She wrote the directions down and said, “I can’t thank you enough for calling me so quickly. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Again, thanks.” She ended the call and turned to Jeff. “Hopefully by this time tomorrow night we’ll be closer to finding out who murdered Jacques.”
“Marty, you are carrying that gun in your purse we talked about, aren’t you? I’m a little concerned about you going to some guy’s house, and based on the fact you told Chuck you were going to be in Palm Springs tomorrow I imagine you’re planning on talking to Jennifer Ruchon.”
She walked over to her purse and opened it. “See, here it is. I’ll keep it with me. I promise, and yes, I am going to see if I can talk to Jennifer.”
“Actually, I knocked on your door to tell you I was going to have to leave. All heck broke loose at work over the weekend, and I’ve been given several new cases. I’m pretty much overloaded, and I need to catch up on some work tonight. Walk me out to the car?”
Whenever Jeff kissed or hugged Marty longer than Duke thought was appropriate, he growled at Jeff. When Marty discovered that Duke wouldn’t go outside without his booties on, she and Jeff had started walking out to his car so they could have a little privacy. The only other place was Jeff’s condo which Marty visited occasionally without Duke. They still weren’t quite sure how Duke was going to react to Jeff moving permanently into Marty’s home after they were married.
A few minutes later Marty returned and said, “Duke, think it’s time for your booties. We need to take a little night walk, plus I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow, and I need another good night’s sleep.”
CHAPTER 19
Marty spent Tuesday morning researching some of the names she’d seen on the paintings that she’d be appraising for Jeb Rhodes. Between the Internet and the books she owned on California Impressionist paintings, she felt confident of her ability to appraise them fairly.
At eleven, she got in her car and began the drive to Palm Springs. From what she’d seen on Google maps, Jennifer Ruchon lived in an apartment near the convention center and only blocks away from the Golden Truffle restaurant. The traffic in Palm Springs was heavier than usual and Marty wondered if a large convention was taking place. The closer she got to the convention center, the worse the traffic became.
Maybe I should just park in the convention center parking garage and walk to Jennifer’s apartment. There is no way I’m going to be able to find a parking place with this much traffic. Think that’s what I better do.
A few minutes later she locked her car and walked over to the elevator in the parking garage. Jennifer’s apartment was two blocks away and due to the cold snap yesterday, it was a beautiful spring day in Palm Springs. She was grateful for the respite from the heat. Jennifer’s apartment complex was identical to the apartment complex next to it. They all seemed to have that Southern California look with their dark pink paint, tiled roof, central pool area surrounded by palm trees, and Mediterranean iron grillwork. Fortunately, she reached the locked gate just as a couple walked out of the apartment building, and she was able to easily gain entrance to it.
Jennifer’s unit was on the second floor towards the center. Marty knocked on the door, and a few moments later a woman’s voice asked, “Who is it?”
“My name’s Marty Morgan, and I’m here regarding the death of your ex-husband, Jacques Ruchon. I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, if you have time.”
The door was opened by the same beautiful brunette Marty had seen leaving the French Food Obsession truck after having an argument with Jacques Ruchon. Marty’s impression of Jennifer was that her tan attested to hours spent outside, probably by the side of the complex’s pool. Large brown eyes looked out from her flawless complexion.
Hmm, Marty thought, with a tan like hers and given her age I’d think she’d have some lines on her face from the sun. I’ve heard that Palm Springs is one of the places in California that has an abundance of plastic surgeons. Wonder if she’s had a little work done, at least that’s what Laura always calls it, but since I heard her and Jacques quarreling about back child support, it’s probably due to good genes. Don’t think she could afford it, but I sure wish I could have a few of those genes.
“Come in. What can I do for you?”
Marty walked into the neat apartment and noticed that the walls were covered with posters of California Impressionist paintings. There was a stack of books about different artists on the coffee table. “Jennifer, you must like California Impressionist paintings given the number of posters you have and the books on your coffee table.”
“I fell in love with them many years ago when I was browsing through an antique shop in town. I don’t know what there is about them that appeals to me, but obviously something does. You can tell from where I’m living that I can’t afford any, but every time I look at my posters or check out a new book at the library, I’m happy. Maybe someday I’ll be able be able to afford one.”
“Funny you should be interested in them. I’m an art and antique appraiser, and I’m getting ready to appraise an incredible collection. Maybe there’s some way I could get you in to see it, but that’s not the reason I’m here. Even though I know you were divorced from Jacques Rushon, I’d like to extend my condolences. Since he was the father of your son, I’m sure this is a difficult time for you and your son.”
“Not really. My son and I learned long ago that Jacques would never be the father my son deserved to have. I’ve been both a father and a mother to him, and fortunately he’s a very good kid. Why are you here?”
“As you know, your ex-husband was recently murdered. A good friend of mine is a prime suspect, but I believe he’s innocent. I’d like to find out who the killer is, so my friend’s name can be cleared.”
“There’s a lot of people who might have murdered Jacques. The line of people who hated him is pretty long. Good luck on finding the specific person.”
“What can you tell me about him that might help me?” Marty asked.
“I haven’t seen much of Jacques for the last few years other than to try to collect the back child support he owed me. The last time I saw him was Friday when we argued about it at the music festival. A friend gave me her ticket so I could get in, but it didn’t do me any good. Jacques told me to come back that night after midnight and he’d have some money for me then, but I was called into work even though it was my day off. Anyway, it was pretty much the same old story he always told me when I asked for the child support money he owed me. He always had some excuse or another.”
“How much did he owe you?”
“A lot,” Jennifer said sadly. “Several thousand dollars, but the drugs were always more important than his son’s welfare. They came first other than the time when he got clean for a few years.”
“Did you know who supplied him with his drugs?”
“No. It was like one of those revolving doors. I think you should put drug dealers very high on the list of your possible suspects. I remember when we were married and all the telephone calls he got from his dealers demanding money. If I answered the phone, they hung up.”
“How did you meet Jacques?” Marty asked.
“When I met him he wasn’t Jacques. He was Bert from a hick city in Kansas. He’d moved to Kansas City and started working as a bus boy in a good restaurant there. It was owned by a Frenchman who took Bert under his wing and taught him to be a chef. I will give Bert that. He was very good with food, really creative, and his instincts were very good. He felt he’d outgrown Kansas City, so he came to California and landed in Palm Springs. I met him when he was making the transition to Jacques. He developed a French accent, and we used to laugh about it. In those early days it was just fun, but eventually he began to believe his own press, if you know what I mean.
“I was working as a cocktail waitress, and after a few months we moved in together. He promised me that one day he’d be the owner of the best French restaurant in Palm Springs. For a while it looked like he might
keep that promise. He was able to get a television show, and for the first time since I’d known him, he was making good money, but then he became quite friendly with a devil I call Mr. Cocaine. Eventually Mr. Cocaine took him over. There’s a saying that a man takes a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes the man. Substitute the words Mr. Cocaine, and that’s what happened to Bert or Jacques as he was then called. He even changed his name legally.”
“Were drugs the reason you divorced him?”
“Yes. My brother was an addict, and I know how they can mess a family up. I hate them. We’d gotten married by then and had our son. I stayed with Jacques for a long time, but eventually I had to leave him. I didn’t want our son to be raised in a drug environment. He was already beginning to ask questions about his dad’s behavior.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard for both of you.”
“Well, it sure hasn’t been easy. Fortunately, I’m a good cocktail waitress, and I’ve been doing it for so long that I know how to get good tips. We make out okay, but that back child support sure would have made a difference in our lives. Guess I won’t see any of it now,” Jennifer said wistfully.
“How did you know he was back on drugs?”
“When you live with someone who’s been on drugs you know the signs. When he wasn’t taking drugs, he was a different person. It was kind of a Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde thing. He just turned into a different person. About a year ago I recognized the signs. I was right.”
“I understand that Jacques wanted to start a food truck business, but he didn’t have enough money to buy one, so he went into partnership with Ned Billings.”
“That’s true.”
“I also understand they were good friends.”
“Yes. They met when they were both sous chefs in a well-known restaurant. It was about the time Jacques started getting into drugs. I always thought Ned played a big part in Jacques getting so hooked, because he and his wife were really into them then. They’d get together at night after the restaurant closed, and often Jacques wouldn’t come home until the next day.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very fun marriage to me.”
“Trust me, it was the low point of my life. Ned’s wife, Rita, lost a baby because of doing drugs. After that she had something like a religious experience and stopped using drugs. She became very involved in Narcotic’s Anonymous and eventually told Ned if he didn’t stop using drugs, she’d leave him. She got him to join NA, and he in turn got Jacques to join. I always thought it was ironic, because Ned was responsible for Jacques really becoming addicted, and then he was responsible for Jacques getting off drugs. Why he went back to them, I’ll never know.”
“One last thing, and then I’ll leave. What is your opinion of Ned’s wife, Rita?”
Jennifer was quiet for a few moments and then said, “I always thought she was a bit off. Something just wasn’t quite right with her. When she got into NA, she really got into NA. It was not uncommon for her to attend meetings three times a day. It became her “raison d’etre,” her reason for living, if you know what I mean. It’s all she lived for. I haven’t seen her recently, but I’ve heard through the grapevine she’s become pretty rabid about drugs and their evils. I also heard, although this is just rumor, that she was afraid Ned would go back on drugs, because he was working with Jacques. Like I said, that’s just rumor, but she was never anyone I wanted to get close to.”
Marty stood up and said, “Thank you for being so honest. I’m sorry for the troubles you’ve been through. I think you deserve a far better life, and maybe with Jacques gone, your time has come.”
“Thanks. I could use a little stardust in my life. I’m getting a little long in the tooth to make this cocktail waitress thing work much longer, and since I don’t have any other skills, might be time for me to look for a rich sugar daddy. If you find one, send him my way,” she said laughing.
“I’ll keep it in mind. Here’s my business card with my phone number on it. If you think of anything that could be important to the case, I’d appreciate it if you’d call me.” Marty opened the door and walked towards the stairs leading to the ground floor, all the time thinking about how the road people take often leads to a different destination than what they’d planned.
I feel sorry for her. She seems like a nice person that got tangled up with someone who wasn’t right for her. I’m so glad I found Jeff. From what I’ve observed, in today’s society, good men are somewhat rare and hard to find. I think I got very lucky.
On her way to the parking garage she saw a deli and realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the chili from the night before. She walked in, ordered a sandwich and iced tea, and tried to make everything she knew about the case fit together. It didn’t.
CHAPTER 20
Marty left the parking structure and drove to North Palm Springs where Chuck Weston lived. She gave her name to the gate guard and entered the golf-oriented complex. As always, she had the feeling that the only thing that made this complex different from all the other similar ones was the name. In her mind they all looked exactly alike. Palm trees, tile roofs, and iron gates that led to atriums, along with retirees driving golf carts which seemed to be the requisite means of transportation in these types of complexes. You rarely saw children in the gated living quarters.
She easily drove to Chuck’s home and gave him points for not having a yard that required water in the dry desert environment, but instead he had a front yard covered with small rocks and different varieties of cacti. It was appropriate for the desert.
She rang the doorbell of the well-kept house, and the door was immediately opened by man who looked to be about sixty. “Hello,” he said. “You must be Marty. Please, come in. The weather’s changed since yesterday, and it’s beginning to warm up, so please come inside where it’s nice and cool.”
Marty followed him into the house and saw the golf course fairway beyond the patio which was covered with brightly colored plants. “May I get you some iced tea?” he asked.
“No thanks. I just had some with lunch.”
“Let’s go into the family room. It overlooks the golf course, and it’s my favorite room in the house. We can talk in there. My wife’s playing today, so we won’t be disturbed.”
“The view’s wonderful. I can see why you like this room,” Marty said.
“I’m an avid reader, and I spend most of my time here when I’m not playing golf. I retired several years ago, and we moved to Palm Springs to escape the cold Michigan winters. We’ve never regretted it. Now, how can I help you?”
“I don’t know if you can. Let me tell you about some of the events of the last few days.” She told him about the festival, how Jacques was murdered in his motor home, how her friends were prime suspects, and concluded by telling him about her meeting with Ned Billings’ wife, Rita.
“I didn’t know Jacques had been murdered. Our television set has been acting up, and I haven’t gotten around to getting it fixed. There’s so much gloom and doom in the news these days we decided to cancel our newspaper subscription several months ago. That’s probably why I was unaware of it.”
“Did you know Jacques?” Marty asked.
“Marty, I’m going to be honest with you. Obviously you know I’m a member of Narcotics Anonymous. It changed my life several years ago when I had a serious drug addiction problem. It almost cost me my wife and my family. It did cost me my job. Fortunately, I was very good at what I did and had been able to save quite a bit of money, but the word was out on the street about me, and no one would hire me. That’s when I decided to retire and move here. I’d been clean for about a year. Since I’ve been here I’ve been very active in NA. I know pretty much most of the people who attend the meetings.”
“I take it from what you’re saying that you did know Jacques.”
“Yes, I knew him. We often attended the same meetings, but I haven’t seen him for quite a while.”
“Did you know that he started using
drugs again after being clean for several years.”
“I heard that, yes.”
“Chuck, I know there is anonymity among the members of NA, but I also know that if psychologists or doctors feel that someone is about to commit a crime, they have a duty to alert the appropriate officials. I think sometimes it’s referred to as a higher law. Does that apply to members of NA?”
“Marty, that’s something I’ve never encountered, but if it were me, and I felt there was a threat of someone doing harm, I would probably break the anonymity code.”
“I’m asking you to do that, Chuck. I was at Rita Billings’ home yesterday. When she took your call she stepped into the hallway. I overheard her end of the conversation. When she was finished talking to you, she came back into the room where I was, and then she lied to me. She said you had called to ask her why Ned hadn’t attended any NA meetings over the weekend, and that she had told you he was at the music festival. She didn’t say that. I overheard her say it wasn’t a problem any longer, and that she’d taken care of it. Could you tell me what that was all about?”
Chuck was quiet for a long time. His hands were clasped in his lap and he rubbed his thumbs together, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, he started to speak. “Marty, I’ve been Ned’s sponsor since he got clean. I think he’s replaced his drug abuse with an addiction to NA. While I don’t think any addiction is a good one, it’s certainly better than the one he had.”
“One of the friends of mine who’s a suspect in Jacques’ murder worked with Ned at one time,” Marty said, “and he told me Ned was very active in NA.”
“That’s true. I wasn’t in favor of him working with Jacques and buying the food truck. While the twelve step groups like AA or NA are very beneficial in group settings, I’ve seen problems arise when two ex-addicts decide to work together. Ned told me that wouldn’t be a problem for him and working with Jacques in a French food truck was his ticket to really making it big in the Palm Springs restaurant business. He told me it was the chance of a lifetime. He felt that Jacques’ star status as a television chef, even though the show had been several years ago, would be very beneficial to his career.”
Murdered by Country Music: A High Desert Cozy Mystery Page 9