Max stared at the back of the man’s head. He could see enough of his somber profile to see that the guy was serious. Max slumped back in his seat. This was definitely not his scene. The sooner he figured out how much money the Swinging R could make him and got out of here, the better.
“I changed my mind about going straight to the motel. Let’s swing by Chester Southby’s office instead.”
“We can do that,” Herbert said in that annoyingly lazy drawl of his. “But that ol’ boy is going to be fishing on a nice day like this, not sitting cooped up in his office.”
“It’s Friday afternoon. Somebody has to be there.”
“Why?”
Max frowned. Valid question, he supposed. He himself never kept normal hours. He sighed. “Just drive.”
“Happy to oblige, son. I get paid by the mile and I could sure use the money. I got me a big purchase in mind.”
Herbert couldn’t be a day under sixty-five, probably closer to seventy, and Max had to admit he was curious about what the man was so hot to get his hands on. Probably a new car. In fact, eyeing the worn vinyl upholstery, Max hoped that was it. But he wasn’t about to ask. So far the old guy hadn’t pried into Max’s business here in Bingo and he wanted to keep it that way.
That he was the new owner of a bordello had nothing to do with his desire for anonymity, he told himself. It wasn’t as though he was ashamed. He just liked his privacy, that’s all.
“Yup, just what I thought.” Herbert slowed down and pointed to an ancient building that leaned slightly to the left. “See that sign on the door? It means he won’t be back for another couple of days.”
Max squinted at the sheet of white paper tacked to the red door. “It looks like a giant smiley face.”
“That’s right. Getting away from his wife for two days makes Chester real happy. You want we should head back for the motel?”
Max let out an exasperated sigh. The last thing he needed was to have to hang around for an extra day. He frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. You said head back to the motel? We already passed it?”
“Yup. Four blocks behind you on the right.”
Max slowly turned around. Was he kidding? The entire town was only three blocks long. At least by normal city standards. Four only if you counted the five-car parking lot adjoining Edna’s Edibles.
“It’s got that dang purple roof. You can’t miss it.”
Not even with his eyes closed. Max shook his head at the ill-shaped monstrosity that hovered near the other side of town. Several add-ons in varying shades and types of wood sent the building sprawling into the desert. It wasn’t very big. Just weird. “I’ve changed my mind. Take me to the Swinging R Ranch.”
Herbert slammed on the brakes. Good thing they’d been crawling. Twisted in his seat as he was, Max’s seat belt could have done some serious damage otherwise.
“You wanna go where?” Herbert turned around to give Max a steely-eyed glare. The old man had done a lousy job of shaving and sunlight glinted off missed spots of gray beard. One side of his mouth drooped, probably from too many years of pipe-smoking. “What in the hell for?”
“What do you think?”
“It better not be for what I’m thinking.”
Max held onto his temper. No way was he going to get in a scuffle with this crazy old coot. Then he stopped, frowned. “Wait a minute. What are you thinking?”
Herbert eyed him for a long uncomfortable minute. “There ain’t too many reasons why a fella goes to the Swinging R.”
Max took a deep breath. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Actually, I have other business there.”
“I’m listening.”
This got tricky. Max hadn’t decided yet if he wanted anyone to know who he was. But the look of murderous intent in Herbert Hanson’s eyes pretty much decided things. Of course if the guy had a daughter who worked there Max might be in even deeper trouble.
Damn, he wished Taylor were here. “I’m Lily McIntyre’s nephew.”
Herbert’s bushy salt-and-pepper brows shot up. “No kidding. You the new owner, huh?”
“So it seems.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Herbert grinned and whipped the car around in the direction from which they’d come. “We’ll be there in ten minutes, tops.”
Herbert was apparently anxious to visit the Ranch. Seven minutes and two ignored stop signs later, they pulled up in front of a sign that announced the Swinging R Ranch.
Max’s heart sank at the sight of the old rambling blue house. The wraparound porch had probably been attractive once, but right now the outside railing had more slats missing than were in place. The surrounding white picket fence was half down and large scabs of peeling paint hung loosely from the portion still standing.
“Well, aren’t you going to get out?”
Max snapped out of his trance and realized Herbert had actually gotten out and come around to open his door. “What happened to this place?”
Herbert frowned at the house, studying it for a moment, then shrugged. “Poor old Lily. She done the best she could but she was getting on in years and sorta just let the place go.”
“Didn’t she have any help?”
“Oh, yeah, but she was headstrong. Tried to run everything herself anyway. Let me help you with that bag, son.”
A ray of hope filtered through Max’s gloom. Maybe the disrepair was a result of Lily’s eccentricity and not a failing business. “No, thanks. I can—”
“Herbie! You old scoundrel.” A booming feminine voice coming from the side of the house cut Max off. “You didn’t tell me you were coming today.”
Max turned around to see who had lit Herbert’s face up like a Vegas neon sign. But it was hard to get a good look when she ran past him and flung herself at the older man. To his credit, Herbert caught her and spun her around a couple of times before putting her back on the ground.
She was slim, petite even, with a head full of flaming red hair. When she aimed her charcoal-lined blue eyes at Max he was surprised to find that she was near Herbert’s age.
The housekeeper probably, judging by her age and the full white apron she wore. Flour smudged her left cheek. Or maybe she was the cook. Max smiled. Things were looking up if the place could still afford help.
“Well, hello, Sugar,” she said, running a lazy gaze over him. “Who might you be?”
“Come on, Mona.” Herbert drew her attention. “Don’t I get more than a hug?”
She slapped his arm, but her lips curved. “You old rascal. I’ve a good mind to leave you standing out here in the hot sun for not warning me you were coming.” She patted her hair. “I must look a mess.”
“Hell, no, Mona. You always look good to me.” Herbert picked her up off the ground again. Laughing, she gave him another smack on the arm and he put her down.
Max eyed the other man with new interest. Maybe the guy wasn’t as old as he thought.
“Come on in, and bring your friend. Rosie just made some fresh lemonade.” Mona led them up the path toward the front door, Herbert panting behind her like a lovesick puppy.
Max didn’t like the looks of the porch stairs but the other two didn’t seem worried so he followed them into the house.
It looked fairly normal. From the foyer, he could see part of the living room. Tan carpeting, an overstuffed blue plaid sofa and two recliners. No red velvet or black lace easily