“I hear you. Let the arm-wrestling begin with the local police, huh?” I quipped as she slid the papers I’d been reviewing back into Beverly Windsor’s file folder.
“Yep! You’ve got that set to your jaw. I can tell you don’t believe Beverly wandered off or fell. You’re as determined as Leslie is to figure out what happened. I doubt whoever gets assigned to this case is going to be thrilled to have us poking around in it,” Kim said as she stood. “Justice is more than just a job though isn’t it, Attorney Huntington?”
“I can’t deny that,” I replied.
“It’s a calling,” Father Martin had said, quoting Plato to me during my recent visit with him. “Not to help justice in her need would be an impiety.”
“Far be it from me to be impious,” I had replied. I couldn’t help remembering how much my tone of voice had irked the cleric. Enough to evoke a bout of chagrin now.
He irritates me plenty, too, I thought, defensively. Still, he’d been far more understanding about the ill-fated interlude with Paul than I’d expected. Father Martin grated at times, but he was also a source of consolation, pushing me forward in my search to find meaning in my calamity-prone life. Not that I’d made much headway thus far. I was still committed to trying.
“Let’s go give Lady Justice a helping hand, Kim.”
9 It’s a Zoo Out There
It only took us a few minutes to get to Desert Park Preserve. A stone’s throw away from the glitz and glam of El Paseo, Palm Desert’s answer to Rodeo Drive, the preserve area encompasses more than twelve hundred acres of desert, backing up to Eisenhower peak in the Santa Rosa Mountains. Most of the land is protected and remains undeveloped, except for a few hiking trails.
The park area itself is comprised of about three hundred acres developed to house animal exhibits and gardens. Each of the two dozen gardens has a different theme. They feature exotic plants from desert areas around the world as well as plants native to the local Sonoran Desert area. The gardens offer wonderful areas to walk or sit and relax, especially those designed to attract butterflies and hummingbirds. There are animal exhibits, too. Some of those are part of rescue, rehabilitation, and breeding programs.
When Kim and I pulled into the parking lot, it was still full. Tour buses and the brightly colored eco tour jeeps and hummers were lined up in the paved parking lot in addition to cars in the visitor parking areas. It was 4:30 when we reached the window at the entrance. I pulled out my membership card and asked to speak to the supervisor or manager on duty. The clerk asked us to wait by an office door just inside the park.
It was a lovely day, perfect for a visit. One of the first things I’d done when I returned to the area was purchase a President’s Circle annual membership. Most of the five-thousand-dollar annual membership fee was tax deductible, so what the heck? Individual memberships were less than a hundred dollars a year, but it was those larger donations that kept the facility afloat, and a small way to compensate for my over-the-top spendthrift ways. I cringed recalling how much money I’d spent in a senseless effort to buy my way out of the mess my life had become.
Money can’t buy you happiness. I know, but I’d given it a good try. Not only by shopping my brains out, black AMEX card in hand, but also eating and drinking more than I should have with old friends. Dancing at local clubs, too, until I couldn’t take the bar scene anymore. Bloated and hung over, I tried to make up for my overindulgence by hitting every high-end spa in the Coachella Valley. Taking friends along made me feel less self-centered, but I wasn’t fooling myself or anyone else.
Can you say shopaholic? I thought as we stood there. Desert Park Preserve does have a gift shop just inside the gates with all sorts of cute things to buy—none of which I need. My palm itched. I was gripped by a tiny quiver of excitement as a rush of seductively delusional thoughts swept into my brain one after the other. “It’s for a good cause.” “Kim hasn’t been in there before, so she might find something she likes.” “Bernadette loves it when I bring her beautiful surprises.” “Maybe something pretty will boost Mom’s mood.”
Not going there! I shouted inwardly, recognizing the practiced deceits my mind used to secure the pleasant, albeit short-lived, burst of endorphins from a spending spree. As soon as I issued that command, the reality of our situation hit me like a slap in the face. My friend had died here today, under uncertain, perhaps even diabolical circumstances. How could a trunk full of stuff—even beautiful stuff—change that? I breathed deeply and exhaled slowly and completely.
“Can I help you?” A woman asked, pulling me out of my reverie. The middle-aged woman was dressed in casual clothes with a hint of safari-wear to them. She looked me over, head to toe, taking in my attire, lingering on my expensive heels. Kim’s edgier version of the same attire got the once-over, too. Clearly, we were not dressed for tramping around a zoo or out onto the hiking trails.
“I hope so,” I replied. Identifying myself as Beverly Windsor’s lawyer, I handed the woman my business card. “My associate and I were hoping to speak to someone who worked with her.” The woman who identified herself as Katherine Simpson didn’t respond immediately.
“As you might guess, most of the volunteers who worked with her have left for the day. Beverly’s disappearance and her death were quite shocking for them, Ms. Huntington,” she said while glancing at my card again. In an instant, her mood had shifted from sadness when I mentioned Beverly Windsor’s name, to anger as she considered my request. “What is it you want? The police were here for hours. Can’t they answer your questions for you?”
“Beverly Windsor and her daughter are clients, but they’re also friends. We’re all just trying to get as clear a picture as possible of what happened to Beverly. Her daughter, Leslie, was here earlier and called to ask if we’d follow up on her behalf,” I said softly. “Given the distress she was feeling, she’s afraid she might have missed or misunderstood what went on. Is there anyone still here who can take us through the whole thing once more?”
Katherine Simpson hesitated for a few more seconds before answering. I could see her demeanor shift once again as her shoulders sagged a little in resignation or sympathy.
“Yes, it must have been awful. Who wouldn’t have been upset? We thought we did the right thing to call a family member as soon as we knew the police had found Beverly out there on the side of the road. Maybe we should have waited and let the police handle it…” I interrupted her.
“Ms. Simpson, Leslie is most grateful for all you’ve done for her mother. Beverly loved this place and her roles as a docent and a board member. Leslie’s not worried about how you handled anything today. She’s concerned about how well she handled them.” I stopped talking. My voice had cracked, finding myself getting choked up. Kim shifted uneasily, perhaps uncomfortable with my emotions or her own.
“Ruth St. Armand is still here. She wanted to stick around. Working was better than going home and thinking about her dead friend. I won’t force her to talk to you, but you can ask.”
“I understand. Thanks for your help. How can we find her?”
“She should be at the information stand across from the café. Do you know where that is?” Katherine Simpson pointed toward the location.
“Yes, I do. Thanks again for your help.” I motioned for Kim to follow me and quickly headed to the information stand. A woman wearing a docent’s uniform, with the name “Ruth” on her nametag, was at the counter speaking to a park guest. Another woman near her, wearing the same outfit, smiled at us.
“May I help you?” She asked.
“We’re here to speak to Ruth St. Armand. I presume that’s her,” I said, nodding in the direction of the woman wearing that nametag.
“You presume correctly, but I’m happy to help you if I can.” Angela, per the nametag pinned to her shirt, scanned us in the same way Katherine Simpson had done. She stopped when she got to our high heels. “I was going to make sure you realized the park closes at five. You’re not here for directions to an exhibit, though, ar
e you?”
“No, we’re not. We understand it’s too late for a visit, and as you can see, we’re not exactly dressed for a hike around the park,” I responded, looking in Ruth’s direction again.
“I bet you’re here about Beverly, aren’t you?” Off in the distance, I heard the growl of one of the big cats kept here in the park. A cheetah or a jaguar, maybe. A whiff of eucalyptus was carried on the breeze along with that cry. That fragrance is common in other parts of Southern California, but rare here in the desert and must have come from one of the gardens. The dry, raspy gasps of desert air also bore the scent of creosote, sage, and ornamental rosemary. I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with that soothing desert potpourri before I replied.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we are. I’m Jessica Huntington, Beverly’s attorney and a family friend. I was hoping to hear, firsthand, what happened today.”
“Ruth,” Angela called out to the woman who was now free. “They want to talk to you—about Beverly.” When she added that last bit, Angela dropped her voice almost to a whisper. A distraught look swept across Ruth’s face as she joined us. In a split second, it was gone.
“What do you want to know?” She asked in a gravelly voice. The petite elder must have been in her late sixties or early seventies, about the same age as Beverly. “I already spoke to the police and to park management. I should have gone home, but thought I had a better chance of keeping the whole thing from getting to me by sticking around and staying busy. That was working well until now.”
“I’m sorry Ms. St. Armand. This is hard for all of us. I’m Jessica Huntington and this is my associate, Kim Reed. We handled legal matters for Beverly. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what a character Beverly was and how enjoyable it was to work with her. We’ve lost more than a client and are hoping you can help us better understand how that happened.”
Even though she hadn’t uttered a word, Kim was gazing intently at Ruth. Sizing her up. Ruth was about to speak again when we were interrupted by a shrill cry. A young woman was moving toward them with an angry child in tow.
“Excuse me,” the desperate woman called out trying to be heard while struggling not to get kicked by the child who had thrown herself to the ground.
“I’ll handle this. You’re shift was over hours ago.” Angela patted Ruth on the shoulder as she moved out from behind the counter to assist the young woman who was now attempting to get a grip on the writhing toddler.
“Let’s go sit down. The park’s going to close soon, anyway. Please, call me Ruth, okay?” Ruth led them to a set of tables outside the café, empty now as guests streamed toward the exit. She slumped down into one of the chairs. Kim and I followed suit. “What do you want to know?”
“We’ll call you Ruth if you call us Jessica and Kim.” Ruth nodded.
“Sure. I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you, but under the circumstances…” Ruth shrugged as she left that sentence unfinished.
“I completely understand. If you could just walk us through the day and tell us about events as they occurred that would be helpful. Beverly’s daughter, Leslie, was here and spoke to the police and several other people. Still, she’s concerned she may not have heard or understood everything she was told given how upset she was at the time.” I paused, waiting for Ruth to respond.
“I heard Bev’s daughter was here. That had to be horrible seeing her mom like that. I’m glad they didn’t ask me to go identify her because I couldn’t have done it.” Tears had formed in Ruth’s eyes and an even more raspy tone had entered her voice.
“I’m sorry to put you through this, again, but can you tell us when you first saw Beverly today? Did she seem okay?” I asked, feeling guilty about the distress this was causing Ruth but also hoping to get on with it before I got weepy too.
“Bev got here this morning like she always does, before the place opens and before I got here. She seemed fine. As energetic as always, helping us go over the schedule of events for the day. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Did you see any sign that she was ill, or did she complain about pain or discomfort?”
“No. Nothing like that, today. Sometimes she gripes about her knees bothering her by the end of the day, but she was as fit as any of us. In fact, we were talking about walking over to watch the kids feed the giraffes on our break. That’s a good distance away, so I don’t think she would have suggested it if she wasn’t feeling well.”
“You didn’t do that, though—go see the giraffes on your break? So, what happened?” I asked.
“No. Bev said she had to run out and get something from her car.”
“Did she say what?” I asked.
“No, but I figured she’d be right back, although it cut into our break, and probably meant our visit to the giraffes was out.”
“Did it seem odd that she changed her plans with you like that?”
“Not really. She was a busy woman, involved in all sorts of groups and activities. I didn’t think much about it at all since we could go see the giraffes any day.” I could almost read Ruth’s thoughts. That statement must have caused her to realize that was no longer true. Her friend would never go with her there or anywhere else again.
“Was that when you last saw her?” Kim asked watching Ruth intently.
“Yes, she waved as she headed out that exit.” Ruth pointed to the exit less than fifty yards away. “There weren’t many people leaving at that time of day, so I could see her go through the turnstile.”
“Alone, then, I take it.” A lone hawk rode the thermals overhead as if underscoring the sudden sadness that came over Ruth’s face recalling that last glimpse of her friend.
“Yes. I suppose she could have met someone once she headed around the corner. I couldn’t see her after that. I wasn’t really paying that much attention, you know?”
“Sure. It sounds like she didn’t say or do anything that indicated she was upset?”
“No. Now that you mention it, though, Bev might have been a little annoyed. She didn’t seem upset exactly, but at first, she didn’t even remember we’d planned to take our break together. When she did remember, she said ‘sorry,’ but she was distracted—more preoccupied than apologetic, I think.”
“Was that unusual for her to be that preoccupied?”
“Hmm, that’s kind of hard to say. She’s been bothered lately about getting the remodeling finished on her house. Contractors have a way of driving you nuts, you know? They say they’re going to show up and don’t, or promise to have something done on a certain date and it’s not done. So, I suppose she’s been preoccupied, off and on, for the past few weeks.”
“Did she tell you about problems with her HOA or her neighbors?”
“Oh, hell yes, but I thought most of that was cleared up. Even the dog-barking complaints seemed to have eased up as far as I could tell. I figured the tide had turned once Cedric Baumgartner stepped in and went to bat for her with the biddies on the AR committee. She said he was such a nice guy and figured he wasn’t just looking for a nurse or a purse,” Ruth actually laughed as she spoke those words. The laughter deteriorated quickly into a bout of coughing. “Sorry, I’m an old smoker. I cut it out, but too late to avoid some damage.”
“Did you say a ‘nurse or a purse’?” Kim asked.
“Yeah, that’s how we old gals talk about men. You gotta weed out the ones who are just looking for a free ride—want you to take care of them physically or financially. Cedric Baumgartner wasn’t like that, so that’s why Bev agreed to go out with him,” Ruth said.
“Beverly mentioned Cedric Baumgartner to me since he’s a member of the Executive Committee for her HOA. Are you telling me they were dating?” I asked. I must have sounded as dumbfounded as I felt.
“She sure was. Don’t sound so surprised. Young people always think romance ends at fifty or sixty or something like that. Wrong!” That set off another round of laughter followed by more coughing.
“Point take
n!” I commented, making a mental note to question Leslie about the man in her mother’s life. “Thanks for the heads-up about Cedric Baumgartner.”
“No problem. I don’t think it was a big secret since they went places all over town. Maybe they didn’t advertise their romance,” Ruth said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Anyway, let me go back to your original question about Bev changing her mind about what to do on her break. Bev already had that phone in her hand when she announced she was heading out to her car. I assumed she’d received a call or a text that sent her on that errand.”
“What time was that, by the way?” I asked.
“You sure ask a lot of questions. Like I told the police, I checked the time since I wondered if there was any way we could still use our break to go to the giraffe exhibit area. We only had a few minutes to get over there if we wanted to watch the kids feeding them even if Bev had come right back. That happens at ten o’clock, so it was about ten minutes before ten.”
“Any idea who might have called or texted her or who she needed to call?”
“No, and I’m not sure she even got to her car. The boy who turned in her phone said it was on the ground at the end of the walkway leading to the parking lot. I made him show me where he found it. It was almost eleven by then. We’d already started looking for her since she should have been back from her break by ten-thirty to relieve other docents. I expected her back sooner than that, so I thought maybe she came back into the park and I missed her somehow. She could have taken off with some guest to answer questions or solve a problem, so I started asking if anyone else had seen her. No one else had, either. When that guy brought us her phone, I went and checked that her car was still there, and then we called the police. You want me to show you where the phone was found?” Ruth asked wearily.
“Would you? We’d be grateful,” I replied.
“Sure, let me grab my bag. That way, I can show you the spot and then we can all go on out to our cars.” As she walked away, I spoke to Kim.
4 A Dead Mother Page 9