Murdered by Country Music: A High Desert Cozy Mystery

by Dianne Harman

  I’ve never felt particularly old before, but I must be getting that way, because I don’t understand how these young people can listen to this music all day in this heat. All I want right now is some peace and quiet.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Okay, guys, they just closed the gates,” John said as he turned off the stove top burners and the oven. “It’s been an incredibly long day. I can’t thank you enough for all your help. Give Max and me a few minutes to clean up this mess in the kitchen, and then let’s all meet at my motor home for a glass of wine before we crash for the night.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Laura said. “I was getting to the point if I had to look at one more barbecued beef sandwich I was afraid I’d throw up and figured that wouldn’t be very good for business.”

  “Laura, I’ve already decided I’ll take the counter tomorrow. You can help Jeff with the outside stuff,” Marty said.

  “Don’t need to ask me twice. I gratefully accept,” she said as she untied her apron that was smeared with bits of the food she’d served all day.

  “Give your apron to me, Laura,” John said. “I’ll put it in my motor home. I have fresh ones for tomorrow. See you guys in about fifteen minutes. Come on Max, let’s get this over with.”

  Laura, Les, Marty, and Jeff walked out of the food truck court into the parking lot and over to where their motor home was parked. The back door of The Red Pony was open, and they could see Max and John finishing up the last of the dirty pots and pans.

  “How about if I pour everyone a glass of wine, and we can take it with us over to John’s when he gets there? I could use one now,” Les said.

  The other three nodded their heads in agreement. A few minutes later, wine glass in hand, Marty said, “I knew this was going to be an adventure, but it’s turning out to be a lot of things I wasn’t expecting. I’d heard that security is very strict about drugs not being allowed at the festival, but from what I’ve seen today, it looks like someone didn’t get the message. Jeff, what’s your professional law enforcement take on it? Then I want to tell you about an experience I had a little while ago.”

  “Law enforcement has known about the problem of drugs at these musical festivals for years,” Jeff said. “Every law enforcement person is well aware of the deadly combination of drugs and heat, often with alcohol added to the mix. In fact, a lot of Palm Springs police officers are working here undercover on their days off from the department. I’ve recognized several today, and yes, from what I’ve observed, the young people in attendance are definitely getting drugs from somewhere.”

  “Before I tell you about a conversation I overheard, are you familiar with something called a molly?” Marty asked him.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty much the drug of choice at today’s music festivals. Actually the drug has been around for a long time, but twenty or thirty years ago it was called ecstasy. The term ‘molly’ is just the street name for the drug being sold today. It’s very appealing to people at this type of a venue because they feel euphoric and a sense of closeness to all the people around them.”

  “It’s hard to think of a dangerous drug being called molly,” Les said.

  “Which is exactly why people started calling it that. Talk on the street is that it’s purer than other drugs, not contaminated so to speak, but that’s not true. You really don’t know what you’re getting. The government has classified it as a Schedule One drug which means it has no accepted medical use and a high probability of misuse. It’s on the same plane as heroin. My guess is we might see some problems tomorrow if this heat keeps up. The combination of excessive heat and the drug can literally be deadly.” Jeff turned to Marty and said, “Where did you ever hear the term molly?”

  “About eight tonight I walked up to the ranch house on the knoll. John may have told you that the owner of the ranch, Jeb Rhodes, left a telephone message for me a few days ago about possibly hiring me to appraise his California Impressionist art collection. When I got there here’s what happened.” She told them about what she had heard Jeb Rhodes saying and later about his telephone call to someone named Sid. “Jeff, that beautiful blond you pointed out to me earlier today is his daughter, Brianna. I was able to get a very good look at her. From everything her father said and what she evidently told him, looks like the drug molly is being sold here at the festival.”

  “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised,” Jeff said. “The problem is figuring out who’s selling it. It could be anyone at the festival, band members, vendors, attendees, guards, anyone. It’s really like trying to find a needle in a haystack. The question is, where do you start?”

  “Quiet, everybody. I’m hearing loud voices. I know it’s still hotter than blazes, but I’m sure I hear something. I’m going to open the door a bit,” Laura said.

  CHAPTER 7

  Laura stood up and walked over to the door. When she opened it the four of them heard loud music coming from The Red Pony. Along with the music, men’s raised voices could be heard.

  “Shhh,” Laura said. “I want to see if I can make out what’s being said.” They listened for several minutes, and then the voices became quieter. She looked at the other three and said, “I don’t feel good about this. I sense something is wrong. Could you make out anything?”

  “Maybe,” Marty said, “but I don’t think the voices were coming from The Red Pony. I think they were coming from the French Food Obsession truck or just behind it. I could be wrong, but it sounded like someone said, “You owe me more than this. I brought you the stuff. I can’t wait any longer for the money.”

  “Did you hear what the other voice said?” Jeff asked.”

  “No, and I’m not sure if I was imagining it, but I’d almost swear the voice had a French accent, like Jacques’.”

  “Maybe it was him. Could you make anything else out?” Les asked.

  “It sounded like the person said, ‘I promised you I’d pay, and I will. Give me a few more hours. Now let me have that bag.’ Then I thought I heard someone running. Of course it all could have been my imagination.”

  Laura closed the motor home door, and they were quiet for a few moments, trying to absorb and understand what had just happened. The music that had been playing at The Red Pony had been turned off. They became aware of French music coming from the French Food Obsession truck.

  Jeff turned to Laura and said, “Laura, you’re the resident psychic here. Are you picking up on anything?”

  To a bystander, the words directed to the attractive middle-aged woman would have seemed ridiculous. No crystal balls, flowing skirts, or mumbo jumbo were evident. Laura wore jeans and a sleeveless white shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back and held in place by a large silver barrette. She looked far more like the mother of one of the festival attendees than a psychic, but that’s what she was. When she had been a student at UCLA she’d taken part in an experimental study to determine if certain people had psychic abilities. No one could explain it, but Laura was found by the professors conducting the experiment at the university to have extremely high levels of intuitiveness and extra sensory perception.

  She had used her powers to help Marty and Jeff solve murder cases in the past, and while Marty had been aware of Laura’s gift from the time she was a little girl, Jeff had only recently become a firm believer in her abilities. Laura took a deep breath and began to speak. “Jeff, I don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but I’m getting a definite sense that a murder is going to take place in the very near future. None of us will be the victim, but we will be involved, and that includes John and Max. I’m sorry, I wish I could be more specific, but that’s all I’m getting.”

  “Laura, you know I trust your intuition, and what you’re saying really makes me nervous. Is there anything we can do to prevent it? Is there anything else you can tell us?” Jeff asked.

  “I don’t know if it’s because we heard the music coming from the French Food Obsession truck, but I feel it has something to do with that truck. Oh, here come John and Max.
Let’s not say anything to them. They have enough on their minds without getting bogged down in something like this.”

  Les walked over to the door and answered the knock. “John, we’ll come over to your motor home in just a minute. Afraid we started without you and Max. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “No problem. I would have too.” John said as he and Max walked to their motor home and started the air conditioner. The four others followed.

  “Well, what do you think of the festival so far?” John asked as he poured them each a glass of wine.

  “We were just talking about it. Looks to us like there might be some illegal substances being consumed,” Les said.

  “From what I know of music festivals, and although I’ve never worked one, I’ve been to a couple, and that’s pretty much the usual case. Even though people’s backpacks and purses are searched by security, it’s easy to bring the stuff in. I could have brought in enough drugs in the food truck and the motor home to insure I’d never have to work another day in my life if I sold them all. This is kind of the way it is at these types of festivals. Don’t forget, with the price of the tickets, beer, and food, everyone who comes here has to have a little money. It’s not a far stretch of the imagination to figure they’re spending a little more of it on recreational drugs. They come for the total experience, not to just see one band.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Laura said. “To change the subject, how did you do today? Was it profitable for you?”

  “Very, and I wasn’t even price-gouging like Jacques was. I still can’t figure out why the line for his food was so long. Marty bought the hachis Parmentier for me, and it was actually one of the worst renditions of shepherd’s pie I’ve ever had. Marty said a lot of people were ordering it. I can’t figure it out.”

  “At $7.95, I can’t either,” Marty said as she stood up. “If you all want to stay and party, feel free to. I’m whipped, and I need to get some sleep, or I won’t be any help to anyone tomorrow.”

  “Think I can speak for all of us,” Laura said. “We’ll join you.”

  “John, I understand that the festival doesn’t open until noon tomorrow. Why don’t I fix breakfast for all of us around ten?” Marty said.

  “That would be much appreciated,” John said. “I love to cook but with these crowds and in this heat, if I had to do breakfast as well, think it would be a total burn-out for me. See you at ten.”

  Jeff, Marty, Les, and Laura walked next door to their motor home unaware of what was taking place in Jacques’ motor home located just a few feet away and how it would affect each of them.

  CHAPTER 8

  At nine on Saturday morning Marty woke up and heard a lot of commotion coming from Jacques’ motor home which was behind the French Food Obsession truck. She looked out the window and screamed, “Oh no, the paramedics are taking a body out of Jacques’ motor home, and it’s covered with a sheet.” By the time she’d finished speaking, Jeff had pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt and was hurrying out the door. The three remaining occupants of the motor home saw him talking to the paramedics while several men in sheriff’s uniforms arrived. People were gathering around the motor home, and the already crowded parking lot was becoming even more crowded as people streamed in to see what had happened.

  Marty, Laura, and Les watched the scene that was taking place in front of them with a sense of disbelief. Marty recognized Ned Billings, who was the sous chef at the French Food Obsession. He was talking to the sheriff’s deputies and gesturing and pointing at the motor home occupied by John and Max. Neither one of them could be seen as they apparently were still sleeping, unaware of the drama that was playing out in the parking lot. Jeff stood off to one side, taking it all in. When Ned stopped talking, they saw Jeff walk up to the man in a sheriff’s uniform who appeared to be in charge and show the man his identification. They spoke for a few minutes and then Jeff walked back to their motor home and stepped inside.

  “What’s going on?” Marty asked.

  “Looks like Jacques was murdered sometime last night. Since the murder happened in his motor home the sheriff’s deputies have yellow taped it as a crime scene, but they told Jacques’ assistant, guess his name is Ned Billings, that he could open the French Food Obsession for business today, but here’s the bad thing. Ned accused John and Max of murdering his boss. He said it was pretty common knowledge John hated Jacques because John felt he was some kind of threatening competition.”

  “No,” Laura said. “That’s not true. Neither John nor Max did it. I know that. You all know about my psychic ability, and I know that neither one of them murdered Jacques.”

  “I believe you, but I’m not sure the sheriff will. This is county land and the sheriff has jurisdiction over the case. He’s on his way here right now. His deputy wants to take statements from all of us, since our motor home is next to Jacques’.”

  “John and Max need to be told. I’ll go over there now,” Laura said. “Better they hear it from me than from the sheriff.”

  “I’m going with you. I want to tell them not to say anything that could in any way be incriminating,” Jeff said.

  “This is ridiculous,” Marty said. “We were with John and Max last night.”

  “Technically, you’re right, sweetheart, but the sheriff’s response might very well be that we don’t know what they did after we left their motor home.”

  “This is plain wrong. There must be some other reason why Jacques was murdered. Remember, there was that argument with his ex-wife and also the incident I saw up at the ranch house.”

  “Marty,” Jeff said. “Let me give you some advice. I think you’d be far better off not to point your finger at anyone. When you give them your statement you can say you heard nothing coming from the motor home, and that’s the truth.”

  “Well, what about the raised voices we heard last night coming from behind the French Food Obsession truck? Maybe whoever Jacques was talking to is the one who killed him.”

  “Trust me, Marty. At this point don’t say anything,” Jeff said in a cautionary tone of voice. “Let’s see what happens in the next couple of hours. Come on Laura, we really need to go over to John and Max’s motor home and tell them what happened.”

  After Jeff and Laura left, Marty looked out the window of their motor home and said, “Look, Les, that’s Jeb Rhodes, the owner of the White Stallion Ranch. He must have been notified. Love to know what he’s saying to the deputies.”

  “We’ll probably find out real soon. Looks like Jeff left John’s and is listening to them. Now he’s talking to the deputy. Uh-oh, Jeff is walking over here, and a deputy’s with him. We better get dressed.”

  Jeff opened the door and without going inside said in a loud voice, “Deputy Ormsby is with me. He wants to take our statements. Open the door when you’re dressed. I’m going to stay outside with him.”

  A few minutes later Marty opened the door and said, “We’re dressed, Deputy, please come in.”

  “I won’t take up much of your time, ma’am, but I’d like you to tell me if you heard or saw anything strange going on at Mr. Ruchon’s motor home last night.” Over the deputy’s shoulder, Les and Marty could see Jeff almost imperceptibly shaking his head, indicating they were to say nothing.

  They told the deputy they had a glass of wine at John’s motor home and then returned to their motor home and were asleep within minutes.

  “That’s the same thing Detective Combs said.” He turned to Jeff, “I assume if I talk to the fourth person,” he looked at his notes and resumed speaking, “Laura James, she’ll corroborate what you’ve told me.”

  “I’m sure she will, because that’s what happened.”

  “Okay, thanks for your statements. I’ll get one from her later. I need to go next door and get statements from the two men who worked at The Red Pony.”

  “Deputy Ormsby, I think Laura’s next door with John and Max, so you can get her statement when you talk to the two of them. Do you see any reason why The Red
Pony can’t open for business today?” Marty asked.

  “Not unless one of those men tells me he killed Mr. Ruchon and hid the murder weapon in The Red Pony,” he said laughing. “Again, thanks for your time.”

  “Deputy, I’ll go over there with you. Might make it a little easier for them,” Jeff said.

  The deputy looked at him shrewdly. “If you weren’t a law enforcement person, it would almost seem to me like you want to be there to make sure they don’t say anything incriminating to me.”

  “Not at all,” Jeff said smoothly. “These are my friends, and they’re under enough stress just trying to cook for all the festival guests. I thought my being there with you would make it a little less stressful for them.”

  Jeff turned back to Les and Marty. “Marty, why don’t you come over in a couple of minutes and get the key to The Red Pony. I think you need to open it up, and then you and Laura probably need to get started on the food prep work. I don’t know how long Max and John will be tied up.”

  “It’s going to be a little longer than when I talked to the three of you. Jacques’ assistant has accused John and Max of murdering Jacques. I need to find out why,” Deputy Ormsby said.

  Laura walked into the motor home and overheard the conversation. “No problem,” Laura said. “After working the counter yesterday, I have a pretty good idea what needs to be done. Tell John and Max not to worry. We’ll take care of everything.”