by D'Ann Lindun
He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “This is what’s left of the original homestead. A courtyard. I’d be proud to have Skee– er, Gary rest here. This place isn’t pretty by most standards, but he would probably like to be out here in the desert he loved.”
“Why are you being so nice? Skeeter wasn’t related to you.” She searched his profile for answers.
“Maybe not, but he deserves a last resting place he’d like. I’m pretty sure this would suit him.” Taking a few steps, he studied the ground. “There was a marker here at one time, but not any more.”
“If you’re certain, then yes, I’d like him to be here. In a way he was more family to you than he was me.” Her heart ached at the truth in her statement.
“I’m positive.” He ignored her remark.
“Thank you for being so generous.” Mallory touched his arm for a second, then dropped her hand. “I’m sure Skeeter would like to be here.”
“Skeeter?” He looked at her then, lifting his eyebrows.
“I don’t know him by anything else,” Mallory said. “So, yes, I’m going to call my father Skeeter from now on. Do you have time to take me to the city so I can get things under way?”
“Sure,” Mike agreed easily. “But there’s no rush.”
“I think there is,” Mallory disagreed. “The sooner I can get this over with, the better. I have a week off from work. Enough time to try and follow my father’s tracks and figure out both of us.”
“Maybe it’d be better to leave Pandora’s box closed,” Mike suggested.
“I can’t,” Mallory said. “I just can’t. I have to try and understand.”
~*~
A petite, graying blond with dark gray eyes, the coroner didn’t look like Mallory’s idea of a person who dealt with dead bodies, but she hadn’t met too many coroners either. The doctor’s handshake was firm and quick. “Miss James. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry to tell you that your father’s remains are not ready. We’re backlogged and there’s no way we can get to him until the end of the week.”
“Oh no.” She had hoped to have this over and done with quickly. “Do you have any idea of what happened to him yet?”
“Probably heart failure, but like I said on the phone, I’m not sure. Something’s bothering me, but I don’t want to comment on it yet. I’ll call you when I have a definitive answer and his body is ready to be released. We have some paperwork you need to fill out. If you’ll
follow me?”
Mallory followed the coroner into a second room, an ordinary office with dark paneling. After she signed a few papers, Dr. Anson handed over Skeeter’s clothes, a folded paper, and a small vial. “You can take these now. We found these items sewn inside his pant leg.”
Mallory took the stack with trembling hands. She glanced at the paper. “What is this?”
The doctor shrugged. “Some kind of map. And the little jar has gold dust in it.”
“Gold dust? Are you serious?” Mallory shoved her glasses back up her nose.
“Completely.”
Mallory held the little plastic tube up to the light and examined the particles inside. Flakes of gold glittered. “I wonder what this is worth?”
“Probably not much,” the doctor said. “I doubt there’s enough there to even take to an assayer. But I recognize it for what it is.”
“Why on earth would Skeeter carry around a minuscule amount of gold?” Mallory rolled it around in her palm. The glass warmed in her grip. Had he found one of the lost mines? Her heart skipped a beat.
“I have no idea,” Dr. Anson said. “Unless it was a good luck charm.”
“Could someone have killed him for gold?” With no idea where the idea came from, Mallory was nearly as surprised as the doctor by her question. She told herself it wasn’t so crazy. A lot of people had died for gold through the ages.
Dr. Anson hesitated just long enough to make Mallory wonder if she had hit upon something. Then she gave her a head a quick, firm shake. “I can’t say without an autopsy, but my first inclination is to say no. Again, I believe Mr. James died of natural causes.”
Mallory felt a little foolish, like she’d watched too many episodes of CSI, but the thought niggled at her. Had Skeeter found one of the lost gold mines in the desert after all? She threw off the idea. It was ridiculous. The man had died a penniless indigent.
The doctor tapped a finger on the desk. Mallory thanked her and gathered the map and the gold dust. She tucked the map and gold in her shoulder bag, planning to go over the map in detail later. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch.”
Back in the SUV, she kept her thoughts to herself. Maybe she was being foolish, but how much did she know about Mike Malone? He was in financial difficulty, after all. How far would he go to save his ranch? Did he know if Skeeter had found a gold mine? Would he kill for it? She shook herself mentally. How ridiculous. The thought trickled back. Or was it?
But, if that was the case, why had he called her down here?
To bury Skeeter, of course. Mike didn’t know about the vial and map. He probably figured she’d come down, bury her father, and go quietly back to her life. She was stretching. Mike seemed like a nice guy, incapable of foul play.
Mike was quiet on the drive back to the ranch. Lost in thought herself, Mallory touched the vial of gold in her pocket. It wasn’t impossible that Skeeter had found one of the lost mines. He’d dedicated his life to the task. Not a complete romantic, he had a degree in archeology. Maybe she could find out if he had succeeded in his quest. If he had, it might make all his sacrifices somehow worthwhile. Maybe his life would have some meaning.
Mike’s voice interrupted her reverie. “Would you like to have a barbeque with some of my friends?”
She started. “I’m sorry?”
“I was thinking we could both use some cheering up. Would you like it if I had some of my friends over for a barbeque tonight? Might be fun.” He looked so hopeful she hated to say no. Still, she didn’t think it was a good idea to get too friendly.
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she murmured. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
He laughed harshly. “No, not really. My calendar’s pretty empty.”
“In that case, why not?” Maybe she could talk to some people who knew Skeeter and gain some insight into him.
“Good.” When he smiled it was like the sun coming out from behind a bank of clouds. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. “Dianna? It’s Mike. I’m planning a last-minute party at my place tonight. Can you get everyone together? Great. Thanks. I’ll see you then.”
Who was Dianna? Mallory refrained from asking. He wouldn’t be a man who would have a difficult time finding female companionship. She glanced sideways at him, her gaze lingering. Her gaze roamed his granite profile, dropping to muscled arms and large, square hands. And finally, to hard, muscled thighs. What would it be like to touch him there? Normally very reserved, she had never given rein to such an impulse. Maybe it was the type of men she normally dated which discouraged such ideas. Professors, businessmen, all as proper as she. Probably her own insecurities had attracted men with similar issues to her in the past. Whatever the reason, she hadn’t found the man who could break through her barriers. She doubted she ever would.
Dressed casually in Levi’s and a dark gray tee that showed off his working man’s physique, Mike seemed more earthy than most of the men she knew. No, more than his style of dress or blond good looks suggested heat. Perhaps it was his confidence that drew her to him. She dragged her gaze to the window. Although Mike warmed her more than he had a right to, she would keep her head. She always did.
~*~
Mallory glanced at her watch. Mike had planned dinner for six-thirty. With about thirty minutes to kill, she dug Skeeter’s torn map out of her bag and settled on the bed. With a layman’s eye, she judged the paper to be authentic. Quite old, yellowed, edges crumbling. She didn’t recognize any of the landmarks, but it would be easy enough to c
ompare them to a modern map and see where they were. Nothing jumped out at her, until upon closer inspection, she noticed a tiny X near the torn edge. The mark had been made with a ballpoint pen. Her pulse jumped. What did it mean? Had Skeeter found something there? She had no way to know.
Frustrated that she only had half of the map, she folded it and stowed it back in her purse. Without knowing the landmarks, her map was virtually useless. Maybe there was a topographical map of Arizona at the lodge. She’d ask Mike at dinner.
Noticing it was almost time, she checked her hair and makeup in the large oval mirror over the vanity. Usually, she wore minimal makeup, but she’d taken a little extra time applying it tonight. Her curly mane was unruly on her best hair day, so she’d pulled it into a ponytail, hoping she didn’t look twelve.
Before she reached the pool, the aroma of grilled steak reached her nose and her stomach grumbled in response. Belatedly, she realized she was starving. She hadn’t touched most of her lunch. A woman’s laughter floated on the cool night air. Did it come from the mysterious Dianna? Mallory turned the corner.
A group of five people were gathered near the pool, all dressed casually. Two of them sitting in a lawn chair, holding hands and exchanging kisses every few seconds were obviously a couple. A third man with a bald head leaned against a pole, a bit apart. Mike turned a steak on the grill and a short, dark-haired woman stood at his side. She laughed at something he said and Mallory knew without asking this was Dianna.
Forcing a smile, Mallory joined them.
“Mallory. You made it.” Mike handed her a beer she didn’t want. “Meet my friends.”
She moved under the Japanese lanterns lighting the pool deck and gave a small wave. “Hello.”
He gestured to the kissy couple. “These are the newlyweds, as if you couldn’t guess, Alan and Shelby.” Both smiled and greeted her. Mallory liked them almost immediately. If she hadn’t known better she would’ve placed the pair of blondes, both a bit chubby, for siblings.
She glanced at the man half-hidden in the shadows. “That’s Brent hiding back there.”
He lifted a hand, but didn’t speak.
“Leave me for last why don’t ya, Mike?” The short dark-haired woman jumped in. She moved closer to his side, giving Mallory a cool look. “I’m Dianna.”
“Nice to meet all of you.” Mallory sipped the cold beer as a shiver rolled down her spine. She tugged her sweater a bit closer. Although desert days were warm in February, nights weren’t. No different than Vegas.
“Cold?” Mike asked.
“A bit,” she admitted.
“Come close to the fire,” he invited. He didn’t seem to notice Dianna’s hard look.
Taking care not to crowd Dianna, Mallory soaked up the warmth of the mesquite-scented flames. The scent of meat grilling over the fragrant wood made her salivate. Her stomach rumbled again and she hoped no one noticed.
“So, Mallory, Mike tells us you’re Skeeter’s daughter?” Shelby asked from Alan’s lap. “We had no idea he had any family.”
“You knew him?” Mallory asked, surprised. For some reason she’d thought Mike was the only person here acquainted with her dad.
“Sure. We all did. Well, not well,” Shelby admitted. “But we all saw him around. Probably Dianna more than the rest of us.”
Turning toward the other woman, Mallory asked, “Why’s that?”
“She’s the rec-direct.” Alan laughed. “It’s her job to be a busybody. And she’s good at it.”
“I don’t understand.” Mallory felt awkward, out of the loop. She twisted the cold beer in her hands. These people had known her father. A bite of jealousy stung her and she tried to hide it. Here were the people who could answer her questions.
“Simple.” Brent joined the conversation. “Alan means Dianna’s title is the Recreation Director here at the ranch. Her job is to keep our guests happy.”
“Oh, I understand now.” Mallory looked at Dianna again. Now that he mentioned it, she did look like a P.E. teacher or a gymnast. Short, bulky, not fat but built like a square. Even her chin-length haircut framed a box-shaped face. “During your duties you ran into my father? Did you speak to him?”
“Once or twice,” Dianna admitted. “We didn’t socialize, if that’s what you mean. I was too busy to shoot the breeze with a vagrant. Before we all lost our jobs, I was busy anyway.”
“Dianna.” Mike’s tone was hard. “Mallory’s father just died. Remember that.”
“Sorry,” she said, obviously not meaning it. Her eyes were mean.
“We’re going to save The Cholla. If it’s the last thing I do.” Mike’s features hardened, like his words. “No one’s going to take our home without a fight.”
Mallory shivered at his tone. Was her imagination working overtime or did he sound ominous? He was too nice to be dangerous. Not all criminals looked like devils. His victims had thought him safe, too. Her appetite dimmed.
“Now, let’s eat.” Mike waved a spatula. “Help yourselves.”
For the next few minutes they filled their plates and settled around a picnic table. Alan and Shelby snuggled on the end, Mike across from them, Dianna squeezed between him and Mallory. Brent sat across from her. A thin frame to the point of skeletal and shadowed eyes suggested he wasn’t well. Had he shaved his head, or had illness made it bald?
“You are all employed here?” Mallory asked them.
A long silence met her question.
“Yes, they are,” Mike said finally. “But we’re friends first. We all met at U of A. Been friends ever since. Dianna’s job you already know. Alan is the head of maintenance. Shelby is our resident nurse. And Brent runs the rafting.”
“It’s my job that got the SRPL on our butts.” Brent hung his bald head. “They don’t think we should raft on the river.”
“That’s crap and you know it,” Dianna said. “Those nuts don’t think anyone ought to use the desert for anything but what they approve of, including riding or hiking. They forget it’s public land.”
Mallory didn’t ask, but she wanted to know who the SRPL were and if they had placed the signs at the entrance of the ranch. How had they shut down the resort? More importantly, would these people, all out of work, do something to Skeeter if he’d found a gold mine? Her imagination was getting the better of her when every stranger she met she looked upon with suspicion in her father’s death. She’d seen too many mysteries on the tube.
“Let’s not bore Mallory with our problems,” Mike said smoothly. He met her eyes. “This group has been friends forever, and yes, we all work here when we’re up and running.”
“Yeah, we made a pact in college to stay together,” Shelby said. “And we have. Except for—” She shot Mike an apologetic glance. Her voice lowered. “Well, Elisha.”
By the sudden silence, Mallory knew Elisha had meant something to Mike.
“I liked Skeeter,” Brent said, easing the sudden tension. He spoke in a soft, nearly inaudible voice. “Whenever I had the chance I stopped and visited with him. He was an interesting guy.”
“What did he say?” Mallory took a bite of perfectly done steak and chewed, waiting to hear Brent’s answer. Finally. A clue to her father.
“He talked about the weather. The water. There are some old Indian signs—petroglyphs—on a big rock up there,” he pointed toward the mountains, “and Skeeter sometimes went up there to try and figure out the meanings and everything.”
“He was an archeologist,” Mallory shared. “At least he was when I knew him.”
“No way,” Alan said. “Who would’ve guessed old Skeeter was more than a bum.” He shot her a glance. “No offense.”
Mallory stiffened. Her tone cooled. “He was much more than a homeless bum. I didn’t know the man most of my life, but I do know he had excellent professional credentials. In fact, he was on a team that discovered an ancient Mexican culture more than twenty-eight years ago.” She directed her attention back to Brent. Would he tell her what he knew? �
��Did Skeeter share anything about a gold mine with you?”
“I understood that’s what he was looking for,” Brent replied, “but no, Skeeter didn’t spill his secrets to me or anyone else. I was honestly surprised he talked about the petroglyphs with me.”
“No one knew him well,” Shelby said kindly. “We all knew he had this crazy idea he’d find the Lost Dutchman, or one of the other legendary mines, but no one took him seriously.”
“Why not? Maybe he succeeded,” Mallory said. Although she knew the odds, she also knew it wasn’t impossible. Especially for a man who knew what signs to look for.
“Do you know how many people have looked?” Dianna asked. “Hundreds. And no one’s ever found a thing out there. Why not? Because there’s nothing to find. Skeeter is just one more casualty of a myth.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Mallory said. Either way, she intended to find out.
Chapter Four
Mallory followed the others inside to the rec room where someone started the jukebox. Toby Keith’s sexy baritone blasted out of the speakers. Alan and Shelby began a game of pool, Dianna cornered Mike, and Brent settled into one of the sofas. Mallory took the opportunity to slip away and walk down the hall to a small library she’d noticed earlier. Along with several trophy heads of wild boar and deer, an Arizona map hung on the wall. Obviously old, it didn’t show any modern towns.
She studied it closely, attempting to determine if any of the landmarks matched those of Skeeter’s torn map. Only one name jumped out, a ghost town named Tortilla Flat. She needed Skeeter’s torn guide to compare. Right now it was safely stowed in her bag. Before she could orient herself further, voices alerted her she wasn’t alone. She started to show herself when one of them spoke.
“Where’d she disappear to?” one of them asked.
Dianna.
“I don’t know. Maybe to bed.”
Mallory identified the second speaker as Brent.
“Without a word? Not likely.” Dianna sniffed. “She’s probably sticking her nose into something that doesn’t concern her.”