Murder and Mega Millions: A High Desert Cozy Mystery

by Dianne Harman

  When the three of them returned to Marty’s house, her answer machine indicated she had a message. A moment later she heard Carl’s voice say, “Marty, we’re in luck. We have an appointment at Rhonda’s at 4:00 p.m. today. Why don’t you come to the shop about 3:45? She just lives a short distance from here. If I don’t hear back from you, I’ll see you then. By the way, I took my cape out of the closet, but I think I better put it in my briefcase, rather than wear it. Might frighten poor Rhonda.”

  The picture of Carl in a Superman outfit made Marty laugh out loud, causing both of the dogs to look at her. Marty didn’t laugh out loud very much when she was by herself, and the dogs always noticed anything that was different. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to make you nervous. I was just enjoying a moment of levity.” They seemed to understand and retreated to their dog beds to take their morning nap.

  She took the card Tammy Crawford had given her out of her desk drawer and spent a few moments deciding exactly what she wanted to say to her when she called. When she was ready, she picked up her phone and pressed in the numbers.

  “Crawford residence. May I help you?” asked the voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Yes, this is Marty Morgan. My husband, Detective Jeff Combs, and I were seated at Mrs. Crawford’s table at the Charity for Children event. She asked me to call her if I knew of anyone who wanted to make a donation to one of her charities.”

  “Certainly. I’ll get Mrs. Crawford. Please hold.”

  A moment later a smooth voice said, “Marty, how nice to hear from you. How can I help you?”

  “I’ve been thinking about the wonderful work you do, and came up with an idea for a silent auction donation that I think might appeal to the people who attend galas, such as the one the other night. I was wondering if you’d be free to see me early this afternoon so I can tell you about my idea?” Marty held her breath, waiting for Tammy’s response.

  “Yes, that should work. I have a luncheon meeting, but I should be home by 2:00. Why don’t you come to the house at 2:30, and we can talk then? Here’s my address. It’s an estate in the older part of town. You know, the part of town where the movie stars built homes when Palm Springs became the ‘in’ place. A lot of us prefer the elegance and class from that era to the newer cookie-cutter gate-guarded communities the snowbirds like so much,” she said with an air of haughtiness.

  Marty wrote down the address. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice. I’m going to be busy for the next few days, and I wanted to take care of this before I forgot about it. See you at 2:30,” she said, ending the call.

  She pulled Google Maps up on her laptop computer and saw that the address Tammy had given her wasn’t far from Carl’s antique shop.

  Rather interesting that Rhonda and Melissa both lived relatively close to Tammy, she mused. Must be a status symbol thing, living in one of the original areas of Palm Springs, although from what I saw when Jeff and I went to La Quinta the other night, I think I could be very happy in one of those areas.

  Just then she heard a little voice in the back of her head saying, “Who are you kidding? There’s no way you could be happy there, Marty. That’s why you love it up here in High Desert, away from the Botoxed women, the fancy cars, and the bling you see so much of in the Palm Springs area.”

  She quieted the voice by reminding herself that those were the very people who needed her services as an art and antique appraiser, and if that went with the job, she could deal with it as long as she could return to her home in the High Desert compound she’d grown to love.

  CHAPTER 13

  Marty wasn’t quite sure how one was supposed to dress when going to the homes of two of the most influential women in Palm Springs. One, the queen of the philanthropists, and the other, the grand duchess of art and antique collecting. She decided to go for a subdued desert look, which she hoped would be sophisticated enough for Tammy Crawford and Rhonda Taylor’s high standards.

  A few minutes later she looked in the mirror and thought the short-sleeved light blue silk blouse and dark blue silk pants would pass inspection. She took a pearl necklace and matching earrings out of her jewelry box, smiling as she thought of how rarely she wore them, and how much pleasure they’d given her mother.

  She made sure the dogs had plenty of water and that they could get out into the courtyard through the doggie door. Almost year-round air-conditioning was a necessity in the desert and leaving doors and windows open was not an option.

  Marty realized it was still too early to leave for her appointments, so she decided to stop by the Hi-Lo Drugstore. Whenever she did an appraisal, she took extensive photographs of the items she was appraising. The photos were necessary to verify size, color, or any damage of the items being appraised. She took the photos to the Hi-Lo Drugstore to be developed into hard copy prints which were then attached to the final copy of her appraisal.

  The photographs she had developed at the Hi-Lo were always a crucial element of her appraisals. She knew that the attorney for the Ross estate, as well as Dick at the insurance company, would want her to do the Ross appraisal as soon as possible. The woman who worked in the photo department at the drugstore, Lucy, had become a good friend of Marty’s. She wanted to talk to Lucy and make sure she could get the photos she would need developed without any delay.

  When Marty opened the door to the drugstore, she waved at Lucy, who was with a customer. Lucy was telling the customer in her own version of the English language when the man could expect to receive his photographs.

  “Sir, ain’t no way I can do ‘em as fast as ‘ya want ‘em done. I’m as busy as a tick on a coon most of the time, so I gotta’ send ‘em down to the Springs. Got some fancy development shop down there. Most times I gets ‘em back in a day or so, but can’t make ya’ no firm promises. That’s just the way it is.” She folded her arms across her chest and set her mouth in a straight line.

  Marty could tell by the way the customer looked at Lucy that he was new to the area. The regulars had all experienced delays because of the high-tech photo developing shop in Palm Springs. Marty always wondered why the Hi-Lo didn’t hire someone to develop the prints and do it in-house. She’d finally reached the conclusion it was one of those things that just is, and it was never going to be other than that. A few minutes later the man walked away with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Lady, get over here. Got a bone to pick with ya’,” Lucy said. “Why didn’t ya’ tell me you gots ya’ a new little one?”

  “Lucy, I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me. What are you talking about?”

  “Talkin’ ‘bout that new little addition to the Combs family. Hear from my source that his name is Patron and he’s ‘bout cute as a bug’s ear.”

  The corners of Marty’s mouth turned up. “Who told you that, Lucy? Has anyone from the compound been in recently?”

  “Nah, yer’ the only one of the group that comes in. Oh, once in a while that sister of yers’ does for some allergy thing, but never see the menfolk. Heard it from Mel, you know, the mailman. Says that handsome husband of yers’ was walkin’ that cute l’il bundle of white and tol’ him it was a gift from him to ya’. How come ya’ never mentioned it?” she said, assuming a mock belligerent stance with her hands on her hips.

  “I’m sorry, Lucy, it never occurred to me, and the last few times I’ve been in here, the only thing that’s been on my mind were the photographs I needed for one of my appraisals.” Marty seriously doubted the mailman had described Jeff as handsome and assumed that was Lucy’s own opinion. Maybe that was why Jeff never came in the Hi-Lo.

  “Well, girl, in that case, guess I can forgive ya’, but only on one condition. Wanna’ see a picture of that l’il guy. If’n yer’ like me, you’ll have a bunch of ‘em in yer’ purse.”

  “Lucy, I don’t have a bunch of them, but I did put one in my wallet. Let me get it.” She reached in her purse, opened her wallet, and said, “Here’s a recent photo of Patron.” She passed it over
to Lucy.

  Lucy studied it intently and totally surprised Marty by saying, “L’il guy got the gene, don’t he?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What gene?”

  “That thing that makes him special, like he’s got some, think it’s called, supernatural gift. Read an article in one of them dog magazines my ol’ man brought home. He went to the library when we got Killer to figger out the best way to train him. Between you and me, don’t think it did much good, cuz’ Killer definitely knows we follow him, rather than the other way ‘round.”

  Lucy leaned in towards Marty and spoke in hushed tones, as if she was telling her a secret. “Anyway, this article said somethin’ ‘bout dogs with eyes like yer’ l’il guy got this ability. They know things that are gonna’ happen, like. I read a coupla’ stories ‘bout dogs that predicted who won the Kentucky Derby and ‘nother one who was able to predict whether a pregnant woman was gonna have her a boy or a girl. Yup, ya’ got a special one there.” Lucy gave her a knowing wink.

  For one of the few times in her life, Marty was speechless. She simply didn’t know what to say, but as she processed what Lucy had just told her, she wondered if Patron did have some sort of a special gift. Maybe that was why he’d barked before the gala and yesterday before she and Laura discovered Melissa’s body.

  It appeared Lucy wasn’t quite done with her words of wisdom. “Think I tol’ you once that I get a quote or some sayin’ from different places every day and kinda’ like to think about it durin’ the day. I always get the ones that make me feel good. Guess some people would call them inspirational. Anyway, was playin’ ‘round with Pinterest this morning before I came to work and got this one.”

  She took a piece of paper out of her purse and unfolded it. “Ya’ ready?” she asked.

  “Yes, although this conversation is taking me into some unknown territory,” Marty said.

  “Well, jes’ thinkin’ it’s real weird that you come in here today with a picture of that l’il guy and my thought for the day is this: ‘The eternal being, as it lives in us, also lives in every animal.’ Some guy named Arthur Shopenhauer was the one who said it. Don’t that beat all? You jes’ keep an eye on that l’il guy and you’ll learn some things. I’d bet everythin’ I got on it, course that ain’t much. Jes’ too concidental, if you ask me.” Lucy folded the paper again into a small square and put it back in her purse.

  “Lucy, I think the word is coincidental, but I know what you’re saying. I’ll keep it in mind. You may be right.”

  “Nah, darlin’, I know I’m right. All you need to do is look in them eyes. Them ain’t the eyes of Killer, I’ll tell ya’ that.”

  I still can’t believe Lucy’s husband named that sweet little yellow Labrador retriever, Killer, Marty thought to herself.

  “Lucy, I have an appointment, and I need to leave. Other than to say hi to you, the reason I came in here today was to see what your workload is looking like for the next few days. I’m starting an appraisal tomorrow, and I’m going to want as quick a turnaround as you can do on my photos.”

  “Darlin’, for you, no prob. It’s guys like the one ya’ just saw that got’s the problem. I always put a big sign on yer’ stuff that says, ‘Special Handling, Lucy’, and ol’ Derek down at the developin’ place puts it in front of all the others. Fer you, a one-day turnaround, but jes’ don’t go blabbin’ ‘bout it, ya’ hear?” She glanced around to check that no one was listening, even though her booming voice was hard to miss.

  “I promise, Lucy, thanks. And thanks for the information about Patron. Could be. He has barked a couple of times before things have happened, and that could be the reason. I really do need to leave. I’ll probably just upload the photos to you rather than come by personally. Would that be okay?”

  “Sure. No prob. Good luck with that dead woman you discovered.”

  Marty was taken aback. “Lucy, where did you hear anything about that?”

  “Got my sources, darlin’, got my sources.” Lucy tapped the side of her nose with her forefinger. “Lookin’ forward to seein’ them new pretty pics of yers’. Talk to ya’ later.”

  CHAPTER 14

  After Marty left the Hi-Lo Drugstore, she found herself thinking about what Lucy had said regarding Patron. She knew Lucy was a gossip, and she didn’t want Patron and his gift, if he had one, bandied about with all her customers. The more she thought about it, the more she thought Lucy might be right. That would explain Patron’s barking and growling, and it would also explain Laura’s ability to calm him down. She already knew that Laura thought the dog was psychic.

  The address Tammy had given her was only a couple of streets over from Melissa’s home, and she easily drove to it. In contrast to Melissa’s home, which had fit into the landscape, Tammy’s home was pure Southwest style from its red tile roof to the inset tiles on the white stucco wall enclosing the front patio. Black wrought iron grillwork in the shape of a cross covered each window, presumably to prevent anyone from breaking into the home. It reminded Marty of the grillwork partially covering the windows at the La Quinta resort.

  Marty parked her car in the driveway and walked up to the black grillwork gate. She pressed the intercom button on the side of it and heard a voice telling her that the gate was unlocked, and Mrs. Crawford would meet her at the front door. As she approached the large wraparound porch, the front door opened and Tammy appeared. “It’s good to see you again, Marty. Come in. I thought we could talk in my office. Please follow me.”

  As they walked down the hall, Marty was surprised by the way the home was furnished. There was nothing in it that matched the exterior. The furnishings were very high end European furniture with Oriental rugs and French, German, and Italian decorative objects.

  “Tammy, I’m somewhat surprised at your choice of interior décor and furniture, given the Southwestern style of your home. Quite frankly, I expected to see Native American rugs on the floor and other Southwest art and artifacts. Instead, it looks like almost everything you have is European and of a very high quality. The Oriental rugs look authentic and are exquisite.”

  “Thank you,” Tammy said, stopping and making a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Almost everything in our home came from my husband’s family. They were very wealthy, as you can imagine, since I’m such a large donor to various charitable organizations. I may have mentioned that to you previously.”

  “I think you did,” Marty murmured.

  “Lew’s family gave us a number of pieces when we were married,” Tammy went on, “as did his grandparents, and then when his parents died, as an only child, he inherited everything. I’ve often thought I’d like to sell some of the things, so I could give even more to my philanthropic interests.”

  Marty followed her down the hall. “How fortunate you are to live with such beautiful things,” Marty said. “I know many of my clients would love to have these things if you do decide to sell some of them.”

  “Please have a seat,” Tammy said as they entered her office. Marty stood for a moment, hardly believing her eyes. All four walls were covered with photographs and articles either about or including Tammy Crawford. If Marty had ever wondered if people had been right when they said Tammy considered the most important thing in her life to be her philanthropic work, the room dispelled all doubt. She felt like she was in some kind of a shrine, and the goddess prayed to here was Tammy, the self-crowned saint of philanthropy. There was no evidence that her husband or anyone else existed. Yes, this was a temple dedicated to the modern-day supreme being of charitable giving, Tammy Crawford.

  “Well, what do you think of my office?” Tammy asked when they were both seated, Tammy behind her desk.

  Marty swallowed. “I think you’ve created a room that is perfect for your passion, philanthropy.”

  “Yes, I certainly have,” Tammy simpered, a smug smile plastered across her face. “And now that Melissa Ross is dead, I am once again the reigning queen of Palm Springs philanthropy.”

/>   “I heard she was dead. In fact, someone even mentioned that she’d been murdered. Have you heard anything about that?” Marty asked innocently.

  “I don’t know, but I sure wouldn’t be surprised if someone killed her. People of culture, like my husband, Lew, and me, don’t like to see trailer trash like her come into a town and think they can become a part of society by using the money they won in a lottery, for heaven’s sake. That is just so tawdry. I mean, I always knew she was just a ghetto girl, so I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she was murdered. Some people have no class, and they just have to be punished for not minding their place.”

  “I saw her at the gala the other night. The way you two hugged after her donation was announced, I thought you were good friends,” Marty said.

  “Oh no.” Tammy sucked in her cheeks. “Normally I wouldn’t let someone like that attend one of our events. People like my husband have more class in their little fingers than she had in her whole body. Unfortunately, the chairman of the Board of Directors insisted that she be allowed to attend, and now I know why.”

  “Why is that, Tammy?”

  “I’m sure she dangled her money in front of him. Probably told him she’d donate something if he let her in, and then she did. Pathetic, if you ask me.”

  “Did she have any family? I don’t think I’ve heard of any,” Marty commented casually.”

  “I read once she had an uncle and a brother, but she was estranged from both of them. I’m sure with her background, we’re better off not knowing about them.” Tammy focused on Marty. “Enough about that little nothing. What kind of donations have you come up with, dear? I can always use them.”

  “After the gala the other night, I had a thought. The people who attend these events are usually wealthy, and wealthy people often have things that need to be appraised for insurance purposes. I was thinking I could donate a couple of appraisals, say, two days each. That would make each of the donations, including my time, my research, and the preparation of the report, worth about $2,000 a day, $4,000 per donation. Naturally, if the appraisal went beyond two days, I would expect to be compensated at my usual rate, but I think it might appeal to people, particularly since they’d have to get an appraisal anyway and pay for it.”