Murder, Sonoran Style

by Kathy McIntosh

  Jesse’s grip on the dish rag tightened until his knuckles were white. “Glad someone does,” he muttered.

  “What’s up with that? One of the others giving you problems?”

  Jesse shook his head. “No.” After a few moments, he added, “Family crap. You know.”

  It didn’t ring true but Gabe let it drop. He’d see if Madrone could break through Jesse’s reserve. “Tell you what. I’ll let you know when I’m headed to France and you can go with. Your own dime, of course.”

  Ben put on a pouty face. “What about me? European women dig cowboys.”

  “So I hear from the sister who moved to Colorado. She’d be all over you. Which is why I probably won’t ask her down.” He softened his words with a friendly slap on Ben’s shoulder. “She’d be putty in your hands and you’ve told us way too much about your talented hands.”

  Ben pursed his lips. “It’s not just my hands.”

  Jesse made a gagging noise. “I’m outta here.” He hung the dish rag to dry, wiped his hands on his jeans, and left.

  Ben watched him go. “He sure had his knickers in a knot about that car problem. Not as if he was the mechanic.”

  Gabe had to stop himself from slapping his forehead. Would he have made anything of Jesse’s odd reactions if Ben hadn’t mentioned it? Ben and Gabe said their good-nights and headed to bed. Sheez. He had work to do before getting his ace detective’s badge. He also needed to speak with Madrone, soon.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: Ben's Bad Adventure

  R estless, Gabe showered and then read through the notes he’d made that day on Ben’s sister, Patricia Burtoff, and Everett’s development, Mountain Shadows and on Poulsen Property. Skimpy. Real skimpy, and not one step further to figuring out who had framed him and killed Everett.

  He read the latest issue of Environmental Entomology from cover to cover before attempting to sleep. Even then, sleep came as reluctantly as an anorexic to the dinner table. He was tempted to stay up and conduct online research all night, but he knew tomorrow he’d be worthless and he had an almost 100 mile drive to Bisbee.

  He finally fell asleep around midnight.

  He jolted awake some time later. Outside his room he heard a man’s whispered curses, followed by a muffled thump.

  Gabe rolled out of bed, stuck his feet in the slippers beside it, and went to the door. He opened it and left his room. At the end of the hall, past the shared bathroom, Ben leaned against the wall, clutching one leg.

  He trotted to Ben’s side. Ben’s face contorted in agony. Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he held two glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. No need to ask what he was up to. Heading to Kate’s room. Unless his affections had taken a sudden one-eighty for Heather or Madrone, something Gabe figured unlikely.

  The obstacle Ben had encountered on his seductive path was now displayed on the bottom edge of the wine bottle, well-squashed—a tiny bark scorpion, the bite of which was deemed one of the top ten most painful in the world. The initial bite was agonizing, and the next few days would be worse before the pain decreased.

  By now Gabe had been joined by Jesse, Frances, Heather and Kate, all of them clad in slippers or flip flops.

  Jesse smothered a grin behind his hand. “I’ll run to the kitchen for ice. Do you have antihistamines in your first-aid kit?”

  Ben closed his eyes. Tears streamed from them. “Yes. And painkillers. The kit’s in my backpack, under the bed. Owee zowie. This hurts like the devil.”

  Gabe shot him a sympathetic look. “So I’ve heard.”

  “So much for stealth,” said Frances. Her face revealed nothing but satisfaction. “What were you thinking, sneaking around barefoot?” She rolled her eyes. “Hurrah for scorpions,” she said in a stage whisper.

  Ben spoke through tight lips. “Guess I figured a fancy-ass house like this would have a good housekeeper.”

  “It’s been exceptionally dry this month for May. Critters are seeking whatever moisture they can, wherever they can.” Madrone’s soft voice startled Gabe, who hadn’t seen her join them.

  “Sorry I didn’t save his widdle life so you could take him outdoors,” Ben said with a sneer.

  “I know how bad it hurts, so I’ll forgive your snottiness,” Madrone said. “But I might have taken him outside. They eat cockroaches, you know, and lots of other annoying insects.”

  “Nothing you can say will make me regret squishing the little bastard.”

  Gabe took charge. “Jesse will be back soon. With luck he’ll bring you some slippers or sandals. We need you in your bed. Elevate your injured foot. And the rest of you, as well, need to return to your rooms.”

  Madrone touched his arm. “Someone needs to sit with him. Those bark scorpions can cause shortness of breath, numbness, even seizures in the worst case.” Jesse trotted up as she spoke.

  Jesse squatted beside Ben, handing him a plastic bag filled with ice cubes. “I’ll sit with him. He’s my roommate.” He stood and rummaged in a large plastic bag. “I brought the whole first-aid kit. And your water bottle. Take these and then we’ll help you back to the room.”

  Kate and Heather left first, giggling as they walked toward their rooms. Frances scurried behind them, reaching out to touch Kate’s shoulder. “Honey . . . ”

  “Tomorrow, Gran. Let’s try to catch some sleep now.” Kate’s voice didn’t hold the testiness it usually held when she spoke to her grandmother. Gabe realized she’d expected Ben’s visit, that they’d arranged it earlier. She didn’t even try to feign surprise.

  “Feel better, Ben,” Heather called, without a whiff of sarcasm in her voice. Heather had a warm and caring heart. Warmer and more caring than Gabe’s, for sure. If he had his way right now, he’d herd five angry scorpions Ben’s way. Jesus. Hours after discovering her biological father was alive, then learning he’d died, wasn’t an ideal time for Kate to embark on a love affair with another guide. Darn Ben had the brains of . . . the twenty-two year old male he unfortunately was. Gabe chuckled. Then he realized who had not rushed into the hallway when the commotion arose. Tripp. And Flicker.

  * * * *

  After Gabe and Jesse settled Ben into his bed, and Jesse reassured him that he didn’t mind playing nursemaid for the rest of the night, Gabe fell into his own bed in exhaustion.

  And of course couldn’t sleep for worrying about what Ben’s injury meant to the tour they’d planned next week. And who’d killed Everett. And if Madrone slept in those surgical scrubs or what she’d thrown them over to join them in the hall. And Tripp. Where had Tripp been? No one could have slept through the commotion in the hallway, even downstairs in Tripp’s bedroom suite.

  He finally drifted off around 4:30.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: What Happens in Benson

  G abe turned off I-10 toward Benson and the road to Bisbee. He wanted to spend some time in Benson, the tiny community that would quadruple in population once Mountain Shadows was fully built out. He imagined the residents who salivated at the thought of a bigger tax base and the opportunity for retail growth might be disappointed. Tucson wasn’t that far away and the upscale owners in Mountain Shadows would probably avoid the small town atmosphere, especially Benson’s, which wasn’t charming but simply small and scruffy. Possibly the biggest change would be the increase in UPS, FedEx and USPS trucks delivering online orders.

  Even though he’d had a huge breakfast at Tripp’s, he sought out a cafe with lots of vehicles surrounding it. After last night, he needed coffee.

  It didn’t take long. State Route 80 served as the main thoroughfare through town. At the far end, the road split into two routes—one headed to Bisbee, the other to Dragoon and Willcox. Gabe drove through town to the end and hung a U-turn to return to what apparently was Benson’s hot spot for breakfast.

  He pulled into the parking area in the front. The tinted windows that lined the front of the cafe blocked Gabe’s view of any occupants. When he’d first arrived in Arizona, he’d thought many shops were closed due
to the blank storefront windows until he realized they were simply reflective armor against the sun’s penetrating heat. He held the door for a laughing couple in their sixties or seventies, who smiled their thanks as they passed him. The woman stretched up to kiss her companion’s cheek. “Thanks for breakfast, sweetie.”

  The man threw an arm over her shoulder. “Thank you. Nothin’ better than buckwheat cakes with my wife.”

  She arched a brow. “Nothing?” She looked over her shoulder at Gabe and winked. “We’re not that old yet.”

  He entered the cafe, face crimson. What kept people loving and committed like that? Although maybe they’d met online and eloped six months earlier.

  A woman wearing a short-sleeved pink polished cotton waitress’s uniform with a flowered apron tied at her waist called to him from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere you like, hon. Menu?”

  He nodded and gazed around. In the booth farthest from the door, Sheriff Rick Idle sat, his back to the wall. He nodded at Gabe. Gabe decided to take it as an invitation to join him and slid into the booth opposite the sheriff. “So people really do sit with their backs to the wall.”

  The sheriff didn’t look ecstatic to get company, particularly a prime murder suspect, but he gave him a brief smile. “People do. The good, the bad and the law. How’re things in Tucson?”

  “Tense. Tripp and I need to get things going for the trip to Moab next week. Think you’ll nab the murderer before then?”

  “If someone’s good enough to confess. You?”

  Gabe’s mouth fell open.

  “Kidding. Although it is easier when people admit their sins. If they’re the real perpetrator, of course.”

  “People confess to crimes they don’t commit. That makes sense.” The sheriff tilted his head. Gabe looked over the top of his menu at Idle. “Tell me you’re making progress. Lie, if you must.”

  Sheriff Idle smiled. “We’re making progress. As in any murder, it’s time-consuming. Background checks, looking for motive. Trouble is, lots of the folks on your little team had reason to off Everett. You included.”

  Gabe shot him a rueful grin. “I already admitted that. Everett wasn’t popular, and I’m discovering he had quite a few secrets.”

  “Discovery’s my job. Which leads nicely to, ‘What brings you to Benson?’”

  “Sitting around Tripp’s house drove me batty. Thought I’d check out my new stomping grounds.”

  “And while you’re at it?”

  Gabe focused on his menu, and when the server arrived, ordered toast to accompany the coffee she poured him. He loved trying those little packets of jelly and jam, even though he knew they were mostly sugar and preservatives. He looked at the sheriff. “Don’t the good citizens of Cochise County need you?”

  “Always. So nice to be needed. But I have time to hear what you’re up to.”

  “Well, for one, I thought I might have done better due diligence about my new partner before I gave him all my savings. So, better late than never, I’m headed to the county seat.”

  “Good idea to check out Tripp, but I imagine his company’s registered in Pima County, in Tucson. This is Cochise County. And the department of records is in Bisbee. So I’d guess you’re headed there, to look into Mountain Shadows.”

  “It’s a free country, no?”

  “Indeed. There’s also a killer out there who doesn’t want to be caught. If you find anything interesting, let me know. In fact, let me decide what’s interesting. I’d like to hear what you learn. Or learned so far.”

  Gabe’s toast came, neither burnt nor soggy. He smiled. “I’m sure you knew that Ben grew up around here, that his sister sold the ranch he’d grown up on to Everett. I’d like to talk to her, and find out a bit more about the land transfer. Toast?” The sheriff shook his head. “I’m sure you know all about who’ll inherit and who the investors are.”

  The sheriff grinned. “Yup.”

  Gabe ran his hands through his hair.

  The sheriff burst out laughing. “You’re going to have to get a lot more subtle or offer up something of value in trade for what I know.” He stood up. “Have fun today. Watch your back. And check in with me.”

  “Thanks for not trying to stop me,” Gabe said. “Although I wish you’d share something with me so I won’t get frustrated and give up. I’m like having an extra deputy.” He grinned. “Not a real good one. Yet.”

  “Tell you what, deputy, when you’re in Bisbee looking at property records, check out everyone on the list of suspects, and property they might own in our county, not just Mountain Shadows investors. From what my other sources tell me, I’m thinking you may find some interesting info. By the way, the recorder’s office isn’t much, but take time to visit the Courthouse. It’s a keeper.” He strolled out of the cafe, nodding to people at several tables on his way to the front door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: Sleuth or Tourist?

  A t 5500 feet, Bisbee was a good 3000 feet higher in elevation than Tucson and considerably cooler. How they ever clocked the elevation was a wonder. It differed throughout the town, with steep stairs climbing from one street to another. Bisbee had evolved from a copper, gold, and silver mining camp into an offbeat retreat for artists and tourists. He eventually found the courthouse, a white art deco building with striking copper doors that dated the building at 1931. Since it was a weekday, the town was not overrun by tourists and he found parking nearby.

  After he entered, he checked the list of county offices housed in the building. Uh oh. No County Recorder’s office here. He mosied over to the security guard, who was checking the bags of the occasional visitor. The guard, a sturdy man in his sixties, greeted him with a friendly smile. “Jury Duty? You’ll need to empty your pockets and put your cell phone in the bin here.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Nope. I’m looking for some records.”

  The man’s smile weakened. “Genealogy? Deportation?”

  “No. Just some property searches.” Curiosity piqued, he asked, “Would I find genealogy information here?”

  “Most of that stuff’s online at the Arizona Memory Project. People were deported back around 1920—big labor dispute between Phelps Dodge Mine and the unions. We get a lot of interest in it here.” He took a breath. “But the County Recorder’s Office is down on Melody Lane, with most of the other county offices. That’s where you’ll find property info and the like.”

  “Thanks. Nice building you have here.”

  The man nodded. “We got a little more history here than the folks on Melody Lane. What they have is room and better bathrooms. And parking.”

  “Places for lunch?”

  “Your best bet is across the street at the High Desert Market and Cafe. Great food. Nice folks.”

  He made a note of the Melody Lane address and headed there after a good lunch at the cafe the guard had suggested. Someday he wanted to go back to the High Desert Cafe. Madrone would love the linens and pottery, and might even approve of the sandwich he wolfed down. In fact, maybe Adventure Calls should include Bisbee in one of their tours. Fun town, diverse citizens for sure. And that grilled ham and cheese sandwich might have been the best he’d ever had. Not that he’d dare say that to Madrone.

  Following the signs to the Recorder’s Office in Building B in the county service center complex, Gabe found the door to the record office closed, with an artistic calligraphed cardboard sign stating “Closed for Lunch.” Since it was 1:15 he had no idea when the office might re-open. He wandered down the hall to an open door and was told that Lily was most likely out in the garden eating her lunch and might not mind being bothered.

  Not terribly reassured, he found his way out a back door to a covered area beneath the cottonwood trees with tables and benches. On a bench at the far end a woman with long gray hair sat with her back to him, her face to the sun. He moved to the bench and sat beside her. After a few moments of silence, she turned to face him. “Looking for me?” she asked with a broad smile.

  “I don’t
normally bother people on their lunch hour, but I didn’t know when you’d be back. I’m looking for some records.”

  She stood up. “I’m glad for the company. Most folks do their research online these days. I come out here after the normal lunch hour just in case someone drops in. But for you, I’ll cut my lunch hour short.” She winked at him, then scanned his body from head to toe. The woman was old enough to be his mother, but her clothing was nothing like most mothers’. Her tunic top was a shiny fabric in dark cranberry with a low-cut vee neck that revealed way too much. She wore tight jeans and cowboy boots and a ring on every finger. Each nail was painted a different color.

  Deciding the rings were the safest thing to focus on, he said, “Your rings are amazing. Local copper?”

  She extended her hands. “Like ‘em? I made most of them. Sell them through a local shop and on line. When we get inside, I’ll give you my card.” She paused. “And just about anything else you desire, son.”

  Gabe’s skin grew as red as her cranberry top. Flummoxed and speechless, he gave her a wry smile. “Not sure anymore.”

  She laughed so loud two doves flew from the cottonwood trees. “You’re a real cutie. Come on, follow me. I’m harmless, honest. Just love to tease the tourists.”

  After nearly 90 minutes, Gabe left Bisbee with Lily’s business card, her recommendations for other places to eat in the Old Town, and a good deal of information on Everett and Lorraine Poulsen’s property holdings in Cochise County. A lot to chew on, except the card, of course.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: Snarky Women Serve It Up

  P repping breakfast with Flicker counted among Madrone’s least favorite mornings, but fortunately she’d put sourdough bread to soak in egg and milk the previous night, so half the prep was done.