The Monarch Graveyard

by James R Nelson

  “Jeanette’s with her mother. Things are going downhill quickly.” Phillip pushed the plate away. “Maybe I can make us some toast. I wonder where Cora keeps the toaster.” He left the table and searched through several cabinets. “Forget it. How about we just go out for breakfast.”

  “Great idea.”

  Phillip started to get up from the table. “Wait! That won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve got several people coming over for interviews.”

  Barbara fiddled with her napkin. “Because of Cora, right.”

  Phillip coughed. “Well, yes. That’s part of it. But Jeanette’s busy with her mother. I’m hoping I can find someone who can cook and also has secretarial skills. I don’t think we’ll need them for long. Maybe a month at the most.”

  Barbara stared at the two uneaten plates. “Damn. All this work, and I’m going to have to throw everything away.” She turned to Phillip. “Remember, you said you’d clean the kitchen if I did the cooking.”

  Phillip laughed. “Yes. I did say that.” He paused. Was he brave or stupid enough to continue? What the hell. “But I’m not sure I’d call that cooking. Looks more like burnt offerings to me.”

  “What? After all the work I did? That’s…that’s—”

  “Calm down, Barbara. I was just kidding. You tried. I’ll give you that, and I’ll pick up in here as soon as I’m done in Jeanette’s office. Allen Moul. You know Allen, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “He’s your head writer, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. Anyway, he sent me a script that I really enjoyed. I think it’s got a lot of potential. I need him to get here so we can talk about it. Normally Jeanette makes all the travel reservations. I’m going to have to figure out what it is she does.” As he reached for his coffee, the shrill ring of the kitchen phone interrupted him. He got up from the table and answered it. “Yes, this is Mr. Kahle.”

  “Sir, my name’s Walter Mattson. My daughter and I are in the area visiting my sister, and well, she thought I should call you and let you know there’s something a little strange going on down at the monarch graveyard.”

  “Excuse me, sir. The place is called The Britt Adolphson Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary, it’s not a graveyard. The stone is a memorial to a dear friend of mine. It’s not a grave.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry. But that’s what everyone’s been calling it. I didn’t know.”

  Phillip gripped the receiver. “I know they do and it makes me furious. What is it you called about?”

  “Well yesterday I took my daughter to see the butterflies. She just loves the place. She’d go there every day if I’d let her. Anyway, there was a strange woman standing in front of the memorial stone. She just stood there. She was dressed in black from head to toe. People said she’d been there a couple of days before too. My sister said you’d want to know because the woman’s creating quite a disturbance. There was a small crowd gathered yesterday and people seemed to be getting upset. Especially the children. I don’t know if I’ll be taking my daughter again any time soon, and that’s a shame, because she loves going there so much.”

  Phillip looked over at Barbara. “You say a woman, dressed in black has been standing in front of Britt’s stone for days?”

  Barbara’s coffee cup hit the table with a loud clink.

  “I know it sounds strange, but yes. That’s what I’m telling you.”

  Phillip asked, “Who is this woman? What’s this all about?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve told you everything I know. Like I said, my sister thought I should call you.”

  “All right. Thank you for calling.” Phillip slowly hung up the receiver.

  “What was that all about?” Barbara asked.

  “I have no idea, but I really hate it when people refer to the Monarch Sanctuary as a graveyard.”

  “What are you going to do? Who’s standing there?”

  Phillip shook his head. “Who knows? Probably some nut case who saw one too many of my horror movies. I’m sure they’ll get tired of making a spectacle of themselves and disappear soon.”

  Barbara got up and poured another cup of coffee. “Great for you. Another problem on your hands. You know, I’ve been thinking. I’m really sorry about what happened with Cora. I thought I was doing better, but that damn Johnny. I’m scared. I can only imagine how mad he is by now. Have you seen the gossip rags? They think he’s already killed me. I had to tell Cora not to bring me any more of those magazines.”

  “It’s a mess, I know. But I’ve got some people interviewing. Hopefully I can find somebody to cook and help with the office for a short time.”

  Barbara massaged her temples. “Maybe I should just leave.”

  Phillip shook his head. “No. Where would you go? Don’t forget about what those state troopers told me. Someone’s been asking around about where I live. That can’t be a good thing. We’ve got the gate and walls, and I have plenty of guns around. You aren’t going anywhere.” The doorbell rang. Phillip glanced up at the clock. “Here we go. Let the interviews begin.”

  Several hours later, Phillip sat behind his desk. “You do realize that your duties would entail both cooking for me, and also doing some light secretarial work, don’t you, Ms. Collins?”

  “Yes, the ad was quite clear about that. I don’t have any trouble with doing both. I cooked for my sickly mother for three and a half years. Until she passed. And I also helped run the family business. I wrote letters, arranged travel plans, talked with vendors…those types of things.”

  “You arranged travel plans?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well, I’m hoping to find a full time cook in the near future, so if you happened to get this job, the emphasis would then switch to more of a secretarial nature.”

  Jud

  Phillip sat quietly for a moment. “Oh, one more thing. I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m involved in the entertainment business.”

  “Yes, I understand you’re a movie director.”

  “I am. Well, what I was trying to say is that sometimes I have people visiting from Hollywood who, how can I say this?” He looked up from his desk. “Well, they’re just quite full of themselves, and they can be very demanding. Do you think you would be able to handle that?”

  Judith picked at her fingers. “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but my mother could be, at times quite demanding also. She…let’s just say she could try your patience from time to time. And I was able to handle that for, well, my whole life, really.”

  Phillip stood and offered his hand. “You’re the third person I’ve interviewed for this position today, and I think you’ve presented yourself very well. I’d like to offer you the job. We’ve already discussed the salary and the accommodations here at the house. Do you have any questions, and more importantly, when can you start?”

  A blush covered Judith’s cheeks. She shook his hand. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Kahle. Um, I could be here tomorrow morning, if that would be okay?”

  Phillip beamed. “That would be wonderful. Only one more night of my terrible cooking. You should be aware that we don’t have any televisions here at Cliffside Manor. After our last one broke two years ago, I never got around to bringing in a new one. When I’m here, I like to either just relax or devote my time to a new project. I found I accomplished a lot more of both of those things without a TV. We only got 3 channels anyway. But you are certainly welcome to bring one and have it in your room.”

  “I may do that. I got used to watching some shows with Mother.”

  “Fine.” Phillip thought for a moment. “There is a small movie theater up on the third floor near the library. I’ll have my nephew show you how to operate it when he gets back, if you’re interested. One more thing. We have a guest staying here. You may have heard of her, Barbara Jenkins. She can be quite tasking.”

  Judith’s eyes widened. “Barbara Jenkins? She’s staying here?”

  “Yes. She certainly is.”

&n
bsp; ###

  Stephen sat at the small desk in his motel room and paged through the Los Angeles Sunday paper. It was thick. Thick and interesting. He glanced at his hands. His fingers were black from the ink.

  He stepped into the bathroom. Why had someone followed them to Cyrus’s house? Who would even know he was going there? He hadn’t even thought about it until the morning before. Could someone have been following Gayle? Was somebody after her instead? If she was working on the same stories as Richard’s father, it certainly could be.

  He looked at his watch. Where was she? He walked to the window just as her car turned into the parking lot. Stephen watched the street. From his vantage point on the second floor, he could see both up and down the road. It didn’t appear that anyone was following her. He made sure he had the motel key in his pocket and then headed out the door.

  “I can’t believe you agreed to come with me after our boring day yesterday,” he said, as he slid into the front seat of her car.

  “Are you kidding? I’m a reporter. How could I not? I smell a story here.” As she pulled out of the lot, Stephen turned and scanned the road behind them.

  “What are you looking for? Do you think someone followed me here?”

  “It’s certainly a possibility. How else would someone know where we were going yesterday?”

  “I told you. It was just some crazy Beatles fan. Why did you want me to look and see if Cyrus owned another property?”

  “Just a hunch, I guess. But after yesterday, the hunch got stronger. It sure didn’t take you long to find out he did. Where’s Pearblossom, anyway?”

  “I called a friend of mine at the paper. He can find out anything. Pearblossom’s in the Antelope Valley. Cyrus owns a small ranchette just outside of town. He’s got about ten acres. Why he’d want something in the Mojave Desert’s beyond me.”

  “Maybe it’s his wife’s. How far is it?”

  “According to the map, we’re about an hour and a half away.”

  Stephen sat back and enjoyed the scenery. After ten minutes of silence, he asked, “Can I ask you a question that’s absolutely none of my business?”

  She smiled. “Maybe. What is it?”

  He thought for a moment. “I get a feeling that your relationship with Francesco was a little more than coworkers. You can tell me to mind my own business if you want to.”

  She sighed. “You’re good. Yes, we were a lot more than coworkers. Because he was technically my boss, we had to keep things under wraps. I’m not sure we fooled everyone, but we tried. How did you know?”

  “Just the tone of your voice when you described him.”

  Her eyes teared. “How could I not? He was brilliant, handsome, and so passionate about his job. I wake up in the morning and can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Stephen looked out at the dry landscape. “Let’s hope this doesn’t turn out to be a wasted day.”

  “Just what is it you’re looking for?”

  “It’s a hunch. A longshot. Probably more like a crapshoot.” He had been checking the side mirror during the whole drive. He turned to Gayle. “You aren’t going to believe this, but I think one of those Beatle fans you keep telling me about is tailing us.”

  She glanced up at the rear-view mirror. “That blue car way back there?”

  “I think so. Look, I want you to listen and do exactly as I tell you.”

  She glanced at him. “What?”

  “You’re going to make a series of very quick turns. Are you okay with that?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Okay. See that exit for San Fernando? I want you to go as fast as you can and get as close to it as you can before making the turn. It’s a good thing you’ve got an RX-7, it can take corners great.”

  She gripped the steering wheel. “Okay.” The car sped up. Gayle braked hard, jerked the wheel, and shot over to the intersection.

  Stephen looked back. “Good. Now I want you to take the first left and then another left, just like you did for the exit.”

  Gayle slowed slightly at the next street and then blew through the stop sign and took a hard left.

  “When you get to the next intersection, do the same thing. Then back up into the first empty driveway you see. Go back as far as you can and then pop the hood.”

  She looked at him. “What? Pop the hood?”

  “Here comes the intersection. Turn left now! Yes, okay…now back up into that driveway. Go all the way back to the garage and pop the hood.”

  Gayle followed his instructions. When the car came to a stop just before the garage, he jumped out, pulled up the hood and bent over it like he was checking out the engine. He continued to pretend to be working on the car for the next twenty minutes, periodically monitoring the street in front of them.

  Finally he dropped the hood and climbed back into the car. “I didn’t see them go by. I hope we’ve lost them.”

  She slipped the car into gear and drove down the driveway. “Who do you think was following us?”

  “The same guy as yesterday, I guess.”

  “You’re lucky nobody was in that house we stopped at.”

  Stephen smiled. “I know. I kept waiting for someone to come out and ask what I was doing.”

  An hour later they pulled into the tiny community of Pearblossom. Several streets of small houses looked as if they had been dropped into the desert. A dog walked down the middle of the road, either unaware of their presence or not caring. Stephen checked again to make sure they weren’t being followed.

  Gayle pointed to the glove box. “There’s a map in there. We need to find Lone Oak Road. It should be about two miles outside of town. As they left the small community, acres of dusty ground interspersed with low, brown bushes that extended to the horizon. Tall metal structures held multiple powerlines.

  “This is some kind of country,” Stephen said. “So dry and desolate.” He pointed. “There it is. Lone Oak Road.” As Gayle slowed to make the turn, Stephen spotted several buzzards pecking at a dead armadillo. They continued down the road for about a quarter of a mile. The car kicked up a huge cloud of dust behind them. Gayle pulled up to a squat one story house and they got out. An old garage leaned precariously behind the house. Its surface was covered with tattered tar paper.

  “Here we are. What now?” Gayle asked.

  Stephen smiled. “I don’t know. Let’s look around.” He marched up to the house and peered into the small living room window.

  Gayle stood next to the car. “See anything?”

  “It sure is different from the house on Robin Drive. I’m looking at a small room with some worn furniture.” He tried the door. It was locked. He slowly walked around the house, stopping to look into every available window. Nothing looked out of the ordinary or suspicious.

  He turned toward the garage. That’s what he was interested in. He was hoping there would be one. That was the reason he asked Gayle to drive out here.

  Trying to calm his excitement, he walked over and attempted to open the door next to the single car garage door. It was locked as he suspected, but as rickety as it was, a few tugs is all that he would have needed to open it. No need. There was a small four pane window above the doorknob. The glass on the upper left hand side was missing, but it was still too high to be able to stick your arm in and open the lock from the inside.

  Stephen shaded his eyes and peered into the window. A new BMW with a blue and yellow California plate was sitting in the dim enclosure. Another small window was cut into the back wall.

  As he started around the building, Stephen jumped back. He yelled, “Damn!” A large snake was coiled next to the garage. It was mottled with brown and cream colored markings. It raised its head and stared right at him. A thin, black-forked tongue darted in and out.

  Stephen stepped back and listened for a rattle. He didn’t hear one. The snake turned and silently burrowed underneath the building. Cautiously, Stephen continued to the back of the shed. He looked in the window
. Yes! Front end damage. Just as he’d hoped.

  He ran back to Gayle’s car. “Do you have a pencil and paper?”

  “I think so.” She pulled her purse from the backseat and rummaged through it. “Here. Why?”

  “Write down this License number, 543 MAF.”

  She scribbled it onto the paper. “Why?”

  “There’s a BMW in there with front end damage.”

  Her head jerked up. “No! You’re not saying Cyrus was the hit and run driver that killed Francesco?”

  “I’m not saying anything. I’m just telling you there’s a car in that shed with front end damage.”

  She threw her purse back in the car. “That’s why you wanted to come out here, isn’t it? But how did you know?”

  “I didn’t know anything. But the more I heard Richard talk about his father, and how he didn’t like Cyrus, an idea popped into my head. Who do they always look at when someone gets killed? The closest people around them.”

  “We need to call the police.”

  Stephen held up his hand. “Hold on. Not so fast. We haven’t proven anything. There’s one more thing I need to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to talk to Cyrus’s wife one more time.”

  The ride back to the motel near LAX was uneventful. Stephen thanked Gayle for taking him out to Pearblossom and promised to keep her informed if he learned anything else from Elena

  When he entered the motel room, the light on his phone was blinking indicating he had a message. He called the front desk. The message was to call Phillip immediately. He picked up the phone. “Phillip, it’s me. I just got back to the room. You wanted me to call you.”

  “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you.” Phillip sounded excited. “They’ve found Cyrus. He’s badly injured, but he’s alive.”

  Stephen sat down on the bed. “That’s great. What happened? Was he kidnapped?”

  “He was. It was an inside job. The maid at the Bed and Breakfast and her brother plotted the whole thing. Some other guy was involved too. Both the men are dead, but they’ve got the woman in custody. It didn’t have anything to do with his gambling.”