High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) (4 page)

If she opened the door the culprit might be right there. What if
it were something dangerous? She didn’t know all of the animals that lived here,
but she was sure they were dangerous. Probably more dangerous if wounded. Jake
said there were badgers. She didn’t know what a badger looked like or how big
it was but it sounded ugly and dangerous.

Undecided, she watched the door, listening. The moan had a whine
to it. Maybe it was a dog. There were dogs over at the main house. If it were a
hurt dog, should she let it in out of the wind and cold?

She trained the flash light on the door and tip-toed across the
floor, stopping at the window by the door. In a flash of courage she trained
the flashlight on the porch floor outside the door. She saw nothing but black,
but the moaning stopped and didn’t start again. That was a relief.

She turned to go back to bed. The moan started again. Sound
reverberated in odd ways here. The source could be out in the cow pasture or
half-way across the valley.
If she didn’t
check this out, she’d never get any sleep. Garnering her scanty courage, she
cracked the door enough to shine the light through. The wind blasted into the
narrow opening. She squinted into darkness.

Nothing.
There was nothing. She opened
the door a hair further, enough to flash the light around on the porch.
Nothing.
The sound had stopped. She was not about to search
outside on a night like this. The wind honed a cold edge to the night. She
closed the door. There was no lock. She propped one of chairs under the door
knob, a trick she’d learned from TV. They did not teach that maneuver in design
school. Under the circumstances that was the best she could do.

Crawling under the warm down quilt, she pulled it over her head.
She’d never thought to make a fire in the rusty woodstove. The evening had been
pleasant. But the wind had come up, and now it was cold enough to see her
breath. She checked her watch again. 4:00 A.M. The sky in the east had a light
tinge to it. She curled up in a ball and wished for sleep.

An unholy pounding woke her. Given the paucity of sleep she had
gotten, she was in a wicked mood, and worse, it was freezing in the bunk house.
She wrapped the comforter around her unhappy body and padded to the door. Of
course, she had to struggle to get the chair out of the way.

She yanked open the door and squinted into bright light. “What?”

Jake stood in full buckaroo regalia. “You aren’t ready. We’re
going sightseeing today. Did you forget?”

“I had a rough night.” She related the story. “It must have been a
ghost. There was nothing, and then it stopped.”

“You should have taken me up on my offer of sharing my warm bed
in the big house,” he said with a grin.

She ignored him. She wasn’t in the mood. “It’s freezing in here.”

“You should have started a fire.”

“There’s no wood, and I don’t know how anyway. Are you being
annoying because it’s in your DNA or because you enjoy making my life a
misery?”

“You’re in a temper. Get your stuff. I’ll take you down to the
big house for a shower and a decent breakfast. Then we’ll get on the road. You
don’t have to be some kind of heroine, staying up here at night. Opal has
plenty of extra beds.” He paused then said softly. “And there’s always mine.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m trying to get the feel for the
house so I can make a proper living space out of it.”

“Right.”

Two

Everywhere a body went in this country the preferable means of
transportation was by truck or rig, as the locals called a truck or other motorized
conveyance. If it wasn’t four wheel drive, you were asking for trouble. If snow
didn’t end you up in a ditch, the grease they called roads in wet weather would
put you there. That’s what Jake told her as they drove along the improved
gravel road that stretched forever into the distance. Not another vehicle was
on the road. They could have been driving into a black hole.

Fiona wore jeans, a long sleeve white shirt with paisley neck
scarf, and her new flat brimmed hat that was starting to grow on her.

“You look the buckaroo,” Jake said.

She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment. I don’t
understand why I have to wear long sleeves on a hot day.”

“Because it will keep you from getting sun burn and eaten alive
by mosquitoes. They’re bad this time of year.”

“I have a few choice welts to testify to that. Do you always
drive this fast?”

“What?
Eighty?
How
else you going to get anywhere?”

Around noon they stopped for lunch at Mann Lake. Jake spread an
old blanket on the ground, and Fiona laid out the food Queenie had packed. It
was leftovers from the party and smelled more delicious today than yesterday.

“Oh, no,” she said as Jake sat down on the blanket.

“What?”

“I think she put goat in the sandwiches by mistake.”

“No mistake about it. I asked for it.”

“You like goat?”

“You don’t?”

Her tummy rumbled. She sniffed the sandwiches. “I guess I do
now.” She took a careful bite, like the goat might still be alive and snuffling
around in the bread. She was prepared to hate it, but after a few careful chews
realized the tangy marinade sauce made it palatable, maybe even delicious.

Jake pulled his vest collar
up around his neck and slapped down his hat. “Wind’s coming up. Eat up and
we’ll high tail it down the road. We got a ways to go.”

In minutes a fine layer of grit drifted over the blanket and
settled in everything that wasn’t covered. They passed on the pie, packed up,
and climbed into the truck to continue the southward journey. Her teeth felt
like she had consumed goat and grit sandwich. She wondered if they’d have that on
the menu at one of the fancy restaurants back home.

The sun held, the sky went total blue, and they continued south,
along Steens Mountain looming 9,500 feet to the west. To the east appeared an
expanse of sand covered desert that looked for
all the
world like the Sahara. It stretched to the southern horizon. Fiona couldn’t see
a stitch of vegetation.
Nothing but white sand in a shallow bowl
that stretched to a ridge in the east.

“What is that?” asked Fiona.

“It is stark, raving desert. This country was an old lake bed,”
said Jake. “But now there are no rivers that flow from the basin. Hence, you
get some places that are so alkaline, nothing but nothing grows there.”

Further south, the sky darkened with heavy gray clouds tinged
with black that rolled and tumbled off the Steens. The temperature dropped thirty
degrees in a matter of minutes. Jake turned on the heat.

“That can’t be snow,” she said. “This is June.”

“Yep, it’s snow. This isn’t unusual. It’s the elevation. We’re
over four thousand feet,” Jake said.

The snow turned out to be a
rogue squall and was over as fast as it came on. Sudden bright sunshine forced
Fiona to put on sunglasses. This was a country of weather extremes. Harsh was
the word that came to mind.

Jake started singing
On the
Road Again,
and Fiona kept time by tapping her fingers on her knee.

“I like the one you sang last night,” Fiona said. “What was the
name again?”

“
Cowboy Lullaby
.”

“That was nice. It went with the evening. Do you know anything
besides cowboy songs? Like opera? You’re a great baritone.”

“No. I never cared for that caterwauling they call opera. I just
sing country and western, some bluegrass, a little gospel. I guess you like
opera.”

“Of course.
I’ve been to the Met to hear
James Levine conduct
Rigoletto
, my
very favorite opera
.
I sometimes get
season tickets for the Washington Opera Company.”

 
He wagged his head. “You
and I are very different.”

“I thought you’d never notice.”

He looked at her and smiled. “Oh, I notice all right. Maybe I
could learn to appreciate opera.”

“You could teach me cowboy songs.”

“You bet. Do you know
Home
on the Range
?”

Fiona sang a few bars, and Jake laughed. “You call that singing?”
he said.

Fiona laughed with him. “I forgot to tune my voice this morning.”

“It doesn’t matter how you sound. What matters is that you’re
making music with your friends and enjoying it. Let’s try
Home on the Range
together.”

They sang as they rode along, Jake helping her with the words, Fiona
enjoying herself immensely. She hadn’t sung in years. There was something about
the combination of singing, the endless distance before them, not another person
in sight, and Jake’s company on a road trip that made her happy. She couldn’t
remember the last time she had felt this light and free from the cares of the
world.

Jake pointed to what looked like mist rising from the grass that
bordered the east side of the road up ahead. “There’s a roadside hot spring.
We’ll stop, and I’ll give you a tour. We could even take a dip if you want.”

“Swim on the same day we drive through a snow squall?”

He shrugged.
“Why not?
There’s a little
cement pool at the far end, and the water isn’t as hot there. It’d be perfect.
You’ll love it.”

 
He glanced in the rear
view mirror. “That’s odd. Someone’s coming up mighty fast behind us.”

“You mean faster than we’re travelling?” she asked.

“I’m not kidding. Maybe he’s going to Fields store for a
milkshake and burger and is afraid they’ll sell out before he arrives.”

Fiona turned around in time to see the driver swing out and
around to pass, take the swing too wide, and plane off the gravel by the side
of the road. Stones shot everywhere. The small car lurched side to side, did an
impressive three sixty, then skidded sideways some distance before it bounced
down an embankment to the left and crashed through a barbed wire fence. Jake
swerved to miss the careening vehicle, forcing them into an upward sloping embankment
on the right side of the road. They slammed to a stop, but not before digging
up a nose full of rabbit brush.

“Are you okay?” Jake asked, leaning toward her and putting a hand
on her shoulder.

They looked at each other bug-eyed, blinking. Present time tried
to catch up to the surreal time lapse of the accident.

Fiona checked them over. “I don’t see any blood.” She held up her
hand. “I’m a bit shaky but in one piece. I’m glad we had our seat belts on.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake said, as he looked her over.

Fiona nodded. “I think so. Where did that car go?”

Jake released his seat belt and banged on the door to open it.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.
Looks like he ended up in
the hot spring.
You wait here.”

Fiona never listened to well-intentioned advice. Her door was against
a wall of crushed rabbit brush, so she climbed over the console and followed Jake
out his door. On the ground she had to steady herself against the truck door
until the ground stopped spinning. It had all happened so fast she was
disoriented and a little dizzy.

Jake crossed the road and looked around, assessing the situation.
Fiona saw the problem as soon as she joined him. The car had landed with its
rear end in a pool of hot spring water. The front end of the car was facing up
the embankment.

“I think I can make out two heads in the front seat,” Jake said.
“Wait here. I mean it. Don’t follow me down the bank. I don’t know how deep the
water is, and it is scalding along here. You wouldn’t want to accidently fall
in.”

 
“I hope whoever is in the
car isn’t par-boiled.”

“They’re lucky. I don’t think they hit the water. The way the car
is situated, it looks like only the rear end slid into the water.”

Jake picked his way down the steep embankment to the wreck,
holding onto brush as he went. Fiona was more than happy to take orders this
time and hoped there wouldn’t be any blood. The sight of it made her faint. She
couldn’t see any movement in the front seat. The slow moving muddy water eddied
around the back of the car and wound through stands of grass.
 
Fiona could see rocks and slimy looking stuff
through the clear sections of the water upstream a little ways. Jake reached
the car and made his way around to the driver’s side. Fiona looked up and down
the road. She could see a long way in the distance. No help appeared along that
forsaken stretch of gravel road.

Jake called to her. “A man is slumped over the wheel. He isn’t in
water,” he said.
“Looks like there’s a child with him.
Neither is moving. Call 911.”

“Right.”
She dug her cell phone out of
her pants pocket and opened the phone.

“There’s no signal.”

“Walk around till you find one. Go up on that rise.”

The rise was to the west of the road where their truck had ended
up. She trudged up the hill through rock and rabbit brush, the sun burning into
her shoulders. Two bars on the phone finally lit up. She dialed 911.

“Your name and location, please,” said a pleasant female voice.

“Steens Mountains, I think, at a hot spring.”

“I can barely hear you ma’am. Which side of the Steens?

“East side.”

What is the nature of the call?”

“A car wreck.
Driver is slumped over the
wheel and there appears to be a child with him. They aren’t moving. The rear
end of the car is sitting in the hot spring.” She gave the particulars
including Jake’s name.

 
The dispatcher said, “I
know Jake. He’ll know what to do.
Stand-by.”

Fiona waited, watching Jake rap on the car windows, trying to
rouse the passengers. He seemed to be having trouble getting the driver’s door
open. Sound carried amazing distances where there was only the wind and crackle
of sun shine to intrude upon the scene. Jake called to the passengers to open
the door.