Stone Cold Case (A Rock Shop Mystery)

by Catherine Dilts

  Barton arrived at the rock shop early Wednesday morning, ready to take Del to his physical therapy session in Granite Junction. Morgan wondered how Barton managed to take so much time off from his GPS map software company. Maybe he had trained minions to do his bidding while he was absent. Morgan needed to acquire some minions of her own.

  “I’m heading out,” Del said.

  “Remember your key,” Morgan said, “just in case I’m not here when you get back. I’ll be running a 5K with Bernie this afternoon.”

  “Be sure to plant a tree for me.”

  The cowbell jangled as he closed the door. Morgan was stuck at the shop. She opened the folder Cindy had created and studied the list of items she should take to the mineral show.

  plastic storage bins in barn

  Del had retrieved geodes from a box in the garage. Her brother and sister-in-law had apparently used both buildings to store rock shop inventory. Now was as good a time as any to see what was where. Morgan would keep an eye on the parking lot this time in case customers arrived. She grabbed her fleece jacket. There was the promise of summer in the air at moments, followed by reminders of winter.

  With only two donkeys who liked to spend most of their time outdoors, there was plenty of empty space in the barn. Morgan opened the smaller door to the right of the tractor-sized double doors and inhaled deeply. Under the odor of old wood and hay was the mild scent of manure and leather.

  The barn might be part of the solution to how her family would fit into the Rock of Ages. She had seen magazine spreads of barns converted into luxury homes. She needed the barn to remain a barn, but the loft could house her son, David, and maybe Del wouldn’t mind sharing the trailer with Kendall and Allie. That would be just the place for her brother. He would no doubt try to move back into the shop’s living quarters, if he actually showed up, but he’d handed Morgan the keys when he left the country. As far as she was concerned, Kendall had given up possession of the place.

  She climbed the wooden ladder to the loft and peered around. Dusty blue, beige, and green plastic tubs sat in untidy stacks against one wall. Morgan climbed the rest of the way into the loft. The floor was solid. Two small donkeys did not eat a lot, and so only half of the loft was occupied with rectangular hay bales.

  Morgan grabbed a plastic tub and moved it near the ladder. She wrestled it down to the ground, then climbed back up, repeating her trip a dozen times. Some bins were light, possibly empty, while others were obviously full of rocks. She started to climb down the ladder with one last bin when she noticed cloth sticking out from under some tousled hay.

  Morgan crawled back into the loft and tiptoed toward it, wondering if she should call Chief Sharp, but afraid if she did, the cloth would turn out to be an old burlap feed bag. Besides, her cell phone was in the living quarters. Morgan reached for the cloth.

  Please, no more bodies, Morgan thought.

  A mouse scurried out. Morgan screamed and jumped. Once her heartbeat and breathing returned to a near normal rate, she grabbed a handful of hay and lifted it away from the cloth. No body. Instead she saw a bundle of ratty clothing, a blanket, a water bottle, and a couple of plastic grocery bags, one with a mouse-sized hole chewed in the corner next to a pile of cookie crumbs.

  Sasquatch was living in her barn.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  * * *

  Morgan scrambled down the ladder, her heart thudding in her chest. Once at the bottom, it occurred to her that if the mountain man wasn’t in the loft, he might be hiding in one of the stalls. Or the tack room. She escaped the barn and dashed across the empty parking lot.

  She had left the rock shop unlocked, figuring that she could hear cars pull into the parking lot. She hadn’t thought about intruders on foot. The mountain man could have been watching her from the barn loft when she left the shop earlier. He might have circled around out of her line of sight, and could be in the shop right now. Morgan picked up a weathered axe handle from an ore cart and crept toward the front door.

  Ducking beneath the windows, she reached up and turned the door handle. Morgan froze. If she pushed the door open, the cowbell would clang, and she would lose the element of surprise.

  She gripped the rough axe handle and shouldered the door open, jumping up, raising the handle above her head, and yelling. No one answered. She made a quick survey of the shop, then the living quarters. All was quiet and undisturbed.

  Morgan sat at the cash register and dialed the police, her fingers trembling. Deputy Parker answered.

  “Golden Springs Police Department.”

  “It’s Morgan Iverson. The mountain man was here again.”

  “Oh, wow. Are you okay, ma’am?”

  “I didn’t run into him, but there’s a stash of clothing and food in my barn loft.” Morgan’s voice shook. “I think he’s living in my barn.”

  “Okay, ma’am. The chief is out right now. Seems like everyone in Golden Springs has spotted the mountain man. He was sighted near the cemetery when Mrs. McCormick was putting flowers on her husband’s grave. Then Abe saw someone hanging around the back of the auto shop. It’s like everyone is seeing Elvis. Oh, or I guess in this case, Big Foot.”

  “I’m here by myself today,” Morgan said. “I’d really appreciate it if you or the chief could drop by soon. The mountain man might come back for his stuff.”

  “Well, stay away from the barn. I’ll call the chief and try to get him over there right away. I can’t leave the office with all these calls coming in.”

  Morgan thought her evidence was more important than hysterical sightings by an alarmed citizenry. While she waited, she considered returning to the barn to take photos. But the mountain man might decide to retrieve his gear, trapping her in the loft.

  The phone rang. Morgan snatched it up without checking the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this the Rock of Ages?” a familiar voice asked. “Morgan?”

  “Oh, Dot, I’m sorry. I was expecting a call.”

  She didn’t tell Dot the call she was expecting was from the police chief, who she hoped would drop by before a deranged mountain man broke in and did to her whatever he had done to Carlee Kruger.

  “I have renters ready to sign a lease. A nice couple. Both teach at the university. They want to move in immediately, but I told them the house won’t be ready for a week and a half.”

  “That soon?”

  “They are very anxious, Morgan. They’re currently residing in the wife’s mother’s small apartment. With two kids and a cat.”

  “A cat?”

  “Morgan, you had three cats in that house at one time. The Madsens are willing to pay a pet deposit. They’d move today if I gave them the key. So what do you say?”

  “I don’t know. It’s so sudden.”

  “If you’re not ready . . .” Dot let her words hang.

  The house was Morgan’s last tie to Sioux Falls. Her backup plan if things didn’t work out in Colorado. The house was sitting empty, like her heart after Sam died. She wondered what sort of people the Madsens were, and if they would fill the house with as much love and laughter as her family had. She was a few months away from losing the house entirely. If it was her emotional safety net, it was full of holes. There was only one rational option.

  “I’m ready, Dot. I’ll book a flight, right after I call Sarah and David. I’ll need their help.”

  “The old gang will be happy to pitch in,” Dot said. “Everyone is anxious to see you.”

  Morgan called Sarah first, who answered on the first ring.

  “Sarah, Dot leased the house.”

  “Really?” Sarah didn’t sound happy. “That’s a good thing, right? Financially?”

  “Absolutely. Otherwise I’ll lose the house.”

  “You know I’d love to take on the mortgage,” Sarah said. “But our place has the land both Russ and I wanted. We can raise livestock eventually, once we get the fence built. And I’m sure David would take the house, if he were finis
hed with school. But the memories . . . I don’t think it would be good for him. You’re right, Mom. Renting it out is the way to go.”

  “I’m checking flights as we speak.” Morgan tapped on her laptop keyboard. “I can fly out this Friday.”

  “So soon?”

  There was a pause, during which Morgan wondered whether her daughter just didn’t want to see her. Tears filled her eyes. She tried to keep her voice steady, but her words trembled.

  “I have to clean it out this weekend. The renters—”

  Sarah broke into sobs. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s the hormones. I cry all the time for no reason.”

  Morgan’s own tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “The thought of a stranger living in our house,” Sarah said. “Our house.”

  “I know, honey. We’ve been blessed to not have to make a decision for all these months.”

  “You’re right. But it doesn’t make it any easier.” Sarah blew her nose. “How long can you stay?”

  “Just the weekend, I’m afraid.”

  “I wish you could stay longer.”

  Sarah’s words brought tears to Morgan’s eyes again, but happy ones this time.

  “Me, too. We can talk this weekend. I have a dozen things to do before I can leave town.”

  “You can stay with us,” Sarah said. “We have a futon in our guest room now.”

  “You know, Sarah,” Morgan said, thinking of her strained relationship with her son-in-law, “I think it would be better if I stayed in a hotel.”

  “You can’t sleep in the old house?” Sarah asked.

  “That would make more sense,” Morgan said, “but I just don’t think I can handle it.”

  Sarah sniffled. Morgan feared another outburst of tears, but her daughter’s words were calm.

  “If you change your mind, you can stay here.”

  “This is going to be an emotional weekend,” Morgan said. “I think we’ll all want our space.”

  When she realized how much a last-minute flight would cost, plus her rash decision to take a hotel room, Morgan nearly changed her mind. The house had to be cleaned out before it could be leased. This was a case where she would have to spend money to make money.

  Her car would not make the trip, and her next idea of renting a van would cost as much as a plane ticket, once she calculated the gas. And take two extra days. She hit the keys on her laptop to confirm her reservation.

  “There goes my tire fund.”

  Chief Sharp arrived after Morgan booked her flight to Sioux Falls. He didn’t find anything noteworthy in the loft stash, except for the fact that someone, presumably the mountain man, had been staying there. They stood outside the barn. Morgan felt safe in the company of an armed officer of the law. She was in no hurry to end their conversation.

  “I’ll see if Deputy Parker can stake out your barn tonight.” The chief picked straw off his jeans. “I really want to catch this guy and ask him some questions.”

  “The sooner, the better,” Morgan said. “I was planning a trip to Sioux Falls this weekend. Should I cancel?”

  “It might be better for you to be out of the way a few days. Maybe he’ll lose interest.”

  “You think so?”

  Chief Sharp shrugged. He didn’t seem optimistic.

  “I’m a little nervous about leaving Del here alone,” Morgan said. “And then there are the donkeys.” Morgan glanced back through the open barn doors. “Speaking of donkeys, they’re usually good at alerting us to intruders. They chased the mountain man and his wolf away just a few nights ago. Why would they let him move in?”

  “Maybe he bribed them with carrots.” Chief Sharp tilted his cowboy hat back. “How about if Deputy Parker stayed a couple nights at the shop? I guarantee he can’t be bribed with carrots.”

  “Do you think he would?”

  “He lives with his parents,” Chief Sharp said. “Claims he’s looking for a place of his own, but he’s been working for me for eight months, and he’s still there. It would do him good. He might consider it a vacation.”

  That’s what Morgan had thought when she first arrived in Golden Springs. She was just going to manage the shop for two weeks. It would be like a vacation. Over three months had passed now, and she had no intention of leaving.

  Morgan picked up Bernie at the bakery. Parking in the tiny lot at the Golden Springs Homestead Park was impossible. They found a space a quarter mile down the road and hiked in.

  “I’ve only been here once,” Bernie said. “The old homestead is interesting. I haven’t hiked any of the trails.”

  “This will be my first time,” Morgan said.

  For a last minute event on a weekday, a surprising number of runners milled around in front of the 1850s’ era farmhouse.

  “Over here!”

  Lucy waved at them from the registration table. Chuck sat beside her.

  “Let this be a warning to you,” Chuck said. “This is what happens when you break your toe and can’t go running. You get stuck at the registration table.”

  “And we really appreciate the help,” Lucy said.

  Chuck pushed forms across the folding table to Bernie and Morgan. “No T-shirts this time, but here’s what your registration bought.”

  He held his hands out like a game show host, indicating a pine seedling, roots wrapped in burlap, decorating the registration table.

  “Paul and some other runners marked the route with chalk so no one can get lost,” Lucy said, “but here’s a map, just in case.”

  Morgan studied the photocopied paper. “I just learned a few days ago that the park runs along the edge of the Dalton ranch. I had no idea their place was so huge.”

  They spent a few minutes chatting with friends while the serious runners stretched and jogged around to warm up for the race. Pockets of snow hid in the shade of the historic homestead farmhouse and beneath trees, but fine dry gravel covered the trail. Clouds clung to the tops of the hills, brilliant white against the blue sky. Although the air was crisp, Morgan knew she’d be unzipping her windbreaker after they started walking.

  The announcer’s voice crackled through a loudspeaker. The report from the starter’s pistol echoed off the hills briefly, and the runners took off. Morgan and Bernie were not at the very back of the pack. Several walkers strolled behind them. When they reached an orange cone with “half mile” painted on it in white, one of the walkers expressed relief that they were halfway already.

  “We’ve only gone a half mile,” another walker responded. “We’re less than a sixth of the way.”

  “Seriously? I must be in worse shape than I thought.”

  Bernie nudged Morgan with her elbow.

  “That was me, a few months ago,” Bernie said. “Remember our first race?”

  “We’ve definitely made progress.”

  “Let’s run!”

  As Morgan jogged after her friend, her shoes crunched into the gravel in a steady rhythm. They splashed through slushy puddles, sending up sprays of melt water. A startled gray bunny leapt out of their way as they careened down a hill.

  Bernie stopped as abruptly as she’d begun. Placing her hands on her knees, she bent over and wheezed a few breaths.

  “Woo, that was fun!”

  They started walking again.

  “Rolf must have been here.” Bernie pointed to a trail that cut across the chalk-marked runner’s route. ATV tracks dug deep into the soil.

  Bernie’s boyfriend volunteered with Pine County Search and Rescue. He assisted at charity runs by riding around on an ATV packed with first aid and rescue gear.

  “Why would he go uphill?” Morgan checked the map Lucy had given her. “That doesn’t intersect the trail we’re on again. It leads to the Dalton ranch. Hang on.”

  She clambered up the slope to the top of a hill. Bernie caught up with Morgan.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Friday the Daltons’ cattle almost escaped through that gate. Houdini stopped them. The very next day, H
oudini was over there again, and Vernon chased ATVers off his place. I’m sure Vernon replaced that lock, but look. It’s been cut again.” Morgan unzipped her windbreaker pocket and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ve got to warn the Daltons. These tracks look fresh. The trespassers might be on their land again.”

  Sherry answered the phone. “Yes, Vernon heard the ATVs. He’s out there right now, looking for them.”

  “If someone sneaked onto your ranch, they can’t get past us,” Morgan said. “There are fifty or more runners in the park.”

  “Be careful. We don’t know what these folks are up to.”

  “They cut the lock on the same gate.”

  “I’d better call Vernon, let him know which way to look.” Sherry hung up.

  “What do we do now?” Bernie asked.

  “I’m staying here in case Vernon scares the ATVers off his place. Maybe I can get their registration numbers.”

  “I hear one now.” Bernie pointed back the way they had come. “But from the park.”

  Morgan watched the trail, wondering what she would do if the ATVers tried to roll past her and onto the Dalton ranch. Surely they wouldn’t be that bold. But they’d been bold enough to cut a lock off a gate twice. They had to be up to no good.

  “It’s Rolf.” Bernie waved her arms and yelled, although he surely couldn’t hear through his helmet and above the roar of his engine. “Rolf! Up here!”

  He must have glimpsed Bernie’s fluorescent green wind-breaker, because he turned his ATV onto the cross trail and gunned the engine. The machine lunged uphill until he pulled alongside Bernie. He cut the engine and pulled off his helmet. His sandy hair stuck to his scalp.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Some people broke into the Dalton ranch,” Bernie said.

  Morgan pointed at the gate. “They cut the lock. Vernon heard ATVs on his place. He’s looking for the intruders. If Vernon runs into them, they might head back this way.”

  Rolf detached a walkie-talkie from the holster on his hip.

  “I’ll call Lonnie. You girls should head back to the homestead, in case things get serious.”