High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries)

by Thelen, Marjorie

  “You have any proof of that?”

  “Not yet.”

  Hoover nodded. “Thought as much. Those boys are long gone by now. I can’t see that they would come back, the reputation they have. I haven’t heard anyone hiring them. Everyone knew they were thieves. No one in their right minds would have anything to do with them.”

  “My gut feeling is it’s someone we employed in the past.”

  “It would help if you could supply me a list.”

  Jake nodded and didn’t say anything else.

  Fiona watched the interplay of the two men. It was apparent that they respected each other though at the same time they were rivals for her attention. In a way she was sorry she was the one to come between them, but then she imagined she might not be the only woman that had caused that problem.

  “I can help with the list of employees,” she said. “I might be able to track down where they are on the Internet.”

  “Thanks,” said Jake. “I’ll take you up on the offer. You can use our computer. It’s pretty up-to-date. We even have a decent internet connection via satellite.”

  Opal handed plates to everyone, and they helped themselves to fried chicken, macaroni salad and Cole slaw. They ate standing since the buckaroos had been sitting on a horse the better part of the morning. Fiona enjoyed the camaraderie of the gathering. People here had an easy way with each other and seemed genuinely interested in what someone had to say.

  “You look so serious,” Rosemary said to her.

  “I was enjoying the moment. Sorry if I look bad. I didn’t feel like a cowgirl today. That’s why I’m still in sweats.”

  Rosemary shrugged. “Suit yourself. This isn’t a fashion show here. Ranch life is very practical.” She was dressed in jeans, long sleeve shirt, boots and hat. The suntan lines on her face gave her a seasoned look that wasn’t unattractive. Esme looked the same but for some reason favored a baseball cap today.

  Esme said, “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

  “Sleep helps. My throat feels better, and I didn’t have to take any pain killers.”

  “Better get a hat on your head though.”

  Fiona felt her head. She had forgotten a hat.

  “I got a visor cap in the cab of the rig,” said Opal. “You’re welcome to use it.”

  They didn’t linger over lunch. Jake and crew mounted up and continued on down the road with the herd of cattle.

  “Opal, let’s drive out to that valley. I want to look around a bit,” said Hoover.

  “You’ll have to get out and walk at the end.”

  “Walking is good. I can look for clues easier.”

  Six

  Fiona rode along with Opal and Hoover to the end of the good road, that is, the road that was passable by motorized vehicle. The rest was hardly a deer path which meant riding a horse or walking. They got out and walked, Sheriff Hoover no longer joking and flirting, intent on where they were and what was on the trail. He walked briskly ahead, stopping now and then to study the ground or the brush by the side of the trail. His attention to business impressed Fiona. This was a new side of Sheriff Hoover.

  Opal said, “Fiona, I don’t think you should walk all the way. He might be a while. Let’s you and I sit in the truck and wait till he finishes.”

  “Good idea.”

  They went back to the truck and sat with the windows down, doing what most anyone else would do while waiting in a wilderness. One admires the scenery and watches.

  “Not much moving,” said Opal. “This time of day all the critters take to the shade to keep cool.”

  “What shade?” said Fiona.

  “Why under the sagebrush, rabbit brush, and greasewood. You wouldn’t think there’s much shade in all that scrubby looking stuff but there is. There’s some bitterbrush around here, too. It has a real pretty yellow flower. The high desert has a beauty of its own when you take time to look at it.”

  Fiona looked around with new eyes while they waited. Opal pointed out the difference in the brush. Greasewood had thorns, and the older stalks were woody. Sage brush was gray green with narrow leaves, rabbit brush greener and lacy looking. They couldn’t find any bitterbrush in bloom.

  In half an hour the Sheriff was back, his eyes shaded by his wide brimmed hat. He was still looking around.

  “What did you find?” asked Opal when he got back in the truck.

  “I found the tracks your boys said were there. I’m going to need horses and help to ride the trail and find where those tracks go. Can you spare Jake? He’s the best tracker around.”

  “Sure,” said Opal. “I’ll go along, too.”

  “No, you won’t,” said Hoover. “We could be gone several days.”

  “They’re my cattle, and I certainly can go. I’m not dead yet,” said Opal, as she expertly turned around without hanging up in any of the brush and maneuvered Old Faithful down the rutted road.

  Hoover shook his head. “Suit yourself.” But he didn’t look happy.

  As they rambled along, Fiona thought about her bunkhouse and what she should do, debating whether to leave or rebuild. That brought to mind Brewster and the girlfriend who never showed up.

  “Sheriff,” she said, “I was asked to pass along information about a girl who disappeared. Maybe it will be useful in your investigation.”

  Hoover looked at her. “Where did this information come from?”

  “Jim Brewster. He had a female friend who was coming to see him, and she never showed up. He thought she stood him up, but now he’s not so sure. She never showed, and he never heard from her again.”

  Hoover snorted. “Smart girl to stay away from him.”

  “I’m merely passing on information.”

  His face shifted from a grimace to a lopsided smile. “Thanks. I’ll follow up with him.”

  Hoover was a nice looking man, and he had his charm. But there was something dark about him that Fiona couldn’t name. She returned the smile and looked away. She had done her job as messenger. The girlfriend not showing up intrigued her. She might have to question Brewster more about it.

  They passed the herd on the way back to the ranch. The riders looked dustier than ever, but they were on the last leg of pushing the cows into a pasture closer to the house where the hands could keep an eye on them.

  As they approached the ranch house, Opal sat up in the seat. “Who’s that?”

  Fiona and Hoover looked in the direction where she was pointing. An enormous red vehicle was parked in front of the house.

  Fiona smiled. “Do you know anyone who drives luxury vehicles?”

  Opal shook her head.

  Hoover said, “Never saw a rig like that in this valley.”

  “Then it has to be Olympia. She found us.”

  Opal pulled Old Faithful alongside the bright red SUV and cut the engine.

  “Yoo Hoo. Yoo Hoo.” Olympia waved at them from the front porch. “Where have you been? I thought you were sick. Where is everybody?”

  Olympia hurried out the walk to meet them. She surrounded Fiona in a big hug and then held her at arm length to have a look.

  “Sweat suits don’t become you, dear, but other than that I don’t see any visible scars. What have you been up to in the middle of this emptiness?”

  Fiona laughed in spite of herself. Olympia could put a shine on any day.

  “It’s great to see you. Meet Opal, my hostess, and Hoover, the Sheriff.”

  Hoover had held back, maybe unsure of the vision before his eyes. He looked from Olympia to Fiona to the vehicle and back.

  “What kind of rig is that?” he said.

  “Rig?” said Olympia. She followed his look. “You mean my new Firenze Red, Range Rover with ivory leather seats and cherry wood interior trim?”

  “You bought it?” asked Fiona.

  Olympia sighed. “I don’t know, Fiona. I was in Portland with these writer friends, and we had a little too much to drink, I guess, and they told me that I needed a really good v
ehicle to get around in southeast Oregon. One thing led to another, and we ended up in a Land Rover dealership. I picked it up this morning. They programmed in the directions for the vehicle to get me here, and here I am.” She smiled at the Range Rover. “Isn’t it a dream?”

  Opal looked from Old Faithful to the Range Rover. “Got a pretty good paint job. How does it drive?”

  “Like suspended in clouds.”

  “Mine, too,” said Opal. “Can I get you something to drink?” She led the way to the porch. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring out the iced tea.”

  Olympia checked her watch. “It’s happy hour somewhere in the world. Do you have anything stronger? Maybe red wine?”

  “You bet. You sit and visit.” And she went off to the kitchen.

  Hoover, for the first time since Fiona had met him, seemed at a loss for words.

  Olympia beamed. “Sheriff Hoover is it? I’ve never met a Sheriff before. Only in my dreams.”

  Hoover appeared to be assessing the situation.

  No man had ever tamed Olympia. She was taller than Fiona, wore her dyed hair, red this time, in incredible swirls upon her head, and always dressed to kill, this time in sparkly cowgirl vest and skirt. She lived an immensely romantic existence within the worlds she created in her books which sold by the millions. You couldn’t pass a bookstand in any airport in the world without seeing her name.

  “I’m the real thing,” said Hoover, “and I need to get back to town. I’ve got crimes to solve.”

  He tipped his hat. “Nice to meet you. Welcome to Harney Valley.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I’d love to talk to you again when you aren’t so busy.”

  Hoover nodded and trotted out to the big white truck with the Sheriff’s office emblem on the door and sped away.

  “Was that Mr. Hunky?” asked Olympia.

  “That is Hunky No. 2. Hunky No. 1 is moving cows. He’ll be a dusty specimen when he arrives.”

  “I don’t know how you do it, Fiona, surrounding yourself with these gorgeous men.”

  Fiona laughed. “I know Hoover will figure in your next romance somewhere.”

  “Yes, indeed. I’ll have to do another Western series.”

  Opal returned with a tray. She handed a glass of red wine to Olympia and another to Fiona. She kept a tall of iced tea for herself.

  “Sit down, ladies, enjoy the afternoon,” said Opal.

  “This is quite a place you have here,” said Olympia, sitting on the love seat. Her billowing skirt filled the seat so Opal and Fiona sat on cushioned seats on either side of her.

  “Yum,” said Olympia, “wine never tasted so good. What a long drive it is out here. What scenery. What ruggedness. What big skies. So different than Portland.”

  Opal chuckled. “You don’t find many people from Portland re-locating to Harney Valley. They come as tourists, and that’s probably for the best.”

  Olympia gushed on. “A real cattle ranch. I have not had the experience of a real cattle ranch. My-oh-my.”

  “We’ll have to take you on a trail ride. Do you ride?” Opal asked.

  Olympia took a sip of wine. “Yes, I do. That is, a long time ago, I rode a horse. I might have to practice up a bit.”

  Fiona smiled. That Olympia knew how to ride was news to her.

  The phone range, and Opal went inside to answer.

  Olympia focused her attention on Fiona. “Tell me everything. What have you gotten yourself into?”

  Fiona nodded to the knoll. “See that black rubble up there. That’s what is left of my bunk house.”

  “No.” Olympia grabbed her throat. “How terrible. What happened?”

  Fiona gave her the short version of the fire, the longer version of finding the bones, and topped it off with the cattle rustling.

  “You have had a time of it. The Wild West is still wild then, isn’t it?”

  Fiona could hear the ideas rumbling around in Olympia’s head for her next book.

  “It’s different,” said Fiona. “Vastly different from city living.”

  “I believe you like it here,” said Olympia, peering at Fiona. “Fiona Marlowe, I believe you like it here.”

  Fiona smiled and toyed with her wine glass. “Maybe I do.”

  “What about Mr. Hunky? I’m dying to hear all the details of your romance.”

  “He likes me, and I like him. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Really, Fiona, I find that hard to believe. Two grown adults of a certain age only liking each other? That’s not how it plays out in romance novels.”

  Fiona smiled. “This isn’t a romance novel, Olympia, you goof. This is real life.”

  “Humph,” said Olympia, clearly disgruntled that Fiona was not forthcoming with any juicy details.

  “Speaking of Mr. Hunky,” said Fiona, “here he comes now.”

  Olympia followed the direction of Fiona’s gaze.

  “I can’t see anything except a dust cloud.”

  “That’d be the buckaroos, as we say in Harney Valley, coming home from a hard day on the trail.”

  Olympia jumped up. “Let’s go meet them.”

  Fiona laughed. Olympia’s enthusiasm always burned full flame.

  “Best we wait here. You don’t want to get caught in the cloud of dust and a bunch of tired horses and riders.”

  Opal rejoined them. “That was the Sheriff calling. He wanted Jake to go with him tonight to follow that trail. I talked him into going first thing in the morning.”

  “Are you going with them?” asked Fiona.

  “You bet. I wouldn’t miss this trail ride for the world.”

  Fiona said, “Hoover didn’t look like he wanted a woman along on a man’s mission.”

  “Where are we going? We could all go,” said Olympia.

  Fiona and Opal looked at each other.

  Opal said, “This wouldn’t be a trip for green horns. I’m a seasoned rider, and the Sheriff thinks I should stay at home.”

  “Too bad,” said Olympia. “I’m itching to get into the saddle. Will you look at those horses? It looks like there are a couple of women in that bunch. Fiona, maybe you and I could take a ride.”

  Fiona and Opal looked at each other again.

  “Let’s see how things develop,” Opal said.

  Fiona was thankful for Opal’s diplomatic response.

  Rosemary and Esme and the others rode straight to the corral with the horses. Jake stopped in front of the house and dismounted. With the dust, the hat, the horse, the spurs, neck scarf, and chaps, he couldn’t have looked more the Wild West cowboy. Fiona could see Olympia melting and falling in love in the time it took to Jake to walk to the porch.

  He touched the brim of his hat. “I see your friend has arrived. Nice rig you got there. That color will be easy for the police to spot.”

  Fiona thought Olympia was going to swoon. She grasped her arm to steady her. “This is my friend, Olympia. She was waiting for us when we got back.”

  “A real cowboy,” Olympia said. “A real cowboy.”

  Fiona rarely saw her friend at such a loss for words.

  “How’d everything go?” said Opal, walking to where Jake stood.

  Jake nodded. “The cows are in good shape. I’m not sure how long they’ll last on the new pasture. Grass is thin, and the well isn’t running good.”

  “Cowboy talk,” said Olympia. She held on to Fiona’s arm like a lifeline.

  Olympia was a woman who lived in books, in cities, and in luxury. Real life staring her in the face made her speechless, much to Fiona’s surprise. She’d have to remember that the next time Olympia went on a talker.

  Jake took off his hat and dusted it on his knee. His dark curls were plastered to his head and a dust line circled his forehead. He didn’t seem to care and neither did Olympia, by the enamored look on her face.

  He said to Opal. “I could use a drink. A man gets mighty thirsty on the trail all day.”

  Fiona smiled. Jake was laying it on
thick. He knew he was impressing Olympia. He could be a devil when he wanted to. He followed Opal inside, and Fiona pulled Olympia along with her.

  Olympia held back and whispered, “Fiona, he is more than Mr. Hunky. He’s the man of my dreams. I don’t know if I can be in the same room with such manliness.”

  If Fiona hadn’t known Olympia better, that declaration could have made her jealous. But having seen Olympia encounter more than one hunky man, she knew that every good-looking man and then some was the man of Olympia’s dreams.

  “You’ll do fine.” Fiona patted her arm. “Just be your normal, bubbling self, and everything will be fine.”

  “Of course,” said Olympia. She squared her shoulders. “I can do this. I can talk to the most gorgeous man I have ever met and not get tongue-tied.”

  “That a girl,” said Fiona, leading her into the house.

  * * * * *

  Jake pulled a beer from the refrigerator, leaned against the kitchen counter, and crossed his booted feet. He could hardly keep his lips from twitching so he occupied them with downing half the bottle to wash the dust from his throat. Fiona’s friend sat at the table with a silly grin on her face while Fiona refilled their wine glasses. Opal joined him, leaning against the counter. He guessed the friend’s first encounter with a buckaroo was overwhelming her.

  Opal said, “Hoover wants you to ride out with him to track those rustlers. He’ll be over around five tomorrow morning.”

  Jake nodded. “I figured as much when I saw you take him to the end of the trail.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  Opal looked him dead on. “I said I’m going with you.”

  “And I said you aren’t. You got guests, and Fiona is waiting for you to start on the decorating project. Hoover and I can do this ourselves, and you know it.”

  “It’s my ranch.”

  Jake grinned. “Right, but I’m the manager.”

  Opal was silent then sighed. “I know I’m being pig-headed. I just can’t get used to not doing everything I want to do. I guess I’d slow you down.”

  “There’s that.”

  “I know you don’t need me along.”