Stone Cold Case (A Rock Shop Mystery)

by Catherine Dilts

  “Is she okay?”

  “Just a precaution, to make sure she and her foal are getting enough vitamins and minerals. I don’t think Adelaide is as far along as I estimated.”

  “The poor thing,” Morgan said. “She already looks about to explode.”

  “Donkeys carry their foals for as long as a year. She’s doing fine, and so is the foal.”

  The cowbell clanged as a customer entered. Business was steady, and Adelaide’s health hadn’t been affected by the excitement of chasing intruders. Morgan hoped the rest of the day would be as good.

  During a lull in business, Morgan registered for the Denver gem show. The deadline to reserve a vendor’s table was approaching, and she didn’t want to miss out. Morgan hit the send button. She was committed now.

  Del seemed energized when Beatrice brought him home. Maybe he was finally on the mend. He volunteered to watch the shop so the women could visit. Morgan invited Beatrice into the living quarters for a pot of tea.

  “I heard Sasquatch returned,” Beatrice said. “Del told me Trevin fed him lunch.”

  “And his dog, too. I have this creepy feeling the mountain man’s hanging around. He never left. I don’t know what he wants.”

  “The return of Carlee’s bones?”

  Beatrice dropped a sugar cube into her herb tea. Her grandmotherly look of short, steel-gray hair and navy-blue polyester pantsuit combined with her take-charge attitude was comforting. Beatrice was a woman determined to ensure that all was right in her world.

  “All this time,” Morgan said, “I’ve been assuming Chief Sharp will squeeze the story out of the mountain man when he catches him, but Trevin told us the guy couldn’t speak.”

  “It’s all very strange, isn’t it?” Beatrice said. “And Gerda hasn’t been forthcoming. I think she feels guilty. Maybe something happened between her and Carlee before the girl disappeared, but if so, she isn’t saying anything about it.”

  “Did you contact her other daughter?” Morgan asked. “Maybe she can tell us something.”

  “Camille doesn’t want to come,” Beatrice said. “Too many painful memories, she told Teruko. The Kruger family is on my prayer group’s list, along with Pastor Filbury and a dozen other souls in need of healing.”

  “I don’t know how the Krugers will ever find healing when they don’t know how Carlee died,” Morgan said.

  “Reuniting with her estranged daughter and having a memorial service for Carlee would help them all. That is, if we can convince Camille to come to Golden Springs.” Beatrice stood and pulled on her jacket. “I have a meeting at church. We’re reviewing the final three candidates for the position as our new pastor.”

  “Who did you narrow it down to?” Morgan asked.

  “Charles Quinton and Tip Zander.”

  Morgan tried not to let her face fall. Neither had exhibited the fire she thought the Golden Springs Community Church needed to revive its flagging membership numbers. Solid, dependable, but nothing flashy. And yet maybe that was the kind of preacher the church wanted.

  “That was only two. You said there were three candidates.”

  “We’d like to invite your brother, Kendall, to apply. I heard he’s coming back to town.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Morgan had only heard the rumor secondhand, through her daughter. Kendall had yet to talk to Morgan about his plans.

  “Through the grapevine.” As though anxious to change the subject, Beatrice pointed to the wooden mountain scene Sam had created. “That’s new.”

  “David found it in the attic when we were cleaning out the Sioux Falls house.” Morgan was already thinking of it as “the” house, not “my” house. “Sam made it.”

  Beatrice stood and walked closer to the plaque, the crepe soles of her sensible shoes squeaking on the worn linoleum. “Beautiful. He was a talented man.”

  Morgan told Beatrice about that intensely emotional time with her children. “We hadn’t mourned Sam’s passing as a family. We were all trying to stay strong for each other.”

  “I have to apologize,” Beatrice said.

  “For what?”

  “For pushing you into going to dinner with Pete Melcher. You weren’t ready. But maybe now that you’ve had this time of healing with your children—”

  Morgan held up a hand. “Beatrice, I appreciate your concern. Pete’s a very nice man, but we have nothing in common.”

  “You have your faith in common, and that is no small thing.” Beatrice squinted at Morgan, as though she were trying to peer inside her head. Or maybe her heart. “I’ve heard you’ve been seen around town with that newspaperman. Let me warn you, Morgan, it is no fun being in a marriage with a non-believer.”

  “Marriage? Kurt and I haven’t even been on a real date.”

  “Thank goodness. Remember the scripture about being equally yoked. Kurt Willard is an atheist.”

  Morgan shook her head vigorously, then brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. “I don’t think so. He’s just not a church kind of guy.”

  In truth, they hadn’t engaged in any theological discussions. How well did she know Kurt? And how important was it to her that they share the same faith? Beatrice certainly had a way of stirring things up.

  “Just be careful, dear.” Beatrice patted her hand. “I’ve got to go, but feel free to call me if you need to talk. Or if you want me to set up another dinner with Pete.”

  Morgan relieved Del, who admitted he would like to put his feet up for a few minutes. Then business slowed down, and Morgan brought her laptop to the front counter. She tinkered with the very basic website she had set up, striving for slick and professional, but pretty sure she was presenting a small business with no IT budget.

  Then she searched for the Pine County Gemstone Society and Prospecting Club. They had an equally basic website, with even fewer bells and whistles than her own, but that conveyed the information about the club adequately. Their next monthly meeting was Wednesday night. Tomorrow.

  An adrenaline rush shot through Morgan when she saw the title for the meeting. Amazonite. For an instant, she thought it read ammolite. Once she got that straight in her mind, she relaxed. Of all the rumors racing through the gossip grapevine, the rare gemstone was not one of them.

  The speaker was her geology class instructor, Dr. Tony Esteban.

  “I’m definitely going,” she said aloud. The talk would be informative and entertaining, if it was anything like his geology class lectures.

  Del shuffled into the shop two hours later, from a nap, judging by the rumpled remnants of his thin gray hair and the sleepy look on his face. A moment later, the cowbell clanged, and in walked Chase Cooper.

  “Hi, Morgan. I came back for more geodes.”

  How many geodes did one man need? Morgan thought. From Chase’s muddy boots and the mud-stained knees of his canvas pants, he might have been digging somewhere trying to locate the minerals himself.

  “We’re fresh out.” All the drowsiness evaporated from Del’s face. He was on full alert.

  “A sale is a sale,” Morgan whispered to Del. To Chase, she said, “I restocked the unopened geodes. They’re outside in the ore cart.”

  “Right. I’ll take a look around inside first, to see if there’s anything else I need.”

  Chase stood in front of Lucy’s display of jewelry for several minutes. Morgan wondered whether he was checking out the competition.

  “Do you have any other jewelry?” Chase asked. “Handcrafted, like this?”

  “No,” Morgan said. “That’s all we have, other than some plastic beads for children.”

  After making a loop through the shop, studying tables, shelves, and display cases, he slouched down onto the aspen bench in front of the checkout counter. Chase flashed a smile. At least, one side of his face smiled. The puckered skin on the burned side pulled up in more of a grimace. He carried himself with a confidence that caused a person to look past the disfigurement.

  “I like your topaz,” he said.
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br />   “You should,” Del said. “They’re top-quality stones.”

  A dozen topaz gemstones were locked in a display case. Despite the elder Cooper’s poor assessment of their value during his visit, Morgan knew they were worth a lot. When Morgan first saw topaz in its natural state, she had been unimpressed. She had since learned that the rough little fingertip-sized nuggets cleaned up and cut in gemstone fashion could be worth hundreds of dollars.

  “I could take a few off your hands,” Chase said, “for the right price.”

  “I thought you worked with glass,” Del said. “What do you want with topaz?”

  “It’s for our jeweler,” Chase said. “She doesn’t have time to hunt down raw gems.”

  He and Del haggled, until Chase finally agreed on a price for three topaz nuggets. He rolled them around in the palm of his hand, an admiring look in his turquoise-colored eyes.

  “Do you have any other gemstones this nice?”

  “You looking for anything in particular?” Del seemed to have softened his opinion of Harlan Cooper’s son. Perhaps it was the pocket full of cash Chase flashed.

  Chase shrugged. “Whatever’s local. Aquamarine, jasper, tourmaline. Ammolite?”

  In the ensuing silence, Morgan felt as though the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

  “You must mean ammonite,” Del said, emphasizing the “n” in the word. He waved a hand toward a wooden bin. “We have plenty of ammonite fossils.”

  “No, I mean the gem.” Chase pulled a folded paper out of one of the many pockets on his mud-stained slacks. “Look, I don’t know feldspar from quartz. I’m going off a list our jeweler gave me. She told me to buy all the ammolite I could find. Doesn’t matter whether it’s raw or recycled from old jewelry.”

  “Then your jeweler doesn’t know diddly about gems.” Del tugged at his mustache. “Gem quality ammolite isn’t found in this area, and if we did have any in stock, I doubt even a Cooper would have enough money to buy it all.”

  Chase wheedled and pried for several more minutes before finally giving up. He paid for the topaz and left.

  “Really strange,” Del said, after the door closed behind Chase. “Word must have gotten out about the ammolite. Could be the Coopers have got it in their heads that we know where it is, and they want in on it. Maybe they caught wind of me and Barton nosing around about staking a claim.”

  The phone rang, and caller ID told Morgan it was her real estate agent in Sioux Falls. She felt a twinge of dread. The rental deal had probably fallen through. Or maybe the prospective renters had turned the house into a meth lab already.

  “Hi, Dot.”

  “Morgan, good news.”

  Morgan sat on the aspen bench, a wave of relief washing over her.

  “The renters’ first check came through. You should see a bump in your account.”

  They had set up a direct deposit for Dot to send Morgan the rental money.

  “For the first few months, every penny is going to the mortgage,” Morgan said. “Thank goodness for that. The bank has been patient, but they do want their money.”

  “And after you’re caught up, you’ll be making an income off the house.”

  Once she caught up on mortgage payments, there would be money to use toward restocking the shelves of the Rock of Ages. Or putting new tires on her car. There would be routine house maintenance, both on the rock shop living quarters and the Sioux Falls house. If the renters didn’t flake out, or lose their jobs. Morgan chided herself. When had she become such a pessimist? Everything would work out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  * * *

  Bernie picked Morgan up for their weekly run with the O’Reily’s Running Club. Her huge late model SUV handled dirt roads and the highway with equal confidence.

  “How’s Rolf?” Morgan asked. “I thought he was coming with us tonight.”

  “He did want to walk tonight, but I convinced him to give himself another week to heal. He has a dislocated shoulder, for goodness sakes.”

  “He’s so lucky the bullet missed him.”

  Bernie shuddered. “I could have lost him, Morgan.” She released her grip on the steering wheel with one hand to wipe away tears. “Here I was, ready to give up on a relationship because he has a daughter. This really put things in perspective.” She glanced at Morgan. “I imagine that sounds pretty lame considering you did lose the love of your life.”

  “I’m glad you’ve decided to make things work with Rolf. And I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?”

  “I’ve been telling tales about love at first sight. My Sioux Falls friends reminded me that I nearly didn’t walk down the aisle with Sam.”

  “How could you forget something like that?” Bernie asked.

  “I suppose I painted the past the way I wanted to remember it,” Morgan said. “When I lost Sam, I put him, and our marriage, on a pedestal. The old gang reminded me that I did have cold feet. Obviously, I got over it, and you know the rest.”

  “Happily ever after.” Bernie bit her lower lip. “Oops. Sorry. I really stuck my foot in my mouth.”

  “It was happy,” Morgan said. “Just not ‘ever after.’ ”

  “Tell me about your trip.”

  Morgan described to Bernie her reunion with old friends, and then told about David finding Sam’s wrapped gifts in the attic, and how they brought healing. The conversation came full circle when she told Bernie about returning home to learn that Trevin had fed Big Foot lunch, and received the elephant-head bouquet as thanks.

  “Weird. But if the elephant-head flowers are a clue to a murder, why would the mountain man put them in a bouquet for Trevin? He’s either guilty and crazy, or he’s innocent, or maybe he’s trying to out a killer.”

  “Gee, that really narrows down the options,” Morgan said. “If Carlee was murdered, the mountain man seems the most likely suspect, so I’d vote for guilty and crazy. Del thinks that if something bad happens, a Cooper must be involved, and I have to admit, it does seem awfully coincidental that Jade ended up married to Mia Cooper. I can’t remember whether there were elephant-head flowers in his paintings, but they’re definitely a theme in Chase Cooper’s glasswork. He came snooping around the shop today. He’s up to something.”

  “Here you go again with a suspect list.” Bernie pulled into a downtown Granite Junction parking lot. “Let’s see. Who have you got on it so far? Jade Tinsley, Chase Cooper, and Sasquatch.”

  “I’m not counting out Chase’s sister, Mia, yet.”

  The 5K walk was a nice distraction, and the beer and fish and chips afterwards were the best in town. Lucy and Paul told her about the seedling planting party she had missed while she was in Sioux Falls. Morgan felt herself unwind from the tension of the past two weeks.

  On the drive home, traffic backed up on the narrow highway. Bernie stopped her SUV. Red and blue lights flashed on the downhill side of Topaz Pass.

  An ambulance screamed up behind them. Bernie edged to the side of the road. There was not much of a shoulder. Rock cliffs rose on both sides of the highway. The ambulance whizzed by, then pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road.

  “Morgan, that looks like Gerda’s car.”

  Bernie climbed out. Morgan scooted across the seat and followed. As they waited for a string of cars to pass, Morgan stared at the remains of Gerda’s car. The passenger side crumpled against the canyon wall. A long streak of white paint on the red rocks marked the point of first contact, leading to the car’s resting place. Steam seeped from the hood, forming a cloud of fog in the chilly night air.

  Deputy Parker held up a hand to stop cars as Bernie and Morgan dashed across the road. The ambulance came to an abrupt halt behind Gerda’s car, and paramedics jumped out. Chief Sharp pointed at Bernie and Morgan.

  “You two need to leave. You’re in the way.”

  “Gerda needs a friend,” Bernie told Sharp.

  Morgan followed the paramedics while Bernie had the chief occupied. After assessing her i
njuries, they eased Gerda out of the vehicle and loaded her on a gurney. Morgan trotted to keep up. Alcohol fumes burned her sinuses.

  “Gerda.” Morgan wanted to scream at the white-haired mechanic. If she wanted to kill herself, then do it in the privacy of her own home, not driving drunk, where she risked the lives of innocent people.

  Gerda’s hand reached out from under a blanket, gripping Morgan’s arm.

  “I was not drinking.” Gerda’s words, thick with her German accent, sounded labored. “Tell them. I lose control of my car. The brakes failed.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Morgan asked.

  “Teruko.” Tears squeezed out of Gerda’s eyes as she grimaced with pain. “Please send Teruko.”

  The paramedics began to load her into the ambulance.

  “Wait. I demand the police give me the breath test.” She tried to sit up. “Morgan, bring Sharp here!”

  “They’ll do that at the hospital, ma’am,” an attendant said.

  “I want no questions,” Gerda said. “I take the test now.”

  On the drive to the hospital, Morgan called Beatrice. That call set in motion the ever-ready church ladies. Beatrice assured Morgan she would bring Teruko. Morgan hung up her cell phone and filled Bernie in on the details as they followed the ambulance.

  “I am so mad, I’m shaking.” Bernie lifted one hand off the steering wheel and held out her trembling hand. “Someone messes with her brakes, and then tries to make it look like Gerda was driving drunk. As if she doesn’t have enough to deal with right now.”

  The Breathalyzer results proved any alcohol was on Gerda, not in her. She had no liquor in her system.

  “Why? What is the motivation?” Morgan shook her head. “The only reason I can think of is her daughter’s body being found. Maybe Carlee’s killer thinks Gerda knows something?”

  “But even the coroner hasn’t figured out how Carlee died,” Bernie said. “No one is talking about murder. And that was sixteen years ago. Would a killer even stick around?”