify strapped to their saddlebags, and Temi confirmed my suspicion. “They weren’t carrying anything.”
Simon sank back in the seat. “Damn, where is it?”
“Maybe they were done using it so they left it back by that mine,” I said.
“Mine?” Temi asked mildly, reminding me that we hadn’t filled her in on anything. She’d been a good sport to go tearing off after the motorcycles without any information.
“We can give you the details over d—dinner,” Simon said, his deflation from seconds before fading as he smiled hopefully at her.
“Can we figure out what we’re going to do here first? If anything? Because if not, I’m going to spend some of our client’s money on a mocha.” I waved toward the coffee shop.
“We were at the sheriff’s department for a couple of hours,” Simon said. “Maybe our Harley guys already came back to town and dropped off their purloined goods.”
“That’s a lot for them to have done, considering we left them with slashed tires.”
Temi’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think your mother gave me all the details about this business of yours.”
“That’s a given,” I said. “This is kind of... extracurricular though.”
“As in we’re using our free time to try and get back the $5,000 piece of equipment those people stole,” Simon said.
“Are you sure it was them?”
“We weren’t exactly parked at the head of some popular hiking trail,” Simon said. “There wasn’t anyone else out there.”
Except the dead guy, I thought. “What do you want to do then, Simon? We might have been able to knock on the door and chat with them if you hadn’t stabbed their tires, but as it is, I don’t think it’s wise for us to get anywhere near them.”