Murder and Mega Millions: A High Desert Cozy Mystery

by Dianne Harman

  Tammy gasped in delight. “Marty, I think that’s a wonderful idea. I’m sure my husband would have bid on an appraisal if it had been in the silent auction the other night. He’s doing his every few year thing of crying the blues to me, telling me that business is horrible, we’re going to go broke, and I have to stop giving so much to my charities. It’s almost like he’s blaming me for business being bad. I told him he could sell some of the things he inherited, but he always says no to that idea.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure that presents a problem for your philanthropy interests.”

  “It might have been if Miss Trailer Trash was still alive and giving big money, but now that she’s dead, I can lower my giving limits, and I’ll still be the number one philanthropist in Palm Springs. Isn’t it wonderful when things just work out?” Tammy beamed.

  Murder doesn’t seem to be a way of things working out, Marty thought, but then again, that could be a powerful motive for some people. You just never know about people.

  “Tammy, what’s the next step in giving a donation? I’ve never done anything like this, so I’m at a loss.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not, because this is what I do, and if I say so myself, quite well. Now that Melissa’s left us, guess that’s a better thing to say than she was murdered, anyhow, I can now reclaim my rightful title of Number One Philanthropist in Palm Springs. I’ll give you a couple of fancy gift certificates. Fill them out and when you’re in the area, just drop them by the house. I don’t want it to seem like I’m throwing you out, but Lew called a little while ago and asked me to meet him and a client of his for cocktails. He was pretty happy when he called, because he’d heard about Melissa and knew I wouldn’t feel compelled to give as much as I have the last couple of years in order to retain my title.”

  Marty nodded as she stood up. “Please tell him hello for me.”

  “I will. I’m so glad he won’t have to worry any more. I probably shouldn’t say this, but Melissa’s death certainly makes our life easier. Anyway, I’m glad you came by.” Tammy opened her desk drawer and took out some papers, handing them across the desk to Marty. “Here are the gift certificates. Let me walk you to the front door.”

  After Marty put the gift certificates in the trunk of her car, she started driving towards the Palm Springs Antique Shoppe, her thoughts going a mile a minute. She couldn’t wait to talk to Jeff.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jeff was in his office at the police station when he placed a call to the Barstow, California police department. “This is Detective Jeff Combs with the Palm Springs Police Department. May I please speak with Chief Ellsworth?”

  “I’ll connect you,” said the woman on the other end of the line.

  A moment later, a familiar voice said, “Jeff, I haven’t talked to you since the conference in Santa Barbara for Southern California police personnel, and that was almost a year ago. It’s good to hear from you. I assume this isn’t a social call, and that you’re not down the street and want to meet me for a cup of coffee.”

  Jeff laughed and stretched back, putting his legs up on his desk. “Wish I could buy you that cup, but you’re right, this isn’t a social call. I’m calling about a man by the name of Christopher Ross. He lives on the outskirts of Barstow in one of those tarpaper shacks that your city is famous for having. I kind of have an address, but I don’t know how valid it is.”

  “Often, not very, but it would help. Why are you interested in him?”

  Jeff told him about Melissa’s death, and that there was a good chance it was murder. He went on to tell him what he knew about Melissa and her rags to riches story.

  “I remember something about that,” the chief said. “Think one of the secretaries here was talking about how this rich woman in Palm Springs had come from here. It had to do with her winning the Mega Millions. Think I may have even read the article.”

  “Well, here’s the thing. The man I’m interested in is Melissa’s uncle, but this is the clincher. She didn’t know if he was alive or not, but she specifically disinherited him by name. I guess where I’m going with this is if she was murdered, and he thought he was an heir, maybe he even read that article, anyway, that could be a powerful motive. Naturally, he might become a person of interest. My favor is to ask if you could send one of your men out to where he lives and talk to him or even a neighbor, if he’s not around. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but anything would help. Here’s what Melissa’s attorney has as an address for him.”

  The chief listened and then said, “That’s in a very poor area, Jeff. Most of the people who live out there either live off the grid or from disability check to disability check, but I’ll have one of my guys see what he can find out. I assume you’d like this right away. Would I be right?”

  Jeff laughed. “Don’t think I even need to answer that, because if the conversation were reversed, you’d be asking the same.”

  “You got that right. I’ll get back to you as soon as we come up with something. To change the subject, are you going to attend that conference in Los Angeles later this month? I’ve been thinking about attending it, but I’m getting pretty close to retirement, so I probably could pass on it.”

  “My police chief is going, so no need for me to go,” Jeff said. “But I’ll tell you what. I remember how much you liked that good wine from Sonoma we had at the conference. After I hear back from you, you might just have to sign for a package from me. How does that sound?”

  “Good enough for me to get my man started on it today. Talk to you later,” Chief Ellsworth said, ending the call.

  *****

  “Ricky, would you come to my office for a minute? Need you to do a little research for me,” Jeff said into his phone.

  “On my way, boss,” the young detective said.

  A few minutes later there was a knock on Jeff’s door. “Come in,” Jeff said, gesturing to him.

  “You wanted to see me, boss?”

  “Yes, Ricky. Sit down. This is regarding the Melissa Ross case. I’ve talked several times to her lawyer, and it turns out that Melissa had a brother by the name of Edward Ross. She told the lawyer she didn’t know if he was still alive, because he ran away from the home where they both lived with their uncle after their parents died. She told the lawyer he’d become a gang member, and that was the last she knew about him. Melissa said she assumed he was dead or in prison. According to the lawyer, he’d insisted that she specifically disinherit him in both her trust and will.”

  “I wouldn’t think that would make the brother very happy if he is alive. Hear she was bucks up,” the younger man said.

  “She was. She won the Mega Millions lottery some years ago, and it was one of the largest payouts ever. She was a very, very wealthy woman.”

  “If she disinherited him, why do we care about him?” Ricky looked confused.

  “Detective Bryant, there’s a good chance she was murdered. We’re looking at anyone who might have a motive. I’d say a poor brother who had a rich sister and didn’t know he’d been disinherited sure might make him a person of interest.”

  “Yeah, hadn’t thought of it that way.” The young detective rubbed his chin. “Guess he might have a motive. What do you need from me?”

  “I want you to find him. All we have to go on is that he was with a gang. Over twenty years ago, there was a lot of gang activity in Bakersfield that spilled over into Barstow and surrounding towns. The big one was the East Side Victoria Gang. The local police authorities finally shut the door on that gang just a few years ago. There’s a good chance that was the gang Ed Ross was involved in.”

  “I remember hearing about them when I was in the academy. Good thing it’s no longer operating.”

  “Couldn’t agree more. I think you need to start by doing a search of his name using the statewide criminal data base information and then go from there. If you find out he was incarcerated, get all the details, when, for how long, everything. If he’s out, find out where he went. Put
this on fast track. Since I’m the one who gives you your assignments, this takes precedence over everything else. Understand?”

  Just then Jeff’s phone rang and he picked it up. “Detective Combs.”

  “Detective, this is Darcourt LeBleu over at the coroner’s office. Your sister-in-law left a little while ago. Nice lady. Don’t know if she found out anything that will help on this case, but I wanted to let you know that I just received the preliminary finding on the cause of death. Quite frankly, this is a new one for me. Evidently Melissa Ross died from a poison dart frog secretion. That accounts for the puncture wound on her arm.”

  “Seriously, Darcourt, a poison dart frog secretion was the cause of death? That’s something I know nothing about. Where does someone get stuff like that?”

  “I have no idea. Like I said, this is a new one for me. I’m going to spend a little time researching it, but I thought I better alert you. However, this is definitely a homicide. She was obviously killed by another person, which means you now officially have a murder investigation on your hands. Good luck trying to solve this one. It really has a strange twist to it.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. Think I better do some research as well,” Jeff said before ending the call.

  “Sir, I couldn’t help but overhear about the poison dart frog,” Ricky said. “I had to go on a mission a few years ago. Our church requires that young men spend two years on one, and we have no idea where we’re going. We can’t even request a favorite place where we want to go. I spent some time at the training center in Provo, Utah and then was sent to Costa Rica. I became pretty proficient in Spanish.”

  Jeff began to impatiently tap his pen on the desk. “Ricky, I fail to see what this has to do with a poison dart frog.”

  “I’m getting there, sir. Poison dart frogs come from South American and Central American countries. Remember the stories about natives using darts with something on them to kill their enemies? Well, what they used was the secretion from a poison dart frog. I actually went to a store in Costa Rica where people could buy them. The owner told me he had several people who smuggled them into the United States and mentioned that some city in California, he thought it was Palm Springs, had a guy who sold them. Being a native Californian, it kind of stuck with me.”

  “Obviously, you know a lot more about this than the coroner and I do. In addition to getting the information about Melissa’s brother, see what you can find out about it. Particularly if there’s someplace in Palm Springs where you can get one of these frogs.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it. Interesting case. I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything.” Ricky’s chair scraped on the floor as he got up.

  “Thanks.” Before Ricky got to the door, Jeff was making notes, and deciding what needed to be done next. He wondered how Marty’s appointments had gone and started to call her, but realized he’d be home in a couple of hours, and it could wait until then.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Carl, I really appreciate you doing this for me. I owe you. Are you going to close the shop while we visit Mrs. Taylor?” Marty asked him.

  “No, I have a young woman working for me now two afternoons a week. She wants to become an antique appraiser, and I’m helping her learn the trade. In return she comes here, dusts, moves things around, greets customers, and generally does what I ask. It’s been great, because for the first time I can actually make appointments away from the shop without having to close it. It certainly has helped me financially.”

  Carl nodded towards a blond woman who was rearranging the window display.

  “I give her the latitude to lower the prices a bit if she feels it’s necessary on smaller items in order to sell them. You know, some people won’t buy anything unless they feel they’re getting a deal and unfortunately, this profession lends itself to that practice. You’d be amazed how much she sells while I’m gone. That’s money that would have been spent somewhere else if my shop had been closed.” He patted his hip pocket where the faint outline of his wallet could be seen. “So, I’m ready to go to our appointment, are you?”

  “I am, and I’m looking forward to it for a number of reasons. We can take my car,” Marty said.

  “Good. You drive, and I’ll direct you where to go. I won’t be gone long, Megan,” Carl said to the woman working on the window display as they made their way out.

  A few minutes later he said, “It’s just up ahead. See that big glass and wood house on the right? That’s hers.”

  “Wow, it’s beautiful,” Marty said as she headed towards the house he was pointing to. “It’s not exactly a desert style home, but it doesn’t bounce like a Queen Ann house or some similar style would.”

  “Rhonda has very good taste. You’ll see antiques and collectibles that museums would be happy to own. Let’s do it,” he said, opening his car door when they had pulled up in front of the house.

  They walked up the tree-lined walkway with large expanses of grass on either side. “Rhonda told me once that one of the nice things about being rich was you could afford to give the grass all the water it needed, even if you do live in the desert.”

  “Carl, this seems awfully coincidental. Melissa and Tammy’s homes are within a block of here and each of their homes is beautiful, very large, and yet totally different from the one another. I mean here are three wealthy women who could afford to buy about any house in Palm Springs, but each has chosen her own style.”

  “This part of old Palm Springs is definitely not like the McMansion variety of some of the newer golf course communities.” He rang the bell and a moment later, a pretty young Spanish woman opened the door.

  “Buenos tardes, Maylin. We have an appointment with Mrs. Taylor,” Carl said.

  “Si, please come in. I will get her,” the maid said in a soft voice.

  “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish, Carl. I’m impressed,” Marty said.

  “Don’t be. You’ve just heard about all the words I know. Obviously, not many.”

  “Maylin is quite beautiful. Her jet-black hair is so shiny, it’s almost blue. And that gorgeous coffee-colored complexion. I’m envious.”

  “She’s been with Rhonda for several years. She’s from Costa Rica. Believe it or not, there are quite a few people from there who live in the Palm Springs area. I think it’s called chain migration. You know, when people from one country come to the United States they tend to settle in communities where others from their country are living, which makes sense to me. If I went to a foreign country, I’d want to be with people from the United States. Think the term for that is ex-pat.”

  They stood in the airy hallway, waiting for their hostess. “So, does the fact you know about it suggest that you’re thinking of moving?” Marty joked.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve worked too hard to establish myself here, darling, and I have so many friends…”

  They were interrupted by the arrival of an imposing auburn-haired woman, who appeared to be in her sixties, but with the amount of “help” she must have received from one or more plastic surgeons, it was hard to tell.

  “Carl, it’s so good to see you,” the woman said flirtatiously. “And you must be Marty Morgan. Welcome to my home. Carl speaks very highly of you.” Rhonda Taylor extended her hand to shake Marty’s. “Let’s go into the kitchen. Please, follow me. Before she left for the day, my cook, Lucille, prepared some lemonade and sugar cookies for us. I thought we could talk for a moment before I show you around.”

  “That would be lovely,” Marty said. “Thank you for letting me come with Carl.” While Rhonda was plating the cookies and pouring the lemonade into glasses, Marty looked closely at her.

  Rhonda was quite tall, with a dancer’s grace and poise. She wore slim grey silk pants with a silver silk blouse. Her jewelry was understated, a silver necklace with a large diamond teardrop and silver and diamond earrings. She wore a silver cuff on her wrist which accentuated her white gold wedding band. Marty wished she could achieve the innate elegance that
Rhonda carried off so easily, but figured that was something you were born with. You couldn’t learn it.

  “Here you are. Please, have a cookie and some lemonade. Carl, I’m just dying to show you what I got at the auction, although I have to admit that nouveau riche carpetbagger, Melissa Ross, got a couple of pieces I would have liked to own. Maybe there will be some kind of an estate sale, and I can get them then.”

  She frowned, and continued speaking. “I heard the news about her, and I can’t say I’m sorry she’s dead. Good riddance. It’s a pity when someone comes to town and thinks big money gives them the right to take over what people have worked long and hard for.”

  “Rhonda, you know I understand your feelings about Melissa. I’m sure it’s a relief to know that your position as the premier art and antique collector in Palm Springs is once again yours alone,” Carl said.

  “It certainly is, but then again there’s something called karma. I guess it was karma, her death and all. Upstart deserved it. Anyway, let me take you on a tour. Please follow me.”

  For the next hour Rhonda walked them through each room showing off her impressive collections. Marty had to admit the woman had impeccable taste. Her art and antiques were some of the best Marty had ever seen. When they were getting ready to leave, the phone rang in Rhonda’s office, and she excused herself to get it. She closed the door and answered it.

  Laura and Jeff were always kidding Marty about the fact she could hear a pin drop when no one else could. She didn’t know why, but she’d been blessed with an elevated sense of hearing, and she couldn’t help but overhear the conversation Rhonda was having with her husband, Dr. Wesley Taylor.