Peril by Ponytail (A Bad Hair Day Mystery)

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Marla had a lot more questions about the industrial complex on the mountain, but she put them aside for now. She’d take Lovelace up on his offer for a tour and sound him out then.

  Annie loved her new haircut and told Marla so again on Friday when they met for lunch, followed by their excursion to the Big Rocks section of town.

  “I hope Mrs. Reardon remembers our appointment. We confirmed yesterday so it should be all right.” Her hands on the wheel, Annie concentrated on the winding road that curved up yet another mountain.

  Marla’s jaw dropped at the enormous boulders that made up these hills. How had these rocks evolved? And how could they be stable over the years? She’d be afraid to live in a place that might be crushed in an instant. The boulders could be a giant’s creation, tossed there during child’s play like so many pebbles. Piled onto each other, they formed a towering mountain whose harsh landscape was broken by an occasional green shrub. Against a brilliant blue sky, the enormous rocks were an awesome sight.

  One spectacular view after another revealed itself as they wound around each curve. In between one craggy piling and another gentler slope sat a flat-roofed house, its wide glass windows on a second-story balcony overlooking the valley. A singular stalk of saguaro cactus stood its ground like a defiant finger aimed at the sky gods.

  The next dwelling was a three-story house supported by concrete pilings. Good thing this region doesn’t have earthquakes, Marla thought with a shiver. You couldn’t pay me to live in one of these homes, no matter how beautiful. She liked her feet to be on solid—or make that flat—ground. She did admire the next multi-level, Spanish-style home painted peach with white trim.

  If the Reardons lived in this area, they must have a good income. Imagine what you had to pay workmen to haul materials to these heights.

  Annie pulled into the driveway of a French country-style residence. The two-story structure sat on a relatively flat area amongst a compilation of boulders. The house had a stone exterior, brick chimneys, and a sloped shingle roof. As they emerged from the car, Marla noted the careful placement of cacti and plants on a yard made up mostly of granite chips. A few graceful trees provided shade and a splash of color against the relentless rocks.

  They approached a columned front porch that held wicker furniture and a magnificent view of the valley. A warm breeze whistled through the hills, stirring her hair. Otherwise, the eerie stillness unnerved her, especially when no one answered the door bell.

  “Maybe Mrs. Reardon is indisposed,” she suggested. “Give her a minute.”

  When the lack of response persisted, Marla prowled around to the side of the house along a flagstone path. She noted two rear entrances and a bicycle leaning against a wall. Beyond was a detached three-door garage. Not hearing any summons from Annie, Marla strode forward and peeked inside the garage window. A sleek black vehicle was parked inside.

  She hurried back to the porch where Annie pounded on the door to no avail.

  “I’ve never had a client stand me up before. Do you think she forgot?”

  “You said you’d confirmed the date, and there’s a car parked in the garage.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. It could be a spare.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Reardon had to pick up Christine at school and forgot to notify you.”

  “I guess that’s possible. I’ll give her a call.” Annie’s brow creased with worry as she withdrew her cell phone from her bag.

  Does she feel the same sense of unease as I do?

  “I’ll try knocking on the rear door,” Marla said. “Mrs. Reardon might be inside the laundry room or somewhere she can’t hear us.”

  She glanced into each window as she swept past. A living room had contemporary furnishings, cream-colored walls hung with paintings, a grated fireplace, wood floors partially covered with an Oriental rug, and expensive-looking accent tables.

  The dining room must be on the opposite side as both faced front. At the rear corner, she spied a study. As that appeared empty, she moved on to what must be either the master suite or a guest bedroom. It had a king-sized bed, a cherry wood dresser and mirror, and other furnishings. One door led to the rear terrace from this room. She knocked there and waited a few heartbeats, but no one responded. The next window must belong to a bathroom.

  As Marla moved on, she called Annie on her cell phone. The line was clear, and Annie picked up after the second ring.

  “Has anyone come to the door yet or answered your call?”

  “No, where are you?”

  “I’m in the back. I haven’t seen anyone so far. Wait, here’s the kitchen. There’s another door. I’ll try this one.” The door’s glass inlay allowed her to survey the modern granite counter-tops, stainless steel appliances, white cabinetry, and tiled backs-plash.

  The kitchen opened into a dining nook at the far end with a mountain view. Her gaze slid toward the commercial-style gas range and then beyond.

  Her heart somersaulted in her chest.

  “Wait, I see something on the floor. Good God. I think it’s a pair of men’s shoes.”

  “So what?” Annie’s voice sounded in her ear.

  “You don’t get it. Someone is lying on the floor. Call for help.” Marla rattled the door knob, but it was locked.

  She rushed to rejoin Annie on the front porch, where both waited impatiently until the sheriff arrived.

  Sheriff Beresby greeted them with a stern expression. “What’s this about, ladies? Has there been an accident?” He singled out Marla. “Don’t tell me you found another body.”

  She bristled at his condescending tone. “Annie had a business appointment with Mrs. Reardon, but when no one appeared to be home, I went around to the back door in case she didn’t hear us knocking. That’s when I saw him.”

  “Who?”

  “A man lying on the kitchen floor.”

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. “Stay here while I take a look.”

  He disappeared around the side of the house. Returning less than ten minutes later, Beresby spoke rapidly into his radio. “That’s right, get a unit up here. And send out a call for Dr. Shapiro. The M.E. is out of town today.”

  “Did you go inside?” Marla asked as soon as he’d hung up.

  “No, the door is locked. I called for a hazardous materials unit in case there’s a gas leak. If so, nobody goes in until the air is clear. You’d better wait at the bottom of the driveway.”

  Annie drove them downhill and parked on the side of the road. It would be a hike to climb back to the house, Marla thought with a grimace as they exited the vehicle.

  “What will happen if that place explodes?” Annie said with a fearful glance at the rocks piled behind the house.

  “It might loosen some of those boulders. Or not. The house appears to sit on a fairly solid piece of ground. At least they don’t have to worry about evacuating any neighbors. But how could there be a gas leak? Does that happen here often? And where is Mrs. Reardon?”

  Annie’s face turned the color of bleached hair. “She could be inside in a bedroom.”

  “Let’s hope Christine is still at school.” But who would tell the girl if something bad had happened to her parents? Marla prayed that wouldn’t be the case.

  Firefighter trucks arrived along with the special hazard unit, another sheriff’s department car, and a silver Lexus SUV. That car must belong to the doctor they’d called. It wasn’t the medical examiner’s vehicle.

  A flurry of activity ensued, while Marla paced in her anxiety. She texted Dalton that she’d gotten tied up and would be delayed in returning. She’d tell him the details later. No sense in worrying him now since things were under control.

  An hour or more passed while she and Annie sat on a flat-topped boulder and waited for an all clear signal. When someone finally opened the front door, Marla gathered it was safe to return.

  Voices came from inside the foyer as she and Annie stepped across the threshold.

  “I assume the r
isk of explosion has ended?” she said upon spying the sheriff. He stood consulting a tall, dark-haired fellow she didn’t recognize. “I don’t smell anything.”

  An umbrella stand stood incongruously next to a radiator in the hallway. Umbrellas, in the desert? Her quick scan took in an oval mirror on one wall, a curio cabinet, and a large potted plant.

  “You wouldn’t detect an odor,” the stranger said, glancing at her and Annie with raised eyebrows. “Carbon monoxide is odorless but deadly. We aired the place out before coming inside.”

  “You mean, there really was a gas leak?”

  “It appears so, but we’re still investigating.”

  “We had an appointment with Mrs. Reardon,” Annie said in a breathless tone. “Did anyone check to see if—”

  “There’s no one else in the house, miss . . . ?”

  “I’m Annie Campbell, and this is Marla Vail.”

  “Dr. Steve Shapiro. I have a medical practice in town. Sometimes the cops call me if the M.E. isn’t available.” When he smiled at them both, his cheeks dimpled and his dark brown eyes radiated warmth.

  From the way he was eyeing Annie, Marla wondered if he was single. He looked to be in his thirties. What had brought him to this small town? Maybe he liked the great outdoors. From his athletic build, either he worked out to keep in shape or he was into riding and hiking. Or perhaps he enjoyed mountain biking. She remembered the bicycle propped outside the Reardons’ house.

  That brought a lump to her throat. She’d almost forgotten their reason for being here.

  “Ladies, I appreciate your hanging around.” The sheriff stroked his droopy mustache. “I have a few quick questions for you now, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stop by my office later to give a formal statement.”

  “What about the man in the kitchen?” Marla asked with a sense of dread.

  “I’m afraid we were too late for Tate Reardon.”

  Annie clapped a hand to her mouth, while Marla’s mental gears zipped back to the heated discussion between Reardon and Otto Lovelace. Had that happened only yesterday? She couldn’t wrap her mind around the ensuing conclusions.

  Annie suddenly teetered on her feet. The sheriff shot out an arm to steady her.

  “Whoa, are you all right? Do you want to sit? We could go into the living room.”

  Annie shook her head. “I’ll be okay, thanks.”

  “You say you’d had an appointment with Mrs. Reardon?”

  “Yes, and I’ve been unable to reach her or their daughter. I called Christine’s school and told them I was her nutritional advisor. They said Christine didn’t show up for class today. Her mother had phoned and said the girl was sick. That can’t be true, or they’d have been home.”

  How did Tate happen to be off from work, anyway? Marla’s heart skipped a beat as another alarming thought surfaced. Reardon’s wife hadn’t fled the scene because she’d instigated it, had she?

  “Did you speak to Eleanor on the phone when you confirmed your engagement?” she asked Annie.

  “Well, no. We texted each other. Here, I can show you.” She retrieved the messages and flashed them at Marla and the men.

  “Tate was alive yesterday. Dalton and I ran into him talking to Otto Lovelace in front of an accountant’s office,” Marla informed the lawman. “They appeared to be arguing.”

  Beresby’s gaze hardened. “I’ll have a talk with Lovelace.”

  The doctor interrupted. “Sheriff, if you’re finished with me, I’d like to get back to work. I have patients waiting.”

  The men shook hands. “I owe you another one, Steve.”

  “I hope the family is found unharmed.” Dr. Shapiro extended his hand to the women. His grip held Annie’s for longer than usual. “Ladies, I wish we’d met under different circumstances. Do you live around here, or are you visiting?”

  Annie gave him a shy smile. “I own a nutrition clinic in town. In fact, I’d love to get together with you to discuss my services. You might want to refer some of your patients my way.”

  “That would be great.” They exchanged business cards. “If you don’t hear from me, give me a call. And you?” he asked Marla in a polite tone.

  “My husband and I are on our honeymoon. We’re staying at Last Trail Dude Ranch. Annie and I are cousins by marriage.”

  “Well, I hope you enjoy your visit. I’m sorry this tragedy had to happen.”

  As soon as he left, Marla spun to face the sheriff. “So was this accident a terrible tragedy, or did someone have a hand in it?”

  He scrutinized her. “Why would you say that?”

  “I’m wondering about your investigation into Garrett Long’s death.”

  “What does that have to do with this incident?”

  She shifted feet, feeling overly weary and wishing she could sink into a chair. “The two cases might be connected.”

  “We haven’t made any determinations yet.” He glanced past her as a crime scene unit pulled into the driveway in the space vacated by the doctor’s vehicle. “Our forensics team is here. They’re called routinely for unattended deaths. As a detective’s wife, you should know these things.”

  She didn’t care for his disapproving tone. Her glance extended down the hallway. “I know a lot more, Sheriff. Here’s a question for you. How come the smoke detectors didn’t go off? Don’t they have sensors for carbon monoxide?”

  “Hmph, you’re right. That’s a valid point. I’ll have the boys check them.” He took out a notebook and pen. “Now if you can give me Mrs. Reardon and Christine’s contact info, I’ll be grateful. I would also like for you to repeat exactly what happened when you arrived here. And let me see that text message from yesterday again.”

  He took notes while they spoke. When he appeared satisfied that they’d told him everything, he dismissed them with the reminder to visit his office and sign a formal statement.

  As Annie drove downhill, Marla studied her pursed lips and worried eyes.

  “Are you okay? It’s been a tough day.”

  At least you didn’t see the body. I’ve been through that experience a number of times, and it never gets easier. I don’t know how Dalton appears so calm at crime scenes.

  He wasn’t immune, not really. The man looked to her for comfort and normalcy when he came home. Her heart swelled, and she yearned for his presence. She’d drive straight to the ranch after Annie dropped her off.

  “I’m concerned about Christine and her mother. Where could they have gone? It’s lucky they weren’t at home when this happened, but who’s going to tell them?”

  “That would be Sheriff Beresby’s job.” Was it luck on the wife’s part, or was her absence deliberate? Was Eleanor missing because she had perpetrated a crime? And was it a crime or merely a sad accident? Another possibility reared its ugly head. Maybe Eleanor and Christine had been abducted.

  Heaviness weighed on her soul. It wasn’t her task to investigate, thank heavens.

  “I wish I could help, but it’s not my case,” Dalton said, after she met him back at their hacienda and related her story.

  He’d gone for one of the guided rides into the hills and had already showered and changed by the time she’d returned. Now she faced him, marveling at the handsome figure he made in his sport shirt and jeans.

  “But the sheriff might be glad for your input. He seems to be in charge of every investigation. Why don’t you offer him your assistance?”

  It’s not as though she wanted her husband to leave her side, but the sooner they solved these mysteries, the sooner peace would reign on the ranch.

  “We came here to help Wayne, remember? That’s our first priority, and I feel bad enough that we lack any solid answers.”

  Marla conceded his point and sought to comfort him. “We’ve learned a lot so far. Don’t discount the various pieces of information we have gathered. It all ties together. We’ll figure it out. Meanwhile, we should return to the mountain where we found Eduardo.”

  “What for?” Dalton gave
her a quizzical glance.

  “Maybe there’s another opening to the mines below,” Marla suggested.

  “You’re insane. Why would you want to go there when we’ve been warned a hundred times about the risks?”

  “We could hire a guide, someone who knows these mountains. I’d like to determine where Otto Lovelace’s property is in relation to the ghost town and the crevice where we found Eduardo. We could also check out the ledge where Garrett fell to his death. If we find something significant, it might resolve the issues with Hugh Donovan.”

  “It’s becoming more remote that he’s involved in these incidents. My uncle is wrong to blame him and disregard other possibilities.”

  “I agree.” She yanked off her boots and flopped onto the bed. “What did you think of Raymond’s confession? Your uncle has a lot of black marks on his soul.”

  “He’s a character, all right. The man has paid the price for his brother’s death. You can see it in his eyes.”

  “It would be a nice gesture on Kate’s part to make the first move toward reconciliation.”

  “At least my mother left the ranch when she was young, so she wouldn’t have known about Uncle Ray’s philandering. That’s another strike against him.”

  “Who doesn’t make mistakes, Dalton? I’ve done my share.” Marla stretched out and scanned the ceiling for spiders. Oops, she’d forgotten to check under the pillow before laying her head down. “You can also tell how guilty he feels by his reluctance to talk about these events. He knows he’s done wrong. It could be that his fervor about the ghost town is his way of atoning for his sins. He’s giving back to the community by preserving the region’s history.”

  “Yes, by using somebody else’s money. If we knew who was funding him, we might learn who is causing the accidents. Maybe the silent partner wants Raymond to fail so he can take over. I’ll talk to the sheriff about it. He’s probably looking into my uncle’s affairs and might know something we don’t.”

  “What can we do to uncover the mole among Wayne’s staff? Have you tracked down Jesse to interview him?”