A Murder on the Guadalupe

By Gerald Goble

Guadalupe The community Bunko Club on an herb collecting outing finds the body of a cheerleader near the Guadalupe River. Under the watchful eye or a Texas Ranger, with potential impropriety of the football coach, and a range of people suspects with motives, the county sheriff leads a team investigating the death. After sorting through the suspects without definitive leads, the sheriff turns to the Bunko Club ladies to help him corner the suspect. Under the guise of a Bunko Party the suspects appear or are cleared in between trips to the food and snack table.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gerald Goble
• Release date: Aug 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9780595631025

Gerald Goble

Gerald Goble has PhD in Theoretical Physics and has been a research scientist, teacher, federal employee, businessman, manager, and martial arts instructor. He is author of several scientific publications, U.S. Army Publications on Ammunition and Explosives, non fiction books "The Way of Two as One“, "The Bear Slayer – Women’s Self-Defense“; the fiction books, the Bunko Club Murder series, and the Jack Wellington UN Attaché Series, Westerns “Jacob’s Coat”, "Strays" and "Warrior Woman" and Science Fiction, "The Majestic Committee."

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A Murder on the Guadalupe

A Bunko Club Mystery

Gerald Goble

A Murder on the Guadalupe

A Bunko Club Mystery

Gerald Goble

iUniverse, Inc.

New York, Lincoln, Shanghai

A Murder on the Guadalupe

A Bunko Club Mystery

Copyright - 9 2008 by Gerald Goble

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-0-595-53049-6 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-595-63102-5 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2008940937

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 11/07/08

Second Edition 4/13

For Joan,

my love, my friend.

Chapter 1

The road was empty as Deputy Brenda Shay drove home. She looked several times at the dash clock. She thought, God, I’m tired and this was supposed to be my day off. Here comes the intersection better slow up. At last, the Nogolito State Park sign. Now a mile and a half and I’m home. I’m more than tired I’m plum tard.

After the turn, the road narrowed into two lanes with high grass on each side. Brenda worked at the Concord County Sheriff’s office. Tonight, they called her in to operate the phones for an alert about a missing teenage girl. Now she was almost to her home in the Nogalito Narrows Development. The development was a group homes referred to as ranchettes on the Guadalupe River next to the Nogalito State Park. She came over a hill, and the moon light illuminated the late-night fog that lay on the valley floor as a white sea, and left the hill tops protruding out of the fog as black islands.

Brenda thought, If that girl is in some motel with a teenage boy, I’ll be pissed. If she’s been grabbed by some pervert, then I’ll feel bad. But this is small-town Texas, what are the odds of that? – I’ve still got to work tomorrow. If I’m not there, the sheriff will have a conniption fit. I guess I’ll take a day off next week. I’ve already told Winny I can’t be at the Bunko Club meeting tomorrow. – The girl’s mother said she would never do that. Mothers are always the last to know. – I wonder if Dan stopped to get the mail. It’s so late, I’ll get it tomorrow. Damn I forgot to get milk for my tea tomorrow. At last the parking lot for the state park, now half a mile to go – what was that?

The car screeched to a stop. She rolled down the window and looked off toward the parking lot. The hindquarters of a canine disappeared into the bushes. Brenda spoke, Baby you better get home. Don’t go into the ranch on the other side of the road, they shoot dogs and ask questions later you know.

Brenda drove off again with her car. She thought, Here I am talking to some damn stray dog like it was going to understand me. God I will be glad to get into bed. What a way to spend Saturday night.

The female watched the car screech to a stop, and her mate scamper into the bushes to her right. When the car was gone, she went over smelled and nuzzled her mate. The night was cool, and her pups were playing in the picnic area with a frog they had found. They pushed so it would jump for them to chase. Her male started down the path toward the river. She wined then yelped. The pups stopped their play and trotted after her.

The path led down to a place where there was an over-look the river. The night before, there were many humans on the other side of the river. Now it was quiet. The humans were gone. The female paced back and forth appearing nervous about the place where so many humans came. As the coyote family approached the cliff, the female lifted her nose. She looked around, sniffed again and approached one of the stone pillars. She smelled blood. There was a small spot. Her mate began smelling all around the area. The male jumped up on the rock edge next to the cliff. He raised his nose to the sky and yipped. He listened, only silence.

A small breeze wafted its way up the hill from the river. The female wined. There was a smell. The smell was a mixture of death, blood, and that salty smell that men had when they were hot. She quickly moved up to the edge of the hill and scolded the male to sit with the young ones. Her role in the pack was security, so the male sat down and the youngsters sat down next to him waiting for her signal. She picked her way through the brush down the hill toward the smell. There was one of the men there a female one at the bottom of the big cliff. She knew the smell. This one was dead.

The immediate concern for her was whether there were other men around. She made a big circle through the brush to the other side of the hill and back up the hill to her family. From the top of the hill, she could see the entire area. There were no other men around. She sat down raised her head and sang out a cry in the cool night. She watched as her family moved below toward the dead one at the bottom of the hill. For them, it would be a feast. She waited and watched for their protection. Her feast will be later. When the light came to the sky, the family went back across the stream to their den to sleep with their full bellies.

When morning came, a half-mile away the smell of chocolate and walnuts wafted through the air causing Winny’s husband to raise his nose and inhale. Winny pulled a pan of warm cookies from the oven. The smell of the goodies made him want to sample them. Joe, her husband, reached for one of the hot cookies. She smacked the back of his hand with the spatula. He withdrew the hand quickly, and she scooped him out one and placed it on his palm. She thought, Let him have his little feast. She would save the rest of the cookies for her guests that would be here soon.

Life was quiet in the development punctuated by periodic community picnics, barbeques, and other functions by the residence. It was natural for the women to develop a Bunko Club. They met toward the end of every month and brought dishes of snacks and drinks. They were fun events that went from house to house, show cased the hobbies and activities of the members, and maybe someone went home with three dollars winning at most. Last Sunday they had one of the periodic Clean-Up the park events. This Sunday five of the Bunko Club members met to go on a leisurely walk and pick some wild herbs. It was the last weekend in September and there was a hint of a cool breeze in the air. Of the other seven members of the club not there, six were away on various trips or business and one, Brenda, was at work. The annual herb gathering party was small this year. They all knew that they had a mission this year. They had to gather enough herbs for the others in the group as well as some extra. The extra provided a small source of income for the group when sold.

As usual, Winny was in charge and the five of them were to meet in her kitchen prior to their day out. Winny was Winifred Seaver, a pleasant woman in her late forties. Her hair was brown with a touch of red and a shape that showed she had been to hairdresser and given a light die touchup. There were bangs across the front. She had an apple-like shape, but she was over five feet seven inches tall. Winny had once worked in business but now shunned suits and outfits for simple dresses with pockets and flowered patterns. In her speech, she tended to be a little bawdy with a laugh that was husky sounding from smoking at one time. She wore steel-rimmed glasses and when she disapproved of someone or did not believe something, she had a tendency to look over the top of them at the offender. Her house was the second house after the Y on the left. Her land went from the road down to the river. Between her land and the state park was Sam’s place, which also went from the road down to the river. Winny’s house was kind of a community-gathering place. It is a farmhouse environment where everyone is welcome.

Her kitchen was large because it was a large part of her existence. The room had four windows at one corner on the east end of the room. A small table there allowed anyone there to look outward to a neat lawn and down to the river, as well as to the front drive. Light oak wooden cabinets that lined the other end of the room. Most of the cabinets had closed doors. The exception was a large bookcase that went up to the ceiling and a rack that held many glass bottles with cork lids. There was a wooden chopping block work surface about five feet by four feet in the center. At the ceiling above the center workstation, there were cabinets with glass doors that held good china dishes. An Oldies station was on the radio in the corner of the room. In her kitchen, most of the time, you would hear Winny humming or singing some tune she heard on the radio.

Today, the center workstation had a pile of items for use in the herb gathering. There was no metal on the table. There was cloth and plastic bags for holding the herbs, homemade ceramic tools for digging and cutting and five bottles of boiled rainwater. Winny was a purest. The water had been gathered and boiled without touching metal. The process was the same every year. This was the proper time in the full of the moon a month before the end of October.

When friends came to Winny’s house, they always came to the back door because they knew she would be in her kitchen. Today, the first of the members to arrive was Iris Isabel. Iris was Mexican in origin but had worked hard on her speech, so she spoke slowly in a very precise manner. This left those that knew her to wonder if she hit her finger with a hammer, would she spout 1500 curse words in Spanish in a matter of twenty seconds by the shear pent up pressure of maintaining a controlled façade. She had her graying hair colored black and pulled back in a bun. She was not slight but close to being thin. She prefers simple pantsuits and outfits with bright colors and ruffled or fancy necklines in contrasting colors. She wore black shoes that seemed to be an extension of her dark nylons. She considered tennis shoes tacky and never wore them. She needs reading glasses, but she extracts them from her purse when she cannot accomplish the task by guessing. She kept the thin half glasses in a bright blue metal oval tube.

When she knocked on the back door, Winny motioned her in. Winny, Sam sent this to us; Iris said raising a plastic bag with green plants. Winny looked over her glasses, How did she gather it? She asked in a questioning attitude with apparent disapproval if necessary. Ready with the answer Iris answered, Only with her hands, she said she got blisters in the process.

Sam or Samantha Catori was on vacation in California. She had stopped in New Mexico on her way west to gather the herb and mailed it to Iris. Iris dumped the contents of the bag onto the counter next to the sink. Winny inspected the contents. Good, Valerian, roots and all. Get some water. Winny commanded nodding to one of the jugs of rainwater stored at the end of the counter. Iris took a glass pitcher, turned the plastic valve, and filled it with the boiled rainwater Winny had stored. Working in swift strokes, she split the roots and stems along the middle into root and green pointed leaves. She washed the herbs and divided them into small piles using a homemade ceramic cleaver.

In the midst of the process, Teki arrived and the quite efficient kitchen seemed to turn boisterous. Tecla Marie Russo was Italian. She is probably the only I Tal Yun in that part of Texas for twenty miles in any direction. She liked to sing and brightened every room when she entered by her sheer enjoyment of life. She was slightly over five feet with short black hair and bright brown eyes, which looked around the room and assessed the situation. What’s up? she questioned. Iris summed up the events. An aphrodisiac, alright Sam. Winny, double up on mine. I can use it.

Winny looked up and grinned, Oh No. We can all use some. Teki walked around the room in a bouncing kind of walk that exuded happiness. It is such a nice day out, I can’t wait to get out for our walk. Where are the othas? Teki ask looking out into the dining room attached to the kitchen.

Teki then held up her prize, a bag. I didn’t come empty handed Jessica sent some Shasta. The dried yellow flowers, seedpods, and roots showed through the sides of the plastic. And before you ask, she said turning to Winny, She says they were all collected properly. Properly of course, to Winny meant no metal knives or containers to take away the power of the herbs. Jessica was another of the missing Bunko Club members on vacation. A task given to each of the missing women was, if possible, to gather herbs not common to the area to bring them back. Herbs were the hobby of the Bunko Club women, inspired by Winny, who insured everyone in the club had plenty of fresh herbs for cooking and other purposes. In Winny’s kitchen, the large neat stacks of glass jars arranged with labels on the cork stoppers. Each contained either fresh herbs or herbs processed into a form ready for use. By accident, they found out that, they could sell their left-over spices. Now they gathered as much to sell as for their own use.

Winny said, Wash them off and place them in a bowl.

Teki asked, Which wata do I use?

Winny said, "Which what?

Teki scraped her fingers under her chin toward Winny and said, Which water? She emphasized the er sound, knowing she had slipped into an eastern speech pattern. Winny grinned and pointed to one of the large jars on the counter.

Winny collected and filtered rainwater in clay and glass containers boiling and filtering it for use in preparation of the herbs. Joe, Winny’s husband, rolled his eyes when asked about her collection for she kept him busy with some task in maintaining the large hobby. On the second day of a rain, Joe went out in the rain and brought in filled containers of water, which she filtered, boiled, and stored in large glass jugs. Everything that came out of her kitchen was tasty and well prepared. At church functions where the parishioners brought items for sale, people sought out her pies, cakes, and baked goods. Her baked goods became Christmas gifts for her friends in the area, which brought various sounds of pleasure. The children of the development would ride their bicycles by and often stop in for cookies or other goodies.

The screen door creaked, and the remaining two of the Bunko Club members entered the back door of the kitchen. Hester Nisbett came in first followed by Squeaky Eberly.

Hester was the most straight-laced of the group. She is a political science and economics teacher at the local high school and tended to dress in outfits that looked efficient. She likes to wear brown, black, or dark green skirts or slacks, white blouses with neck scarf and carry a jacket or sweater. She kept her hair pulled back or cut short. Today she wore a set of slacks with a crisp ironed pleat running down the front with a white blouse with long sleeves and a scarf around the neck. It will be hot during the walk, but she will wear the scarf anyway. Hester was tall and thin and with an attitude that made her seem deadly serious and no nonsense. She caused a stir once when she failed the entire basketball team because they took her political science class for granted. It took the coach two weeks of extra evening classes with the offenders to get her to bring their status back to a point where they could again play. After that, she had all of her students awake and listening in class. That of course was not to say Hester did not have a sense of humor. For her, it is a quick slicing wit. When unleashed her comments left you with that oh why did I say that feeling and everyone else a giggle. Hester had met Sam in college and had remained friends. When Sam moved to the Nogalito Springs Development and showed Hester the area, she saw a chance to get a home with land that would increase in value while at the same time being able to live in a small community with a quiet and good life style.

Squeaky (Claudia) Eberly was often mistaken for someone that was an airhead by her actions and talk, but she had a high IQ. She had degrees in mathematics and history as well as graduate studies in several fields but when she married her husband, she was happy with just being a homemaker. She could zip through crossword puzzles at a speed that some called weird and was deadly at scrabble and other word games. However, some social situations that she participated in gave people idea that she was just another dumb blonde. The Bunko group would look out for her and fill in an answer for her or nudge her when she said something dumb. Her husband Bill was her intellectual equivalent. The two of them fit together like a left and right hand. Bill never missed a beat and no one could say he had a Well Duh moment. Squeaky was a little round but not overweight. Squeaky preferred to wear sweaters or knit shirts and slacks. This had a tendency to show off her large bosoms and small waist. Of course, this did not help her image of being a blond bimbo. Squeaky got her nickname from the high-pitched sound she made when she hiccupped, coughed, sneezed, or talked when she was excited. A sneeze from Squeaky was a shocking sound that as a general rule came at a quiet time in the conversation or activities. Bill would say something like You’d better get the breaks fixed on that truck.

When Hester and Squeaky came in Winny’s dog, Judy got up and walked over for a pet of recognition. Each of the women carried plastic bags of herbs. Other Bunko club members on travel sent them. Hester took the bag from Squeaky’s hand while she was petting the dog. She placed the herbs on the work surface in the center of the kitchen. She spoke in her clear distinct teacher voice, Here is some Rampion my Aunt Jane brought from Scotland on her trip to visit; Foxglove Victoria sent; and Atropa that Grace sent Squeaky.

Hester turned to Iris, You better handle the Atropa separately. Iris nodded as she took the Atropa to the far end of the counter for preparation and separation into little plastic bags. Victoria and Grace were two other missing members of the Bunko Club. Their contribution had meant that everyone had contributed something to the gathering even Hester’s Aunt Jane, who lived on the other side of the world.

Hester continued as she picked up one of the bags and