Designer Detective (A Fiona Marlowe Mystery)

by Thelen, Marjorie

  “Make her jealous? Ha, she was born green with envy.”

  Fiona glanced around. “Who’s Suzie? Jake never mentioned a girl friend.”

  Rosemary shrugged. “Suzie thinks she owns every good looking man in the valley. Don’t pay attention to her, if you’re sweet on Jake.”

  “I’m not sweet on Jake. I hardly know him.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, but Fiona was rattled to hear that Jake might have a sweetheart. They had spent an intense two weeks together last fall. She hadn’t seen him since. Opal was the one who had nagged her to come out to re-do her ranch house and what with Fiona’s other high income projects and the month long trip to Australia, it was June before she hit the high desert.

  Both ladies looked at her and smiled.

  “Really, I’m not interested in him in the least.”

  “We’ll fix you up with someone else then. Maybe Sheriff Hoover. He’s available.”

  Sheriff Hoover strode over to their table as if he’d heard his name mentioned. He tipped his hat to Fiona. “Evening. I hear you are new to these parts. I’ll guard you from the wolves around here.” He smiled at his little joke.

  Fiona wasn’t sure she needed Sheriff Hoover’s protection. He was tall and lanky with a ready smile in a rugged face. He didn’t look threatening, but she had always been wary of law enforcement types. She had too many speeding tickets. There was that problem of the ghosts though.

  “Fiona’s curious about Hank Little and his missing wives,” said Esme. “Any new developments?”

  The Sheriff leaned in. “There’s been bones found in the rubble of a slash pile burn.”

  “No,” said Esme. “Where?”

  “Can’t say right now. We’re investigating.”

  “Might be more. There’s a lot of slash piles up in the mountains.”

  Sheriff Hoover pressed his lips tight and shook his head. He wasn’t sharing any more information.

  Esme said, “Fiona here might need your help with the ghosts up at the bunk house when they start bothering her.”

  Sheriff Hoover turned his full attention on Fiona. “I wouldn’t listen to these two. There are no ghosts in that old place.”

  “Yes, there are,” said Rosemary. “Sure as my name is Rosemary there are. Opal knows about them.”

  “You listen to me,” the Sheriff said. “Any time you have ghost trouble you call me. I’ll come running.” He pulled out a well-stuffed wallet, drew out a card, and laid it by Fiona’s plate. “My cell phone number is on there. Don’t hesitate to call.”

  He tipped his hat and returned to his rowdy companions.

  “Wow,” said Rosemary. “You made a conquest, Fiona. I do believe the Sheriff’s got eyes for you. Jake’s going to be jealous now.”

  “You two are bad,” Fiona said. She picked up the card and studied it. “You never know when I may need this.” She waggled it in front of them.

  “Don’t look now but here comes Jake,” said Esme.

  Jake stopped by Fiona’s side. “Are these ladies bothering you?” asked Jake, addressing Fiona.

  “No. They are excellent conversationalists and first rate gossips.”

  “Myself, I wouldn’t believe a word they say. Better be careful.”

  She smiled. “I’m always careful.”

  That declaration set Rosemary and Esme into gales of laughter. Fiona found she liked teasing with them. It didn’t take much to amuse these gals.

  “If you’re afraid,” Jake said, “I’ll be glad to walk you up the knoll to your new home when you are ready to leave. But you won’t want to leave yet. The dancing should start soon.”

  Rosemary and Esme grinned.

  “You are brave, Fiona, staying up there by yourself,” Rosemary said. “I think you should take Jake up on his offer. Remember what we told you.”

  Fiona smiled. “You gals can come visit me and the ghosts anytime.”

  * * * * *

  Jake liked the feel of Fiona in his arms. It had been too long. As a matter of fact, the times he had held her in his arms he could count on one hand. He had waited long enough for her to decide to come out here. She sure had a mind of her own.

  They moved easily around Opal’s huge living room. They had pushed the furniture to the walls when the dancing began. That was two hours ago. Fiona had caught on to the two-step fast, but then again she had a natural grace about her that he found only too attractive. He wanted to monopolize her, but other gents were always butting in, especially Hoover. Not that he didn’t like Hoover. He was an old friend. But he was feeling a little threatened with all the attention to Fiona, and he contemplated taking Hoover aside and telling him to butt out. Not that he had any claims on Fiona, and therein laid his hesitation.

  He wondered if Fiona were enjoying herself. He sure was now that she was finally in his arms. How he was going to get her into his bed was another matter. So far she had managed to repel all his suggestions and advances. Maybe he should just throw her over his shoulder and waltz her off to his room.

  “Who’s that woman dancing with Hoover?” Fiona asked as they circled the floor.

  There was a good crowd on the dance floor with sparse groups of people on the sidelines huddled in conversation.

  “Where?” asked Jake, looking over his shoulder in the direction of Fiona’s gaze. He frowned. “That’s Suzie Parker.” He turned them in another direction and headed away from Suzie and Hoover.

  “She keeps looking over here.”

  “Let her look. No harm in that.”

  “I heard she’s your girlfriend.”

  Jake missed his footing and stumbled but quickly recovered and kept them turning around the floor. “She’s not my girlfriend. Where’d you hear that? Don’t tell me. Rosemary and Esme.”

  Fiona smiled. “You never mentioned anything about her.”

  “Wasn’t anything to mention.” He looked into Fiona’s beautiful, dark eyes. Was she teasing him or could it be possible that she was a little bit jealous? “Besides, when did we ever talk about anything personal back in Virginia? We were always chasing or running from someone.”

  She smiled again, one of those soft, sexy smiles. Was she flirting with him or wasn’t she?

  “That’s true,” she said. “I’m just giving you a bad time, Jake. Just a little fun. She is pretty though. I could understand you’d be interested in such a lovely little thing.”

  The dance ended, and Jake reluctantly released his hold on Fiona. “You’re the one I’m interested in. I like tall, willowy women.” He held her gaze. She didn’t say anymore, and those mysterious eyes said even less.

  “I could use something to drink,” she said, breaking the spell he thought was beginning to weave around them.

  “I bet you want wine.”

  She smiled.

  “Okay, let’s scare some up.”

  He pulled her toward the kitchen where he figured Opal might have a few bottles sitting out. This was a beer and whiskey crowd, but Opal was always accommodating. In the kitchen, which was rather an understatement as it ran half the length of the house and included the long dining table where the picnic had been laid out, some partiers sat at one end of the table talking. There was a pinochle game going on at the other end. Opal and some of the other ladies, mostly nieces leaned against the island counter.

  “Got any wine for Fiona?” he asked Opal.

  “Sure do. There’s a bottle of red and a bottle of white down at the end of the counter. Should be glasses there, too.” She indicated with a point of her chin.

  “Are you having a good time, Fiona?” she asked.

  “The best. Everyone’s been very nice.”

  “Of course,” Opal said. “We’re nice folk all around. You got yourself a nice dance partner there, too. You help yourself to the wine.”

  Opal had been encouraging Jake and Fiona to hook up since they met in Virginia. He appreciated her encouragement, but it didn’t seem to be working with the unfathomable Ms. Marlowe.

&n
bsp; “Red wine?” said Jake, holding up a bottle of Oregon’s finest. Fiona nodded, and he tipped a good pour into a gigantic wine glass painted with sunflowers.

  “Nice touch, the sunflowers,” said Fiona, taking a sip from the glass.

  “A local artist does those for wine tastings. Opal collects them.”

  “I didn’t know Opal was a connoisseur of wine.”

  “She’s not, but she’s not opposed. She’ll lift a glass every now and again but her drink is whisky. She swears by a pour on her cereal in the morning.”

  “She doesn’t.”

  Jake laughed. “I’m kidding. But she does like her whiskey.”

  “She’s an amazing woman, given her age.”

  “Her mind’s pretty good, too. Although she seems to be slipping since Albert died. I hope she has everything in order. I’d hate to be the one to unravel the holdings of this ranch.”

  Out of nowhere, Suzie came up to them and slipped her arm through Jake’s. “I thought you’d never get off that dance floor, Jake, honey. “ She smiled at Fiona. “I’m Suzie Parker. I understand you’re the new girl in town.”

  “I guess. My name’s Fiona.”

  Suzie’s smile was one of her weaker efforts. “Opal says you’re going to remodel her house.”

  “That’s the plan, if Opal will ever sit still so we can discuss what she wants done. I’m a designer not a remodeler. I do the design, someone else does the work.”

  Jake shrugged out of Suzie’s grip. “Let’s walk outside, Fiona. It’s a pretty night.”

  “I’ll join you,” said Suzie.

  “You two go on,” said Fiona. “I need to take a trip to the powder room. Catch up with you later.”

  Jake watched the love of his life walk away and sighed.

  “Such a big sigh,” said Suzie. “She’s tall, isn’t she? How about we take in that pretty night, big guy? I haven’t had a chance to talk to you in a while. Have you been avoiding me?”

  * * * * *

  Opal watched the interplay between Jake, Suzie and Fiona. She didn’t dislike Suzie. She’d known her all her life. But she was a real man hog and that got tiresome. Her nieces had a lot to say about Suzie stealing boyfriends if given half a chance. The girl must have some psychological deficiency that was beyond Opal’s ability to understand.

  The nieces, who were from Henry’s side of the family, were chattering on, something about Suzie. But Opal’s mind couldn’t stay interested. Lately, she’d been forgetting things. Even she noticed, let alone the people who told her about it. She had a weariness in her bones she couldn’t shake. She should get her will updated, get things tidied up legally. She wasn’t getting any younger. But she had no children, and Henry had long since passed away. All the nieces and nephews on Henry’s side were waiting to fight over the place and tear it to pieces. She wished she had someone to leave the whole operation to who would keep it intact, run a good ranch, keep up what she had worked so hard to build. She had been thinking a lot lately about Jake taking it over. He could run the ranch. He loved it like she did. But he wasn’t kin, and she knew the nieces and nephews wouldn’t stand for it. So she kept putting off and putting off what she knew had to be done. She loved her relations, but, Lord, they could be a trial.

  “What’s got you so worried?” asked Tillie, one of the more aggravating of the nieces.

  “I’ve been thinking about the ranch is all,” said Opal. To change the subject, she said, “Why aren’t you dancing with your hubby?”

  “You know perfectly well why I’m not. Damn fool is drunk again.”

  “What about Roy?”

  “What about him?”

  “Are you still seeing him on the side?”

  She shrugged. “When I get a chance. I got to have some good time in my life.”

  Tillie was tall, thin, and smoked too much. She could use the money she’d get when Opal was gone, if the ranch were sold off and the proceeds split among the relations. At least, her relations were still talking to her. Sometimes they didn’t talk to each other. Tillie was smart, but her life was hard. Ranch life was always hard. As Henry used to say, “I’ve been a gambler all my life. I’m a rancher.”

  The climate in Harney Valley was harsh and unpredictable. The high altitude made for a short growing season. Some ranchers were owned by the banks, and beef and hay prices were often too low when selling or too high when buying or feeding. It was a rare breed that stayed with ranching full time. The family ranch was a dying institution. That’s what worried Opal. The younger ones didn’t seem to have the grit it took anymore to make a go of ranching. They moved away to the city looking for the jobs this small community couldn’t provide.

  Tillie said, “Where’d you go, Aunt Opal? You seem to get lost more and more these days.”

  Opal frowned. “You notice, too. I worry even myself.”

  “You shouldn’t be throwing big wing dings like this,” said Tillie. “You’re getting up there. You need to take it easy. Retire. Get some of the nephews to run things around here.”

  There’s the problem, thought Opal. “Who would you suggest out of all the nephews? They have jobs and their own problems or their own ranches to run.”

  Tillie shook her head. “You’re right about that. I wish my Howie was better suited but he likes the bottle better than anything else.”

  * * * * *

  Fiona took her glass of wine, walked out the open front door, and stood on the covered porch, breathing the cool night air. She took a careful sip of wine. Should she be jealous of Suzie? She knew she was leading Jake on maybe a little. It was obvious how he felt. But she wasn’t sure she was ready to jump back into a one-on-one, not after her disastrous relationship with Rob Calloway. In hindsight it was sheer stupidity to get carried away with Rob, but at the time her hormones were spiraling out of control and had taken up residence in her brain. That was long ago and far away, or so it seemed now. But she still had a hollow feeling where her heart was, which made her dance away from commitment. Maybe she wasn’t the settling down kind. There were so many people yet to meet, places to go, experiences to live.

  She sighed. Things were not going as she had envisioned. The bunk house was a mess. Opal was stalling on the house re-design. Maybe she didn’t have the money. Maybe it had been a fabrication to lure her out here. Maybe Jake had pressured Opal to get her to come. There were too many maybes. This country had its attractions though. She liked the big, wide openness of it. She should explore and enjoy it while she could. And what about those murders?

  She went back inside, drawn by the sound of music starting again. An ensemble of guitar players and fiddlers had struck up a tune. This one had a loping cadence which put her in mind of the old west and a cowboy meandering along a dusty trail. It fit this country. Couples did the two-step around the dance floor. She stopped in her tracks when she saw who was singing. Jake. Jake Manyhorses was strumming a guitar and singing in a mellow, baritone voice. Something about his easy stance and the way he closed his eyes when he came to the chorus told her a lot about this man. He had passion, a passion for life and living it that she had seldom seen in anyone. She watched, mesmerized. The two other guitar players harmonized at the chorus. A stand up bass kept the beat, and the fiddler played a solo. When the song was over she clapped along with the others.

  Jake looked her way and winked. The group played a few more songs, one a lively instrumental that featured Jake finger picking the guitar. Fiona had no idea the man had such musical talent.

  When the set was over he walked over to her.

  “I’m very impressed,” she said with a smile framing the words.

  “At last.” He grinned like a happy puppy.

  “No, really. You sounded great. Where did you learn to play and sing like that?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been around musicians all my life. That’s what you do when you don’t have TV or other stuff. You sit around with your buddies and play songs. I fill in sometimes with the worship team at church
.

  “You go to church?”

  He laughed. “Sure, doesn’t everyone? I don’t go very often. It’s too hard to get away from ranching.” He shrugged. “I enjoy playing gospel hymns.”

  “I’m learning a lot of things about you that I didn’t know before.”

  “We haven’t known each other that long. This is get-to-know-each-other time. I sure am glad I impressed you. I thought I never would.”

  She laughed. “Would you like to walk me home and sing another song?”

  “You bet.”

  They said good night to Opal and everyone they saw on their way to the door. Where did all these people come from? Looking out from Opal’s front porch there wasn’t a house in sight.

  Some of the men clapped Jake on the back.

  “Way to go, Jake,” said one.

  “Lucky man,” said another.

  She got the feeling they thought something was going on between them. What was going on anyway? She wished she didn’t feel so conflicted.

  “What’s this about ghosts?” asked Jake when they had cleared the house and were on the dusty, dirt track that led to her fashionable address.

  “Rosemary and Esme swear the bunk house is haunted.”

  “Don’t listen to them. That was years ago. Opal had the place exorcised so there shouldn’t be any problem. She called in the Catholic priest in town who performed the ceremony.”

  “You’re kidding,” she said, stopping to look at him.

  “No, I’m not kidding. She really did and after that there weren’t any more problems with ghost sightings.”

  “That’s a relief. I’m not partial to ghosts.” Exorcism was extreme in her book, but if it did the job, who was she to object?

  “Do you know Hank Little?” she asked as they resumed their trek.

  “They told you about Hank Little?”

  The path took an uphill turn and with the evening of dancing her new Tony Llama boots started to pinch. How did anyone ever find these things comfortable?

  “They did,” she said, trying not to limp.