Murder in Palm Springs

by Dianne Harman

  “I’m surprised to hear that coming from someone who obviously loves beautiful things. I’m told that you have a memorabilia collection that is incredible, but I must say that those Mexican Fan Palm trees are really ugly. I mean, they just go up and up and there’s this little tuft of green at the top. Unfortunately, they’re the first thing my guests notice when they walk out on my veranda. I was wondering if you might consider cutting them down? I’d even pay to have it done.”

  “Are ya’ crazy?” Jimmy asked. “When I planted them little trees they was jes’ babies an’ look at ‘em now. Brings a smile to my face every time I look outside.”

  “Mr. Joseph, I hate to say this, but they’re an eyesore. Your property would be so much prettier if they were gone.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen Ms. McIntyre. Them trees will be there until the day I die, so ya’ better get used to ‘em. Y’all have a nice day, ya’ hear?” Jimmy said as he abruptly turned around and walked back up his driveway.

  Carla turned around, walked to her mailbox, and took the mail out of it. So I have to look at those awful trees until the day he dies. I hear he’s got a bad heart. Just might happen a little sooner than he thinks. No one tells Carla McIntyre something isn’t going to happen. Carla McIntyre always gets what she wants, she thought.

  Maybe Jimmy should talk to my ex-husband. My ex-husband never found out that I was the one who arranged for those photographs to be taken. I knew he was having an affair, and I also knew that was how I could get the money that I could live very, very well on for the rest of my life. This really shouldn’t be all that hard, I just need to figure out the best way to do it.

  CHAPTER 6

  Carl was standing in front of his shop when Marty turned the corner and stopped in front of him. She pushed the passenger window down and said, “You can put your appraisal gear in the trunk. I popped it for you.”

  A moment later he opened the passenger door and looked inside. “Uh, Marty, why is Patron in the car?” he asked as got in and closed the door.

  “You know what a worrier Jeff is. Somebody told him that memorabilia items can get really expensive and given that Jimmy Joseph is right up there with Elvis Presley and Elton John, he thought we may be appraising some pretty pricey things,” she said brightly, omitting the part about Patron growling earlier and his hackles being raised.

  He looked over at her and asked, “Did Laura have anything to do with this?” Before answering his question, she quickly pulled away from the curb, afraid he might try to get out of the car if she remained parked in front of his store.

  “No,” she said mentally crossing her fingers. “Just bringing a little insurance. I’m not expecting any problems,” she said as they passed a mailbox and inwardly, she groaned. What had Laura meant about mailboxes? she wondered.

  “Good. I’ve had enough of those for a while. Anyway, I’m really looking forward to this appraisal. I think I told you I had tickets to see Jimmy at the Red Velvet Lounge last night, and he was amazing. I can see why people used to wait in line forever to get tickets to his shows when he was in Vegas. It really was one of the highlights of my life.”

  “Did you have a chance to talk to him about the Elvis jacket?”

  “I sent him a note before the show, and he sent one back asking me to come to his dressing room after the show, which I did. I had a picture of the jacket with me. I thought it would be tacky to take it with me, anyway, he’s very interested and I brought it with me today. He told me to set a couple of days aside for the appraisal of his collection, because he has it all in a separate house on his property, if you can believe that.”

  “Dick mentioned something about it, but he was having a hard time believing that someone could have a memorabilia collection that would be big enough to fill a house. Usually people just have an item or two from some celebrity that they follow. I guess Jimmy’s collection is pretty unique.”

  “I have to tell you, Marty, to be appraising the collection of a living legend is pretty heavy stuff. Hope I don’t hyperventilate and pass out or something.”

  “That’s why I always bring smelling salts with me on appraisals,” Marty said.

  Carl looked over at her and saw that she was grinning. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Yes, Carl, I’m kidding. Looks like that’s his mansion up ahead on the right. Good thing the gates are open, because I don’t have a code to get in.”

  She entered the palm tree lined driveway and involuntarily shuddered as she passed a white stucco mailbox whose design matched the large house that was Jimmy Joseph’s. She came to a stop in the large circular driveway in front of the house. Was that the mailbox Laura had warned me about? she wondered privately, not wanting to alarm Carl.

  Marty and Carl took their appraisal equipment out of the trunk of the car and walked through the courtyard and walked up to the double doors of the house. The grounds of the house were spotless. There wasn’t a leaf out of place.

  Marty pressed the doorbell and a few moments later the door was opened by Jimmy Joseph.

  “Welcome, welcome. So glad y’all could come today. See ya’ brought a dog with you. Is he friendly?”

  “Very. My husband is a detective with the Palm Springs Police Department, and he likes me to bring Patron with me as a little insurance when I’m appraising high end items. He wants to make sure that having a collection appraised doesn’t make some criminal think it’s an opportunity to commit a robbery. Patron is here to make sure that doesn’t happen. I hope you don’t mind, but Patron will just sleep in a corner and be no trouble at all.”

  “Fine by me. I like dogs, jes’ never felt I could justify havin’ one when I was on the road so much. Now that my heart doctor has me confined to Palm Springs, jes’ might be the time fer me to get one.”

  He held his hand out for Patron to sniff, and when Patron had accepted him, he scratched him behind his ears, then he straightened up and looked at Marty and Carl.

  “Can’t wait to show you my treasures. What ya’ gonna’ be seein’ is the reason I’ve worked so hard all these years. Dependin’ on what kinda’ prices ya’ gonna’ put on the stuff, I may jes’ donate all of it to the Palm Springs Museum, although I’ve had museums from all the States tryin’ to get my collection. Don’t have nobody to leave it to. I got a sister I’m estranged from and a nephew who’s a no-good. Don’t wanna’ leave it to either one of ‘em. Might as well leave it to the museum so lotsa’ people’ll get to enjoy it as much as I have.”

  Jimmy Joseph was exactly what Marty had expected from the research she’d done on him. He was dressed in white pants, a white shirt, and a lightweight white jacket. He wore a red silk scarf around his neck which matched the red silk handkerchief peeping out of his shirt pocket.

  The tabloids had mentioned that he’d never lost his Southern heritage and certainly, his speech confirmed that. They’d also mentioned, a bit cattily, Marty had thought, that he was a bit too old to have dark brown hair without a trace of grey and a year-round tan. One magazine had commented that it was a well-known fact that the salon he frequented also had a tanning room, the inference being that both his hair and the tan were fake.

  Marty looked around the room in disbelief. She’d read in the tabloids that Jimmy’s home was white on the outside and the inside was a color reversal. The walls were painted bright red with white moldings.

  Every piece of furniture was white, both wooden and upholstered. The accent colors were the paintings on the walls and various types of crystal and gold objects on the tables. It was simply mind-boggling opulence. She glanced over at Carl and could see that his eyes were as wide as she felt hers were.

  “Carl, last night ya’ tol’ me about a jacket you had at yer’ shop. Did’ja bring it?” Jimmy asked.

  “Yes, I did. Here, let me get it out of my briefcase,” Carl said. He opened his bulky briefcase and carefully took the wrapped jacket out and handed it to Jimmy. Jimmy unwrapped it and held it out in front of him and then reversed it, lo
oking at the back.

  “I’ll take it, boy. It looks great,” Jimmy said. “Looks like an Elvis original, and it’ll make a durned nice addition to my collection. C’mon, might as well show ya’ where y’all are gonna’ be workin’ the next few days. My personal assistant, Ruby, is waitin’ fer us. She purty much takes care of my collection and arranges everythin’. Anyway, I got it all stored in a special house I had built at the back of the property, right past my recordin’ studio. Let’s go.”

  A recording studio? A special house for his collection? This is a far cry from where I grew up in the Midwest, Marty thought as she, Carl, and Patron followed Jimmy out of his house and past the pool. On her left, Marty saw a building that she assumed, from the piano she could see through the window, was Jimmy’s recording studio.

  She remembered reading about a conversation Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald once had regarding money and how the rich are different from you and me or something like that. It had always stuck in her mind because she thought those two men probably had been rich, but right now she knew Jimmy Joseph was really rich, and he was probably a lot different from her.

  CHAPTER 7

  Priscilla Simpson entered the Red Velvet Lounge after paying her admittance fee and pinched herself. She couldn’t believe that her idol, Jimmy Joseph, was now playing in the Red Velvet Lounge once a week. She’d never felt she could justify spending the money to go to Las Vegas to see him when he was performing there, but she’d read every article that had ever been written about him.

  She was a spinster, because she was in love with Jimmy, although some might uncharitably say that it wasn’t her love for Jimmy that caused her to be a spinster, it was because no man had ever even asked her for a date, much less proposed to her. She couldn’t even be called unattractive. The only word for Priscilla Simpson was ugly, and no man had ever looked far enough below the exterior to see if there was gold there. She had no people skills, and when she did have to interact with people, she was abrasive to the point of being rude.

  The internet age and being able to work at home with a computer was a gift for someone like Priscilla. She spent her days searching the internet for anything and everything about the people whose names the insurance company sent her to research before they agreed to insure them.

  Her pay was a notch above minimum wage, certainly not enough to ever pay for a trip to Las Vegas to see her idol, and she had stubbornly refused to touch the trust fund her parents had left her. She felt the reason she had no life, so to speak, was because of the poor job they’d done raising her. To her the trust fund was guilt money, pure and simple.

  The show Jimmy put on was everything she’d ever dreamed about. Hearing and seeing Jimmy in person was her Best Night Ever. Halfway through his performance, she thought the only thing that could make it better would be if she could get Jimmy’s autograph.

  Priscilla carefully took the cocktail napkin that had Jimmy’s picture on it in her purse and put it between the pages of a notebook she always carried in her purse, insuring that it wouldn’t get folded. She took a business card out of her purse and wrote a note on it, asking to see Jimmy when his show was over. She signed it, “Your Adoring Fan.”

  When Jimmy took a break, she gave her business card to a cocktail waitress and asked her if she would give the card to Jimmy, slipping the waitress a $20 bill at the same time. She knew she’d probably have to eat ramen noodles the rest of the month, but she’d willingly make the sacrifice if she could get Jimmy’s autograph.

  After the show she was too excited to stay in her seat waiting for a word from Jimmy or one of his people. She made her way to the door he’d walked through when his performance was over. It was ajar and when she reached it, she heard the words that tore her heart apart, “Boss, some woman wants your autograph, but she’s so ugly you shouldn’t waste your time with her, and when I say ugly, I do mean ugly.”

  “Ya’ know I got me a limited amount of strength cuz’ of this dang heart condition of mine, so if ya’ think I should pass, I will,” Jimmy said.

  “Anyone whose as ugly as this broad probably has just as ugly a personality. I’d take a pass, Boss. You don’t need the stress of dealing with someone like that.”

  “Yer’ right. I do need to reserve my strength. Would ya’ find her and tell her I won’t be able to see her, but thank her for comin’ tonight?”

  Priscilla never heard Jimmy’s assistant say, “Sure thing, Boss.” She walked out through a side door with the word EXIT written in big red letters. Tears streamed down her face as she walked the three blocks to where her car was parked. Valet parking was not an option for an ugly woman with no money.

  She didn’t remember driving home. She didn’t remember changing her clothes. She didn’t remember getting into her bed and crying herself to sleep. What she did remember was her dream. A dream that was so vivid it felt like it had been real. She laid in bed a long time after she woke up the next morning, and when she finally got up, she vowed to make the dream come true. Jimmy Joseph would have to pay for ignoring her, and as her dream had been very clear about how he would have to pay, all she had to do was follow the directions so clearly laid out in it.

  Priscilla may have been ugly, but having her idol destroy her dreams by not wanting to waste his energy on an ugly person, in her mind was beyond cruel and unforgiveable. All she had to do was get on the internet and find the poison that had clearly been marked “ricin” in her dream.

  CHAPTER 8

  Jimmy opened the door of a large building which looked exactly like his house, only it was a smaller version of it. Inside, it was quite different. The walls were white which showed off items pieces in his collection which had been mounted on the walls.

  There were eight or ten rooms in the building and each one had a collection theme, such as clothing, records, autographs, musical instruments, etc. Marty knew from the research she’d done that celebrity memorabilia sold for huge amounts at auction. As they walked through the building, and she saw familiar names, she thought this might be one of the most important memorabilia collections ever assembled, to say nothing of its worth.

  A slight African-American woman about Jimmy’s age walked through a door and said, “Welcome y’all. I’m Ruby. Been with Jimmy since he got his first gig and lawdy, what a ride it’s been. Who woulda’ thought when he started out all them years ago he’d have sumthin’ like this?” she asked as she made a broad sweeping gesture with her hand.

  She continued, “Doc says Jimmy needs to rest a lot and while I know he’d like to tell ya’ personally how he got everyone of these here treasures, ain’t gonna’ happen. He’s gotta’ get his beauty rest, and I tol’ Doc Griffin I’d make sure he did, and durned if I won’t, right Jimmy?” Ruby said, shaking her finger at him. “I’ll carry on from here. Ya’ jes’ go back to the big house and take yerself’ a little nap. Ya’ had a late night and ya’ know how Doc frowns on that. Won’t tell him how late if’n ya’ take your rest now.”

  Jimmy looked at her threateningly, but it was easy to see this was just a game to both of them. He saluted, and as he was walking out the door he said, “Y’all got any questions, jes’ ask Ruby. She knows everythin’. I’ll be back later.”

  When he was out of earshot, she said, “Jimmy’s a wonderful man, but stubborn as a mule. Think Doc Griffin knows that and that’s why he wants me to go to every doctor’s appointment with Jimmy. Guess he’s afraid Jimmy’d lie about what the doc said he could and couldn’t do.”

  “How is his health?” Marty asked. “I read in one of the magazines that his heart attack was quite serious.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. It was touch and go fer a while, but that stubborn ol’ mule came back. He jes’ can’t do everythin’ he used to do. Matter-of-fact, doc said his health has been, think the word he used was compromised, which bottom line means ‘bout the only thing he can do is get outta’ bed and go play at the Red Velvet once a week. Takes him a couple of days to recover after them gigs,
but Doc Griffin decided if he took everythin’ away from Jimmy, might jes’ as well kill him. Jimmy lives for the stage.”

  “Well, he certainly hides it well. He looks like the picture of health, and his show last night was one of the best things I’ve ever seen,” Carl said.

  “Glad to hear that. Horace, that’s my brother and Jimmy’s, guess you’d call him right-hand man, gets him spiffed up every day and makes sure no one sees him lookin’ other than like the star he was. Kinda’ sad to see the change in him, not as if anyone else would notice.”

  “You said your brother? Both you and your brother work for him?” Marty asked.

  “Yeah, ya’ see we all grew up together. My mother lived in Jimmy’s parent’s house and was his nanny. Horace and I lived there too, so the three of us were always together. His younger sister lived there too, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with us.

  “When Jimmy got his first gig, Horace drove him, and I made sure he had everythin’ he needed. Jes’ kept getting’ more and more complicated the more gigs he got. Ended up travelin’ all over the world. Jimmy’s always taken real good care of us.”

  “Somehow I have the feeling you’ve taken pretty good care of Jimmy in return,” Marty said.

  “Yeah, ya’ might say that. We jes’ one big happy family tryin’ to keep one of us alive. Let me walk ya’ through the rooms and give ya’ a little overall background on Jimmy’s collection.”

  “Ruby, I just had a thought. Since you know so much about Jimmy’s collection, you could probably save us a lot of time on research and Jimmy a lot of money. Why don’t you show us around and then Carl and I will split up, take pictures of the items, write down the information regarding each item, like what each item is, etcetera, and take the measurements.