Murder, Sonoran Style

by Kathy McIntosh

  Madrone snickered. “Me, I’m going to enjoy the stars and the air and a walk with an attractive man. In case you hadn’t noticed this is an upscale neighborhood with houses with triple-paned windows and thick walls. Eavesdropping will be impossible.”

  “Oh ye of little faith. Nothing’s impossible for the pure of heart and clever. The weather is perfect for turning off the a/c and letting in the sweet desert air.”

  She strode ahead. “Desert air full of pollen. You may be clever, but let’s not get caught. You’re his partner, but Tripp won’t be amused if he catches me there.”

  “Nor me. Tripp and I had a tiny disagreement this morning. Let’s just say we’re both determined to keep going, at least this partner is. But we’ll have to keep our distance, at least for a while.”

  “All the more reason not to get caught. I know she lives nearby, but I’m not sure where.”

  “Nearby? Literally just down the street,” Gabe said.

  Madrone let out a low chuckle. “Seems weird to live that close to your ex and her new hubby. But this is a great neighborhood. Guess neither of them wanted to move.”

  “It’s behind the iron gate up there. I Google Earth’d it.”

  Madrone moved closer and lowered her voice. “Google tell you whether or not they have a gate code? A dog?”

  “Wouldn’t be an adventure if we knew every parameter in advance.” After a pause, he added, “I can tell you’re rolling your eyes. Stop.”

  “Am not. I’m scoping out the neighbor’s place in case we have to climb out.”

  * * * *

  Fortunately Lorraine’s gate stood open, perhaps because Tripp was there. Although Gabe assumed he’d have the code. Don’t question good fortune. An open gate probably meant no guard dog roaming the grounds. If they left windows open, bonus. Open windows also meant those inside the house could easily hear footsteps crunching on gravel and unguarded voices from outside. He leaned toward Madrone’s ear. “We’d better whisper or hand signal from now on,” he whispered.

  She gave him a thumbs up. Then she moved forward, sticking to the larger rocks at the edge of the gravel drive.

  As they neared the house, an outside light came on. Motion activated. Rats. They backtracked to a huge desert-willow, moving to its far side. “Security lights,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Madrone moved close enough that Gabe caught her scent, a combination of soap and the lavender cream she slathered on after doing dishes. “Let’s circle the house and see what happens. Maybe we’ll see which room they’re in and can sneak up to it.” She nudged his chest. “And maybe they’ll be so engrossed with each other they won’t notice us.”

  He grimaced. “How likely are they to talk about their plans if they’re . . . having sex?” He almost said ‘making love,’ but he doubted love was within Tripp’s emotional capacity. He pulled his binoculars from a large side pocket in his pants.

  “No one in the main room. She should turn off her lights. Waste of electricity.”

  “I’m hoping she keeps them all on,” Madrone said. “Harder for them to see us, easier for us to see them.”

  He nodded. “Let’s stay as far as we can from the house. Maybe we won’t trip the motion sensors.” He started forward.

  It was hard to walk with stealth and keep an eye on the house, so their progress was slow. They rounded the corner of the house and moved toward the back. Gabe halted by a raised bed garden that smelled of lavender and rosemary and some other unidentifiable herb. Madrone would know what it was. She jumped up onto the tile-covered border of the garden and stuck out a hand. “Give me the binocs.” Gabe handed them over. Madrone was tall but he could probably see more. However, he’d asked her to join him in this illegal venture. He’d better let her participate or he’d never hear the end of it.

  “That glass block wall is bound to be the bathroom, so the bedroom must be beyond it. There’s a light on.” She jumped gracefully down and moved forward. So much for Gabe taking the lead and the flak if they encountered trouble. Or Tripp. He trailed behind her, amazed at how quietly she moved. Even sneaking in running shoes, her ass swayed. Must be something about how women were built. He’d always thought it was high heels.

  Gabe’s erotic musings stopped when he tripped on an exposed mesquite root. He fell face forward onto river rocks, stopping himself with his hands and one knee.

  Madrone reversed her steps and gave him a hand up. “You okay, Your Grace?” she whispered.

  “Fine. At least I didn’t fall into a cholla.” He’d still be getting those tiny spines out next Christmas.

  She snickered. “Not yet.”

  He looked toward the house. They were even with broad floor to ceiling windows backed by drapes pulled closed. A sliver of light showed between the drapes. Then the drapes swayed slightly. Gabe froze and felt Madrone still beside him. “We need to get closer.”

  “I wonder if we crawl, if we’ll miss the sensors. They probably don’t want them to go off for every bunny rabbit or visiting dog or cat.”

  Gabe cursed himself for not Googling the operation and installation of motion sensors. And how to avoid them. He thought for a moment. “Give me the binocs.” He scanned the side of the house for lights and noticed there was one at the corner, past the bathroom, but none further down until the next corner. “Let’s walk to where we’re opposite the middle of the window and then crawl in. That is, if it’s not a bed of cactus.”

  Madrone nodded and led the way. She crouched down and duck-walked toward the window. Gabe figured that would be easier on his bruised knees, if not on his thighs, and followed suit. They were in a small ditch lined with river rocks designed to capture water runoff during monsoons and from irrigation. He wobbled along, occasionally bracing himself with his bruised hands. And gritting his teeth against cursing at the pain.

  They ended their duck stroll beside the window. Fortunately the home had a small crawl space beneath it, so they could position themselves beneath the window. They squatted down, leaning against the wall. With luck they weren’t squatting on a pack of bark scorpions. The window was indeed open. Less fortunately, the sounds they heard were obviously those of boisterous intercourse. After the third or fourth, “Oh, baby, give me more,” crooned by a female voice, Gabe looked at Madrone and had to bite his pointer finger to stop himself from laughing. Madrone appeared to be having the same problem because her mouth was covered by one hand and her body shook. Gabe reached out for her other hand. She leaned toward him. “Ooh, baby, I need you. Bigger.”

  Gabe snorted. Madrone sniggered. So much for silent stealth. He figured the couple inside were not paying attention to sounds outside. Unless one or both of them were faking their passion.

  They waited. And waited. After what seemed hours, the sounds of passion died away and Gabe heard a toilet flush. He hoped they kept their pillow talk short.

  In a few minutes, they heard Tripp say, “I ought to get home pretty soon. Last night a couple of our new guides decided to hook up in her room, but he was stopped by a scorpion. Big excitement. Who knows what they’re up to tonight?”

  Spying. Something Tripp better never find out.

  Tripp’s voice became muffled and they heard Lorraine murmur something. Then they heard her clearly say, “What? Are you crazy? Why?”

  “Adventure Calls needs an infusion of money if it’s going to grow. Someone to help with booking and scheduling, more advertising. It would free me up to spend more time with you, babe. You know Everett was an investor. I just need a small amount.”

  They heard some rustling in the room. “Here you go.”

  “Christ, Lorraine. A hundred bucks? I was thinking ten grand.”

  “Tell you what, sweetheart. Send your partner over. He’s a few years younger than you, bigger, probably has more . . . stamina. Plus he’s hot. Maybe between the two of you, you’ll make me crazy enough to invest in Adventure Calls.”

  Gabe, grateful for the dark that hid his red face, heard a small noise be
side him. He peered down at Madrone and saw her shoulders shaking. Heard another snort.

  “You’re killing me, honey. I thought we meant more to each other.”

  “Right. Like I mean more to you than Flicker. Could you be any more obvious? The woman is good for one thing and I don’t think it’s bookkeeping or housekeeping.”

  “Lorraine, honey, you’ve got me confused with your dearly departed husband. He was the one who was boinking Flicker. He convinced me to let her stay at my house so you wouldn’t be suspicious.”

  Dead silence followed this revelation, except for a few more snorts from Madrone’s direction.

  “I knew that prick was cheating on me. Just didn’t know who with. This time.” After a moment’s silence, she said, “Send Gabe to me. He’s got a Ph.D. I’ve never slept with a college professor. Maybe he can teach me a thing or two.”

  “Be careful what you ask for. Just like Everett, Gabe couldn’t keep it in his pants. And with college coeds, no less. Got caught and lost his job. No more Professor Ramsay.” Tripp’s voice chanted the last sentence, like a schoolyard taunt.

  Gabe wanted to crawl under the house and hide. Tripp had moved near enough to the open window that every word came through plain, clear, and revolting. So much for trust among partners. He felt Madrone grow silent beside him, no doubt wishing herself far away from Gabe and his lies.

  He hadn’t lied, though. Just hadn’t told the whole truth. Couldn’t, as part of that damn agreement with the college. Fat chance she’d believe that. No chance she’d want to hear his side.

  Goddamn. He’d known it was wrong, not to mention terrible karma, to start his new life with secrets.

  “You’re lying. If not, Gabe Ramsay is a world-class actor. He comes across as squeaky clean, honest, and smart. My grandma would call him Dudley Do-Right.”

  “I’m not lying. I wouldn’t have told you, but I don’t want to see you hurt. And speaking of hurting, I hate to tell you this, but Frances O’Shea is claiming Everett was Kate’s father. Fat chance, I’m sure, but if it’s true, I’m not sure what will happen to Mountain Shadows. And you. So come on, sweetie, let me give you some of my old-fashioned comforting.” He chuckled.

  “Tripp Chasen, you are too much. As if I didn’t know that little nugget days ago, even though you didn’t bother to tell me. I remember now why I divorced you. Get out. Get your clothes on and get out of my house.”

  Madrone leaned toward Gabe. “Time to boogie before Mr. Charm leaves.” She crawled off in the direction of the fence.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: Gabe's Dilemma

  G abe was glad Madrone stayed silent as they snuck out of Lorraine’s front yard and through the gate. It gave him a little time to prepare his response to Tripp’s revelation. If only he could tell her the truth, but he was hamstrung by the letter of agreement he’d signed with the college. They were terrified the truth might keep away potential students, something the school needed desperately right now.

  Once they’d escaped the yard and had walked in silence some hundred yards down the street, Madrone burst out, “That liar. I can’t believe he’d make up something that rotten, just to keep Lorraine away from you. I’d love to confront him with his lies, but then he’d know we’d been there.”

  “Not a good idea,” Gabe agreed.

  “The man is your business partner. How can he say such a thing? How can you ever trust him again?”

  He allowed a bitter chuckle to escape. “A few other things have shown me he’s not someone to put total faith in.”

  “Kind of scary, considering he’s your partner.”

  “And that I’ve invested my life savings in this partnership.”

  Madrone gasped. “Can you get your money back? Break your agreement?”

  Over what? The fact that he told someone the truth—as he knows it—about me? “I’m thinking about it, but he’s got a lot more experience than I do, plus contacts. I’m hoping we can separate our responsibilities, not cross paths too often. It’s worse right now because of the tension about the murder, I’m sure. Which means it would sure help to figure out who killed Everett Poulsen, as soon as possible.”

  “I just can’t figure out where he’d make up such a weird story about you.”

  “A man will go to great lengths where his woman is concerned. Lorraine was taunting him, using me as a distraction.”

  Madrone stopped. “Well, she said she’d consider investing in the company if you put out. Gonna give it a shot?”

  “You’re kidding. Aren’t you?”

  “She’s pretty and sexy.”

  “And I’m not a prostidude.”

  Gabe hated where their conversation was going, but part of him realized it was a better direction than pursuing why he’d left teaching.

  Madrone smiled. “Much as I’d hate to see you lower your standards, if it meant keeping my job . . . ”

  “Again I’m going to assume you’re kidding.”

  “Hmmm. Good to keep you wondering. Lorraine did have a point. You are kinda cute and pretty smart.”

  “Ahhh. She likes me. You think I’m hot. I knew it.”

  Madrone grabbed his arm and kept walking. “I wonder how she found out about Kate, if Tripp didn’t tell her before. Flicker? One of the others? I sure didn’t mention it when we went to town.”

  “Who knows? Maybe Kate mentioned it, or Frances.”

  “Maybe. Something else to think about. And what Tripp said about Flicker being Everett’s lover, not his. Do you believe that?”

  He shook his head. “Too much to think about. Flicker did speak almost reverently of him. But what if he dumped her? Got worried that Lorraine would find out?”

  “Or just got bored with her. Worth looking into. When I tried to pump him for info on their investigation, I got nothing but some smiles from Deputy Weston, but I’m going to put a bug in his ear about Flicker. They can check her alibi. But now I need to tell you what I found out about Ben. Good stuff.”

  After Madrone shared what she’d learned from her new acquaintances at the rodeo, Gabe complimented her sleuthing skills. “But does a yen to get back the family ranch, or start a new one, add up to a reason to kill Everett?”

  “Together with the fact that his family’s ranch was on land now owned by Everett and his widow? We know that from your research in Bisbee. Maybe Ben offered to buy a parcel back, asked Everett to cut him a break.”

  Gabe rubbed his face. “My brain’s going to explode. When did Ben have a chance to ask Everett? Let alone decide to kill him?”

  Madrone yawned. “I’m tired, too. And tomorrow’s the great cuckoo hunt. We’d better turn in. Does the sheriff know we’re all planning to return to the scene of the crime?”

  “I’m going to give him a call first thing tomorrow. Tripp’s hot on tracking a cuckoo down, but I don’t want to piss off the law.”

  “Such a good boy.” Madrone stood on her tiptoes and brushed Gabe’s cheek with her lips. He wanted to turn his head, grab her and indulge in the same thing Tripp and Lorraine were probably up to. Again. But he couldn’t. Especially not now that the big lie lay between them. Not until he was able to tell Madrone the truth about what happened in Colorado. If he ever could.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: Cuckoo Hunt

  T hey drove to the casita in the company van, eerily reminiscent of the first day of the ill-fated scavenger hunt. Madrone and Heather had risen early to prepare both breakfast and sandwiches for the hunters to carry with them.

  Even though Tripp had insisted the previous day that he had cleared the venture with Sheriff Idle and with Lorraine Poulsen, Gabe phoned the lawman while the others enjoyed breakfast. Unfortunately, their breakfast, at 5:30 a.m., came sooner than the sheriff’s and Gabe detected annoyance along with sleepiness in the man’s voice.

  “Yeah, yeah. ‘S’long’s no one leaves the state or gets him or herself killed or lost out there, I told your partner it’s okay with me. I’m thinking the new owner of the land would be opposed, though. He
check in with his ex-wife?”

  Gabe shrugged, then realized the sheriff couldn’t see him. “He assures me he did. Sorry to bother you so early.” He ended the call and went inside to scavenge from the remains of breakfast.

  * * * *

  “It’s important that we stick to teams out there,” Gabe said, his back leaning against the adobe wall of the casita. “I don’t want to be searching for anything but endangered birds.” He looked out at the vastness of the Sonoran desert they were about to once again challenge. So different from the mountains of Colorado, even less forgiving.

  Frances fussed with her backpack. “How do we prove it, even if we spot something?”

  “Frances, sweetheart, are you having a senior moment?” Tripp asked. “I went over all this yesterday.” He gusted out a huge sigh. “We take photos, we record the GPS coordinates, we note the time, the date, and any significant landmarks.”

  “Speaking of recording things, I am keeping a record of your ageist slurs, bud,” she replied with a stony face. “I don’t care for them. What I meant,” she added in a ponderous tone, “is what’s to say we didn’t make up the coordinates and other descriptive data and use stock photos?”

  Gabe shot Frances a smile. “We’re only looking for evidence that will get Fish and Game to begin a study. In fact, all we really need to do is take the evidence to someone like Defenders of Wildlife or the Environmental Defense Fund and they’ll initiate a lawsuit to halt the development until a study is completed.”

  Kate, standing next to Ben, pulled a folded sheet of thick paper from her pack. “I sketched what I could recall, including some landmarks, last night. You could take photos with your phones to help track it down.”

  Ben was the first to lean over and look. “Holy crap. You’re an amazing artist. It looks alive.”

  Kate ducked her head, and Gabe hid his smile. He peered at the drawing. “Ben’s right. It’s good, very good. I wonder if we should have you teach sketching to our guests.”