Carola searched for information on Brad’s father, Lewis Dixon, and discovered he was an avid fly fisherman. One of the articles said his favorite days were the ones when he and his son were on a stream together. The article, which was nearly two decades old, had spotlighted Lewis’ position as an executive in the oil industry. It mentioned that Lewis and his wife were divorced, and he was enjoying the experience of raising his son by himself.
Brad had a Facebook page, but it, too, gave little personal insight into the man. There was one post about how much he enjoyed his fly fishing collection and that it reminded him of the happy times he’d spent with his father when he was alive. Other than that it was as if Brad existed only in the business world.
She decided to see if she could find out where he got the items he collected. She researched companies that dealt in antique fly fishing equipment and called several of them. Even though it was late in Chile, it was still early evening in the States, and she was able to reach three of the company owners. None of them was familiar with Brad Dixon’s name, but one suggested if he collected really good antique fly fishing equipment, he might be buying from high-end auction houses, such as Marchand’s Auction House in Portland. The man had commented that it wasn’t unusual for a collector to have a third party bid on and buy items for him, so he wouldn’t be harangued by people who wanted to sell him things.
When she ended the call, Carola researched the auction house and noticed their advertisement said it was the foremost seller of antique fishing equipment on the West Coast. Since she was going to call Kelly anyway, and Kelly lived in Oregon, Carola decided to ask her if she knew anything about the company.
“Kelly, it’s Carola,” she said a few minutes later. “Did I catch you at a bad time or do you have time to talk?”
“Actually, this is a great time for me. Mike’s going to be late for dinner, and I just finished feeding the dogs. How’s Cayo doing?”
“Absolutely fine. As a matter of fact, let me switch to Face Time on my phone so you can see him.” She pressed a button on her cell phone and pointed the phone at Cayo who looked at it with curiosity, as if to say What in the devil is she doing?
“Carola, he’s just as adorable as I remember,” Kelly said. “Give him a hug and a kiss for me. Now, tell me what’s going on there. I’ve been thinking about you all day. What have you found out?”
For the next forty-five minutes Carola told her everything she and Lisa had discovered as well as about Mitch becoming president of Moving Graphics and what Bea was doing as they spoke.
“Carola, I can’t believe you two found all that out in one day. That’s really amazing. Tell Lisa she might want to consider a career as a private investigator.”
“I don’t know what she’s going to do, and I don’t think she does either. Certainly she has the means to do whatever she wants, so it will be interesting to see what happens. There’s one thing I’m frustrated about. I can’t seem to get a handle on this guy, Brad Dixon. I researched him on the Internet for an hour before I called you. My search didn’t turn up much, yet both Bea and Colin seemed to think his interest in Ray’s fishing equipment was way beyond what be considered normal. Do you know anything about an auction company in Portland named Marchand’s Auction House? I called a couple of people who sell antique fishing equipment, and I was told they’re known as the place to go if you want to buy or sell antique fishing equipment.”
“Funny you should ask. Mike and I were talking about that auction house the other night. You know Mike’s a sheriff, and he was recently involved in a case where a seller had consigned a number of items to that auction house that were fake. Mike was able to get a search warrant and found the original bills of sale that proved the items were fake. He not only saved the auction house thousands of dollars, but he saved their reputation as well.”
“Do you think he could call them and ask if they know anything about a man who collects antique fly fishing equipment by the name of Brad Dixon?”
“Carola, for you and Jack, I’m sure he would. He should be home momentarily, and I’ll ask him. I’ll get back to you when I know something. Anything else?”
“Yes. I just need to talk out loud for a minute and have you listen as I go through the names of the possible suspects. I’m trying to decide who should be at the top of the list of possible suspects. So far we have Brad Dixon, who we know was unusually interested in Ray’s fishing equipment. We have Janelle Byers, who may or may not be embezzling funds from Moving Graphics. Even if her fiancé isn’t here, I suppose the list should include Andrew White, although that’s a far stretch, since he was probably in San Francisco when Ray was murdered. Lastly there’s Pablo, the fishing guide. I have a hard time seeing him as a suspect, yet we know he desperately needs money for his wife’s medical treatment. That’s pretty much it.”
“Afraid not, Carola. You’re leaving out the person who would be considered by most people as the number one suspect, Ray’s wife, Lisa. After all, you don’t know for sure if she was wealthy prior to her marriage to Ray. She told you that, but with her husband’s death, she’s definitely wealthy now.”
“No, that’s not a possibility. I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I feel certain she didn’t do it,” Carola said adamantly.
“Well, I don’t mean to be argumentative,” Kelly said, “but if you’re such a good judge of character, and you think she’s so wonderful now, why did you think she was so terrible just a few days ago?”
Carola was quiet for several moments. “I have absolutely no answer to that other than a gut reaction that she is completely innocent.”
“Okay, you’re the one who’s met the suspects, with the exception of Andrew White, but don’t forget, maybe it’s none of the them and like the ranch manager told you, maybe it was simply a random act by a stranger. I’ll let you know if Mike finds out anything. Try and get some sleep. You could probably use it about now.”
“You must have caught me yawning. Yes, I am exhausted. I guess Lisa hasn’t heard anything from Bea, so I might as well go to bed. Thanks for listening to me, Kelly. Talk to you soon.”
She picked up Cayo, walked out of the bathroom and put him on the foot of the bed. After she’d brushed her teeth and put on the salmon colored nightgown Jack had bought for her, she turned off the light and got into bed, encountering Cayo who was sound asleep on her pillow. She gently moved him to the space between Jack’s pillow and hers and hoped Cayo would remain there for the rest of the night. Even if he didn’t, as tired as she was, she wasn’t sure it would make any difference.
CHAPTER 29
Carola slept so soundly she never heard the driving rain pounding against the window or Jack getting ready to leave for the day’s fishing trip. She woke up at 9:15 to the sound of heavy rain and Cayo licking her cheek, telling her it was time for him to eat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in so late.
She walked over to the window and pulled the drapes to one side. The rain was wind-driven and was coming down almost horizontally. She could barely see the lake. She shivered just thinking about Jack being out in the storm and was glad she wouldn’t have to leave the lodge today. Cayo was standing in front of his dish. He looked up at Carola as if to say, “I let you sleep in. The least you can do is reward me with some food.” He continued to look first at his dish and then up at her. She relented, picked it up, and put a large serving of cat food in it.
Carola remembered that Kelly had mentioned the night before when the two of them had talked on the phone that if she was able to find something out last night she’d email Carola rather than call her because of the time difference. She walked over to her laptop computer and turned it on. When she clicked on the email inbox icon she saw that there was a message from Kelly. She put on her robe and sat down to read it.
“Mike called his contact at the auction house. They have a very strict policy about not divulging who their clients are, but his contact said Mike had helped him so much he would make a
n exception and call the person in charge of antique fishing items to see what he could find out. Two hours later the manager of that department called Mike.
“Evidently there have been rumors for years that a man named Brad Dixon sends representatives to a number of auction houses around the country to buy antique fishing gear for him, a not particularly uncommon practice. When the man Mike talked to found out someone actually had the fishing equipment Ray owned, he said every person in the world who collected antique fishing items would covet them, particularly a collector of Brad’s caliber. He was also certain the American Museum of Fly Fishing in Vermont would be very interested in them. He asked if they were going to go to auction, and Mike said he didn’t know, but if they were, he would put in a good word for Marchand’s Auction House. Mike said the manager was practically drooling thinking that there was a chance his company might auction off Ray’s items.
“Although that doesn’t put the smoking gun in Brad’s hand, it certainly reinforces the fact that he very well might be the murderer, particularly since the fishing equipment is missing. Mike didn’t tell his source that the equipment was missing or that it might have some connection to a murder. Hope this helps. Look forward to hearing what you find out today.”
Carola sat back, thinking about what she’d just read. Where could the missing fly fishing items be? If it was Brad, how did he intend to get them back to the United States without them being discovered? Perhaps he’d brought an empty rod case planning ahead to steal Ray’s equipment and conceal the stolen rod in the empty rod case. She remembered that the antique rod broke down into two pieces, and had its own antique case. She supposed the rod and its case would fit into a larger case and then could fit into Brad’s fishing bag along with the stolen flies and the Hardy reel. Still, it seemed risky, particularly since Brad was traveling with a fishing group, any of whom might be interested in the contents of his fishing bag.
Carola decided everything else could wait because what she needed more than anything right now was a cup of tea. She put on a pair of jeans and a sweater and walked downstairs. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, the front door of the lodge was thrown open by a combination of Mitch opening it and a huge blast of wind. Mitch and Janelle practically knocked Carola down in their rush to get inside the lodge.
“You’re back early,” Carola said. “Did you get blown off the river? I know Jack’s had to cut trips short a couple of times for that very reason.”
“It was pretty awful out there,” Mitch said. “The two of us were fishing with Pablo today, and we finally told him we really weren’t enjoying it. Janelle feels like she’s coming down with something, and I need to make some more business calls, so we called it quits.”
“What about the others?” Carola asked as Mitch and Janelle took off their rain-soaked outer garments.
“They’re more committed to fishing than we are,” Janelle said. “The rest of them are still out there. Since there’s no lightning, it’s safe, but it’s pretty miserable. Funny thing is, everyone is catching a ton of fish.”
“Well, that will be what will keep them out there along with the fact that they’ll have quite a story to tell when they get back to San Francisco. Although I’ve never known a fisherman to be at a loss of words when it comes to telling a good fishing story,” she said laughing. “You better go change your wet clothes and get comfortable. I overslept, and I was just coming down from my room to get some tea. See you later.”
CHAPTER 30
“Pilar,” Carola said as she knocked on the kitchen door, “may I come in and get a cup of tea?”
“Of course,” she said opening the door. “As a matter of fact, I was just going upstairs to get you. Santiago called a few minutes ago and asked if you would please go over to his house immediately. He wants to talk to you.”
“Do you have any idea what he wants? I’m really not too crazy about going out in this storm.”
“No. He did say it was important, and he wouldn’t ask you to walk over to his house in a rainstorm like this unless it was. Here, let me put this tea in a travel cup for you, and I’ll get you a waterproof poncho. You can see his house from here. We keep several pairs of rain boots on the porch. Find one that fits you. Fortunately, the porch is enclosed in order to keep people dry in weather such as this.”
Several minutes later, tea in hand and rain gear on, Carola sloshed her way through the rain and wind to Santiago’s house. She knocked on the door which was quickly opened by Santiago.
“Senora Trout, thank you so much for coming. Please, come in and take off your boots and poncho. It’s warm in here. I’d like you to come with me to my office, he said as he began to walk down a hallway, Carola following him.
“Santiago, what is so important that it couldn’t wait until the storm lets up?” Carola asked.
“I need to give you a little background. First of all, let me apologize for not mentioning this before now. I don’t know if anyone told you, but yesterday was the day that we hold our annual festival at the ranch in honor of the gauchos that work here. You see, many of our ranch workers had fathers and grandfathers who were gauchos on this ranch and prior to that, on the Argentinian plains before the land began to be fenced. Gauchos go back for generations. Actually, you may notice that Pablo always carries a knife with him in a sheath attached at his waist. For nearly two hundred years it has been the custom and practice of gauchos to carry such a knife.”
Carola looked at him without comprehension. “All right, but I fail to see what any of that has to do with me.”
“I have been thinking only of the festival for the past few weeks. You see, we celebrate the final branding of the last of the calves with a festival that is similar to the large one in June which is held in the city of Salta. That festival is held in honor of the bravery of the gauchos who fought against the Spanish forces during Argentina’s War of Independence. Here at the ranch we honor our gauchos with a large barbecue and much singing and drinking that goes on until late into the night. Yesterday and last night we did just that. My mind was so filled with planning the festival, I forgot about the camera.”
Carola looked at him and asked, “What camera? You never said anything about a camera.”
Santiago sighed deeply and said, “This is not a pretty story. The owner of the ranch, Senor Silva, lives in Buenos Aires. He is a very nice man, but he has what I guess you would call a nasty little personality quirk. He is very interested in knowing if any of his guests here at the lodge are having affairs, and if so, with whom.”
“Santiago, I’m sorry, but I must have missed something. I’m not following you at all.”
“Senora Trout, please, just listen to me, and I think it will become clear. When Senor Silva comes to the ranch house, he likes to look at the film from a camera he had installed in the upstairs hallway.”
Carola rose from her chair, nearly spilling her tea and exclaimed, “Are you telling me there’s a camera in the hall that shows who goes into which room and when? I’ve never noticed one.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you. I remembered it this morning. Between planning for the gaucho festival and too much celebrating last night, I didn’t get up this morning as early as I usually do. I was in the middle of breakfast when I remembered that the camera might have recorded something on the night of the murder. And no, you wouldn’t have noticed it, because it is very cleverly hidden.”
“Did you find anything? Can I see it?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes, I did see something. Please, sit here at my desk. The camera feed goes into my computer. Each frame is dated and has the time on it. I went back to the night before last and looked at the tape from the time you heard the Martin’s door slam to when you and Senor Trout said Senora Martin banged on your door. Let me show you. Mostly there is nothing and the hallway seems to be empty, but continue to look at the left hand side of the screen.
“There,” he said pointing to the screen. “Do you see what appea
rs to be a woman going into the room that was Senor Martin’s? The way the camera is set up it doesn’t show much from the mid torso down. Senor Silva is only interested in capturing the faces on film. Anyway, I don’t think it is Senor Martin’s wife. Now watch for a couple more minutes. Ahh, there it is. See, she’s coming out. Her face is turned down, so you can’t identify her, and the camera can’t capture what she has in her hands, but it looks to me like she’s carrying things. Like I said, I can’t get a good look at her face, but I was sure you would want to see this.”
“Would you run it again? It’s a little grainy, and I want to make sure it is a woman.”
“Of course.” They were both quiet as they watched the tape for a second time.
“Do you recognize the woman, Senora?” Santiago asked.
“I think so, but there’s also the process of elimination. It isn’t me, and it isn’t Lisa Martin, because we both have dark hair. The color of the woman’s hair is light, and I haven’t seen a light-haired woman working here at the ranch. That means it must be Janelle Byers.”
“Yes and no,” he said. “Remember, I told you on the night of the murder that the lodge is rarely locked. It still could have been a random woman from outside the ranch.”
“Santiago, that would be too much of a coincidence, and a friend of mine who’s solved several murders says there are seldom any coincidences when it comes to solving a murder. I need to tell Lisa Martin what you’ve found. Are you going to call the chief of police and tell him about this information?”
“No, there would be no point.” He turned up the palms of his hands in a defeated gesture. “He’s very busy solving other crimes,” he said, refusing to look her in the eye.
Murdered in Argentina: A Jack Trout Cozy Mystery Page 12
