Murdered by Country Music: A High Desert Cozy Mystery

by Dianne Harman

  “I don’t, and I’d venture to say I’m one of the few people around who hasn’t even tried pot. I gave up smoking cigarettes years ago and decided I probably had an addictive personality and would be much better off leaving drugs alone. About my only vice is having a nightly glass or two of wine. The reason I want to talk to this man is because I think he may have some knowledge about the death of a man named Jacques Ruchon. You may have heard about it.”

  “He was that chef that had a television show for a while, wasn’t he? As I remember he was the flavor of the month chef for some time and then for several years I never heard anything more about him. Recently I remember hearing he had a French food truck that was pretty popular at lunch time, but I’ve never been to it.”

  “That’s right. I’m helping some people try to solve his murder. I don’t know if this is a part of it, but I have reason to believe drugs may have been involved. I’d really appreciate it if you would ask your brother to call me if he knows Chuck Weston. Actually, I’d like a little more information on the organization, so why don’t you have him call me either way.”

  “Will do. I’ll look forward to seeing those paintings. I know I’ve been in this business a long time, but show me a good piece of art or a well-preserved antique, and I still feel like a kid on Christmas morning. I guess that tells you a lot about my life. Actually, that’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all. Think of all the people who wake up every morning dreading going to work. You must be excited every day wondering what possible treasure is going to be brought to you that day.”

  “That’s about it.” Just then the bell over the front door rang as a couple walked into the store. Carl turned away from her and greeted the man and woman.

  A few minutes later Marty was on her way home, looking forward to the promised chili dinner as well as discussing the day’s events with Jeff.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Hi, Duke. Thanks for waiting for me,” Marty said as she opened the gate and patted the very excited Labrador who waited in the same place for her every time she left the compound. Everyone knew if Duke was lying down in front of the gate with his nose under it, Marty wasn’t at home. If Duke wasn’t there, Marty was home. It was really quite simple!

  Laura saw her walk by and opened her door. “Hey, Marty, why don’t you come in and tell me how your meeting went.”

  “I’ll tell you and Les all about it when Jeff gets here, but you certainly were right about the body language thing. At one point Rita Billings looked away from me, and I was pretty sure she was lying. Then I overheard a phone call that she didn’t realize I could hear. What she told me about the call didn’t match what I’d heard her say to the caller. I found out a few things, but nothing that really helps me figure out who killed Jacques. I should know more tonight.”

  “I’m looking forward to hearing about it. I assume you don’t want John and Max to overhear the conversation, since they’re out of the loop on the drug angle Jeff discovered. They’re usually working in John’s kitchen before dinner getting it ready, so you can tell us then.”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea. We can talk privately then. Laura, what’s wrong? You have a really funny look on your face.”

  “I just thought of something. If Jacques was selling the molly capsules at the French Food Obsession and certainly everything seems to indicate that he was from what you were told about Brianna, what happened to the capsules? I don’t recall Jeff telling us that the sheriff found any. Of course, since Jacques was murdered in his motor home that means the food truck wasn’t the scene of the crime, so maybe that’s why the sheriff’s department didn’t search it, but I find that hard to believe. I’d think they’d investigate anything that had the slightest thing to do with Jacques, wouldn’t you?”

  “I sure would. When Jeff gets here I’ll definitely ask him if the food truck was searched. Right now I’m going to change my clothes and write a proposal for Jeb Rhodes. I really do want to get that appraisal, and if I drag my feet, he may think I’m not interested and call in another appraiser. See you in a little while.”

  *****

  At six that evening Marty’s cell phone rang. She looked at the monitor and saw the call was from Jeff. “Hi love. I’m feeling very virtuous at the moment.”

  “And why would that be?” Jeff asked.

  “I just sent my appraisal proposal to Jeb Rhodes. If I get it, and I think I will, not only am I be going to appraise some incredibly beautiful paintings, I’m also going to be making some good money. Oh, hold on a minute. I just got an email.” She read it and yelled, “Whooppee! That was fast. He approved it and asked when I could start. That definitely makes my day. So why the call? Running late?”

  “No, I’m about five minutes away and just wanted to tell you I missed you today, especially after we were together all weekend.”

  “That’s really sweet of you, Jeff. I felt the same way, but I did find out a few things today I want to talk to you about when you get here. I’ll be waiting by the gate. See you in a few.” She ended the call.

  “Come on, Duke. Let’s go greet Jeff. I won’t even put your booties on.”

  They walked out to the gate just as Jeff parked his undercover car in front of the compound. He smiled as he walked up the sidewalk. “You know, pretty soon I’ll be walking up this sidewalk and spending the night. Of course that’s after we’re married, and I make an honest woman of you.” He walked through the open gate and hugged her.

  “Can’t happen soon enough for me, if that’s any consolation,” Marty said. “I saw Les and Laura having a glass of wine in the courtyard. Let’s join them. John and Max are probably in the kitchen fixing dinner. I know what it is, and I think you’re going to like it.”

  “I’ll bite, literally. What’s on the menu tonight?”

  “Chili with all the trimmings along with honey cornbread. I don’t know if there’s anything else, but John told me about those two items this morning.”

  “Hi Laura, Les. Did you recover from the weekend?” Jeff asked as he sat down at the communal picnic table located in the center of the courtyard and poured a glass of wine for himself and Marty.

  “I can speak for both of us, Jeff,” Laura said. “It’s a good thing we didn’t have one of our California earthquakes last night, because I don’t think any of us would have even felt it. We were totally exhausted and would have slept right through it even if The Big One hit last night. And you?”

  “I told Marty this morning I made a tuna sandwich, ate it standing next to the kitchen sink, and collapsed in bed at 7:30.” He turned to Marty. “By the way, my secretary was able to get an address for Jacques’ ex-wife and also some background information. Her name is Jennifer Ruchon. She works at The Golden Truffle restaurant in downtown Palm Springs. She’s a cocktail waitress there. They’ve been divorced for five years, and there was one child from the marriage, a boy named Adam who’s fourteen now. Jacques owed her several thousand dollars in back child support when he died. She and her son live in an apartment. Here’s the address.”

  “That’s great, Jeff. Thanks. I’ll pay her a visit tomorrow. Okay, I need to tell all of you what I found out today.” Marty recounted her visit to the Billings home and her conversation with Rita. “Here’s what I think is the interesting part. She got a call from a man named Chuck Weston who, according to her, is Ned’s Narcotics Anonymous sponsor. What I found interesting is she reassured him in their phone conversation several times that she was fine. She said Ned was worried because he thought she’d been working too hard. She also said that he, meaning Chuck, didn’t need to worry any more about Ned working with Jacques, because she’d made sure that was no longer a problem.”

  “What do you suppose she meant by that?” Laura asked.

  “I have no idea, but she lied to me about her phone conversation and said that Ned’s sponsor was worried because Ned hadn’t been to any NA meetings over the weekend. She said that she’d told Ned’s sponsor that Ned had be
en working in the food truck at the festival all weekend and that was the reason, why he hadn’t attended any meetings. Definitely not what I heard her say. What do you make of that?”

  “I sure wish I could talk to his sponsor, although it probably wouldn’t do any good. People who are in a twelve step program take their anonymity pretty seriously,” Jeff said.

  “I stopped by my friend Carl’s antique shop to look at his paintings, since I knew I’d probably be appraising similar ones when I do the appraisal for Jeb Rhodes,” Marty said. “While I was talking to Carl, I remembered him telling me once that his brother credited Narcotics Anonymous with turning his life around, and as a result he was quite active in NA. I asked Carl if he could find out from his brother if he knew a man by the name of Chuck Weston. Then I asked him to have his brother call me either way. I’m hoping to hear from him tonight.”

  “I’ll run Chuck Weston’s name through our police database and see what I can find out about him,” Jeff said. “If he turned his life around he may have had some brushes with the law.”

  “Good idea,” Laura said. “By the way, Jeff, do you know if the sheriff searched Jacques’ food truck and if so, did he find any molly capsules there?”

  “I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t tell you that his men did search the truck and they found nothing. That’s why my molly capsule became so critical, because it’s the only thing that directly connects illegal drugs to Jacques.”

  “You’re the lawman here,” Les said. “What do you think happened to the molly capsules. Why weren’t they found in the truck? Were they in the motor home with Jacques? Had he taken them there when he locked the food truck up for the night?”

  “The only thing that was found in his motor home was some cocaine. Evidently that was what he’d been addicted to before he got off drugs, and it would make sense if he’d started using drugs again that he’d go back to the one he’d used before.”

  Laura sat quietly turning the stem of her wine glass. “I know you all would like to get some nice solid things from me, but that’s not how this gift or curse I have works. I feel that Ned’s responsible for getting rid of the molly capsules. Think about it. If he has stayed off drugs, and from what we know, he has, and he’s also very active in NA, he would probably be very opposed to drugs. So what happens when his closest friend and from what we’ve heard, his partner, becomes addicted once again? How do you think he’d feel about molly capsules being sold out of a food truck of which he’s a part owner?”

  She continued, “I thought from the beginning of this weekend that it was strange Ned and Jacques would each have their own motor home rather than share one. Maybe Jacques wanted to do drugs, actually he probably did do them, and he knew Ned would be opposed. Maybe he felt guilty about doing them around Ned. Maybe he needed to sell the molly capsules to pay for his own habit, and maybe, just maybe, Ned killed him to save himself from the temptation of once again becoming addicted to drugs. Maybe Ned was afraid he was losing his own resolve never to take drugs again. Maybe Ned thought it was wrong to sell them to the young festival goers. I don’t know, but I sure am getting feelings that some of this might be right. Thoughts?”

  All of them remained quiet for a few minutes as they thought about what Laura had just said, and then they heard John’s voice. “Give us ten more minutes, and dinner will be ready.”

  “Laura, I think everything you said has some merit to it. I don’t know whether or not we’ll ever know if Jacques’ return to drugs was proving to be too much of a temptation for Ned. The only person who could tell us that would be Ned, and I rather doubt he’s going to talk about it. As to whether he’s the killer, it’s certainly something to think about.”

  “Jeff, do you know if the sheriff considers him to be a suspect?” Marty asked.

  “No. From the sense I got after talking with him is John and Max seem to be the two main suspects. If it were my case, I’d spend some time with Jacques’ ex-wife, Jennifer. We know they had an argument that day, but like we’ve said before, if Jacques is dead, he can’t pay the back child support he owes her. So it’s sort of a never-ending circle. She may have hated him for not paying it, but if he’s dead he can never pay it.”

  “Well, don’t forgot about the possibility that his drug dealer might have killed him because Jacques owed him money. We did hear loud voices arguing the night of the murder.”

  “That’s true, but I can also tell you that trying to find a drug dealer is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Jeff said.

  At that moment John and Max walked out of John’s kitchen carrying a large kettle of chili and some individual soup bowls. They made several trips back and forth and when they were finished, chili, bowls of grated cheese, chopped onions, red pepper flakes, cornbread, soft butter, and a large tossed green salad made quite a presentation on the communal picnic table. Small ornamental lights attached to the tree branches above them glittered as the sky began to turn into early evening darkness, giving the courtyard a festive air.

  Les held up his wine glass and said, “I propose a toast to John and Max who never fail to amaze us with their wonderful creations, even if it probably does cause all of us to pack around a couple more pounds than we’d like. Gentlemen, thank you.” They clinked their wine glasses and began to fill their bowls and plates. For a few moments it was very quiet in the courtyard, the only sounds being those of spoons and forks coming in contact with pottery and plates.

  As if on cue, they all began to talk at once. “That was the best… How did you make that…Cornbread was awesome…” They laughed, and Laura said, “John, Max, there is no doubt in my mind this is the best cornbread and chili I’ve ever had. No wonder The Red Pony is such a success. I’m sure everyone else sitting here feels as privileged as I do to have the chefs of the Pony as their own nightly dinner chefs. Thank you from all of us.”

  CHAPTER 18

  After dinner was finished they sat at the table talking of this and that. It was just small talk, and no one brought up anything about the murder of Jacques Ruchon or the fact that John and Max were still very viable suspects.

  “Excuse me, everyone. I need to take this call,” Marty said as she stood up and walked away from the table. They could hear her saying, “This is Marty,” as she walked into her house.

  “This is Pete Mitchell. My brother, Carl, said you wanted to get in touch with a man named Chuck Weston. I know him. What do you want to know?”

  “I’d like to talk to him, but I don’t know how to get ahold of him. Do you have his contact information?”

  “I do, but it would be unethical for me to give it to you. You see, I know him through Narcotics Anonymous, and we don’t share information about each other.”

  “Pete, I understand, and I won’t ask you to breach that confidence, however I would ask you to do me a favor. Could you call Chuck and ask him to get in touch with me? Please tell him it’s regarding Ned Billings, and that I’m very concerned about a situation in which Ned has become involved. You have my number. If you could do that for me, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Yes, actually Chuck is my sponsor, and I’ve met Ned Billings.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me about Ned that wouldn’t be a violation of the anonymity rules of NA?”

  There was quiet on the other end of the phone, and then Pete said, “Quite frankly, several of us have been worried about Ned. The Palm Springs NA community is rather small, and there’s been a lot of talk about him lately that has taken place both before and after our meetings. He’s been working with a man who’s relapsed, as we call it, and we’re very concerned Ned might relapse as well. There’s also some talk that he and his wife are having marital problems, and that’s a very dangerous combination that can often cause someone to relapse.”

  “I believe the man you’re referring to who worked with Ned is Jacques Ruchon. Are you aware he was murdered early Saturday morning?”

  Marty heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of th
e line and then Pete spoke, “No, I had no idea, and I don’t think Chuck knows either. I just spoke with him, and he didn’t say anything about it. As a matter of fact, he asked me if I’d seen Ned lately, and I told him no. This definitely changes the situation. I’ll call him right now. Hopefully, he’ll get back to you.”

  “I really appreciate it, Pete. Please tell him I’m very worried that Ned may be charged with murdering Jacques Ruchon. He may be able to tell me something that can help Ned.”

  “I will, Marty, but I’m curious about something. What is your involvement in this?”

  “Good question. I was helping a friend at the country music festival where Ned’s food truck was and where his partner was murdered. My friend’s a suspect, and I’m doing everything I can to clear his name. Also, I don’t like drugs, and if that’s an aspect of the case, and it seems to be, I’d like to see the guilty party punished.”

  “That makes perfect sense. I’ll call Chuck now. Have a nice evening.”

  “Again, thanks for calling me and for the information.”

  Shortly after she ended the call there was a knock on her door and she said, “Come in.” Jeff walked into the room.

  “Everything okay, Marty?” he asked.

  She told him about the phone call and how the caller knew Chuck Weston personally. Just then her phone rang and she motioned to a chair, indicating Jeff should sit and wait for her to finish the call.

  “This is Marty,” she said to the unknown caller.

  “Marty, my name is Chuck Weston. I understand you’d like to talk to me.” She gave a thumbs up sign to Jeff.

  “I would very much like to talk to you. Is there any chance we could meet somewhere tomorrow? I don’t know where you live, but I’m planning on being in Palm Springs tomorrow around noon. Maybe we could meet in the early afternoon for a cup of coffee.”

  “Early afternoon would be fine with me, but since I’m retired why don’t you come to my house about 1:30? There’s a NA meeting I go to at noon. I sponsor several people, and they’re all usually at that one. They would probably be concerned if I missed it. Here’s my address. Let me give you directions. It can be tricky to find.”