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

  “I was in over my head and knew it. You didn’t.”

  “But we solved the case. Why would Officer Brown tell me that about too many bones? Aren’t law enforcement types rather secretive about an investigation? They don’t want amateurs mucking things up.”

  “Not here. Everyone gets in on the action. Everyone has an opinion. I guess it’s because there are so few people and everyone knows everybody else and the lines of communication are word-of-mouth and that has worked here for so long nobody thinks a thing of it. Someone throws out the odd clue, and it helps solve the problem.”

  “Life is sure different here. You have to get used to everyone knowing everything about you and your life. In the city people don’t even know their next door neighbor.”

  “You aren’t going to leave, are you?”

  Fiona looked at him. “Leave? I just got here. Besides, there’s a mystery or two to be solved. How about another glass of wine?”

  * * * * *

  Fiona awoke early the next morning to someone banging on the door of the bunkhouse. This was getting to be a regular occurrence. Obviously, no one slept late in these parts. Her first thought was that the ghost must be back. But the banging came again and someone said, “Is anybody home?”

  She didn’t know many ghosts that spoke. She sighed and padded to the door. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since she got here.

  “Who is it?” she said to the unknown assailant outside.

  “Mack, the electrician.”

  “You were supposed to come yesterday,” she said back through the door. “It’s hardly light outside.”

  “I got held up. I’m here now so do you want me to start work or don’t you?”

  “Just a minute.”

  Fiona dragged on a pair of black tights and a big T-shirt, which Jake had given her, that had written across the front, This Is Not My First Rodeo.

  She opened the door to see a standard issue rancher type replete with standard beat-up, sweat-stained cowboy hat and standard scuffed up boots. He didn’t look like an electrician.

  “Sorry about not calling you. We had an emergency. An irrigation motor blew a transformer, and half the valley was without electricity, so that came before you. I had to get the irrigation motor back up and running.”

  She sighed. “Come in. I’ll make coffee.”

  “Thanks. I could use some.”

  Fiona held the door open, and he entered, looking around.

  “This old place hasn’t changed much.”

  “Have you been here before?” she asked, as she put water on to boil on the propane burner.

  “Yes, ma’am. Used to help Opal with calving, and she’d put us up here in bad weather. More like sleeping outside. The wood stove could never keep up with a cold wind in February, but at least we were out of the elements.”

  Fiona leaned against the sink. “I’ve wondered if I should tear the place down and start over again. But it has character. I’d like to preserve that, and I need electricity to do it.”

  “Where’s the pole?”

  “What pole?”

  “That’ll bring the electricity up here so I can connect it.”

  Fiona frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? Did she think the magic fairy was going to wave a wand? “Who do I call to get a pole?”

  “The power company. You got to get on their list. Might be several thousand dollars.”

  “Several thousand dollars? Isn’t that rather steep?”

  “I don’t set the prices. Come outside and let me show you something.”

  Mack led her out to the stony front yard and pointed.

  “See that pole and the wires that go into Opal’s house? You need a connection to that line. They’ll need to run a separate line up here. That’s the only way I know to get electricity up here. After they do that, then I can do the inside electric work.”

  “Wow,” said Fiona. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I guess I better call the power company.”

  “Yes, ma’am. If you tell me where you want the outlets and switches, I’ll get started.”

  “Right. I have a diagram on my computer. I’ll print it out later. For right now, I’ll give you an idea of what I want done.”

  “Are you the general contractor on this job?”

  “You might say. They taught me that in design school.”

  “I’m impressed. Let’s get to work.”

  After she helped Mack start the project, she put on running shoes and walked down to Opal’s house to use her computer to print out the wiring diagram. She wasn’t in a running mood. Besides, her running shoes were in name only. She was in time for breakfast. Jake was sitting at the table finishing his.

  He looked her over and grinned. “Like the outfit.”

  “Thanks. It’s a big hit with buckaroos,” she said. “Where’s Opal?”

  “She left early to help move cows.”

  “The woman is amazing.”

  “She is. You can’t tell her to slow down. She won’t listen. Have some breakfast. I can scramble you some eggs. Bacon is in the warming oven.”

  “Fine. I need to print the wiring diagram for the bunkhouse. Can I use the computer and printer?”

  “You bet. It’s in the back office.”

  When she got back to the kitchen, breakfast was on the table, and Sheriff Hoover was sitting eating a plate of bacon, eggs and biscuits.

  “Just the lady I want to see,” he said, smiling around a mouthful of breakfast. “Nice outfit.”

  “It’s a big hit with buckaroos,” she said and sat down across from him. Jake slid a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs and several slices of bacon before her. Man could cook like he did, she might have to keep around. She helped herself to biscuits.

  Jake positioned himself beside her with a mug of coffee.

  “What’s up?” she said to Hoover, as she started in on the heaping plate before her.

  “I’m glad I got you both in the same place,” he said. “I need to know when you pulled the car out of the hot springs, how long did it take the bones to surface.”

  Fiona looked at Jake and shrugged. “Right away. There was no time lapse that I remember.”

  “Fiona pointed it out to me. I didn’t actually see it come up,” said Jake. “Why do you ask?”

  “We got a little problem of too many bones. The diver found more bones at the bottom of the springs after he was in and dug around a little. But these bones don’t fit the scene.”

  “Were they weighted down?”

  “No, funny thing is they weren’t. But they were heavy and weird looking. They don’t look human to me. They were sort of stuck in the muck. Now we’re going to have to figure out why there were more bones at the site.”

  “Were there any footprints around the spring that weren’t ours?” asked Fiona.

  “We’re trying to sort out all the footprints. Good point, Fiona. That’s another reason I’ve come. I need to see the boots you were wearing that day, so we can compare what we found.”

  Jake said, “You’re welcome to mine, if you can stand the smell. They’re pretty sorry looking.”

  “I’ll get mine up at the bunk house and bring them back. They are the cowgirl boots that pinch. I remember them well.”

  * * * * *

  A lone rider made his way across the ridge, steering his cow pony to stay behind the taller greasewood and rocks. He was looking for the herd he had seen south of here yesterday. He was sweating a river, and the sun was hardly up over the eastern horizon. But it wasn’t the heat that was bothering him. He didn’t want anyone to see him. This section was isolated, but you never knew. He could always say he’d lost a calf, if anyone questioned him. Of course, his not being from around here might raise suspicion but he could always say he was working for someone.

  He jumped at every little break of a twig or skitter of rock. He came up over a rise and reined in his horse. The valley stretched out forever below. Ther
e they were. The prettiest little herd that you’d ever want to see. The one the boss had sent him to find. The herd that had prime Angus cattle that would sell real well in the open cattle market. Now all he had to do was to find the road the boss said came in from the east. Probably not a road, probably a goat path. But that was the only way they had to bring in the trailer that would take away a few of these pretty cows and calves. It would be a night time operation. They’d set up a few temporary panels for a corral, drive the critters in, load them up, and leave. No one would be any the wiser till fall round up. Like taking candy from a kid.

  * * * * *

  Jake still worried that Fiona was going to leave. He tried to think of something that would entice her to stay. He worried that things would get too much for her, too many problems, too many weird people, too many new things. This was not Washington, D.C. where she was at home, and he wasn’t. Maybe it would be better if she left. She didn’t seem to be interested in him, and he could understand why. He wasn’t that interesting a guy. She could have her pick, a woman like that. City and country didn’t mix. Who was he trying to kid?

  But he couldn’t stay away from her. So he strode up the knoll to the bunkhouse to see what she and Mack were up to. He looked in the open door. They were studying a piece of paper. She was pointing to different spots on the wall, and he was nodding. She sure looked good in those tights. This was the first time he had seen so much leg. Easy, boy. He knew every other man felt the same way. He could see it in the way they looked at her. Hoover was no exception, and he wondered how much he was investigating the bones that brought him here and how much was getting another glimpse of Fiona. Needing their boots seemed like a pretty lame excuse.

  Jake greeted Mack who he knew to be a decent electrician, if a little on the slow side.

  Fiona came over. “He says he can’t start work today. He needs to get some parts in town. I’m not sure when the plumber will come. I called and left messages but he seems to have disappeared.”

  She looked so forlorn Jake used it as an excuse to put his arm around her shoulder. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. I have to ride out to the south pasture. Why don’t you ride along?”

  “In a truck?”

  “On a horse.”

  “Me? Ride a horse? I haven’t been on one since I was a kid.”

  “I can trailer the horses to the end of the good road, and we can ride the rest of the way. It’s not far. We could go in on ATVs but the terrain’s a little rough. It’s better on horseback and prettier.”

  Fiona frowned like she was thinking it over. “Well, maybe.”

  “We got a real sweet tempered little mare named Harriet. Give ‘er a try.”

  * * * * *

  Fiona sat on a soft pillow on her cot till the wee hours of the morning. Her muscles ached from her uneventful introduction to Harriet, but she was brimming with ideas for the bunk house and wanted to get them down in charts and diagrams before she forgot. The colors and vistas she saw on the ride today took her breath away. They were perfect combinations for her new home. The rustic look she was developing was exciting. The weathered boards of the outside of the bunkhouse some people would pay a fortune for. She’d have them sanded and stained and polished to a soft patina. She wanted to use glass bricks for one side of the bathroom to let in the amazing light of the high desert. The front porch would be peeled juniper logs. She knew just the person she’d track down for that. She had seen an article in a local magazine about a man who was a juniper artist.

  Harriet was a sweet horse. Jake had been encouraging. They’d had to lead Harriet to a rock so she could mount. It was only a short ride into the section of the valley that he wanted to show her. They kept a herd of Angus cows and calves in an isolated valley ripe with early summer grass and fed by a small meandering stream. It was a place of dreams but difficult to access.

  She was glad the ride was short. Harriet probably was too, though she was extremely patient. There was something romantic about the whole adventure. About being in the saddle with big sky overhead, sun streaming, cows calling to their calves, Jake explaining what she was seeing. She knew he had a huge crush on her but she didn’t know if she liked him enough to call this place home and stay and see what would become of their relationship. But she was enjoying his attentions. He was thoughtful and kind, and she wondered if he would always be like that or if the shiny silver of their being together would tarnish when he realized how much of a city girl she was and what a lousy homemaker. She sensed that was what Jake wanted. A home and a woman to run it. That didn’t sound like Fiona Marlowe.

  Lost in thought and the exciting designs for the bunkhouse, she didn’t hear the scratching noise. She realized the sound must have been in her consciousness for a while, but she had ignored it. Something was scratching at the door. Tonight there was no wind just the stars that she could see through the unshaded windows. There was no moaning this time, only the scratching followed by a thud. Was it the sound of a heeled boot on the dilapidated porch? Fiona pulled her robe tighter and looked through the windows. She saw nothing but stars. She had hoped the ghost had taken off to haunt some other more promising habitat, but apparently he, she or it was back.

  She turned off the small desk lamp she had positioned on the straight back chair by her bed and listened. She really needed to get some drapes but that was one of the last things done in a remodel after all the dust had settled from contractors tearing things up and putting them back together.

  She waited, listening, not sure what to do. Maybe it was some desert animal making its rounds for the night. Quietly, she re-arranged the bed clothing so she could lie down. Every muscle in her body ached. Maybe if she ignored whatever was out there it would go away like the last time.

  * * * * *

  Jake sensed the flames before he saw them.

  He had been tossing in bed, unable to sleep after the ride with Fiona. Visions of her kept intruding upon his sleep. He threw back the covers and sat on the side of the bed, scrubbing his face and cursing his luck at having ever met Fiona Marlowe. He pulled on a pair of jeans and padded to the kitchen looking for something to drink. There was a pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator, and he poured a glass. The night was still, and he was alone with his thoughts that kept returning to Fiona.

  He felt twitchy. There was a funny tension in the air. He had lived here long enough to be in tune with what went on outside as well as inside the house. He stepped onto the front porch and immediately saw the rose hue on the knoll where Fiona’s old bunkhouse sat.

  The front of the house was in flames.

  “Opal,” he yelled, not sure if she would hear him since she slept on the opposite side of the big house. “Fire!”

  He ran for his boots, then the axe that was kept by the fire extinguisher by the front door, and yanked the fire extinguisher from its cradle. He charged up the knoll. The nearest fire truck was at least an hour away. Opal kept a slip-in unit for the pickup but that would take too much time to mount on the truck and fill with water.

  He had to find Fiona.

  At the top of the knoll he searched the inferno before him for a way to enter the building. The front was lost, flames leaping and dancing everywhere. He didn’t hear her screaming for help or see any sign of her. Fear exploded into every cell in his body. He ran for the back by way of the north side where the flames were lower. He shouted her name every other second.

  He looked in the north window to a curtain of dull red smoke. The window was hot to the touch, and it was high enough off the ground he would have to struggle through broken glass to gain entry if he axed it. Flames danced across the roof. The heat was intense. The roar of the fire made his shouts unintelligible. He rounded the back corner and saw smoke pouring out the open door. He raced for the door and stopped to peer in.

  Fiona was on the floor crawling toward the door, her computer clutched in one arm.

  He helped her the rest of the way out the door, but they couldn’t stop there, the he
at and smoke were too intense. He picked her up in his arms and ran away from the burning building, stumbling over rocks and roots in his haste. She held onto his neck with a death grip, her computer in the other arm. When he was far enough away from the intense blaze, he stopped and set her on the ground as gently as he could.

  She started coughing, and he brushed her hair back from her face so she could breathe easier. He had forgotten the cell phone so he couldn’t call Opal to get help to put out the fire. He looked back at the bunk house. There was no use calling anyone. The whole building was engulfed in flame. The roof made a retching sound, and as they watched it caved in.

  The bunkhouse was a total loss.

  * * * * *

  Fiona sat on the front porch of Opal’s house, wrapped in a Pendleton blanket and nursing a glass of iced tea. The smell of smoke clung to her clothes. She could taste it in her mouth. Her throat and lungs burned. But she was unable to move from the chair to even shower.

  She remembered trying to toss her suitcase out the back door. But she couldn’t remember where it landed or if anything was in it. The computer lay on the table beside the chair she sat on, the only one of her possessions she was sure made it out of the burning bunkhouse. Her dreams for the bunkhouse were gone. Her mind couldn’t grasp the idea.

  The dawn was chilly as the sky lightened to the east, but she didn’t feel any chill. All she felt was numb.

  Opal had rallied the ranch hands, Ruben Sweet and Tommy Hide, but by the time they had installed the slip-in tank on the back of the truck and filled it from the well, the fire had consumed the building. It was a smoldering heap.

  Jake and the hands had watered down the ground around the house with a system of sprinkler hoses, worried that the sparks would set the big house on fire. The draw of water was too much for the pump, and it had burned out. Jake was in the pump house fixing the pump so they’d have water again.

  What a disaster. Her house-in-the-country dreams had gone up in a rage of smoke and flames. This was beyond anything she could ever have imagined. If it hadn’t been for Jake she would not be alive. He had said he couldn’t sleep and had a funny feeling. Thank heaven for second sight.