Murder in Palm Springs

by Dianne Harman

  “I’ll have the woman I use for my appraisals put Carl’s and my information in appraisal form, and we’ll get it to you. You can go through it and add whatever information you feel is relevant. That way, you won’t have to stay with us every minute.”

  “That’d be mighty nice of ya’. Don’t like to say too much, but I purty much need to be with Jimmy all the time, both Horace and I do. He don’t wanna’ let people know jes’ how bad off he is. Other than goin’ out to the mailbox every day, cuz’ doc says he needs a little exercise, and his weekly gig at the Red Velvet, he purty much stays on the couch or in bed. Ain’t got the strength of an ant, but he sure don’t want anyone knowin’ ‘bout that.”

  After Ruby had given them a brief tour, she walked over to the front door and said, “I’ll be in the main house if y’all need anything. Jes’ pick up the bell that’s right here next to the door, and I’ll be with ya’ in a coupla’ minutes.”

  After Ruby left, Marty and Carl looked at each other for a moment. “Carl, I’ll start in this room and you start in another one. Let’s reconnoiter when we each finish our rooms, but I have a feeling that’s not going to happen today. By the way, Ruby and Jimmy may have left the South, but they sure didn’t lose their Southern accents. I might have thought his was kind of a gimmick, but she’s got the same one.”

  “I know. I think it’s called the ‘y’all chromosome’.”

  “I’ve never heard of anything like that. What are you talking about?” Marty asked.

  “I read somewhere that people from the South have an added chromosome in their genetic makeup and that’s why they talk like that,” he said with a grin.

  “Okay, Carl. For a moment you had me. Now back to work. You okay with my plan on how to divide up this appraisal?”

  “Sounds fine with me. I had no idea Jimmy was as bad off as Ruby indicated. It’s hard to believe after I saw his performance last night. Poor guy. It must be a real adjustment to be one of the top performers in the United States, travel all over the world, and then have everything, or almost everything taken away from you.”

  “Agreed. See you in a little while.” Marty turned to Patron and said, “Patron, lie down. Here’s your toy I brought so you’d feel comfortable.” He obediently stretched out on the soft shag rug which was far warmer than the tile floor and promptly went to sleep with his pink flamingo plush toy firmly lodged between his paws.

  CHAPTER 9

  Randy Allen sat at his desk in downtown Palm Springs thinking about the turn of events involving Jimmy Joseph. Jimmy had been his cash cow and client for more years than he could count.

  When Jimmy was first starting out, Randy had spotted his talent, and offered to represent him for 15% of his gross earnings that came from entertaining, far less than what other agents were asking. Randy was just starting out as well, so he didn’t have a very large bargaining chip. Randy had believed in Jimmy and was easily able to obtain bookings for him at major venues, first in the United States, and then in Europe.

  Jimmy had made Randy rich beyond his wildest dreams, which was very fortunate for Randy, because his taste in women was costly. Randy came from the old school that if you wanted to sleep with a woman, you should marry her. And so he did. Five times. It was a good thing Randy’s career had allowed him to have a very opulent lifestyle. Each of his wives had certainly enjoyed it, that is, until they decided it was time to divorce him.

  After his second marriage had ended badly, with Randy making an out-of-court settlement rather than be saddled with alimony for the rest of his life, his therapist had some advice for him. That was something new, because Dr. Mertz never gave him advice, he simply asked Randy how he felt about something or let him vent over his imaginary and real problems. But this time was different. His therapist had told him in no uncertain terms that from now on he should just sleep with the women and not marry them.

  Randy listened to the therapist and realized there probably was some truth to his words, but three months later he was in Las Vegas at the Graceland Wedding Chapel with wife number three. Jimmy had a long engagement at the Bellagio and Randy’s latest wife was a backup singer for him. Six months later when she sued him for divorce, he rued not following his therapist’s advice.

  Las Vegas did Randy no favors. To his dismay, his next two marriages also ended in divorce and the only thing that kept him solvent was the amount of money Jimmy paid him. Without that, there was no doubt he’d be held in contempt of court for nonpayment of spousal support. The women he married were not stupid. They’d been around Vegas enough to know a rich mark when they saw one and unfortunately, Randy fit the description perfectly.

  Now he was faced with the prospect of a serious drop in earnings. Serious enough that he wouldn’t be able to pay his monthly spousal support payments. One of the other things his therapist had told him was that he should make absolutely certain that if he ever married again, he must have his wife-to-be sign a prenuptial agreement.

  Randy had listened to his therapist and made an appointment with Jimmy’s lawyer who said drawing up a prenuptial agreement was standard practice, particularly in Las Vegas, where marriages did not have a long shelf life.

  Unfortunately, Randy had a romantic streak and thought asking his next wife-to-be to sign one would make him look like he took the marriage to be more of a business proposition than one of true love. Unfortunately, neither one of the last two wives fit that category, so now Randy was saddled with paying alimony to four wives. The fact that Jimmy’s income had dropped by 90%, as had Randy’s because of Jimmy’s health condition, was causing Randy a lot of sleepless nights.

  His accountant had called Randy and told him he needed to have his lawyer renegotiate the terms of his divorces, because there was no way he could meet his obligations and there was a good chance his ex-wives would sue him, and he’d be looking at wage garnishments and seizure of his bank accounts.

  A few days earlier, in the middle of another sleepless night, he’d remembered that Jimmy told him once that Jimmy had made a large bequest in his trust to Randy. At the time Randy had thought Jimmy would outlive him by years, so he thanked Jimmy, but hadn’t paid much attention to it. He sure could use that money now rather than later.

  I wonder if there’s any way Jimmy would advance me the money, he thought. I’m going to ask him. After all, a lot of people with money choose to distribute some of it prior to their death.

  The next day he picked up the phone and called Jimmy. “Hey Jimmy, it’s me. I’ve got a little problem, and I thought maybe you could help me out with it.”

  “Happy to, if I can,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, now that you’re not earning what you used to, it means that my percentage is way down. In other words, I’m making about 10% of what I used to get paid by you. I’ve got a couple of obligations, like alimony for my ex-wives…”

  Jimmy interrupted him. “Randy, me and everybody else told ya’ not to marry them gold diggers. Any problems ya’ got in that area, are yers’ and yers’ alone. Don’t think I’ll be helpin’ ya’ with ‘em.”

  “Well, Jimmy, it’s not exactly help that I need. I remember you told me once that you had made a large bequest in your trust to me. Sure could use it now,” Randy said.

  “I’m sure ya’ could, but that ain’t gonna’ happen. Now that my health is pretty bad, don’t know how much I’ll even have left in my estate when I go. I’m even havin’ an appraisal made of my memorabilia collection. If I go pretty soon, I’ll probably donate it, but if not, might have to sell it to pay medical expenses. No, sorry, Randy, jes’ ain’t got them disposable funds like I used to. Tell them wives they rode the gravy train long enough. Gotta go, Ruby’s here with my meds.”

  Randy stared with a blank look at the phone after Jimmy had hung up. He hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time, but the way he felt now, he was pretty sure one was imminent. He felt boxed in with no way out.

  Then he heard a little voice in his head, an insistent little voice.
/>
  “Randy, if Jimmy died now, you’d get the bequest because there is plenty of money now. Jimmy’s health is failing, and he probably doesn’t have long to live, anyway. Actually, you’d be doing him a favor by taking him out of his misery. As worn out as his body is, his immune system couldn’t fight anything. Wouldn’t take much. Might do a little computer search on poison. There’s a lot of them that might work for you. Think about it.”

  Later that morning, Randy did just that, and came up with the perfect plan. He’d get the money and no one would ever know it was him who caused the ultimate demise of Jimmy Joseph. He called the car rental agency at McCarran Airport and reserved a car for his trip to Palm Springs. This was going to be so easy he was sorry he hadn’t thought of it before now.

  CHAPTER 10

  Marty and Carl had been working all morning when the sound of a siren could be heard in the distance. A siren, particularly an ambulance siren, was unusual in a residential area such as Jimmy’s. What was even more unusual was it kept getting louder and louder and then they heard loud voices as well. Patron had stood up, the guard hairs on his back erect, and he started to growl.

  Carl walked into the room where Marty was and said, “What’s going on? I’m hearing all kinds of voices, and I’d swear I heard a siren.” He looked over at Patron and asked, “What’s up with him?”

  “I have no idea. I was just about to go in the house and ask Ruby what was going on. I’ll put Patron’s leash on him, so if someone is in there, he won’t scare them.”

  “Well, I’m scared, if that’s any consolation. I remember the last time Patron did that when we were on an appraisal and look what happened,” he said. He was referring to when he and Marty were appraising a collection for a museum donation and Patron had gone ballistic when Carl had taken a knife down from a shelf and started writing down information about it.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Marty said as she opened the door of the memorabilia house and walked by the pool towards the main house. The sound of voices became louder the closer they got to the house. The main house was designed, as so many Palm Springs homes were, with a sweeping view through large glass walls from the front to the back.

  “Oh no,” Marty said. “Look, Carl, I can see an ambulance in the driveway. I hope nothing has happened to Jimmy.”

  They walked through the house to where the front door was standing wide open. Beyond it Mary could see Ruby gesturing and talking to the EMTs. A slightly built African American man, who Marty assumed was Ruby’s brother, Horace, was standing next to Ruby. Marty and Carl hurried out the door to where they were standing.

  “Ruby, what’s happened?” Marty asked as Patron stood next to her, growling.

  The EMT’s backed the ambulance out of the driveway and quickly drove off, siren on. Ruby turned to her and said, “Dunno’. Jimmy was gone longer than usual to get the mail. Horace noticed it had been a long time and went out to the mailbox. When he got there, Jimmy was layin’ there flat on his back in the driveway.”

  “Do you think he fell and knocked himself out?” Carl asked.

  “Dunno’. Horace called 911 and then he called me. I ran out and we stayed with Jimmy ‘til the ambulance got here. One of them EMTs said it looked like Jimmy’d been hit in the thigh by somethin’. Had no idea what it was.”

  “Do they think it was a gunshot?”

  “I asked ‘em, but they said they couldn’t tell me nothin’ and they’d know more after they got him to the hospital and a doctor saw him,” Ruby said, as she fought to hold back tears.

  “Ruby, you stay here. I’m goin’ to the hospital. When Jimmy wakes up, he’s gonna’ want me there,” Horace said, running towards the garage to get his car.

  “Call me first thing, ya’ hear?” Ruby hollered after him.

  “I will. Jimmy’s gonna’ be jes’ fine. He’s gotta be,” Horace shouted over his shoulder.

  “Ruby, I think it would be better if Carl and I leave. You really don’t need strangers in the house right now. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll figure out a better time. Would that be alright with you?” Marty asked.

  “Yes, I’d appreciate that. Even if you did have some questions for me, doubt if I could answer ‘em, distracted as I am right now.”

  “I completely understand,” Marty said, putting her hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “Would you like me to lock up the memorabilia house for you?”

  “Yes, thanks. My legs are a little shaky right now. Think I needs me to sit myself down for a spell. Horace might call me on the house phone, and I don’t wanna’ miss his call.”

  Carl and Marty walked back to the house where Jimmy’s collection was stored and packed their appraising equipment. Marty was having a hard time with Patron. He hadn’t stopped growling, and she was glad they were leaving. She wasn’t looking forward to the ride back to Carl’s antique shop with Carl and Patron.

  As soon as they were in her car, Carl turned to her and said, “Any idea what’s got Patron so spooked?”

  “No, you know as much as I do. Do you think Jimmy fell or do you think it was something more?”

  “I have no idea, Marty, you’re the amateur sleuth, not me. I will tell you that based on Patron alone, I’ll bet something more than feeling faint and falling down happened to Jimmy. Mark my words, this is going to be another one of your murder appraisals.”

  “Well, I certainly hope not. I really like Jimmy, and it looks like Ruby and Horace are totally devoted to him. I’d hate it if something happened to him.”

  Carl grumbled something in a low tone.

  “I’m sorry, Carl, I didn’t catch what you said.”

  “I said maybe you should name your business ‘Murder Appraisals.’

  “Carl, that’s a low blow. You know as well as I do that I’ve never done anything to cause murders to happen when I’m appraising. Today you were near me all morning, and nothing I did could even remotely be attached to a murder. And speaking of murder, we certainly don’t know if Jimmy was murdered. In fact, we don’t know if he’s dead. He was alive when they took him to the hospital. And if something does happen to him, it probably wouldn’t be all that unusual given the condition of his health.”

  “All of that is true, but have you ever wondered why a number of your appraisals have included murder? I mean, Marty, it’s not normal. I like you, and I like working with you, but if we find out Jimmy was murdered, I may have to take a pass on any more appraisals with you. My heart can’t take it anymore.”

  “Carl, we’re a great team and maybe these things happen to me because I’ve been very lucky in helping solve some murders. Maybe the universe thinks that if someone is going to be murdered, I should be the one doing the appraisal because I can solve them.”

  “That’s about the most convoluted explanation of anything I’ve ever heard.”

  “Carl, speak English. What does convoluted mean?”

  “It means extremely complex and difficult to follow, and that’s what you always do when the subject of you, murder, and your appraisals comes up.” When Marty pulled up in front of Carl’s antique shop he said, “Look, I’m sure you’ll find out something from Jeff about Jimmy. I’d appreciate you letting me know. Sure wish I’d gotten the money from him for the Elvis jacket before he went out to the mailbox.”

  Mailbox. That’s what Laura was talking about? I know Jimmy is going to die and that means someone murdered him. The doctors may not know yet, but I do, she thought.

  “Of course, Carl. I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that he just fell down and he’ll be home tomorrow.”

  “Yeah,” Carl said as he got out of her car, “Just keep talking the happy talk, but we both know how it’s gonna’ shake out.”

  He walked around to the trunk of her car which she’d popped open and retrieved his appraisal equipment. “Here’s what I did this morning,” he said handing her his notes and a cartridge from his handheld dictation device. “Figure you’ll want to get started on
this and who knows when we’ll be going back. I’ll email you the photos I took.”

  “Thanks Carl. I’ll get this to Edy, so she can start working on the rough draft for Ruby to take a look at. I’ll do a little research on what both of us did this afternoon, too.”

  “Yeah, like I said, let me know if you hear anything.” Without a backward glance, Carl turned and walked into his antique shop.

  “Patron, I have a feeling he’s right and you know he’s right, don’t you?”

  Patron didn’t respond one way or the other to Marty’s inquiry. He’d become very calm as soon as they’d left Jimmy’s home, and he simply stayed quiet and wagged his tail after they left Carl’s shop. When they arrived at the desert compound, he was a far different dog than he’d been only a short while earlier.

  CHAPTER 11

  When Marty and Patron walked into the courtyard of the compound, they were immediately greeted by Duke, her big black Labrador retriever, with what Marty assumed to be a quizzical expression on his face. It was as if he was asking, “How come you took Patron and not me?”

  Marty decided the answer would be too complicated to explain to him and instead, went to her house, made lunch, and spent the afternoon researching what she and Carl had seen that morning during the abbreviated appraisal at Jimmy Joseph’s home. That afternoon, she sent the photos they’d taken to Lucy at the Hi-Lo Drugstore, so she could have the photos she needed to accompany the rough draft.

  At 5:30 she saved what she’d been working on, stood up from her computer, and went to the kitchen to feed Duke and Patron. She heard voices coming from the courtyard and figured some of the compound members were sharing the events of the day over a glass of wine. It was a habit they’d gotten into before enjoying one of John’s dinners, and tonight was no exception.

  When she walked into the courtyard, the little twinkling lights on the trees had been turned on, and since it was early spring and there was a chill in the air, someone had already turned on the three tall patio heaters. As always, it was a magical place, what with the over-the-top landscaping and of course, the peaceful quiet of the desert as night time approached. Laura had a green thumb, and she was the one responsible for the abundance of blooming flowers and ferns that ringed the large courtyard and were also hanging from the trees.