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

by Thelen, Marjorie

  Reese stood, flicking ashes from his cigarette. “I’m sorry to be a bother to her.”

  If you didn’t want to bother her, why did you come?

  “And,” said Reese, “please tell her, I’d like to talk to her in private.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Fiona said as she opened the screen door for Reese to enter. “You’ll have to put out the cigarette. Opal doesn’t allow smoking in the house.”

  He went down the steps and stomped the cigarette out in the dirt and left it there.

  He must think we have a grounds keeper that picks up fancy men’s cigarette butts.

  Jake stayed standing on the porch, and Fiona joined him there after she had seen Reese to the living room.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” said Jake.

  “Good idea,” said the love of his life.

  * * * * *

  “The stars are coming out,” said Fiona. “Look. See that big bright one above the setting sun?”

  Jake reached over and took her hand as they walked out the lane. “I hate to get technical on you, but that is a planet, not a star, even though it is called the evening star.”

  “You’re right. I get my stars and planets mixed up. But it sure is pretty glowing bright surrounded by the rose of the setting sun.” She stopped and he did, and they watched the western horizon.

  “What is going to happen now?” asked Fiona.

  Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. If I don’t get this ranch, I find another.”

  Fiona faced him. “But this is the one you love.”

  “Yes, it is. Opal and I have come to an agreement, but I don’t know what kind of offer or pressure Reese is going to apply. So we leave it to fate.”

  “Jake?”

  He smiled. “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  His smile doubled in size. “I like the sound of that. You know I love you.”

  “I’m sorry it has taken me so long to say it.”

  “Some people need more time to decide than others. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said with a smile to match his.

  He picked her up into a big hug and swung her around. She laughed and said to put her down. He eased her onto the ground and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Are you sure you’re going to like being a rancher’s wife?”

  She pursed her lips and looked very serious. “I think so. I’d like to give it a try.”

  Jake frowned. “You’re supposed to say I’ll stand by you till death us do part. It’s got to be more than trying. Marriage is a commitment.”

  Fiona sighed. “You sound like a preacher. This is all pretty new for me. I’ve thought about marriage a lot since you proposed. I think in the space of a few short weeks we’ve run the gamut of most of the things that can happen on a ranch.”

  Jake shook his head. “The cattle rustling and the arson aren’t normal. Mostly it is hard, dirty work, and uncertainty. I’m the kind that thrives on it.”

  Fiona said, “Hard work I don’t mind, dirt I can wash off, and as for uncertainty, that is life, isn’t it?”

  “You bet,” said Jake. “You’ll make it then, and with a little luck we’ll live out our days together on this ranch.”

  “I’m with you.”

  “Let’s treat ourselves to a roll in the hay.”

  Fiona raised an eyebrow. “You mean that literally?”

  Jake gave a devilish grin. “You bet. There’s some fluffy loose hay in the back shed, and if you are going to be a rancher’s wife, you need to experience a real roll in the hay.”

  * * * * *

  Jake and Fiona returned from the hay barn later that night to a silent, dark house. The doors to the ladies’ bedrooms were closed. Olympia’s car was parked in front. Reese’s car was gone. They turned in without knowing the outcome of the meeting between Reese and Opal.

  The next morning Jake and Fiona were the first ones up. A cool breeze blew through the screen door in the kitchen. Birds argued in the trees outside. The plants on the kitchen window sill smiled happily in the sun.

  Jake was frying bacon when Samantha came into the kitchen, looking for coffee. She sat down at the kitchen table wearing a pastel pink hoodie over her pajamas.

  “Coffee’s brewing,” said Fiona. “Should be ready in a minute.” She was dying to know the outcome of the meeting with Reese. “Did you hear any of the conversation Opal had with Reese?” she asked Samantha.

  Sammie shook her head. “Opal talked to him alone. I went to my room to read and later heard her go into her room and shut the door. I don’t know what time Olympia got back.”

  Fiona poured coffee for the three of them. Jake pushed bacon around on the griddle.

  “Should I make pancakes?” he asked the women.

  “Sure, why not?” said Sammie. “Where are the guys?”

  “They’re on watch or baling hay,” said Jake. “They made themselves breakfast by the looks of the dirty dishes in the sink.” He got out the pancake mix and set to mixing up a batch.

  Fiona was setting the table when Olympia walked into the kitchen, hair askew, yawning and blinking and attired in the same clothes she had worn last evening.

  “You’re up early,” said Fiona to her.

  “I’ve not been to bed. I was up all night writing. I dropped Paul off in town and came back because the muse was clobbering me over the head with ideas. I’ll have some of that coffee and yum that bacon smells good.”

  Fiona slid a mug of coffee in front of her.

  “Okay,” said short order cook Jake, “we now have four for breakfast. Is that correct?”

  “Make that five,” said Hoover, as he came through the kitchen door. He helped himself to coffee and sat down at the table with the ladies.

  “You’re becoming a regular,” said Jake. “Taking the day off?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am,” said Hoover. “I came by to see if you wanted to do a little fishing, Jake.”

  “In haying season? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Then maybe Fiona and Sammie and Olympia will go with me.”

  Olympia shook her head. “I have to write. But I’ll take a rain check.”

  “Not me,” said Fiona. “I’m helping with haying.”

  Hoover looked at Sammie.

  “I’ll need to check with Opal. Even though she doesn’t have a treatment today, she might need help.”

  With that Opal waltzed into the kitchen. “It’s a great day for fishing. You go on, Sammie. Go fishing with Hoover. I’ll be fine.” She was dressed in cowgirl attire and looked like she was ready for the state rodeo. She was humming a song that sounded like Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.

  The assembled company looked at each other.

  “Care for anything to eat?” said Jake to Opal. “We’re feeding half the valley this morning. Are you feeling up to it?”

  Opal stopped beside a chair at the table and grasped the back of it. “I feel great this morning. I could eat a horse, but I’ll settle for toast and tea.”

  Whatever had happened last evening had put Opal in an extremely good mood. Fiona took that as a hopeful sign.

  “Coming right up,” said Jake.

  “I am most grateful,” said Opal. She pulled out the chair and sat down.

  Fiona set water on to boil and placed a mug with tea bag before Opal. Jake put two slices of whole wheat bread in the toaster.

  Opal started humming again then burst into the words of the song and smiled around the table at them as she sang.

  Jake and Fiona looked at each other. Jake shrugged his shoulders. They had steeled themselves for the inevitable. If Reese made a better offer, they’d find another ranch. If they got this one all the better, but they were going to get married and live in Harney Valley where Jake could ranch and do what he liked doing best. Fiona would be by his side. She’d learn to drive a tractor and a swather and a baler and who knows what else. The possibilities were endless. And she’d get to decorate her very own ranch house. />
  The only sound in the room was the sizzle of bacon frying and Opal’s singing. Fiona set a jar of rhubarb marmalade and butter in front of her. The others looked like they were enjoying Opal’s musical performance.

  Opal finished the song with a flourish and got a round of applause. She grinned at them. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m so happy this morning. I’ll tell you. Jake will get my ranch.”

  Fiona sat blinking her eyes. Was she hearing right?

  Jake stared at Opal.

  “Didn’t you hear me, Jake,” Opal said. “Aren’t you happy? I’m selling the ranch to you.”

  Jake cleared his throat and set down his coffee mug which he had halted halfway to his lips. “Well, dog-gone-it, Opal that’s great. When do we settle?”

  “I’m calling the title company today, and we’ll settle as soon as they get the papers ready.”

  Fiona had to know what had happened last evening. “What about Reese Crawford?”

  Opal’s grin got even bigger. “I turned him down and I explained why and he grumbled and upped his price, but I still turned him down. I explained that he didn’t deserve this ranch nor did Tillie, and I didn’t appreciate being threatened by my own relations. I told him that he didn’t need this ranch if he had one in California. I warned him that Tillie wasn’t what she said she was. That both of them better be careful because I suspected them of being behind the fire set here and our cattle that are missing.”

  “Reese Crawford was here?” asked Hoover, finally finding his voice. “I guess I missed an installment in the soap opera.”

  Opal laughed and recounted the story of Reese arriving yesterday evening.

  “That gives me a smoking gun but no fingerprints, Opal,” said Hoover. “They have the motive for wanting the ranch, but that doesn’t mean they set the fires or are stealing your cows.”

  “But listen to this,” said Opal. “Jake told me you found that Walt Long fellow. So I casually mentioned as we were chit chatting when we first sat down in the living room that I heard that Walt Long worked for him and asked how he was doing since he used to work for us. I had to do a little fibbing. He said Walt did work from him from time to time but he hadn’t heard from him lately. Then I knew that Reese was behind this whole thing. How’s that for a connection?”

  Hoover slowly nodded his head up and down. “Weak connection but it gives me something to work on. You may have uncovered the missing link, Opal.”

  “Great detective work,” said Fiona.

  Jake still wore a happy grin on his face. “I can’t believe you said all that. You gave him both barrels.”

  “I did, and it felt so good. And I told Reese if I ever saw him or Tillie around the ranch again, I’d get out my rifle. He knew I wasn’t kidding. I don’t think we’ll have any more trouble with cattle rustling, or people trying to set the ranch afire.” She threw back her head and laughed out loud. “When I got done with Reese Crawford I felt like singing at the Grand Ole Opry. Jake gets the ranch, and I feel real good about it. I am so happy for you two. And I’m happy for me, too.”

  Her laughter halted abruptly, and she glared at Fiona and Jake. “You are getting married, aren’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am,” they both said at the same time.

  “Excellent.” Opal’s smile returned. “Now I can die happy.”

  The End

  About the Author

  Marjorie Thelen lives and writes novels on a ranch on the Oregon frontier outside of the small town of Burns. She enjoys writing stories that entertain her and, hopefully, her readers. She’s written two novels in the Mystery-in-Exotic-Places series: The Forty Column Castle and The Hieroglyphic Staircase. She is currently writing the third novel in the series, The Hoodoo Canyon. Designer Detective was the first in the Fiona Marlowe Mystery Series. And, yes, there is a sequel in the making to High Desert Detective. The idea for it came from a water color by artist Dona Townsend of Washington entitled My Heroes Have Always Been. All Marjorie’s books are available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, ibookstore and other online retailers. If you would like to learn more, visit her web site: www.MarjorieThelen.com. To learn more about life on the Oregon frontier visit her blog at http://alongpalominolane.blogspot.com. She welcomes correspondence from her readers through the contact page on her web site.

  The Forty Column Castle: An eccentric aunt drags her unsuspecting niece, Claudie Lowell, into the murky world of antiquities smuggling on the island of Cyprus. Claudie tries to clear her aunt’s good name only to uncover layer upon layer of dangerous intrigue masterminded by Zach Lamont, the most dangerous man of all.

  The Hieroglyphic Staircase: Elena Palomares’s summer archaeological project in Copan, Honduras turns into a nightmare when she discovers someone has been stealing stones from the Hieroglyphic Staircase, she finds a stranger dead at her work site, and she’s a suspect. An ex-priest offers to help clear her good name. In the course of their investigation, they discover there is a price to pay for disturbing the ghosts of the ancient Mayans, and Elena must decide if she is willing to pay it.

  Designer Detective: Fiona Marlowe, interior designer to the rich and powerful in Washington D.C., discovers her wealthy old client dead in his library and helps his Wild West relatives from southeast Oregon solve the mystery of his demise.

  The Hoodoo Canyon: A top secret conference of the world’s best physicists convenes at a remote backpack site in Bryce Canyon National Park. But the scientist who organizes the conference never shows up and among the attendees is an alien.

  The Deovolante Space Opera series: stay tuned

  An excerpt from Designer Detective, first book in the Fiona Marlowe mystery series:

  One

  The private investigator introduced himself as Jake.

  “I understand you’re an interior decorator,” he said.

  “Designer. I don’t just decorate I design living space,” I said.

  He cast his eyes around the room like maybe he didn't understand me right, like I'm glad you're not my interior designer.

  “Okay, I know the place is a mess. I'm busy. I lead an active life. I travel a lot. But that’s not why you’re here.”

  We sat on my beige leather couch. His knees didn't quite fit between the couch and the black lacquer coffee table, overloaded with books and empty coffee cups that hadn't made it to the dishwasher. He spread his legs wide in the way only a man can do. His thighs were big, and his Levis fit tight. I like the curve of a man's thigh so I sneaked a discreet glance when he wasn't looking. I didn't think he noticed.

  “I understand you found the deceased when you went to his house this morning.”

  “Yes. I have a key. I let myself in because he leaves for work before I arrive.”

  “What time was that?”

  “After eleven.”

  “Then you arrived late in the morning.”

  “Yes.” I smiled like it was normal to report to work after eleven in the morning. I am not an early riser.

  “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

  I thought that one over and felt a need to explain. “I was in a rush this morning and got held up in traffic. When I arrived at the Lodge estate, parked in the drive, ran through the downpour, struggled with the key in a Byzantine lock, banged open the door and shook off, I was in a foul mood. Finding Albert Lodge on the floor of the library was the final nail in the coffin, you might say. I wasn't at my most observant.”

  “I see,” he said, writing in a little spiral notebook. “Describe finding the body.”

  I thought back over the scene. “When I walked into the library, he was stretched out on the floor. I thought he was sleeping. Maybe he’d had a wild night. I sniffed the air for booze. Didn't smell like the inside of a bar. I shook him a little, called his name.” I did a mental pause. “Are you investigating a murder?”

  His eyes came up from where he was writing in the little spiral notebook. Creases framed his eyes, and he looked as tired as I felt.

  �
�The coroner ruled he died of natural causes.”

  “Why are you here?”

  He addressed me like I was a bothersome child. “I’ve been hired by the family to find out if the death was, in fact, natural.”

  “I see. Sorry. It's been a long day.”

  “Right,” he said and checked his watch. “I was up at four this morning.” He plodded on. Tenacious guy. “You didn't notice anything about the deceased's house that would make you suspicious? Like a window open, glass on the floor, muddy foot prints?”

  “No, nothing.” I was trying hard to remain patient. He was being too methodical for me. I wanted to jump to conclusions.

  “After you tried to rouse him, what did you do?”

  “I yelled for help, anybody, help. Loud. Several times. No one came.”

  “And then?”

  “Like I told the officer this morning, I picked up the phone and dialed 911, because I sensed we had a medical emergency on our hands.”

  I must have put too cynical a twist on that last part because he looked up from his notebook. “Miss,” he glanced at his notes, “uh, Marlowe, I believe it is. I'm sorry if it's late, if you're tired, if I'm tired, if I'm asking a lot of questions. I'm sorry but a man is dead, and I am to determine if foul play was involved. If you'd like, if I'm inconveniencing you, I could come back in the morning.”

  We stared at each other until I got uncomfortable and looked away. “I'll make coffee,” I said. “It sounds like we might be here all night.”

  “No, thanks,” he said, holding up his hand to stop me from rising from the couch. “I'd like to get this done and get out of here. I got another stop before I crash tonight.”

  I was impressed with his work ethic. I stepped out of my wiseass suit and answered the man's questions. He left in fifteen minutes, after scribbling his name and cell phone number on a piece of notebook paper. He must have been out of business cards.

  “Call me,” he said, “if you think of anything that might help. Any little detail, no matter how insignificant.”