“Look at this.” She held out her hand to Kurt. “It almost doesn’t look natural.” Morgan studied the chips in her palm, twisting her wrist to make the sun play off them. “I take that back. This does look natural. Like opal. Is opal found around here?”
“You’re the rock expert,” Kurt said.
Unfortunately, Morgan wasn’t an expert. She placed the chips in her jacket pocket to show to Del later. Kurt placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded toward Gerda.
The stout woman faced the dugout entrance. Someone had blocked the doorway with a barrier of pine branches. Gerda touched the branches tentatively, then pulled them apart, opening a gap. She peered through, her head swiveling as she looked from side to side. Several long minutes passed, then Gerda bowed her head. Morgan looked away, toward a mound of elephant-head flowers.
“I am done.” Gerda marched back to them, some of her old take-charge attitude firmly back in place. She glared at Kurt. “You may now take your photos.”
“Gerda, I’m going to take some pictures,” Kurt said, “but I won’t publish them in the paper. I’ll keep them in case Chief Sharp needs them, although I’m sure he had someone with a camera on the—” Kurt paused. “Recovery crew. If I print them in the paper, curiosity seekers might find the dugout. I don’t want to be responsible for it being disturbed.”
Gerda reached out to squeeze his arm briefly. “You are a better man than I thought.”
They hiked back to the trailhead parking lot in silence. When they were headed to Golden Springs, Morgan worked up the courage to ask the question she knew the church ladies would want answered.
“Do you think you’re ready to have a memorial service for Carlee?”
Gerda stared out the window at the walls of rock on either side of the highway.
“Yes,” Gerda said. “A memorial service. Not for me. I have said my good-bye. For Golden Springs. I remember how everyone came out to look. Day after day they searched the wrong part of the mountain. There were dogs.” Gerda snorted. “Those animals could not smell their own backsides.”
A silence filled the car that was just a bit more comfortable than the awful quiet they’d had on the ride up. Then Gerda spoke again.
“I fear what happened will never be known. Morgan? Kurt? Do you believe Carlee lost her way?” The stern woman teared up, her voice quavering. “That she wandered these hills, cold and frightened, until she died, all alone?”
Neither had an answer.
“I would like to know, did she suffer?”
“If we learn anything,” Kurt said, “we’ll let you know.”
“Please. Keep looking.” The steel returned to Gerda’s words. “And if someone hurt my baby, there will be hell to pay.”
Gerda’s words sent a chill crawling up Morgan’s back that didn’t thaw by the time they reached the auto repair shop.
“Can you join us for an early dinner?” Kurt asked.
“You shouldn’t be alone,” Morgan said.
“You are wrong. I prefer to be alone.” Gerda climbed out and waved her hand, shooing them away. “Do not worry. I will not hit the bottle.”
Morgan was worried, though. Gerda seemed tough as nails, but today surely opened old wounds.
“How about you?” Kurt asked. “Can I entice you with dinner at the Hot Tomato?”
“I just had dinner there last night with Bernie,” Morgan said. “How about someplace else?”
It wasn’t just repetition that steered Morgan away from the restaurant. The large windows facing Main Street afforded passersby a view of the entire dining room. She wasn’t ready for her afternoon with Kurt to end, but she also didn’t want to be on display for every nosey gossip in town. They settled on a place down the pass, between Golden Springs and Granite Junction. The chain sandwich shop could not be mistaken for the location of a hot date.
“I’d better let Del know where I am.” Morgan pulled her cell phone out and called the old cowboy. She promised to give him all the details later. “I’ll be home soon.”
“No rush,” Del said. “I just closed the shop. I’ve got my feet up, watching a fishing program on the television and enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon.”
Morgan put her phone away.
“I’m glad you have him around,” Kurt said. “I didn’t mention it when we were there, but I saw fresh boot prints near the dugout.”
“The mountain man was huge,” Morgan said. “Well, he seemed huge when I was trapped inside the dugout with him. Were the prints big?”
“No. I placed my foot beside a print and took a photo. It was about the same size as mine.” Kurt shrugged. “The prints could have been made by the police, or a curious hiker. Whether they were Big Foot’s or not, until Chief Sharp catches up to the mountain man, I’ll worry about you.”
Del was dozing in front of the television when Morgan got home. She felt guilty for leaving him alone at the shop all day. Soon it would be tourist season, and she wouldn’t be able to traipse off whenever she wanted. Before Morgan removed her lilac-colored jacket, she emptied the pockets onto the kitchen table. The iridescent chips spilled across the wood.
“You’re home.” Del yawned. “What you got there?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Del pushed himself up out of his recliner. He picked up a chip, held it to the light, and whistled.
“Where did you get this?”
“When Kurt and I took Gerda to see where I found Carlee, these colored rocks, or shells, or whatever they are, were scattered in front of the dugout.”
Del looked from the chip to Morgan. “Who knows about this?”
“Kurt, Gerda, and me.”
“That’s two too many people.” Del tugged at his moustache.
“Is it opal?”
“Let’s find out. Can you please hand me a gem and mineral book? That one from your class will do.”
Morgan retrieved a book from the small table beside her rocking chair and handed it to Del. He thumbed through the pages, then set the book aside.
“Nope. There’s a book on fossils on the bookcase. The little one, with all the pictures.”
Morgan retrieved the well-worn book. Del consulted the index, then flipped to a page.
“Ammonite.”
He handed the book to Morgan. She studied the photos of ammonite fossils. The dull spirals of shell were not a particularly exciting fossil.
“That’s not what Gerda found.”
“Turn back a page,” Del said.
Morgan did as instructed, then pressed the book open on the kitchen table. One page detailed the science and location of ammolite, while the facing page displayed photos of multiple samples of the gem.
Morgan held one of her larger pieces next to the photos. “That’s it.”
“Ammolite is an organic gem.”
“I thought all rocks were organic.”
“People call everything organic nowadays,” Del said. “They throw the word around to make things sound healthy. I mean organic in the sense that it was alive once. Rocks are minerals, but ammonites are fossils. Shells, specifically. And when just the right minerals happen along during the fossilization process, it turns into this.” He picked up a dazzling blue, green, and gold gem. “Ammolite.”
Morgan skimmed the paragraph in the book on how ammolite forms. “So there are only three gemstones produced by living organisms. This stuff, pearls, and amber. Wow.”
“If there’s ammolite in the hills around here, all heck will break loose.”
“So ammolite is valuable?”
“Very rare.” Del picked up a chip and studied it. “If you had ammolite on your property, you’d have no money problems.”
“That would be nice,” Morgan said, “but unfortunately this came from the dugout where I found Carlee.”
“It would be a crying shame if some prospector staked a claim before we got to it.” Del tugged at his mustache. “And Mr. Newspaper knows.” Del sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to cut hi
m in on the deal. If he makes a headline out of this find, it’ll be the Gold Rush all over again.”
The urgency with which Del spoke made Morgan panicky. “I can call Kurt.”
“I wish you would.”
Morgan went into her bedroom to unplug her cell phone from its charger, then decided to stay in her room to call Kurt. As soon as she dialed his number, Morgan felt silly. But if Del was right, she needed to let Kurt know that the shell-gem needed to be kept quiet. Kurt picked up.
“Sorry to bother you so soon,” Morgan said.
“Call any time.” Morgan could hear the smile in Kurt’s voice.
“You remember the rocks, or shells, Gerda and I found at the dugout?”
“Yes. You said they were like opal. I’d have to agree.”
“Did you take any?”
“I did.”
“Don’t show them to anyone. Del thinks they’re ammolite. Apparently, ammolite’s a very rare fossilized gem, and that makes it valuable. He’s afraid if word gets out, he might miss the chance to stake a claim.”
“And Del was afraid I’d plaster the news, complete with photos and a map to the dugout, across the front page of the Gazetteer.”
Morgan laughed. “Something like that.”
“You can let him know I’ll keep it on the down low.”
“Thanks. Del also said that he figured he’d have to let you in on the deal if he stakes a claim.”
“I’ll take him up on it, if he strikes it rich. And Morgan?”
“Yes?”
“I enjoyed spending time with you today.”
Morgan felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. She was glad she’d taken the call in her room. Del would be sure to notice, and tease her about it.
“Other than the part about taking Gerda to her daughter’s final resting place, I enjoyed today, too.”
When Morgan returned to the kitchen, Del had spread a topographical map across the kitchen table. The lines designating elevation squiggled across the thick paper like fingerprints.
“So where exactly is that dugout?”
Morgan studied the map.
“It’s not far from the Temple Mountain hiking trail.” She traced a fingertip along the line designating the trail. “I came down the creek to the road. Here’s the bridge. The parking lot.” She drew an invisible circle on the map. “So somewhere in here. In the National Forest. Chief Sharp, the coroner, and Pine County Search and Rescue were all there.”
Del shook his head. “Not good. Okay, first we need to know if this area is open to mineral entry.” Del scribbled an “x” on the map with a pencil, making it look like a pirate’s treasure map. “Then find out if that old dugout is on a valid claim, or better yet, was abandoned years ago.” Del tugged at his moustache. “I can’t believe anybody’d let an ammolite deposit revert back to the government. But people mostly looked for gold and silver way back when. Nowadays they’re after aquamarine and topaz and such. I’ll ask Barton to look up the records for this area.”
“Hey, you told me I had to keep this under wraps. Now you’re telling Barton?”
“He’s got expertise at filing a mining claim. If we’re gonna claim that site—”
“Gerda’s the one who found the ammolite.”
“So now we got you and me, Kurt and Gerda, and add Barton if he wants in on the deal.” Del grabbed the landline phone. “This is getting too complicated for my tired old noggin. I’m calling Barton.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
At first light, Barton arrived at the Rock of Ages, parking his battered pickup truck behind the living quarters. Morgan poured coffee in a thermos while Del opened the kitchen door. If Carlee’s guardian, or killer, resembled a Sasquatch version of a mountain man, Barton looked like a mountain man turned long-distance runner. He wore a fox fur hat, probably made from animals he had trapped himself. His full beard and fringed leather coat added to the look, but from the waist down he was thoroughly modern, with water repellant hiking slacks in a synthetic fabric, and lightweight hiking boots protected with nylon gaiters. Barton shook himself, sending a shower of snowflakes onto the kitchen linoleum.
“It’s snowing?” Morgan asked. “It’s the middle of May!”
“It’s May in Colorado.” Del peeked out the curtain on the back door. “Won’t last long. How’re the roads?”
“Clear enough.” Barton studied the rainbow-colored bits of ammolite on the kitchen table. “If anyone knew about this, weather wouldn’t matter. There’d be a stampede.”
Del pulled on his insulated Carhartt coat and grabbed the thermos and a bag of bagels.
“Did you take your blood pressure medicine?” Morgan asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” Del flicked his fingers across the brim of his cowboy hat in a mock salute. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”
After the men left and Morgan tended to the donkeys, the shop phone rang.
“Morgan, this is Cindy. My mom’s off work today, and asked to take the kids to the zoo. Do you need help today?”
“That’s generous of your mother,” Morgan said. “Taking six kids to the zoo can’t be easy.”
“The older ones help with the younger ones,” Cindy said. “You’d be surprised. And I’ll have Hezekiah with me, so it’s just the five.”
“But it’s snowing!”
“Won’t last long,” Cindy said, echoing Del’s weather forecast.
“And you don’t want to take advantage of having a day to yourself?”
“Honestly, Morgan, I can use the money. Herb won’t get a paycheck with his raise for two weeks. If you can use me for a couple hours, Hezekiah and I will come on over.”
“I do need to run some errands. You know we won’t get much business today. But I have to warn you, the mountain man is in the area. He was in Bernie’s Dumpster behind the bakery, and he stole a jacket out of Del’s trailer.”
“The fella sure gets around. I’ll be okay. I’ll bring my friend.”
“Who is that?” Morgan asked.
“Mr. Smith and Wesson.”
Morgan began to ask more questions, but decided she didn’t want to know if Cindy had been packing her “friend” in her diaper bag. After Cindy showed up in a small truck, Morgan headed to town. The snow had already melted off the gravel road, but she couldn’t take chances with her nearly bald tires. She drove slowly down Hill Street. Morgan parked in front of the Golden Springs Gazetteer and crunched across ice melting crystals spread on the wooden walk.
Anna sat at the receptionist desk, wearing her typical power suit and designer heels. A pair of snow boots rested on damp newsprint beside her desk.
“Hi, Anna. I came to check on my ad layout for the business directory.”
Anna pushed her chair back and stood. She was taller than Morgan, even without heels. Anna led Morgan to the room with the big wood table. Where the cold case folders had been, there were now pages spread out for the directory.
“We’re a little old fashioned here,” Anna said. “We could do this all on the computer, but Kurt likes to work with hardcopy for the final layout. Here’s your ad.”
The Rock of Ages had used the same graphics for ads since she and Kendall inherited the shop from their great-uncle Caleb. Morgan hired local graphic artists, also owners of a T-shirt shop, and gave them carte blanche to develop a new look.
Dinosaurs, bones, and rocks formed the frame for a concisely worded ad giving the rock shop’s hours of operation and brief directions. The graphics were eye-catching, with enough white space to stand out among more cluttered appeals for customer attention.
“Very nice,” Morgan said.
She glanced up. Morgan still wasn’t clear whether she was competing with Anna for Kurt’s attention. The woman was all business at the newspaper, and even at church she rarely talked about her personal life. Morgan realized she knew very little about Anna Heiden.
“Is Kurt around?” Morgan watched her face.
“There’s no rush,” Morgan said. “Just dropping by.”
Anna smiled and placed a hand on Morgan’s arm. “I think Kurt would like to see you.” She propelled Morgan toward his office.
The top half of the Dutch door sat open, while the bottom half was closed. Kurt pulled on his brown trench coat. When he saw Morgan, his smile was welcoming, so Morgan leaned on the door and watched while he gathered his notepad and camera.
“I’m heading out to interview candidates for the City Council position,” Kurt said. “Running a two-page spread.”
“Are you going to throw your hat into the race?”
“With Jade Tinsley running?” Kurt snorted. “I don’t stand a chance against him.”
“Jade Tinsley? He’s the guy who was engaged to Gerda’s daughter, right? How could you not have a chance against him? I think you’d be great on City Council. Nobody knows more about Golden Springs than you.”
“I’m an outsider.”
“After four years?” Morgan asked.
“I’ve settled in, sure, but Tinsley is a born and bred local, plus he’s charismatic and good-looking. Local kid makes good. He’ll win it, hands down.”
“Doesn’t finding Carlee’s remains cast a negative light on him? Or at least arouse suspicion?”
“Everything I’ve heard on the street is that he was devastated when she disappeared. Accusing him of killing Carlee would be a hard sell in this town without smoking-gun evidence.”
“They could have had a fight gone wrong. Or he changed his mind about marrying her after Gerda’s drunk-driving arrest, or she wanted out for whatever reason. Lots of scenarios for a moment-of-passion murder.”
Kurt smiled. “You have a suspicious mind. You’d make a great private investigator.”
“Oh, no. Not interested.”
Stone Cold Case (A Rock Shop Mystery) Page 12