Marty pulled off onto the gravel road on the outskirts of High Desert and parked in front of the compound. “Home, sweet home,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard in a little while, after I call Carl and the book man, and I’ll show you photos of what we did today. I also need to send them over to Lucy at the drugstore, so she can develop them, and I can pick them up tomorrow on the way home.”
“You’re on,” Laura said as she opened the gate of the stone fence that surrounded the compound. “Give me twenty minutes.”
“Ladies, how was your day?” John asked from the front door of his house. “I heard your car drive up. I hope you worked up an appetite because Max has been helping me, and we’re having lamb meatballs in a warm yogurt sauce over egg noodles for dinner. It’s a new dish for me, and I need to test it out on you before I put it on The Red Pony’s menu. There was some detective here a little while ago who said it smelled so good he’d love an invitation to dinner, so I invited him. I made plenty of it.”
Laura and Marty looked at each other in disbelief. “Are you talking about Detective Jeff Combs?” Marty asked.
“Yep. He’s the very one. Seemed like a nice enough guy. He was looking for you, Marty. He said something about the Monkey Band. I told him I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. He’ll be back about six and asked me to tell you he needed to talk to you.”
Swell. Just swell. I hope to heck my eyelid doesn’t start twitching, and I can look and act like a normal person, not like some swooning teenager, which is how he makes me feel. I just don’t need a distraction like him in my life right now. I haven’t even been divorced a year. I remember reading it takes a month for every year you were married to get over someone. Think the article was wrong, because I already am definitely over Scott, and there’s no denying that Jeff is very attractive. I also can’t deny that there seemed to be some sort of chemistry going on between the two of us when we met this afternoon.
Marty opened the door of her house and turned to wave at Laura and John. “See you in a few minutes. I need to make a couple of phone calls and get into something more comfortable.”
CHAPTER 13
Marty spent a few minutes petting Duke who had been faithfully watching for her return. When she was gone, his favorite thing to do was to lie down with his chin on his paws and look through the gap under the front fence gate, waiting for her return. From what Laura, Les, and John told her, as soon as he spotted her car, he would jump up and stand next to the gate, his tail wagging furiously in anticipation of her impending arrival. This evening had been no exception.
She put her camera down on the small oak table in the great room, which was another word for a combined living room, dining room, and kitchen, although it wasn’t all that great in size. Two small bedrooms and a bathroom completed the house, but it was really all the space she needed. Duke got on his dog bed and looked up at her with his big brown eyes. Whenever Marty spoke to him, his tail thumped as if he could understand every word she was saying. She poured herself a glass of cold chardonnay wine, looked up the name of the antique book expert, called him, and made an appointment with him to appraise the books. The next call she made was to Carl Mitchell, the jewelry expert.
“Palm Springs Antique Shoppe. May I help you?” the voice that answered the phone said.
“Carl Mitchell, please. This is Marty Morgan.”
“It’s Carl, Marty. What can I do for you this fine evening?”
She told him she was involved in an appraisal and there was, what looked to her, like some very good jewelry in it. “Carl, I took some quick photos of the jewelry. If you have a minute I’d like to send them to you. What’s your email address? I’ll scan them on my home computer and send them to you right now as an attachment, and hopefully then we can talk about them.”
“Sure, there’s no one in the shop, so that would be fine.” A moment later he said, “Got them. Wow! That’s some pretty high end jewelry. I’d swear I’ve seen a couple of those pieces. What do you need from me?”
“I’m doing an estate appraisal for a man whose mother was murdered. Any chance you could meet me at the house tomorrow morning at eight? I know you like to open your shop at ten, so that should give you plenty of time to do an appraisal of the jewelry pieces. You can send me your appraisal report in the next week or so, and I can attach your report to my appraisal.”
“That will work well for me. Why don’t you fill me in on the details?”
“A woman by the name of Pam Jensen was murdered, and it’s her estate…”
“Wait, you don’t need to go any farther. I knew Pam well, and I was shocked and surprised when I read in the local paper she’d been murdered. She frequented my shop and was one of the most astute antique collectors I’ve ever known. Speaking of her, a kind of funny thing happened to me that she would have appreciated. I had a call earlier today from a man who wanted to know what the pieces from the Meissen Monkey Band were worth. It immediately brought memories of Pam to mind. She told me once that Henry Siegelman wanted to buy three pieces of her Monkey Band set, but she wouldn’t sell them to him.
“She invited me to her house once to look at her antiques. I’ll never forget the Monkey Band. That set is one of the few things I’ve ever coveted in all the years I’ve been in antiques. Whoever inherits her estate will get a real bonus with that. An original set like hers is extremely rare, and hers was in perfect condition.”
Marty was quiet for a moment and then she said, “Carl, did you happen to get the name of the person who was inquiring about the Monkey Band set?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“The Monkey Band set is missing from Pam’s home. From what I’ve been able to tell, it’s the only thing missing. A friend of hers came to the house today and realized it was gone. I don’t know if that’s a motive for murder, but it certainly is suspicious. Detective Jeff Combs is coming over to my home in a little while to find out more about the Monkey Band. He’s the detective assigned to the case. I’ll tell him about the call you received.”
“I wish I could help you more, Marty, but I get so many calls from people who want to know how much something is worth that I kind of tune them out unless they want to sell it. I do remember asking the man why he wanted to know, and he said he was just curious. From his response I couldn’t tell if he was interested in buying or selling a Monkey Band set, or if he’d seen something about the Monkey Band in an antique magazine and it was nothing more than idle curiosity. Now I wish I’d paid more attention to him, particularly since Pam was murdered.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You had no way of knowing. Can you tell me anything about a man by the name of Henry Siegelman? Do you know anything about him?”
“I’ve never met him. He hires people to frequent antique shops and auctions and look for things to add to his collection. It’s pretty common knowledge that his love is Meissen, and he’s desperate to complete his Monkey Band set. Evidently he’s missing three pieces. Other than that, he’s kind of a mystery man. Everyone in the antique world knows about him, but nobody seems to actually know him.”
“Carl, this just popped into my head because we’re dealing with a murder mystery. Do you think he could have been desperate enough to kill in order to complete his set? Maybe not him if he didn’t even bother to come to your shop himself, but maybe he could have hired someone?”
“Marty, I can’t answer that. Like I said, I’ve never met the man. I do know collectors often become obsessed with certain antiques, so maybe he was involved in it. I just don’t know. I’ve got to go Marty, a customer just walked in. I know where Pam’s home is, and I’ll meet you there tomorrow morning at eight. Thanks for thinking of me, and I wish I could have been more helpful to you.”
“See you tomorrow, and don’t worry, you’ve been very helpful. Thanks. Enjoy your evening.” After she ended the call, she sat for a few moments thinking about what Carl had said.
So Henry Siegelman needs three pieces
to complete his collection of the Monkey Band. Wow! I better tell Jeff about that. You never know what someone might do when they become obsessed with something.
CHAPTER 14
Okay, Marty thought, I have to admit I’m looking forward to seeing Jeff again. After all, he’s very handsome and maybe, just maybe, there’s something going on between the two of us. Laura seems to sense it, and she’s usually right. I’m doubly glad he’s coming to dinner, because maybe he’s heard of Henry Siegelman. Even if he hasn’t, I think he’ll want to know what Carl told me. Better change clothes and refresh my make-up. If he does want to get to know me, I’ll do what I can to look good and give him a reason to. It was pretty apparent that Nikki Bolen was attracted to him.
She took her hair out of the chignon that she wore it in when she was appraising, so her hair wouldn’t get in her eyes. Soft auburn curls framed her face, highlighting her creamy complexion and hazel eyes. Marty put on a jade colored dressy T-shirt that had raglan sleeves and a low vee neck that brought out the green in her eyes. She paired it with white jeans and white sandals. She looked at her image in the mirror and decided for a woman who was going to be fifty in a few months, she didn’t look that bad.
Marty opened the front door of her house and walked over to the picnic table where Les, John, Max, and Laura were sitting, a bottle of wine already on the table. “Wow, you look great. All dolled up for the detective I see,” John said with a smirk on his face.
“I am not dolled up for anyone. I simply needed to change clothes, and I decided to put on a little make-up. Honest, it’s no big deal.”
The three of them grinned and exchanged knowing looks. “Okay, Marty, whatever you say. We won’t make a big deal of it when lover boy comes for dinner tonight,” John said.
Marty pelted him with some peanuts he’d set out on the table. “Let’s get one thing straight. He is not my lover boy, and I have no intention of having him become my lover boy, contrary to what that nosy, mouthy sister of mine probably told you.”
Laura put her hands up in self-defense. “Marty, I simply mentioned that the detective who was coming to dinner tonight seemed more interested in you than in solving the murder case. Would that be a fair assessment? Oh, and I didn’t even mention your twitching eyelid.”
“This conversation is officially over,” Marty said. She turned to John. “Laura and I had something for lunch today that I think needs to be on The Red Pony’s menu.” She told him about the Mexican Eggs Benedict Rosa had made for them. “Honestly John, after I took just one bite I could see it on your menu. You could make the cornbread ahead of time, get everything ready, and all you’d have to do when somebody placed an order would be to poach the eggs. I think it would be perfect for you. Anyway, here’s the recipe,” she said, handing him a piece of paper.
“Boss, sounds danged good. Let’s fix it and see fer ourselves,” Max said, his weathered face crinkled in a smile.
“You know me. I’m always open for a new dish,” John said. “Thanks, Marty.”
The small bell that was next to the compound gate rang. “Looks like lover boy, sorry Marty, meant to say that Detective Jeff Combs is here,” John said.” I’ll get it.” A moment later they heard him greet Jeff and say, “How thoughtful of you. Yes, this is a perfect wine to go with the lamb. As a matter of fact, if I had to pick one out, it’s exactly what I would have chosen. Thank you. We’re pretty casual here, so just have a seat at the picnic table in the courtyard. Here’s a glass.”
“Don’t mind if I do, since I’m off duty. Greetings. I’ve met everyone except you two,” he said to Les and Max, extending his hand. “I’m Jeff Combs.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Les, the resident guy who plays with colors on canvas and this is Max, John’s sous chef. Welcome to the compound.”
Jeff turned and smiled at Marty. “It’s nice to see you again, Marty. You look beautiful. If you don’t mind I need to pick your brain about some issues involved in the Pam Jensen murder investigation. Have you told the others about the appraisal you were on today?”
“No, as a matter of fact I got tied up on the phone, and I’ve only been here a couple of minutes.”
He turned to the others. “I’m sorry to do this at dinner, but I need some information from Marty about something called the Monkey Band.”
“The Monkey Band? I’ve never heard the term. What is it?” John said.
“I’ll get to it in a minute, or Marty can tell you later. Here’s a little background. A woman was murdered last week in Palm Springs, and Marty’s appraising the items contained in her home. The case was assigned to me, but I’ve been unable to come up with a motive or a suspect. Looks like that’s changed based on what I learned today. I found out this afternoon that the decedent changed her Will just a few days before she was murdered. Since her lawyer filed it with the court this afternoon, it’s now a matter of public record. The interesting thing is that her son and daughter will get only half of what they would have gotten if she hadn’t changed it.”
“Do you think that makes her son, Jim, a suspect?” Marty asked.
“Yes. I did a little research on him after I found out about it. Apparently he’s had a number of failed business ventures and has been divorced twice. I asked around about him, and the Palm Springs business community is not all that enamored of him. One person I talked to had been a good friend of his stepfather, Brian Jensen, and this person told me Brian said he would never lend Jim another cent, and he had instructed his wife to do the same.”
“So, if he were to lose half of his inheritance, that might be grounds for murder. Would I be right?” John asked.
“Possibly. You know the law. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty, but he is someone I intend to spend a little time with tomorrow.”
“You might also want to spend a little time with the housekeeper, Rosa.” Laura said.
“Why?”
She sighed. “Jeff, have you had any experience with the psychic world?”
“Absolutely none. Are you talking about crystal balls and tarot cards and stuff like that?”
“Well, it’s complicated,” Laura said. “There are so many different things that can fall into the overall psychic category, some of which are legitimate and others aren’t.” She told him about how she had been tested at UCLA, and that sometimes she knew things or felt them before those things actually occurred.
“From what I’m hearing, I’m guessing you feel something isn’t quite right with the housekeeper, would I be right?” Jeff asked.
“This conversation is driving me nuts, “John said. “I feel like I’m watching a movie about a murder mystery, but if we want to eat before it’s bed time, Max and I better leave and get dinner ready. We’ll be back in about half an hour, and Marty, thanks for the recipe. I’ll put it on the menu and try it out. Might even call it Marty’s Mexican Eggs Benedict.”
“Don’t think that would make Rosa very happy, but thanks for the thought.”
Laura continued, “Here’s what I’ve experienced about this murder case and the appraisal which seems to be somehow connected to the murder. Last night I had a vision, a dream, or some kind of a feeling, whatever you want to call it, that Marty would be involved with things that were related to the murder. However, in the dream, Marty wouldn’t be able to appraise the most important thing to be appraised, because it was gone. When that woman Nikki was at the house this afternoon and told us the Monkey Band set was missing, I started to wonder if that’s what the murder is about and the reason Marty couldn’t appraise the most important thing because it had been stolen.”
“My brain tends to think in logical ways rather than psychic ways, and that seems like a pretty logical assumption. What about Rosa?” Jeff asked.
“When I first met her I told Marty I felt guilt coming off of her. You probably don’t think much of people seeing auras…”
Jeff interrupted her. “I have no clue what an aura even is.”
“It’s a halo-like color
that usually surrounds the person. When I look at a person and see an aura, it tells me all kinds of things about them. Rosa’s was black. That’s not a color you want to have, in fact it’s the worst color a person can have. It can signify anger, depression, hatred, or anything that’s really bad. The feeling I got from Rosa’s aura was one of guilt. I don’t think she had anything to do with the murder, but she definitely feels guilty about something. If the Monkey Band was stolen, and it appears to have been, I think Rosa knows something about it. When Nikki told us it was gone, I happened to be looking at Rosa. Her hand went involuntarily to her heart and she turned pale. In psychic speak, it would be called a tell. In other words she had an involuntary reaction to what was being said.”
“Well, that’s interesting. So now I guess I should be looking at both Pam’s son, Jim, as well as her housekeeper.”
“Yes, and I have to tell you I mentioned to Marty when we were in the driveway and Jim drove in behind us, that I didn’t have a good feeling about him. My psychic sense tells me there is something more about Jim that may be of interest to you other than his dissatisfaction with his mother having changed her Will.”
“Let me add to your list of possible suspects as I think there might be one or two others for you to be looking at as well,” Marty said and told him about her earlier conversation with Carl. “It’s too bad he didn’t get the name of the person who called him and inquired about the value of Monkey Band pieces, but I think you can probably find out some information about the man named Henry Siegelman.”
“That name rings a bell, but I can’t place it. Marty, do you have a computer?”
“Yes, why?”
“Well, from what John said we have a little time before dinner. Would you mind if I Googled him? I’d be interested in knowing just how much information there is on him.”
Murder & The Monkey Band: High Desert Cozy Mystery Series Page 6
