Murder & The Secret Cave: High Desert Cozy Mystery

by Dianne Harman

  “I should. See you later.”

  CHAPTER 21

  After Marty walked out of the coffee shop, she decided to stop by Carl Mitchell’s antique shop on the way home. Even though she wasn’t going to do the appraisal of Randy’s collection, she knew Carl could probably help her find the names of the two people Randy had mentioned were going to visit him later on the afternoon of his death, the doctor and the dealer.

  “Marty, how good to see you. It’s been awhile,” Carl said when she opened the door to the Palm Springs Antique Shoppe. “Actually other than waving to you at a couple of our appraiser events, I don’t think we’ve had a chance to talk since your sister used the butcher knife on the styrofoam wig stand head, and the diamond ring popped out.”

  “I know that kind of freaked you out, Carl, and I’m sorry, but there’s some saying like ‘all’s well that ends well.’ Actually think it’s from a play by Shakespeare, but it seems appropriate here. I’m sure you heard that Pam’s murderer was caught and is in jail waiting for his trial. I understand he’s still refusing to accept a plea bargain even though his attorney has been pushing it for weeks.”

  “I’ve heard that, too. Coincidentally, I had dinner the other night at Mai Tai Mama’s, and it was delicious. I understand Pam’s son is running it now and doing a darned good job.”

  “I’ve heard the same. Let me change the subject. Have you ever heard of a man named Randy Jones? He collected Native American artifacts.”

  “Yes. He came in here from time to time to see if I had any Native American artifacts. He never bought anything of mine, and I heard this morning that he was murdered yesterday. Evidently the killer used a tomahawk. Why do you ask?”

  “I was the one who found him. It’s a long story, and not a very pretty one. I’m trying to get rid of the memory, and I’m not having very much luck. Anyway, when I was with him earlier in the day he mentioned that two people were going to come to his house, or rather shack, that afternoon. He was going to offer to sell his collection to them. One was a dealer, probably engages in some black market activity from what I saw, and the other one was a prominent doctor. Either one of those people ring a bell with you?”

  “Marty, there are a lot of people in the desert who own and collect Native American artifacts. Let me think for a minute.” He stood lost in thought and then walked into a back room that Marty presumed was his office. A few minutes later he returned with a business card in his hand.

  “A man came in here several months ago and asked if I had any Anasazi pottery in very good condition or top-notch Cahuilla baskets. I told him I didn’t really deal in Native American artifacts, but from time to time I’d hear about somebody who wanted to sell pieces. He gave me his card and asked me to call him if I ever heard of someone who was interested in selling the types of pieces he collected. I don’t remember much about him, other than he was very intense.”

  “Would you mind if I took down that information? Maybe he’s the one who was going to go out to Randy’s, although I can’t imagine what connection they would have.”

  “Collecting makes strange bedfellow, believe me. You can take the card, Marty, but I have to ask why you want it. I hope you’re not thinking of trying to find the killer. Didn’t you get enough of danger and crime on that Jensen appraisal you did, the one where you were almost killed?”

  She sighed. “Carl, Randy was an eccentric man who probably did a lot of things in the collecting arena I’d rather not know about, but I was the last person to see him alive other than his murderer. I feel like I have a responsibility to see what I can find out. After all, he did call me to do the appraisal. I keep thinking if I’d gone back to his shack a few minutes earlier, or if I’d begun the appraisal while I was originally there, Randy would still be alive. I can’t put that thought out of my mind. If there’s anything I can do to help solve this crime and have the person who’s responsible for his murder caught, I will.”

  “I can understand that. I’ve heard you’re seeing Detective Combs. How does he feel about this? I imagine he’d rather let the experts do their job instead of you becoming involved.”

  “That’s a pretty good assessment of the situation, but I’m already involved in this, so I might as well do whatever I can to help.”

  “Okay. As far as the name of the dealer, you might want to talk to Colin Sanders. I don’t have any way to get in touch with him, but you could probably find him on the Internet. He’s got a reputation for having some very good artifacts, but he also has a reputation for acquiring pieces that aren’t legal to buy or sell. Of course that doesn’t seem to matter much when it comes to collecting Native American artifacts. If a collector is willing to pay the price, someone else is willing to get whatever it is they need, even if it’s not done legally. Marty, be careful. You’re getting into some murky waters that might be better left to professionals rather than an attractive middle-aged woman.”

  “I appreciate your concern and thanks for the names. I better get back to the compound. Time to feed and water my dog. I’ve left him alone long enough.” She gave Carl a cheery wave as she walked out.

  If I’m not at the compound when Jeff gets there, he’ll worry, and then so will everybody else. I have enough on my mind without making the situation any worse than it is.

  She got in her car and began the half hour drive to the High Desert compound where she lived.

  CHAPTER 22

  As soon as Marty returned to the compound, she bootied up Duke and took him for a walk, feeling a little guilty about having left him alone for so long. “Sorry, big guy, I really wasn’t expecting to be gone that long. Les is always so good about walking you when I’m gone, that I promise I’ll let him know so this doesn’t happen again.”

  After the walk, she fed him and then went out to the courtyard. Laura waved as she walked in her house. “Give me a minute. I need to change clothes.”

  Les, John, and Max were already sitting at the courtyard table. “Hi, guys. How went the painting and the food truck today?” she asked the resident artist and the two food truck men.

  “Working on a piece I really like. Think it will probably be exhibited at the show I’m having at the Moore Gallery in a few months.”

  “The food truck business is huge,” John said. “It seems to be growing by the day. One of the best decisions I ever made was to quit my job working at Smokey’s Restaurant and start up The Red Pony. What’s also amazing is that I’m developing quite a catering business. I wasn’t expecting that. If it keeps up, I might have to rent a commercial kitchen in the Springs and hire a couple more people. Max and I are having a hard time keeping up with the demand.”

  “Sounds kind of like a double-edged sword. On one hand business is good, but on the other hand you can’t keep up with the demand,” Marty said. “I’d bet a lot of people would love to have that problem. From what you’re telling me, if you don’t rent a kitchen, there’s a very good chance you won’t be able to continue your level of excellence in both the catering and at the food truck. Sound about right?”

  “Unfortunately, I think you just nailed it. Believe me, I’m struggling with it. I’m going to have the best year financially I’ve ever had, but I’m beginning to think I’m going to pay a high price for it. Take tonight, for example. You know how much I love trying out new recipes on my compound mates, but I’m so tired the only thing I could think to have that wouldn’t require much work is some bread, cheese, and deli meats, and those are all leftover from the truck.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for that meal,” Les said. “It’s always been one of my favorite things. Think I was a cow in a past life, because I love to graze, a little of this, a little of that. Sounds wonderful.”

  “Thanks, that makes me feel better. I appreciate the money you all give me each month in return for me fixing dinner and using you as guinea pigs, but I’m not sure I’m worth it about now,” John said in a small voice. “Oh, there is one good thing. I made a couple of carrot cakes earl
y this morning, and even though they’re delicious, they didn’t sell out, so at least you’ll have something homemade tonight.”

  “I absolutely love carrot cake,” Marty said. “When we were kids, mom used to make it for us. Laura likes it as much as I do. You won’t get any complaints from us.”

  “Again, thanks.”

  Laura’s door opened and she walked out and joined them in the warm fall evening. “I thought I heard something about carrot cake. Please tell me it wasn’t a figment of my imagination,” she said as she sat down and put her hand affectionately on Les’ hand.

  “Truth be told, it’s carrot cake for dessert, but first I want to sit here and relax for a while. Looks like Jeff’s here. I see his car pulling up in front of the compound.”

  Marty felt her heart begin to speed up, and Laura looked at her curiously. How in the devil can she know I’m nervous about what he found out? Oh, yeah, there goes my eyelid. I can’t ever have a case of the nervies without everyone knowing about it. Guess I’m too old to outgrow it.

  She stood up and greeted Jeff as he walked over to the table. He whispered, “No news yet. I’m expecting a phone call. Be patient.”

  The two of them sat down at the table and soon they were sharing the details of their day. Marty didn’t say much. She wasn’t sure she wanted Jeff to know she planned on following up on the information Carl had given her. Although Jeff hadn’t told her not to try and find out who murdered Randy, instinctively she knew he wouldn’t be happy about what she planned to do.

  John and Max excused themselves and returned shortly with a platter containing an arrangement of baguettes, several kinds of cheese, sliced turkey, and ham. “As I said guys, I’m tired, so instead of nicely putting all of the condiments in little dishes with spoons, tonight we’re using the things exactly as they came out of the pantry or the refrigerator.”

  They were just finishing dinner when Jeff excused himself. “Sorry, this is a call I have to take. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He walked to the gate and listened to what the person on the other end was saying, and then Marty could see him talking. He ended the call, and as he walked back to the table, he looked at Marty and moved his head imperceptibly from side to side, indicating no.

  “Jeff, you don’t look very happy. Something wrong?” Laura asked.

  He turned to Marty, “Do you mind if I tell them what you found today?”

  “No,” she said in a sad voice.

  Jeff explained what Marty had found, and how he’d called in an old favor from a friend who worked at the crime lab. His friend had just told him that there was no match to the fingerprints found on the discarded cigarette butts Marty had found. Jeff went on to tell the others that while he wasn’t very happy about Marty’s involvement in the case, he understood why she was interested in finding out who murdered Randy. After all, she very easily could have been a target herself.

  “Marty, do you think the killer saw you? Or knows who you are?” Laura asked.

  “I have no idea. I didn’t see anyone, and believe me, I’ve replayed my return visit to the shack time and time again in my mind. If he didn’t see me, obviously he wouldn’t know who I am. Maybe he heard me walk up the path or drive up. The thing I’m worried about, and Jeff, I haven’t even mentioned this to you, is that if he did see me, and if he finds out who I am, he may think I saw him and want to murder me to get rid of a potential witness. Does that make sense?”

  “Unfortunately, it does,” Jeff said, “but I sincerely wish it didn’t. I’ve been thinking the same thing, but I didn’t want to alarm you. You really need to be careful until the killer is caught. Promise me you won’t take any chances. Will you do that?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  Laura spoke. “Jeff, have you talked to the sheriff today? Has he found out anything? On the outside chance that the killer finds out who Marty is, it seems to me we need to find the murderer and find him or her fast.”

  “I spoke with the sheriff on the way here. He told me the BLM was able to get a court order to remove the artifacts and put them in storage before returning them to the tribes. He said they have no leads or clues at this time.”

  “I assume Marty’s name is in the official report as the one who discovered the body.”

  “Yes,” Jeff said, “but that’s not a public record. The only people who have access to that information would be someone associated with the sheriff’s department. If you’re asking if the killer could get that information, the answer is no.”

  “I have a thought,” Laura continued. “Since there was no fingerprint match on the cigarette butts, and I know this is a long shot, but I remember you telling us last night, kind of as an aside, that you spent a lot of time yesterday with Lucy at the Hi-Lo. You said something about her having the strange ability to remember license plate numbers and what brand of cigarettes someone bought.”

  “Laura, I think I know where you’re going,” Marty said. “If we could find out who bought that brand of cigarettes, and if the person had a car with a license plate Lucy remembered, we might be able to find out who was smoking the cigarettes. It’s a real long shot because we don’t know if the killer bought some Desert Springs cigarettes at the Hi-Lo, but maybe, just maybe, he or she did. It wouldn’t mean he or she was the killer, but it would give us more information.” She looked across the table at Jeff.

  “If I get a license plate number from Lucy, can you run it for me and tell me who the car is registered to?”

  “Easily, but what do you intend to do with that information? Remember, you promised me you wouldn’t take any chances.”

  “Jeff, I have no idea what I’ll do with the information. A few things would have to fall into place. Lucy would have to remember both who bought the cigarettes and the license plate number, and then you’d have to run it. It would be premature for me to try and answer your question, but I’ll tell you one thing, I’ll be at the Hi-Lo when it opens in the morning.”

  “You’ll get the information you need from her, and she’ll tell you about someone you need to talk to,” Laura said.

  “How do you know?” Marty asked.

  “Trust me. Some things I know. This is one of them.”

  CHAPTER 23

  True to her word, Marty was at the Hi-Lo the following morning when it opened at eight a.m. She walked in and saw Lucy sitting in front of her computer. She imagined Lucy was checking to see what photos needed to be developed that day.

  “Morning, Lucy. Checking to see what photographs came in after the store closed last night?”

  Lucy looked up abashedly. “Nah. ‘Member I tol’ ya’ ‘bout how I have a thought of the day, kinda tryin’ to make me a better person. Well, jes’ checkin’ different sites to see what works fer me today.”

  “Well, did you find one?”

  “Yeah. It’s a quote by some guy named John Wooden. Never heard of him, but here’s the quote, ‘Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.’ I think it means nothin’s impossible. Whaddya think?”

  “I think that’s exactly what it means. I believe he was a famous basketball coach at UCLA years ago. He had a very positive approach to coaching and was always saying things like that to the members of his team. They probably took it to mean they could score every time or make every free throw or something like that.”

  “Think my problem is I was always tol’ by my dad I couldn’t do things ‘cuz I was a girl. Who knows, maybe if I’d had a dad like John Wooden I’d be a nuclear engineer or something’.”

  Thinking of Lucy as a nuclear engineer definitely tested Marty’s imagination, but she replied, “Could be, Lucy, could be. I’ve got a couple of questions for you. Jeff said you and he were talking the other day, and you mentioned you always remembered who bought what brand of cigarettes and you also remembered license plate numbers.” She took a baggy out of her purse and carefully withdrew the Kleenex covered cigarettes.

  “Do you remember selling this brand to anyone?” Marty as
ked, holding her breath as Lucy looked at the cigarette butts.

  “Only made one sale of ‘em in the last week. Think I tol’ ya’ ‘bout the guy. Didn’t look like he belonged here with his fancy haircut and clothes. He’s the only one who’s bought any Desert Springs cigarettes in I dunno how long. He’s the one who wanted to know where Randy lived. Why ya’ askin’?”

  “I’ll get to that in a minute. Since he didn’t look like he was from around here, he probably drove here from Los Angeles or some other big city. Any chance you remember what he was driving?” Marty’s heart was pounding so hard in her chest, she was sure Lucy could hear it.

  “Have to be a blind man to miss that shiny black Caddy Escalade he was drivin’. Must be some rich guy to have a car like that one. I ‘member it cuz we don’t get many cars like that drivin’ thru High Desert. Know they got a lot of ‘em in the Springs, but we’re out of the way up here in High Desert. Ya’ probably want his license number, too.”

  “Do you remember it?”

  “Course. Like I tol’ yer’ boyfriend Jeff, it’s one of them things I can’t help. I’ll write it down fer ya.” She handed Marty a piece of paper with the license number on it and then looked at Marty shrewdly. This have somethin’ to do with Randy’s murder? Ya’ tryin’ to solve it? Hear ya’ was the one who found him.”

  “Lucy, I don’t know, but it very well might. If it does, you’ll be one of the first to know. Thanks.”

  “Wait a minute. Don’t think ya’ ever met my cousin, Mary BirdSong. Her side of the family stayed with the Agua Caliente tribe, and my side didn’t meet the tribe’s requirement for membership. Anyway, Mary and I been like sisters. We’re the same age, and we see each other a lot. Matter of fact, that’s why Randy started comin’ in here, because of Mary. Saw her last night, and she ain’t takin’ his murder well. Says she thinks she caused it. Wouldn’t tell me nothin’ more ‘bout why she said it. Might wanna talk to her. She’s grievin’ purty bad.”