High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) (7 page)

“I have to wait for the electrician and plumber.”

“You better call to see if they are coming.”

Fiona called them but only got answering machines. “This is very
frustrating,” she said.

“You’re going to have to slow down if you are thinking to live
here,” said Opal, busy shredding cabbage in a food processor.

“I’m not sure this is going to be my permanent residence. I’ve
got a big clientele back in the Washington DC metro area that depends on me.
I’m reliable at least.”

“Suit yourself. You can ask Queenie to watch out for those guys
while we go to town. They might not make it today.”

“I suppose I could go with you and look for someone to do the
drapes. I need furniture, too.”

The back door creaked open, and Sheriff Hoover walked in. “You
could come for a drive with me. Is that fresh made coffee I smell, Opal?”

Opal smiled and poured him a mug. “We don’t see you around here
much in the course of the day.”

Hoover nodded. “Only when I got investigating to do and there’s a
pretty woman involved.”

Fiona ignored the obvious flirtation. “What are you
investigating, Sheriff, and where would you be driving?”

“I was in the neighborhood and stopped to see if you had
remembered anything else of interest about finding those bones yesterday.”

“Opal had an idea, didn’t you?” Fiona said.

“It probably wasn’t anything,” she said and turned the food
processor back on.

“I’m interested,” said Hoover.

While she worked, she related the particulars about the man
looking for work.

“Have you found any missing persons in your reports?” Fiona
asked.

“We have a few open files. Trail’s gone cold on them though. Not
likely the type would end up out in the desert. A man looking for work could
end up anywhere. But I’ll ask around.”

“How are Farley and the little girl?” asked Fiona.

“In the hospital.
They kept them for
observation overnight. The man may have a concussion. The little girl has a
broken leg.”

“Poor thing,” said Fiona. “What a traumatic experience for a
young child.”

“They won’t be here long,” Hoover said. “Caleb said the mother’s
on the way to pick them up and take them back to Portland.”

“I’m glad they didn’t get hurt worse,” said Opal. “Accident like
that they were plain lucky to make it out alive. Fiona and Jake were lucky they
weren’t hurt.”

“Do you remember anything else, Fiona?” Hoover asked.

“I told you all I could remember. I did think of something about
those bones though.”

“What’s that?”

“It probably isn’t anything, I mean, I don’t have any facts. When
will you have the results of the DNA analysis?”

“Takes a while.
This is a pretty cold
case. We’ll have a diver go in there and see what else comes up. What were you
thinking?”

Fiona pursed her lips. “I think it was a woman.”

Hoover nodded his head. “Why do you think that?”

“Because of the two women missing in the Hank
Little
case. Those bones looked small even though the clothes looked like a man’s.”

“I thought of that, too. Those two women are on the missing
persons list. Great detective minds think alike, Fiona.”

“She’s very good,” said Opal. “She helped solve the mystery of my
brother, Albert’s demise back in Virginia. She has natural detective ability.”

“Is that right?” said Hoover. “We’ll see what the diver finds.
Meanwhile, I better get on down the road. Sure you don’t want to go with me,
Fiona?”

“No, thanks,” she said. “I have to wait for the contractors.
Besides, Opal and I might drive to town later.”

After lunch and resigned to the fact that the electrician and
plumber weren’t coming, Fiona decided she might as well drive Opal to town.

“Where’s the car?” asked Fiona.

“Rig,” said Opal. “We’ll go in Old Faithful. Wait here. I’ll
bring her around. I can at least do that much.”

Fiona waited in the hot sun on the front walk, feeling dejected
that her bunkhouse improvement project was going nowhere fast. She had had such
hopes for the day.
 
A shopping trip would
cheer her up. From behind the house she heard a muffled roar. Old Faithful back
fired into sight and rolled to a stop in front of the house on a rough idle.
Opal smiled from behind the wheel, a jaunty red cowgirl hat perched on her
head.

“Climb in,” she said.

Fiona didn’t move. “You want me to drive that?”

Opal looked puzzled. “Don’t you like her? Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Does she bite?”

Opal laughed. “Of course not, honey.” She opened the door and slid
off the seat. “Go on and get the feel of her. She’s hell on wheels, this rig
is. Hell on wheels.”

“I don’t know if I can climb up that high.”

“No problem. Put your foot on the running board and hitch
yourself up.”

Before Fiona could make a move, the truck gave out a great
shudder and died.

“Are you sure this truck is going to get us to town and back?”

“Of course,” Opal said. “Don’t you worry. Old Faithful has made
many a trip to town.”

Fiona walked around the truck, trying to think of a way to beg
out of the trip. The truck sported huge wheels and looked more like it belonged
in a demolition derby than on a ranch. The paint job had long ago faded and now
looked silvery pink more than the red it must have been in its heyday. Fiona
came back to where Opal was standing by the driver’s door.

“She may not be much to look at,” Opal said, “but she’s never let
me down.” She paused and smiled. “Well, hardly ever. I got all we need in the
tool box in the bed of the rig if we run into trouble, and we got our cell
phones. There’s plenty of room to store our purchases.”

“Is it automatic?” Fiona asked.

“Sure is,” Opal said. “She handles like a dream. You’ll see.
Climb in and start her up.”

Fiona looked in the cab. The bench seat was covered with a furry
leopard skin print.

Opal grinned. “Don’t you love the seats? I recovered them since
the original plastic was tearing open in places.”

Fiona couldn’t recall ever using leopard skin pattern in
anything. She steeled herself and hopped up into the cab.

“Atta girl,” said Opal. She slammed the door and went around to the
passenger side. With a
yee
-haw and a mighty pull on
the door bar, she catapulted onto the seat.

Fiona turned the ignition key, and Old Faithful roared back to
life. The gear shift was on the steering column, and the black metal steering
wheel was pencil thin. She wasn’t going to ask what year the truck was, but she
was sure there were no computers in the engine of this vehicle.

“Okay,” she said. “Here we go.”

The old truck didn’t handle quite like the dream Opal imagined.
There was no air conditioning, so they hand rolled the windows down. The long
drive out to the paved road stirred up a whirlwind of dust, but once they got
to the main road, they sailed along. Opal turned on the local radio station
that played classic country and western with a little bluegrass thrown in. They
didn’t talk much since it was hard to hear above the roar of the wind and the
scratchy radio.

Fiona found herself enjoying the drive. The landscape was fresh
and new with many different impressions to take in. She must be in the high desert
phase of her life because the sage and rabbit brush landscape looked good to
her. The endless blue sky put a smile on her face. She was looking forward to shopping
and spending money. That always cheered her up.

Brewster was right. Rocky Point was a well kept secret. Its six
block main street in the old section of town was lined with art galleries and
shops. There was an outdoor café with tables under one lone tree. Fiona
wondered where the people came from to shop in them. Yet the shops looked
prosperous.

“There is only one furniture store in town,” Opal said. “After we
visit the ranch supply store, we can stop in.”

“I’d like to look in some of these shops.”

“Sure thing,” said Opal.

Shopping in Rocky Point was an experience. They spent over an
hour in the ranch store, not shopping but talking to people. Opal knew everyone
in the store, and they all knew her and greeted her with warm hugs. Of course,
Fiona had to be introduced all around, and she had to tell her story over and
over, which she kept shortening in the re-telling.

The big talk of the town was the accident at the hot springs and
finding the bones, and everyone had an opinion which Fiona listened to with
interest. Several of the ladies were of the same mind as Fiona, that it was one
of Hank Little’s wives. Rosemary and Esme strolled in and offered their opinions.

“It was murder, for sure,” said Rosemary. “No doubt about it.
People have been known to get drunk and drown in hot springs, but the sheet that
came up with the bones is your clue right there.”

Esme agreed.
“Yes, ma’am.
You better
believe it.
There’s
lots of unsolved murders in this
valley.”

“I think it was a woman,” said Fiona. “When I saw how small the
bones were, and the small shirt and pants, it lead me to believe it was a woman.”

“Which side did the shirt button on?” asked Rosemary.

“I didn’t think to look. But we could ask the Sheriff,” said
Fiona. “He would know.”

Rosemary elbowed Esme. “Hear that, Esme. She has an excuse to see
the Sheriff.”

 
“I already saw him today.
He stopped by the ranch this morning.”

“Is that right?” asked Rosemary. “Hear that Esme? I wonder what
he was investigating.”

 
“You two don’t let up,”
said Fiona with a smile. “Opal, we better get on with our shopping, or we’ll
never finish.”

It didn’t seem to bother Opal that the shopping hadn’t started.
She was a slow shopper, but they finally got the wire, gloves, seeds, and other
commodities that the modern ranch woman needed. The next stop was the furniture
shop.

Fiona stopped at the door and looked around the large showroom.
She could tell by what she saw in the front row of sofas that there wouldn’t be
much here that she liked. She wondered about having a sofa built to her
specifications which she had done before. At least she could look for a decent
mattress and box spring. They ran into more people Opal knew. Fiona began to
despair of spending any money.

Then Brewster walked into the store.

“I’m glad I found you,” he said. “I heard you were in town and
came looking for you. I heard about the goings on out there at the hot springs,
and I got an idea about who that might have been. I hear you are a pretty good
detective.”

Fiona’s ears perked up, and she leaned forward in anticipation. “Word
certainly travels fast in this town. What do you know?”

Brewster motioned her over to the side aisle out of hearing of
the couple that Opal was talking with.

“I have a friend who was supposed to visit me a while back. She
never showed up. I didn’t think much of it because I didn’t know her well, and
she said in passing that she was going to stop by and never did. Now that I
think about it, maybe it was her. Maybe she was in some kind of trouble.”

Fiona said, “What did your friend look like? I mean, did she wear
jeans and plaid shirts because that’s what came up with the bones.”

“Anyone could have dressed a body in those clothes. Maybe they
did it to throw everyone off the trail.”

“You better take this story to the Sheriff.”

“Can’t do that.
Sheriff Hoover and I
have had a run in on more than one occasion. You tell him.” And with that he
turned and stalked off.

“Wait a minute. You didn’t give me any details. And I never said
I’d do it. I’m not that good a detective,” she said to his retreating back. But
he was already out the door. Fiona sighed. The man was an odd one. That didn’t
bode well for her remodel project.

“May I help you?”A slender, stylish young woman had come up
behind Fiona. She was simply dressed in black slacks and a short sleeve pastel top,
the first woman in town Fiona had encountered that wasn’t wearing jeans. She
had a pleasant smile and a non-threatening countenance, perfect for a sales
woman.

“I’m not sure,” said Fiona. “I need some furniture and a bed, but
I didn’t see anything in the showroom I like.”

“We can order anything you want. I have tons of catalogs.”

“That would be great.”

“My name is Lauren, I own the store. Are you new in town?”

“Why, yes, I am. I’m re-modeling an old bunk house, and I’ll need
furniture and drapes.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” said Lauren.

* * * * *

On the drive home, Fiona felt better, having made the
acquaintance of Lauren Brooks, who had displayed impressive expertise in home
fashion. The new bed would be delivered in two days. The new living room
furniture was on order and would arrive after the re-model was complete. Opal’s
purchases were in the truck bed, including a submersible pump, a roll of barb
wire, fence posts, and tools that Jake had ordered. Fiona was in a fine frame
of mind and looked forward to a glass of wine while watching the sun go down
over her new albeit dilapidated home.

She had been lost in redecorating schemes in her head when she
saw the flashing lights in the rear view mirror. She glanced at her speed.
Seventy five miles per hour.
She couldn’t believe she was
being pulled over.

Opal looked behind. “He must have been sitting up on the ridge, waiting
for us. That’ll be Scooter Brown. He’s a state policeman. That’s his favorite
spot to nab the unwary motorist. I forgot to warn you.”

Fiona sighed. Just what she needed was another speeding ticket.
She pulled over to the side of the road. The police car zoomed around and
parked in front of her. She rummaged in her purse for her license.