Ditched 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  “Good morning.” I tried to sound upbeat and chipper.

  “Morning. Okay, come on. Let’s scope this out before it starts to heat up. And watch for scorpions and snakes, will you? I don’t want to be dealing with anything.”

  Terrific. And you think I do?

  I hadn’t really given desert critters a thought that morning as I slipped into my sandals. Now I was beginning to regret my decision. Especially since I owned more pairs of boots than I cared to enumerate. Boots that I brought here all the way from Minnesota. Just in case.

  As we walked up the dirt path, I kept my eyes fixated on the ground in front of me, occasionally turning around to see if anything was approaching from behind. Jake was a few steps ahead of me and clearly not in the mood for conversation. With Petroglyph Plaza only yards away, I noticed the sign to my right. It read STAY ON THE TRAIL. POISONOUS SNAKES AND INSECTS INHABIT THE AREA.

  No sooner did I look down when Jake spoke.

  “Yep! We’re here. Got a big open space we can use. The lookout for the rocks is right in front. We’ve got at least a five- or six-foot leeway before someone takes a nosedive into the canyon. The park ain’t takin’ any chances, either. Looks like they put in new railings. These come up to your waist, not your knees like the old ones. Guess I haven’t been here in a while.”

  I glanced over to where the Indian ruins were located. Aunt Ina would want the tent to face in that direction.

  “Have the tent open up this way,” I said. “Everyone can look out at the ruins.”

  “Sun’s gonna be slightly off to the left, you know. That gonna be okay?”

  “How slightly?”

  My aunt wanted a dazzling effect for the ceremony, so I figured maybe the canopy could be adjusted.

  “What if you set it up so the canopy is dead center to the sunrise and the tent faces the ruins?”

  “Yeah, we can do that.”

  Hallelujah. The man said they could do that and now I could head off to work.

  “Hey, lady. One more thing. You mentioned something the other day about putting some flowers along the pathway leading to the ruins. Whoever’s doing that has to wait till we’re all set up.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  I glanced over at the ruins and, for a minute, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was a splash of color that seemed out of place. Taking a few steps forward, I decided to catch a better look. Maybe some neat flowers were in bloom and more would be blooming on the day of the wedding.

  “Hey, now what are you doing?” Jake sounded annoyed. “Don’t tell me you want to move the canopy over?”

  “No, I’m just taking a closer look at the—OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD, NO!”

  “What the hell? Did you get bit? I told you to be careful! Damn snakes and scorpions.”

  “OH MY GOD! It’s a body! A body lying by the rocks. I think the person’s dead.”

  “Oh hell. This is really gonna ruin my day. Stay where you are. I’m walkin’ over.”

  Jake grumbled about stupid weddings as I stared straight ahead at the figure lying stretched out between two huge petroglyph boulders. Like witnessing a train wreck, I couldn’t seem to pry my gaze off it and found myself edging closer and closer until I got a crystal clear view of the person. Then I really started to scream. This was the third time I had seen that man’s face. First with Rochelle at the restaurant and then on the cover of Phoenix Home and Garden. Now, dead in a petroglyph ditch.

  I took another look. This time closer. Then I screamed again.

  Chapter 9

  “Shh! Keep it down. Keep it down, will ya? Don’t need to have anyone hear you.”

  I stopped screaming momentarily and turned away from Roland LeDoux’s body. Jake grabbed my arm and motioned for me to follow him.

  “Look, miss, the park ain’t gonna open for another fifteen to twenty minutes. We can hightail our butts outta here before it’s too late. Let some hiker or tourist find the stiff in the rocks. I’ve got better things to do with my day.”

  “We can’t just leave him here. What if he’s still alive? I’m calling nine-one-one.”

  “Stop! Don’t call. He’s dead, I tell you. Dead. Take a good look. The side of his head looks all smashed in like he cracked it against one of those rocks, and that’s not dirt on his face, it’s dried blood. Dries real quick in this heat. And what about his wrist? It’s all swollen and bruised. Weird position to be lying in, huh? I mean, it doesn’t look like he took a header off those rocks. Fell the other way. Like he was after something and got . . . Holy crap! Look at the guy’s arm, will ya? He got bit by a snake. Probably a rattler. That’s why there’s a red streak running down his arm. Come on, let’s go! We’re outta here!”

  But it was too late. I had already dialed 911 while Jake was raving about Roland’s body. The operator asked me to identify the emergency and provide a location. I did both.

  “Oh, what the hell, lady!” Jake was beside himself. “I can’t think of a worse way to spend my day.”

  Then he looked at the petroglyph rocks and mumbled, “Ah, it could be worse, I suppose. Least we’re vertical.”

  “Do you think there’s some sort of chance he’s alive? Maybe we should be doing something until the EMTs get here.”

  “I’ll tell you what we should be doing. We should be going back to our cars and waiting. You wanna wind up bit by a snake like that jerk?”

  “He’s not a jerk. He’s a reputable chef and a—”

  “Wait a second. You know this guy?”

  Jake looked at me as if I was the one responsible for the man’s demise. What did he think? That I lured Roland LeDoux to this spot and then killed him before Jake arrived?

  “I don’t know him personally. I know of him. He’s on this month’s cover of Phoenix Home and Garden. He’s Master Chef Roland LeDoux from Saveur de Evangeline restaurant in Surprise.”

  “That so? I didn’t get a good look at his face. Saveur de Evangeline, huh? Your aunt’s caterers. We’ve had to deal with them, and it wasn’t pretty. Fussy bunch of snobs.”

  The faint sound of sirens grew in the distance. The emergency response team was on its way.

  I had to give Jake Felton credit for knowing one thing—Roland was dead. Had been dead for a few hours, according to the EMTs. An autopsy would provide the exact results, but their guess was Roland climbed into the petroglyph ditch in order to retrieve something, got bit by a venomous snake, fell backward, and hit his head. The head wound didn’t kill him, in their opinion. Something called anaphylactic shock did.

  “Poor guy must have had an allergic reaction to the snakebite,” one of the responders said as he helped load the gurney into the ambulance. “It happens sometimes.”

  Jake and I were asked to provide identification and give our statements to the local sheriff’s deputy, along with our contact information. A lone park ranger stood off to the side, letting the deputy handle the situation. Neither Jake nor I mentioned entering the park before hours, and no one asked to see a park pass. I explained we were at Petroglyph Plaza so we could assess the right spot to set up my aunt’s wedding pavilion. Then Jake chimed in.

  “Yeah, the crazy aunt’s getting married at sunrise, so she sends her niece here to figure out where to pitch the tent. Wanted the sunbeams to be in the right place. But, hey, that’s what we do at Feltons’ Pavilions, Tents, and Awnings.”

  I didn’t know if he was giving the deputy a sales pitch or trying to legitimize his reason for being here. Either way, it didn’t matter. We were free to leave the state park and go about the rest of our day. I sent a text message to Nate, explaining I would be late, and started to walk back to my car. This time Jake was a few steps behind me.

  Suddenly, I turned around. “Um, Jake, what do you suppose Roland was trying to get in the ditch?”

  “How the hell would I know? Why? What difference does it make? Guy’s dead.”

  “It could hold a clue to his death. I mean, maybe someone deliberately lur
ed him out here.”

  “If there’s something to find in that damn ditch, let the sheriff or the park rangers do it. If ya noticed, they were wearing boots. And like I said before, ‘It ain’t none of my business.’ What a pisser if it would’ve happened on the day of that wedding.”

  I rolled my eyes, hoping Jake wouldn’t notice. “Listen, Jake, I’ve got to walk back and ask the sheriff’s deputies something. So, are you all set with the preparations for the pavilion and the canopy?”

  “Sure thing. The crew’s got to get over here by three in the morning for the setup if your aunt wants the ceremony at sunrise. Like I said before, ‘sun comes up around five.’ We gotta pay overtime for our crew. And you’re gonna need special park permission for us to arrive that early. It’s one thing to kinda sneak in like we did today, but not with a bunch of men who are gonna be pitching tents in the dark.”

  “Do you know where I get the permission form?”

  “I guess at the ranger’s station. Or maybe some Web site. They always send you to a stinkin’ Web site. Anyway, we’ll be in touch. And, lady, next time you might want to swap those sandals for some hiking boots. This ain’t the beach.”

  Terrific. Everyone gets to tell me how to live my life. “Yeah. Sure. Um, and thanks.”

  Jake headed to his truck. Then I turned the other way and walked back to the sheriff’s deputies, who were studying the scene of Roland’s death. By now the yellow crime scene tape plastered the entire area. I was still walking carefully, watching the ground in front of my sandals. My aunt Ina wasn’t going to handle this situation very well. Losing her master chef would be tantamount to a Super Bowl team losing its quarterback. I should at least try to find out why he wound up smashed against a boulder and if indeed it was a snake that killed him.

  “Excuse me.” I approached one of the deputies. He was tall, blond, and at least twenty years younger than me. “I hate to bother you. I know you’ve got my statement and all, but I was wondering, um . . . before you got here and I saw the body, it looked like maybe the guy was looking for something. I mean, it could hold a clue to his death.”

  “I’m sorry, miss. This is a crime scene now, and we can’t divulge any information to the public. Not at this time.”

  “I understand. I’ll be on my way.” Once I complete a little theatrical performance.

  I took two or three steps, then turned around. “Oh no! Oh no! I must have dropped my cell phone over there in all the commotion. Do you mind if I take a look?”

  “Be quick about it, okay? And be careful! We don’t need another tragedy.”

  I thanked him and walked toward the ditch in the hope I could overhear the conversation going on between the two deputies, who were checking the area where Roland’s body was found. If I’d learned one thing from my mother, overhearing conversations could be very useful.

  “Remember, Phee,” she always said, “there’s a difference between eavesdropping and accidently overhearing something. Eavesdropping is just plain snooping around, but accidently overhearing is an entirely different matter. It’s fortuitous.”

  No doubt. That was the word for it—“fortuitous.” Call it what you wanted, but I lucked out. I heard every word those deputies said as I pretended to look around for a lost cell phone.

  “Find anything, Mike?”

  “Nothing. Just the guy’s motorcycle key. He owned a Ducati. Key must have dropped when he fell.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nah, we’ve been all over this place.”

  “When we get back to the station, let’s see if anyone with a Ducati was camping here last night. He could have rented a campsite nearby and decided to take an early morning hike. Bike’s probably at the campsite with the rest of his gear.”

  At that point I figured I had lingered long enough at the scene, so I bent down and pretended to pick up my phone. Then, to make it official, even though I doubted anyone was listening, I shouted, “I found it! I found my phone!”

  It was highly unlikely Roland LeDoux had been camping here last night. The one thing he was doing was having Cecilia Flanagan and Myrna Mittleson taste his hollandaise sauce, and that would have been after dark. No, most likely Roland had arrived at the scene of his death in the morning. So, where was his motorcycle? And why was he here in the first place?

  This really had nothing to do with me, and it certainly wasn’t a case for Nate. He had his own suspicious death case to contend with. Mere yards from my mother’s house. Right now, I had to figure out a way to break the news to Aunt Ina. I thought about it as I ambled back to my car. Surely Roland’s restaurant had other chefs who were equally impressive. My mind wandered a bit as I struggled to find the best approach. Just as I came up with something, I realized it was too late.

  The Channel Five news van was headed up the mountain as I was approaching the exit gate. Two minutes later, it was followed by Channel Fifteen, Channel Three, and Channel Twelve. Fox News Ten brought up the rear as I turned onto Cotton Lane, heading into Surprise. I pulled off the road and started to dial my aunt’s number when I remembered something—the police wouldn’t divulge the victim’s name until they notified the next of kin. I had a reprieve. No sense blowing it with a call to my aunt.

  Thirty-five minutes later, I was back in the office and anxious to share the news with Nate. Surprisingly, I thought I’d be more shaken up about seeing a dead body. The ones that I had seen were at funeral parlors and looked more like wax figurines than actual decomposing humans. Roland LeDoux’s body looked real. Real and dead.

  Augusta hadn’t arrived yet. Nate was over by the copy machine when I walked in.

  “Hey, kiddo. Got your text. What’s up?”

  “You won’t believe this. I don’t even believe this. My aunt’s master chef from Surprise is dead. In a ditch. I saw the body. Snakebite. He hit his head. Dried blood. Not dirt. That’s what I saw. I thought it would be more gruesome, but I guess it was gruesome enough. I had to give a statement to the sheriff’s deputies and then—”

  Nate stopped what he was doing and walked toward me.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Slow down, Phee. Take it easy. One step at a time. Where was this? And why were you there?”

  I took a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts. Maybe I was more shaken up than I realized.

  “Look,” Nate said, “why don’t you make yourself a cup of coffee and sit down. Augusta won’t be in for another hour or so and it’s pretty quiet in here. So suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

  “Okay. Give me a minute.”

  I walked into my office, stashed my bag in a drawer, and headed over to the coffeemaker. Somehow holding a warm cup of coffee made me feel more relaxed. I followed Nate into his office and sat down. Starting with yesterday afternoon’s visit to the tent company and ending with my finding Roland LeDoux’s body in Petroglyph Plaza first thing this morning, I told Nate everything. Including the fact two of my mother’s book club members were at Roland’s restaurant at closing hours to taste hollandaise sauce.

  Still, something else was nagging at me. “This wasn’t like finding a body on the golf course, Nate. That really could have been anything. But this one didn’t look like an accidental death to me. Not that I’m any kind of expert, but honestly, no one in their right mind goes traipsing into an area known for scorpions and venomous snakes. And then the way his body looked next to that boulder . . .”

  “Hmm, no wonder you’re so wound up. His death does sound kind of suspicious, doesn’t it? I imagine the authorities will find out how he got there and what or who killed him. That is, unless the media beats them to it and fabricates their own scenario. That’s been known to happen more times than I care to imagine. Anyway, are you going to be all right today? These kinds of things can really shake up a person.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m not the one we should worry about. However, my aunt Ina is going to be beside herself when she finds out her master chef is dead. She’s not the kind of person
who adapts easily to changes in venue. When my cousin Kirk and I were in second grade, she took us to the Sibley Park Zoo during Christmas to see the reindeer. Unfortunately the exhibit was delayed due to weather. You should have seen her pitch a fit. The entire time she kept yelling at the docents, ‘If we wanted to see goats and rabbits, we wouldn’t have waited until December.’ Imagine what this will do to her. It took her months to decide upon the right culinary artist for the wedding.”

  “Your aunt Ina will be all right. Saveur de Evangeline has more than one chef, I would imagine. In all likelihood, their sous chef will probably step in. Say, speaking of Saveur de Evangeline, didn’t I read somewhere they were going to open another restaurant in Scottsdale? Yep, come to think of it, I did. They were going to call it Saveur de Madeline.”

  “Yeah. You’re right. Roland mentioned it in that article in Phoenix Home and Garden. But that new restaurant is at least a year off. Now, maybe even longer, if at all. I don’t know if Roland had any financial partners to back his endeavor. The article didn’t say.”

  Just then the phone starting ringing, and I got up to answer it. A prospective client inquiring about our services. By the time I got off the line, Augusta had arrived and settled in at her desk. Nate was already back in his office. I had my own work to do and tried not to think about the body in Petroglyph Plaza or my aunt Ina. Nothing like spreadsheets and accounts to get one’s mind off murder.

  At a little past one, Nate left to meet with one of his clients, the deadbeat dad case, I guessed. I forced myself to concentrate on my work so I wouldn’t have to think about Aunt Ina, figuring I’d call her once I got home. By two, I was starving, so I stepped out to grab a hot dog from Quick Stop, where I bought the magazine the other day.

  Like every store, restaurant, gas station, nail salon, and beauty parlor in Arizona, there was at least one full-screen television on the wall featuring the news. My eyes immediately shot to the footage as I read the ribbon on the bottom of the screen. “Authorities have identified the body of a thirty-eight-year-old man who was found dead of an apparent snakebite in the White Tank Mountains. His name has not been released yet.”