The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set

by Shannon Baker

  He considered the news. “Did it bother you to find out you’re Hopi?”

  “No. It’s strange, though. In the last couple of months I’ve been able to spend a few weeks on the mesas in northern Arizona. My new cousin, Benny, has been trying to teach me the responsibility of being Hopi.”

  “As I understand it, Hopi are pretty secretive.”

  “They’ve been really nice to me on the rez, but they won’t tell me about their secret ceremonies.” She watched the clouds building for an afternoon monsoon storm. “I try not to worry about it too much. I have a job that fits me and a boyfriend I love.”

  Darrell lifted an eyebrow. “What inspired you to be an environmentalist, and what brought you to the Trust?”

  “It certainly wasn’t the way I was raised.” Darrell nodded. “Abigail? She seems lovely.”

  “She’s not the fire-breathing harpy I saw her as while I was growing up. And I could do a lot worse. But we’ve had our difficulties. Right now, I’m trying to be a grown-up and appreciate all the good things about her.”

  “That’s enlightened.”

  Nora couldn’t claim success. “It’s progress.”

  He laughed. “So Abigail isn’t a conservationist. What happened to you?”

  “I grew up in Boulder, so me being an environmentalist is sort of like a baby beluga knowing how to swim.”

  He accepted that and kept probing. “But you’re more on the business side than the science side.”

  “I owned a ski resort in Flagstaff and decided the best way to turn a profit was to make snow.” She didn’t see any reason to address the whole Hopi-kachina-visiting-her-and-choosing-her-to-protect-the- sacred-mountain issue.

  “After realizing my misguided ways could have led to disaster, I decided to work for an environmental protection organization.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “You wanted to use your powers for good.”

  “Exactly.” She paused. “Or to be honest, to make reparations for the damage I almost did.”

  “Guilt.”

  She hesitated. “Maybe. But I’m proud of the work we do at the Trust. We’re making strides on the pine beetle problem in the mountains and we’ve done a lot of research on cattle grazing impacting the way ranchers are using their lands.”

  “And Canyonlands,” he prompted.

  “Yes, Canyonlands. This is my first big program for the Trust. All the other projects were in place when I became executive director. But Lisa’s film and the campaign to enlarge the park is on me.”

  He kept grilling her. “So you need to make it succeed or your career is toast.”

  “No. I need to make it succeed because it’s important.” “And your career has nothing to do with it?”

  She realized the trap she’d fallen in and laughed. “You’re good.” That charming twinkle hit his eyes. “I know.”

  He flipped on the signal and turned right, skirting along a rock ridge. The black face of the rock absorbed the afternoon sun.

  “So now you’re back to guilt,” he said. “What are you talking about?”

  His eyebrow shot up again as if he questioned her declaration of innocence. “You facilitated Lisa in her dream of creating this film and saving Canyonlands. She died trying to fulfill the quest, and now you feel you need to complete it for her to make her death meaningful.”

  Maybe Darrell was a politician because he was so insightful or maybe he was insightful because he was a politician. Whatever chicken-or-egg scenario, he dug too deep inside Nora for her comfort.

  His mentioning Lisa dying in association with the film brought back Marlene’s hint that Lisa’s death wasn’t an accident. The message Lisa left on her phone seemed ominous, too.

  He glanced at her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She felt her scowl and lightened her expression. “I was thinking about a voicemail Lisa left me that I didn’t get until this morning.” He turned off the highway onto a steep one-lane road into Castle Valley. “That must be bittersweet to hear her.”

  The massive hoodoos called Preacher and Nuns that marked the edge of Castle Valley glowered down on them. “She said some things that don’t make sense.”

  Darrell slowed in anticipation of turning off the highway. “Can I hear Lisa’s voicemail?”

  Nora cued it up, and he listened while they wound through the sleepy enclave of Castle Valley.

  Castle Rock, the reason for the settlement’s name, towered above them on the left. It looked like a fortress built to defend the community from the outside. Castle Valley, a small community of houses, filled the grassy valley. The original settlement snuggled in a green expanse shaded by old growth elms, cottonwoods, and willows. The rest of the houses were scattered along the scrubby valley floor between towering canyon walls.

  Large tracks of undeveloped high desert terrain separated the houses, isolating them with scrub oak and juniper shrubs. The residents ranged from the very wealthy—retired or living on trust funds—to aging hippies who had accumulated enough to afford a modest home to the young people keeping close to the land with little more than a sleeping bag and camp stove. But the people who lived in Castle Valley were Moab’s outsiders. They didn’t own cattle or raise crops. They didn’t run the gas stations or the hometown grocery store.

  Darrell handed the phone back to her. “She sounds upset. She said she’d hide the camera. Do you know where?”

  “I don’t have a clue. Lisa could be so dramatic.” Darrell agreed. “She could overreact. That’s for sure.”

  “If I had any insight to Lisa’s brain, I could find the film and camera myself. I hate asking Rachel to get me the film.”

  They turned onto a gravel lane and continued for a mile.

  “Give her a little time. If there are copies, she’ll come around eventually.”

  Eventually. The word dropped like lead in Nora’s stomach.

  Darrell pulled into Lisa’s winding driveway. The cabin hid behind trees and shrubs, not fully visible from the top of the dirt driveway with its deep ruts. After several yards, they rounded a slight curve. Abigail’s champagne-colored Buick sat close to the front porch. Lisa’s rusting black Toyota pickup was parked in the weeds next to the cabin, and Rachel’s Passat snugged behind it.

  Several other vehicles lined the side of the dirt driveway heading to the road. Didn’t this funeral ever end?

  Nora’s phone rang, and she answered. The garage mechanic explained the damage was a minor problem with her starter, but they needed a part that couldn’t be delivered until late that afternoon. She hung up. “Damn.”

  Darrell raised an eyebrow. “Trouble with your Jeep?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I’ll have to stay overnight, though.” “You need a ride back to town?”

  No crisis, just annoying. “No, I’ll get my mother to take me.” “Okay.” Darrell eyed the vehicles parked on the road. He pulled the key from the ignition. “At least Rachel didn’t have to come home to an empty house.”

  No one stood on the front porch so they all must be inside. “I suppose they’re Rachel’s family.”

  Darrell opened his door and climbed out. “I doubt that. They’re not exactly supportive of her lifestyle.”

  “You’d think the outside world of the rich and artists and all those left-leaning people moving into Moab in the last twenty years would have desensitized the locals to lesbians. But I guess it’s hard for old timers to change.”

  “It’s not just her marrying Lisa.”

  Nora picked up the box and climbed from the 4Runner. She let Abbey out to trot off. “They’re mad about expanding Canyonlands?”

  He swung the door closed and came around the vehicle to walk with her. “To them, it feels like she’s trying to steal their land.”

  Lisa’s cabin was not one of the tonier houses in Castle Valley, but Nora had loved it from the moment she saw it ten years ago. Made of native logs, the front porch ran the length of the cabin, raised from the front yard by three
steps. The railing around the porch made it look like a set piece in a spaghetti western.

  Lisa had given her heart to the old place, renovating it room by room. She still needed to do some work on the foundation and replace some windows, but she’d succeeded in creating a perfect home for her and Rachel.

  Lisa had placed four Adirondack chairs on the porch. Before Rachel and her artistic talent, an ordinary forest green paint covered the chairs. Now they bore bright images of nature scenes and animals, sort of like useful totem poles.

  Darrell’s kind eyes touched her. “Are you going to be okay?” No. “Yes.”

  “If you’re sure, I’ll head back to town. I have to make some arrangements for a community meeting in Moab on Saturday afternoon. If you’re in town, why don’t you stop by?”

  Life continues. “Of course. Thank you so much for bringing me out here.”

  Darrell’s smile warmed her like a cozy fire. “I’m glad we met. I’m looking forward to working with you.” He placed a hand briefly on her arm.

  She watched him climb back into the 4Runner and reverse down the rutted driveway.

  A pair of hiking boots with dried mud caked on their soles sat next to the door. Nora caught her breath at the sight. She knew they were Lisa’s by the size. For a short woman, Lisa had unusually big feet. They’d been the subject of many jokes over the years. Nora stood on the grass, unable to move.

  The front screen door squeaked open. Charlie appeared. “Nora?” She forced her eyes away from the boots. “Yep. Coming.”

  Charlie stepped onto the porch and waited for Nora to climb the stairs with the box. She nodded toward the door. “Is everything okay?”

  Charlie rubbed his grizzled chin. He spoke in a falsetto. “There’s not a stitch of food in the house. And it’s inconceivable the neighbors haven’t brought casseroles and cookies. And not even any coffee.”

  His Abigail imitation made her laugh.

  “And,” he continued in the same voice, “there’s only one roll of toilet paper.”

  “Sounds like Abigail will get it set straight. It’s her superpower.”

  Charlie nodded. “The only good thing is that everyone will have to up and leave soon and let poor Rachel have some peace.”

  Nora stared into the darkness on the other side of the screen and heard a murmur of voices. “Maybe she doesn’t want peace. It’s tough to be alone.”

  Charlie followed her gaze.

  The weight of Lisa’s box pressed into Nora. Maybe asking for Lisa’s film would actually be good for Rachel—help take her mind off her grief.

  That was a stupid thought. Rachel didn’t want to think about the film.

  “I’m being sent back to town with this.” He held a long list written in Abigail’s perfect penmanship.

  Maybe Nora should help Charlie with his mission. “Nora,” Abigail called from inside the house. “I need you.”

  No escaping now. Nora raised her eyebrows to Charlie. “I’ve been summoned.”

  “We live to serve,” he said. For Charlie, that was true. The moment he’d seen Abigail when she stood in the parking lot of Nora’s ski resort in Flagstaff, he’d handed over his heart.

  She watched Charlie take the steps and hurry to the Buick on legs kept spry by his daily forest ramblings. He climbed into the car, looking as out of place as a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon at a champagne brunch.

  Nora scanned the yard and spotted Abbey investigating the pines on the other side of the driveway.

  Nora missed Lisa. The girl she’d stayed up all night with, watching old movies and talking about how they’d change the world. Lisa always felt comfortable in her own skin. She knew herself and felt confident about her place in life. Lisa might not have told her parents she was a lesbian until her sophomore year at CU, but she’d never hidden it from them. It hurt Lisa that her parents couldn’t accept her, but she understood, even at that young age, everyone lives their own life.

  It angered Nora that Lisa’s parents had turned away. Lisa didn’t have time for anger. She had things to do. Nora admired Lisa’s confidence.

  Spring break their sophomore year Lisa had planned a backpack trip in Canyonlands. It would be her first time visiting southern Utah and she’d been talking about it for a month.

  Nora sat on Lisa’s bed in the tiny dorm room while Lisa laid out her supplies and gear on the other bed. “Come with me, Nor. We’ll have a blast.”

  Nora’s feet itched to be laced into her hiking boots. “I can’t. My mother and Berle have an Easter brunch planned, and Abigail commanded I attend.”

  Lisa put her hands on her ample hips. “That’s Abigail’s deal.

  What would you rather do?”

  Nora could almost feel the chill of dawn and the first burst of sun over the horizon. “You know I’d rather go backpacking.”

  Lisa flipped her dark waves over her shoulder. “Then get your pack. We leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Abigail would have a fit. I’d pay for this for the rest of my life.”

  Lisa clicked her headlamp on to check the battery. “Only if you allow it.”

  Nora leaned forward, feeling the inkling of possibility. She sat back. “You don’t know Abigail the Terrible.”

  Lisa shook the canister of fuel for the camp stove. “It’s your life, chica. Abigail has her own.”

  Nora stood, jumpy at the thought of outright rebellion. “Yeah. But I should—”

  Lisa spun around. “Should? Do you want to live your life for everyone else? Who are you?” It wasn’t rhetorical. Lisa stared her down, waiting for an answer.

  Nora’s face burned. If she backed down now, she’d look like a weenie. She could defy Abigail and go backpacking. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Lisa didn’t budge, didn’t smile. “Nope. You’re not invited anymore.”

  “What?”

  Lisa shook her head. She picked up a packet of dehydrated beef stew. “You’re only going because I bullied you into it.”

  Tongues of frustration licked at Nora. “I love backpacking.” “So why does it take me badgering you to go?”

  “I’m going now. That’s good enough.”

  Lisa turned back to her gear. “Of course you can come with me. I’m super excited to have you, and we’re going to love it. But you really ought to figure yourself out, chica.”

  The clatter of dishes sounded from inside the cabin, and Abigail’s voice wafted through the open screen. “Why don’t you lie down, dear? You’ve been through so much today.” From the volume and tone, Abigail was sending a message to people that it was time for them to leave.

  Rachel mumbled something.

  Nora addressed the boots silently. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am.”

  Abigail opened the screen door and stepped out on the deck. “Come in here. Rachel needs you.”

  Rachel probably had tons of friends she’d rather talk to than Nora, a woman she barely knew and had never really connected with. Still, if Abigail thought Nora could help Rachel, she ought to give it her best shot. Maybe she’d be able to gently ask about the film. Abigail met her on the porch. She lowered her voice in conspiracy. “Try to get rid of those people. Rachel needs to rest.” “Who are they?”

  Abigail threw a disgusted glance at the screen and the low voices inside. “Environmental activists, from what I can tell. They’re discussing their next meeting and protest with no consideration of Rachel.”

  “Where are you going?” Nora asked.

  Abigail descended a step. “I can’t send Charles to the store on his own. He gets the store brand or organic or local or who knows how he decides. It’s rarely on quality and taste.”

  “So I’m supposed to clear the house and wait for you to get back?” Abigail hurried down the remaining three stairs. “That and comfort Rachel.”

  Nora balanced the box against her belly, opened the screen door, and stepped inside.

  Nora hadn’t been to the cabin since Lisa and Rachel married. Significant di
fferences from when she’d been here last jarred Nora, but once she thought about it, she realized the changes were normal. As Lisa and Rachel twined their lives together, their house would morph from simply being Lisa’s to theirs. And now, just Rachel’s.

  The screen door opened into a sunny great room. Hardwood floors stretched out, bright Navajo rugs spread at odd angles. Heavy leather furniture added to the lodge theme. Frameless canvases of desert flowers, much like Georgia O’Keeffe paintings, hung on the walls. As was evident with the porch chairs, Rachel’s painting style here was unmistakable.

  The kitchen sat off to the left, a breakfast bar separating it from the great room. French doors framed an office at the far end of the room. Lisa’s massive pine desk, reclaimed from an old government office and refinished by Lisa’s determined hand, sat littered with papers and file folders. Her laptop rested amid the debris, the top up as if Lisa had momentarily walked away.

  Stairs led off the left of the doorway, heading up to the three bedrooms on the second floor. Even though Lisa had bought a four bedroom, she’d ripped out a wall, installed another bathroom, added a balcony, and created a romantic master bedroom with an incredible view of Castle Rock as a wedding gift for Rachel.

  Rachel stood in the kitchen, hands on the breakfast bar, staring across the great room at a window between two of the giant flower paintings. Her eyes didn’t seem to focus on the mountains in the distance.

  Two thirty-something women flanked her. They seemed focused on their conversation with the two men standing in front of the mantel of the fireplace. A gray-haired woman and man sat on the leather couch.

  A lively discussion filled the room. “I think we need posters showing tar sands damage and we don’t make a sound.”

  “Yes! Like those pro-life posters of half-aborted babies. Demonstrate the evil. A picture is worth a thousand words.”

  “That’s stupid. We should do like PETA. Remember when they splashed blood on women wearing fur?”