Designer Detective (A Fiona Marlowe Mystery)

by Thelen, Marjorie

  “And,” I said. “Albert was sleeping with her. Maybe in love with her and married to another woman.”

  “Yes,” Hudson said. “Albert had the hedged clipped like a suit of cards for his love, Alice Wonderland. That’s when Olivia knew Albert was involved with Alice because she was, too. Olivia knew the connection with Alice in Wonderland. You cannot imagine the row that ensued in the Lodge household. I think it ultimately caused Olivia’s stroke.”

  “We are back to square one,” I said. “The reason I got caught up in all this trouble. Who killed Albert?”

  Hudson said, “Albert killed himself with an overdose of his meds. He’d been despondent over Olivia’s death, and Alice’s double cross. I found the empty bottle of medication he had mixed with his evening toddy in the kitchen when I tidied up.”

  “You didn’t share that information with the family. Why?”

  Hudson’s shoulders slumped. “I tried to tell Miss Opal, but she was convinced that someone in the family murdered him and insisted that Jake find out who it was. Then things started spinning out of control. We had to set up the sting operation to break up this end of the arms trafficking.”

  “Then all of this was an elaborate scheme about an arms deal. It wasn’t about people like me and Opal and Jake.”

  Hudson sighed and looked away over my shoulder. “I know it sounds cold and heartless but Albert was mixed up in something that sucked innocent people in.”

  I shook my head. “We’re lucky none of the innocents were hurt.”

  Hudson gave a faint nod.

  “Poor Albert,” I said. “Why would he get mixed up dealing arms?”

  “He had huge debts. You can imagine with two women and one blackmailing you. Plus Ratko somehow found out about Alice’s involvement. He started blackmailing Albert. Those were the entries that Jake found in the ledger. Ratko had his men torch the study to burn the evidence. I’m guessing the evening of Albert’s demise Ratko had demanded more money, a lot more money. Albert didn’t have it. Ratko had slowly bled him to death, you might say.”

  “Where is Alice? What will happen to her?” I asked.

  “Alice is being held for questioning though she will probably get off. There are entries in Albert’s ledger that showed payments to someone, but he used a coding system, and we don’t know who. We might not have enough evidence to charge Alice.”

  “Ratko was extorting Alice, too, because he said she wasn’t making payments.”

  Hudson’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Miss Marlowe. That is valuable information. We will follow up. You are a superb detective, and I heartily thank you for your valuable service to the cause.”

  I smiled at the idea of being a superb detective. I felt more like the superb bumbler. I turned to Jake. “And you were nervous the night of the party because Alice was there and you knew who she was and you didn’t want any of her ears to hear what we were talking about.”

  “Yes. That was the problem all along. You were good at figuring things out. I wanted you out of harm’s way, but I wanted you close to me, too.”

  “There is irony in that,” I said. “And Cody?”

  “He’s still on the loose,” Jake said.

  “I guess that’s the end for me then. I’ll leave Cody in your capable hands. I have a plane ticket to Sydney, and I’m going to be on the flight.”

  Jake exchanged looks with Hudson, who cleared his throat.

  “Miss Marlowe, I’m terribly sorry, but I need to ask you for that ticket and the check that I believe you said you had. You see, that is evidence against Alice. We’ll need your statement as to what transpired in your conversation with her.”

  There went that paid vacation. I searched in my purse and found the ticket and voucher and handed it to Hudson. I felt strangely defeated. The worse feeling was being a pawn in the game. “Let’s get to the paper work. I’ll be free to leave then, won’t I?”

  “Yes, I believe so. Shall we step into the kitchen and have tea? Just like old times.” Hudson gave me that gallant little smile that always won me over.

  “Why not? Tea is always so civilized.”

  “Right this way,” he said with a gentlemanly flair of the hand.

  We entered through the infamous back entrance where it seemed all the real intrigue with the family took place. I guess, though, that Hudson wasn’t part of the family as much as he was part of the intrigue.

  * * * * *

  Jake gave me a ride home in the Rolls Royce which was a nice touch since I had never ridden in one. The interior was all burled wood and tan leather. It had that wonderful old car smell, but I hardly could appreciate the luxury, I was so out of it. I had duly signed a statement that might keep Alice on the hook. I signed a statement that I was a witness to the happenings at the Lodge house that morning. My part in the whole woeful affair was over.

  I didn’t feel like talking, and Jake didn’t either, so it was a glum ride. A ray of sun finally peaked through the miserable overcast that had dogged the day. The clouds were breaking up in the western sky. I took that as a good omen. Normal life as I knew it was returning.

  “Drop me in front, please,” I said when we pulled in the circular drive to my building. The Rolls rolled to a stop at the main entrance. As I grabbed the door handle, Jake put his hand on my arm. “Fiona, don’t go like this. I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you hurt. The more I knew, the more I had to cover up to protect you.”

  “You keep saying that. Why did you insist Hudson needed an alibi? That brought me back into danger.”

  “I didn’t want you to leave. I was afraid I’d never see you again. Hudson decided at the last minute that you’d fit into the sting operation, that you and I were the perfect bait. We were the ones Ratko and his men were following. I figured if I stayed with you, I could protect you.”

  I leaned back against the headrest. “Jake, I’m so exhausted I don’t know which end is up. It has been a nerve wracking twenty-four hours. You keep saying you were trying to protect me.” I looked into his big browns. “Frankly, my dear Jake, I don’t need any more of your protection.”

  I opened the car door and with carry on and purse in hand walked inside my dear, familiar building to the elevator. On my floor I stumbled down the hall, rummaging in my purse for the keys which didn’t seem to be there. I stopped at my door ready to turn the darn purse upside down when I noticed the door wasn’t latched. Then I remembered. Cody had the keys.

  I eased the door open, hoping I had an ounce of adrenalin left to flee, if need be. Maybe I had forgotten to latch it when we left. There was a funny smell in the air, like burned toast. The venetian blinds were closed. I always left them open. Someone had camped out in my beautiful condo. Step by step, I inched to the living room. Cody sat spread leg on the couch, the coffee table littered with beer bottles.

  “Hello Fiona,” he said, slurring his words. “I need a little help.”

  I started to laugh, and then I couldn’t stop. Tears ran down my face. I shook so hard with laughter I dropped my purse and carry on.

  “Fiona, it’s not funny. I can’t find my wallet, and I need money. I don’t have a cent. You don’t seem to keep any cash around this place. I got guys on my tail. I’ve been waiting all night for you to come. I’ll leave as soon as you give me money to get out of here.”

  I had lapsed into hysterical giggles. “Sorry,” I said between hiccups, “I don’t mean to laugh it’s just that . . .” I got hysterical again.

  Cody started yelling. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

  I heard the door open behind me and was afraid to turn around to see who else had joined the party.

  “Excuse me,” Jake said, delicately moving me aside so he could get by. He yanked Cody off the couch before he could protest and gave him a resounding punch in the face. He went down in a drunken heap.

  Jake stood looking down at Cody a moment then came over and pulled me into a big bear embrace. “Fiona, I keep saying you need me to protect you.
”

  “You’re right, Jake Manyhorses.”

  Epilogue

  Jake and I sat on the front porch of the old bunk house in Harney Valley, Oregon, watching a line of rigs stir up the dust on the ranch road to Opal’s house. Opal had hosted a come-one-come-all barbecue, the guests were leaving, and we were recovering.

  Jake said, “I’m glad the Lodge family disaster is over.”

  “Yes, it is. Let’s not think about the disaster. I want to think about decorating my bunkhouse and Opal’s house. That’s all I want to think about.”

  “Right. Though, you know, I heard they found a guy down in the desert east of here. He was in an old rusted car, nothing but bones. The sheriff doesn’t know if it was murder or suicide.”

  Really?” I said, trying to keep the excitement from my voice.

  Jake started laughing.

  I soon recovered my senses. “I’m not interested in the least.”

  THE END

  About the Author

  Marjorie Thelen lives and writes novels outside a small town on the Oregon frontier. She enjoys writing stories that entertain her and, hopefully, her readers. If you would like to learn more about her books or to contact her, visit her web site: www.MarjorieThelen.com. She enjoys hearing from her readers. The second book in the Fiona Marlowe mystery series, High Desert Detective, is now available on Amazon.com.

  Bonus Feature – First 2 chapters of High Desert Detective

  Chapter 1

  Fiona had never been to a party quite like this one. Everyone wore wide brimmed hats and cowboy boots. Even she wore them. She’d bought them at the local ranch store especially for the party. The other folks wore them every day. She spotted Jake across the room immersed in circle of men, probably talking about cows. Talk was getting louder by the minute. And here came Opal, steaming across the room, her eyes fixed on Fiona.

  “There you are,” Opal said. “Don’t stand all by yourself. Come with me. I’ll introduce you around.”

  “I don’t know what to say. These people aren’t talking about anything I know about.”

  “Don’t be silly. You have lots in common. They aren’t aliens from outer space. Don’t talk religion, sex or politics, and you’ll be fine.

  She tugged Fiona’s arm in the direction of a couple of gals who looked like they most recently had been astride a horse. Women here didn’t believe in face cream or SPF. They were tanned and lined and looked comfortable with it. She felt overdressed in mascara and blush.

  “Rosemary. Esme. I want you to meet Fiona Marlowe. She’s the gal I told you was coming to redecorate my house. She’s going to be living in the bunk house and has plans to spruce it up.”

  The two women halted in mid-conversation, but not before Fiona caught Rosemary saying, “He murdered both his wives. They weren’t accidents.”

  Her detective DNA came to full alert.

  “Murder?” she asked, taking up on the conversation they hadn’t finished. She didn’t like to waste time on niceties when murder was in the air.

  Rosemary smiled. “A guy by the name of Hank Little had two wives disappear on him. I say he killed them. Probably beat them to death, knowing him.”

  “Has he been arrested?” asked Fiona.

  “Not yet,” said Rosemary. “They don’t have enough evidence. The Sheriff hasn’t found the bodies of either wife. Hank said both wives ran off with someone else. That doesn’t say much for his prowess with his pistol.”

  Rosemary snorted and Opal and Esme joined in the laughter. Fiona had to smile. So much for taboo topics. A clanging bell interrupted her quizzing the ladies any further.

  “Time to eat,” shouted Queenie, a large woman wrapped in a butcher’s apron with red checks and flying frizzy hair from a day spent in the kitchen. She carried a tray full of ribs. Another skinnier woman followed with a platter of beef barbecue. Fiona’s stomach leapt in happiness. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was now late in the afternoon. She’d taken forever deciding how to put a cowgirl outfit together and hoped the looks the men were casting in her direction weren’t because something was wrong with her attire.

  Opal’s guests moved toward a table set in the middle of the immense dining room. The two meat platters were only the start of the feast. A table full of potato salad and a parade of other picnic salads, corn bread, corn on the cob, and desserts at the far end made Fiona swoon. More platters of meat arrived as the guests heaped their plates.

  Fiona took a plate and started down the table. Her appetite never failed her.

  “What’s that?” she asked an older gentleman who was loading up with slices of meat. These men did not remove their hats to eat, and this one, besides the hat, the plaid shirt, jeans, and boots, wore a fancy scarf wrapped around his neck which gave him a rakish look. He couldn’t have been much under eighty years old.

  “Goat,” he said with a grin. “Gal, it doesn’t get any better than this.”

  She wrinkled her nose. Goat had to be an acquired taste and since the ethnic in her was Irish and not Latina, she passed. She loaded up on everything else. By the time she got to the end of the table, she could barely lift her plate.

  Opal appeared at her side. “I love a girl with an appetite,” she said. “Tables are outside on the back patio.”

  Rosemary and Esme were in line behind Fiona and followed her out to a table. Opal must have assigned them guard duty. Or maybe they were as curious about Fiona as she was about them.

  “Glad you’re here,” said Esme to Fiona. She had blond and gray hair pulled back in a low pony tail. She wore a sweat stained black hat that looked like it had been trampled by a herd of antelope. “You figure you’ll stay long?”

  “It depends how long it takes me to re-design and decorate Opal’s house. I think that’s what she wants done. She’s been rather vague.”

  “I kind of like it as it is. Has the feel and smell of old money to me,” said Rosemary.

  Esme laughed. “You behave yourself now.”

  “No way,” said Rosemary. “Life’d be no fun.”

  “Tell me more about the guy who murdered his wives,” Fiona said.

  Rosemary smiled. “Let’s get the Sheriff over here. He could give you the gruesome details. There he is.” She nodded in the direction of a table of men, the loudest at the party.

  “I’ll catch him later,” Fiona said, not wanting to make a scene. She wanted more time to see which direction the wind was blowing, politically speaking and otherwise

  “We’ll introduce you,” Esme said, undeterred. She turned and shouted to the table of men. “Hey, Hoover. Come on over when you finish.”

  Hoover looked around to see who had called his name, spotted Esme waving at him and returned the wave.

  “You bet,” he shouted back.

  His buddy elbowed him, said something, and they all laughed.

  “How is it you know Jake?” Rosemary asked. She had flashing dark eyes, shoulder length dark hair, and wore the flat, wide brimmed hat of the buckaroos in the south end of the valley. At least, that’s what the lady at the ranch store told Fiona when she bought the same style hat. Rosemary looked much more authentic than Fiona felt in hers.

  “I met him when he came to Northern Virginia to help Opal settle her brother Albert’s estate.”

  Esme nodded. “I heard about that. Jake said he met an interior decorator out there. That must be you.”

  “Designer. I redesign and improve upon living spaces. That would be me.”

  “I get it, like Martha Stewart. Can’t say we ever see your type out here. Ranchers put their money into livestock, machinery, and irrigation equipment, not pretty houses.”

  “I’m hardly Martha Stewart. I’m more sophisticated than that.” She’d noticed the houses here were not like those in the posh suburbs of Washington, D.C. where she lived and worked.

  Rosemary continued on. “That old bunkhouse’ll be a challenge. Do you know it’s haunted?”

  The bite of lemon meringue pie Fion
a just swallowed stuck in her throat. She coughed and cleared her throat. “You’re kidding, of course. You’re trying to scare me off.”

  They weren’t laughing.

  “No, she’s serious,” said Esme. “Opal didn’t mention that?”

  “No. There’s quite a bit Opal hadn’t mentioned about the bunk house. She said it sat on a knoll with a tree and had a nice view. I came out to take a look.” She didn’t mention that it was payment for being Opal’s alibi in the arson investigation of her brother Albert’s house after it went up in flames. She had envisioned a bunk house a little different than what she got. “I can’t say that a ghost excites me. Does the ghost have a name?”

  “Ghosts, plural,” said Rosemary. She leaned in, warming to her story. “There’s a cross cut into that tree by the bunkhouse. Folks say they found a human skull and a belt buckle from the 1870s under that tree.”

  “What happened to the remains?” Fiona rubbed the goose flesh on her arms though the day was warm.

  “Disappeared. Nobody knows. But in the old days when Opal used that bunk house for the ranch hands, they complained of hearing voices arguing in the wee hours of the morning. Gunshots sometimes.”

  Fiona frowned. Sharing a house with ghosts was not in her plans. She wondered again about the wisdom of coming here. Her new duds itched and that reminded her of what a green horn she was. Her safe, comfortable condo in Northern Virginia beckoned. No spiders or rats. No creatures that bit or stung.

  “Hey,” said Esme, “we’re scaring you. Don’t listen to us. We had too many beers, and our tongues are loose. You be quiet now, you hear, Rosemary?”

  Rosemary grinned. “Fiona’s a big girl. She looks like she can take care of herself. But if I were you, I’d get me a nice looking buckaroo like Jake to keep your bed warm at night, keep you safe from ghosts.”

  They laughed, and Esme said, “Now you know Suzie wouldn’t like to hear you talk like that about Jake. You’ll make her jealous.”