In Cahoots with the Prickly Pear Posse (A Jackrabbit Junction Mystery--Book 5)

cherry pastry from the shelf next to the cash register. “We can call ourselves the ‘Painted Lady Posse’ and wear pink nail polish to show our colors.”
Claire glared at Ronnie. “What have you done?”
“Katie, painted ladies are prostitutes in the Old West.”
“No shit. I’m the one with the highest IQ here, remember? It’s a play on words.”
“We are not going to call ourselves the Painted Lady Posse,” Claire said, clearly disgusted.
“Why not?”
“Because Natalie and I already came up with a name. We’re the Prickly Pear Posse.”
Katie giggled. “Seriously? Were you drunk when you guys came up with that?”
Claire’s lips thinned. “Don’t you have a bar to open?”
“That’s what you and Natalie were doing last night while Mac and I were cleaning up in the kitchen. I saw your heads together at the bar.”
“Yeah, well it seemed like a good idea last night. Now, I’m beginning to have my doubts.”
Katie hooked her arm with Ronnie’s. “Are you kidding? It’s a ridiculous name, but a great idea. We’ll all pull together like we used to in the old days.”
“You sure you’re up to this?” Claire asked Ronnie.
“If you’re asking whether I can walk the walk when it comes to Grady, then yes, I’m up to it.”
“What’s Grady got to do with …” Katie started. “Oh, right. He wouldn’t like this idea at all.” She turned back to Claire. “We need to start carrying guns.”
“NO!” Ronnie and Claire said at the same time.
“Come on. I told you when I shot your Jeep, it was an accident. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s not my Jeep that I’m worried about.”
The door creaked open.
“Oh, look,” Natalie said, strolling up to the counter in torn blue jeans and a flannel shirt—her work clothes. “It’s the good, the bad, and the ugly. Just the trio of trouble I was hoping to find.” She held out an envelope. On the front, cut-out letters that spelled “Veronica” were taped to it.
“What’s this?” Ronnie asked, taking it.
“I don’t know. It was stuck under the windshield wiper of the Winnebago. I noticed it coming back from the campground shower.”
Ronnie tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. More cut-out letters were taped to it. The message it spelled out made Ronnie gasp.
“What’s it say?” Claire asked.
Katie leaned closer. “You better watch your back,” she read out loud. She took the paper from Ronnie’s loose grip. “The author forgot to use punctuation at the end of the sentence.” She held the paper out for Claire to see. “This is another example where an exclamation mark is more suitable than a period.”
Claire snatched the paper from Katie’s hand. “I’m going to stuff your exclamation marks up your southern sphincter, Crazy Kate.”
“Don’t call me crazy, Claire.”
Natalie took the letter from Claire. “Cut-out letters, that’s smart. No handwriting analysis will help with this one.” She looked out the door, her gaze thoughtful. “I should try this next time.”
“What do you mean, ‘Next time’?” Claire took the letter back.
“Never mind.” Natalie pointed at the paper. “What do you think? Does this mean your diamond killer is in town? Could it be one of his love letters?”
“Maybe, but it also could be one of Lyle’s enemies,” Ronnie said, her heart still pounding in her ears. “They would know me by my full name.”
“Did those mules who stole the diamonds know you as ‘Ronnie’ or ‘Veronica’?” Claire asked.
Ronnie pondered that. “I don’t remember. But if it’s the diamond killer, why not include your name, too?”
“Maybe Ronnie is better known in the area, what with her dating the sheriff now,” Natalie said. “Claire isn’t in the public eye as much.”
“But why would a killer warn you?” Claire wondered. “Just to toy with his prey?”
“What are we going to do with this?” Katie asked, taking the paper from Claire.
“I should tell Grady and Mississippi.” Hiding behind their guns seemed the safest bet.
Claire crossed her arms. “See, Natalie. This is why I didn’t want to have her in the posse. She runs to her BB first thing these days.”
“He is not my BB,” Ronnie snapped.
“What’s a BB?” Katie asked absently while frowning down at the paper. “The letters were cut from a magazine, I’m pretty sure.”
“ ‘Bedroom Buddy,’ ” Ronnie told her.
“ ‘Buddy with Benefits,’ ” Claire corrected.
“BB.” Katie giggled. “I like that. Good one, Claire.”
“It’s stupid,” Ronnie said, snatching the letter back. “This needs to be given to the authorities to dust for fingerprints.”
“Sure, now that all of ours are on it.” Claire took the letter from Ronnie and held it up toward the fluorescent light over their heads.
Crud, that was true. Ronnie sighed.
“Whoever did it was clumsy,” Claire said. “The glue got spilled in the left margin.”
“I doubt a killer who cuts people into pieces is clumsy,” Katie said. “Although the lack of punctuation does indicate a psychotic mindset.”
“Are you even aware of what’s coming out of your mouth anymore, Kate?” Claire asked.
The door creaked open again.
“What’s going on in here?” Chester Thomas waddled inside, closing the door behind him. He looked fresh from his bed in a wrinkly T-shirt and grease-stained jeans. “A hen party?”
Claire stuffed the letter under the counter. “Nothing. We’re just figuring out what time we need to be at The Shaft today.”
“Really?” He tossed the Tucson newspaper on the counter in front of her. “So this little meeting has nothing to do with the fact that the bodies of a couple of night watchmen at the police auction yard in Tucson were found stuffed into the trunk of an old Cadillac yesterday afternoon?”
“Which police auction yard?” Claire asked.
“The one where a certain diamond-bearing RV was sold months ago to a guy who’s now deader than a doornail.”
Ronnie spread out the newspaper. All four of them looked down at the article Chester pointed out.
“How did they find the bodies with all of those vehicles there?” Katie leaned closer to the picture of the cars, trucks, and SUVs lined up for auction.
Chester set a bag of BBQ fried pork rinds on the counter. “According to