Murder in Calico Gold: A Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery
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MURDER IN CALICO GOLD
By
Dianne Harman
(A Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery Series - Book 6)
Copyright © 2015 Dianne Harman
www.dianneharman.com
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Website, Interior & Cover design by Vivek Rajan Vivek
Paperback ISBN: 978-1514343272
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Loyal readers, I can’t thank you enough for making my books so popular! Five of the books in the Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery Series have been designated as “All-Star” books by Amazon based on their sales, and I also have been named as one of their most popular authors. None of this would have happened without you!
Many of you have emailed me to say how much you enjoy my books, as well as giving me suggestions for future books in this series. Trust me, I take each one of your suggestions very seriously. You’ve helped me grow as an author. I always appreciate reviews, and I’d love to hear from you about this book or any of my other books. Feel free to email me at: dianne@dianneharman.com.
If you like my book covers, and I’m constantly told by readers how much they do, Vivek Rajan deserves the kudos. He’s also the fearless formatter who makes my books look good on the inside as well! Thanks, Vivek!
The encouragement of my family and friends has been critical to the success of my writing, but most of all, I have to thank Tom for reading and editing each chapter of my books. He tells me what works and what doesn’t and makes suggestions. Guns are often in my books, and believe me, without his expertise, I would constantly be challenged in that area! Tom, thanks for your thoughts and never-ending encouragement! I know a lot of my success is due to you!
Lastly, I can’t forget my six month old Boxer puppy, Kelly. I’ve told a number of people they should invest in a company that sells toilet paper, because her favorite thing to do is to get a roll of it when we forget to close a bathroom door and race down the stairs, ears flying, leaving a white trail behind her. One of my family members suggested I use it in a book – murderer caught after becoming tangled up in toilet paper. Who knows? You might just read about it!
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
Recipes!
ABOUT DIANNE
CHAPTER 1
“Mike, when was the last time you saw your Aunt Agnes?” Kelly asked as they started the nine hour drive to Calico Gold from their home in Cedar Bay located on the Oregon coast. At the same time she looked in the back seat to make sure their dogs, Rebel and Lady, were comfortable for the long trip ahead of them.
“I think it was probably ten years or so,” the big burly middle-aged sheriff said. “I kept meaning to drive down there, but you know how it is. You think you will and then something happens, and it’s put on the back burner. We’ve always talked on the phone about once a week, so even though I didn’t actually see her, I’ve always felt close to her.”
“Since I’ve never met her, and she’s really your only relative, I’d like to know more about her.”
“When I was a young child I spent a lot of summers at her ranch, named the Robertson Ranch. It’s in Calico Gold, which is a small town located in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Central California. Anyway, she has a huge, at least it was to me in my childhood days, old Victorian house called the Robertson House. The ranch and the house were named in honor of my great-grandmother whose maiden name was Robertson. Years ago my aunt and uncle ran cattle on the ranch which is pretty fair-sized, about a hundred and fifty acres. Aunt Agnes had several horses, and she was still riding the last time I saw her. She would have been about seventy something then. There was a big old barn on the ranch where the horses were kept, and a small stream ran through the property. My aunt and uncle wanted to live off of the grid before it became a trendy thing to do, so they dammed up the stream and created a small lake. They used the water from it for their cattle and all of the other water needs of the ranch.
“When I was a kid I used to play in an abandoned shack that was next to the stream and pretend I was a cowboy. I had a horse I always rode when I visited, and Aunt Agnes even had a special saddle made just for me. It was so different from city living. I remember she had some pigs and chickens and lots of other things that are typically found on a ranch and are very interesting to a young boy from the city. Like I said, they wanted to live off the grid.
“I remember her as being quite opinionated and a real spitfire. She didn’t mince words, and everyone knew exactly how she felt about a subject. She was kind of like a present-day civic activist. Aunt Agnes was an environmentalist before it became a commonly used household word. I know one of her neighbors wasn’t happy when she dammed up the stream on her property because it stopped him from getting water, and for ranchers that can be critical. It’s probably more critical now with the drought that California’s been experiencing.”
“She sounds really interesting. I’m curious why your grandparents gave the ranch to her and not your mother. After all, they were sisters and the only two children of your grandparents. That seems like kind of a strange thing to do.”
“If you’d known my grandparents, it wouldn’t seem very strange. They never approved of my father and were furious with my mother when she married him. Their way of retaliating was to give the ranch to Aunt Agnes. I remember hearing they were worried she’d be a spinster, so they wanted to take care of her. I’ve always given a great deal of credit to my mother for not being jealous of Aunt Agnes for getting the ranch. I never heard her say anything negative about it, and I know it must have hurt.”
“I’m sorry I never met your mother. She sounds like a saint. Not too many sisters would react that way. I’ve never heard you mention cousins. Did Aunt Agnes have any children?”
“Yes, she had a son, Duncan. He was killed when he was in the service during the Vietnam War, really at the very end of the war. I know she and my uncle had a hard time dealing with it. I kind of remember she often let Vietnam vets live in the shack I told you about if they needed a place to stay. I don’t know if she’s still doing that.”
“When she called you did she give you any indication why she wanted you to come to Calico Gold? Was she in trouble or ill health? What does she look like?”
“As far as what she looks like now, I don’t know. I remember her as being a threatening looking type of woman. She was tall and had a ramrod straight posture. She wore glasses that were attached to a necklace so she wouldn’t lose them. She always wore pants. I guess that was because she rode so much and was out on the ranch with the animals almost every day. I remember my mother kidding her about it, saying that she didn’t have a feminine bone in her body, and she should have been a man.”
“Wow! That’s pretty harsh. Does she live by herself? If she’s in her 80’s, that’s kind of getting up there in years to be living alone.”
“Yes, she’s lived alone in the Robertson House ever since Uncle Max passed away, and that’s been over twenty years ago. She’s never mentioned anyone else living in the house. I really don’t know much about her personal life, but I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
CHAPTER 2
Ever since he’d arrived at the Roadhouse Bar some six hours earlier, Gary Sanders had been drinking steadily. He went to the bar every night and stayed until closing time at 2:00 a.m. After he finished his “last call” drink, he headed for the parking lot, unsteadily got on his motorcycle, and headed for home. He was temporarily living in a small shack located on the edge of the stream that ran through the Robertson Ranch. After his mother died, he’d been homeless. The shack, courtesy of Agnes Johnson, the owner of the Robertson Ranch and a friend of his mother’s, provided some limited shelter for him. The shack had been a godsend, a place where he felt safe.
Twice after he’d left the Roadhouse Bar he’d woken up in the hospital, once with a skull fracture, and once with a broken leg. He’d fallen off his motorcycle after he’d been drinking. The voices in his head told him he could fly, but they’d been wrong. He never told the doctors in Vietnam he’d been hearing the voices ever since he was a little boy. The voices told him to do things, and he’d be fine. They’d always been wrong, but still he listened to them. They were so insistent, he didn’t have a choice. He remembered the time when he was ten years old, and he’d been injured when he fell out of a tree. They’d told him he could easily jump to the ground.
The voices were the reason he’d enlisted in the Army when he turned eighteen. They told him he needed to go to Vietnam, and he’d be safe because the war was almost over. When he was in Vietnam he heard the voices a lot. One time he told an Army doctor about them, and he’d prescribed medicine for Gary to take. He told Gary the reason he heard the voices was because of the stress of being in Vietnam. The doctor was wrong. He started taking the medicine and the voices became quiet, but when he returned to Calico Gold after the war, they began whispering to him again, telling him bad things he should do. He tried not to listen, but it didn’t help. People thought his strange behavior was a result of the time he’d spent in Vietnam. They didn’t know the voices had been in Gary’s head since he was a child.
When he returned from Vietnam his mother tried to get help for him, but her insurance didn’t cover conditions related to mental health. She had very little money and what little money she did have went to support herself and Gary. She didn’t have the money to hire expensive doctors or lawyers to plead with the county to have him committed or at least put under some type of a conservatorship. She’d even tried the Veterans Administration, but they were no help at all. She’d cared for him by herself until she’d died.
Gary had never really been in trouble with the law and although his behavior was strange, nothing he had done qualified him as being “mentally incompetent.” He was in that grey area where help was almost impossible to find unless you were a person of means. His mother didn’t have any money for a private mental institution, and anyway, the voices in his head told him he didn’t need any help. After his mother passed away, there was no one who cared enough about him to try and have him committed to a mental institution, even if a bed had been available. His life consisted of a hand to mouth existence – doing odd jobs and buying food and alcohol with what he was paid. Gary wasn’t capable of thinking about what the future held for him. His existence was bleak, and lately the voices in his head had been getting louder and more demanding.
It didn’t seem strange to Gary that the voices told him it would be fun to see someone die. He’d seen a lot of death in Vietnam, and while he didn’t consider it fun, it was a fact of daily life when you were in Nam. The voices told him maybe he should kill someone, because he’d really felt alive when he was killing people in Vietnam. Gary had become amoral, if, in fact, he had ever had a sense of what was right and what was wrong.
He knew it was just a matter of time before he killed someone. The voices were going to get their way and he knew it. They always did.
CHAPTER 3
“Wow,” Kelly said as they left the highway and drove onto the main street of Calico Gold. “There’s a little of everything here. Sierra Nevada Mountains in the background, all kinds of shops and names reflecting the gold mining history of the town, and restored old period buildings. Even though it looks like it gets a lot of tourists, the mark of the early settlers is definitely still here. I’ve never been to California’s gold country, but I feel like I’m in it now.”
“It’s been many years since I’ve been here, but I have to admit it’s not quite like I remember it. Looks to me like they’ve had some outside money come in and make everything pretty for the tourists. The people I remember from here didn’t have that kind of money, and if they did, that’s not how they would have spent it,” Mike said.
“I did a little research on the town last night when you were working late. Did you notice that bed and breakfast located on the edge of town? It’s called the Gold Dust Bed and Breakfast Inn, and it opened a few years ago. Evidently a couple from San Francisco wanted to get away from big city living and bought ten acres of land with an old barn on it. They renovated the barn and kept adding to it until they had a rustic inn. The article said people come from all over California and the Northwest to stay there. It’s got gardens and a koi pond, plus the rooms are supposed to be really well-decorated. However, I have to agree with you, while it looks sort of rustic, it definitely has a big city feel to it.”
“See that restaurant over there, Lucky Luke’s? I remember my aunt and uncle would bring me into town as a special treat, and we’d go there to have hamburgers and chocolate malted milks. It had a sawdust floor, and there were bowls of peanuts on all of the wooden tables. Everybody threw their peanut shells on the floor. The reason it really stuck in my mind is because I knew my mother would never let me do that at home, so it was a real treat.”
Kelly laughed, “Nor would mine. We told your aunt we’d be there about 6:00, and we’re a little early. Let’s walk the dogs, stop at Lucky Luke’s, and see if it’s still the same.”
A few minutes later Mike opened the front door of the restaurant and stood still, looking at the eatery in amazement. The sawdust had been replaced by shiny terra cotta tiles. The old scarred wooden bar that had run the length of one wall had been replaced with a sleek marble top bar, its color matching the tile floor. Multi-colored boutique tequila bottles were set against a mirrored back wall behind the bar. On both ends of the wall were lists of the specialty beers they sold.
“I can’t believe this,” Mike said. “It’s like someone has completely trashed my wonderful childhood memories. You probably can’t even get a hamburger anymore.”
“Well, we’re here. Let’s sit down, have a beer, and look at the menu. Might b
e interesting. Who knows, I might even get some ideas for Kelly’s Koffee Shop.” The hostess showed them to a window table that looked out on Main Street.
“When we used to come here the only vehicles on Main Street were trucks. That’s all anybody drove. Look at it now. I can see a Mercedes, a Bentley, and a Lexus. So much for small town life.”
“Mike, you won’t believe this menu. This is as good as anything you’d find in San Francisco or Portland. I mean, what small town restaurant features lobster bisque and a seasonal vegetable pizza? Plus a whole section of the menu is devoted to gourmet cheese plates that they have available. I’ve never even heard of Truffle Tremor cheese.”
“Something is definitely going on here in Calico Gold. When we drove down the street, there were still some old buildings I remember from years ago. They don’t look any different, but there are also the new ones like this restaurant that must be catering to wealthy people from San Francisco and other big cities. Be willing to bet there’s a big division between the old-timers who probably want to keep things just like they’ve always been and the ones who are willing to put a lot of money into some of these places, hoping to attract even bigger money. I can just imagine how Aunt Agnes feels about it. Knowing her and her dislike for change, I’m sure she’s not happy about this. I can’t say I blame her. If they do much more, the town will begin to resemble Napa. I have to say I don’t like these changes.”
“This isn’t quite what I expected,” Kelly said.” I was looking for a sleepy little town with some colorful grizzled looking old retired gold miners wearing suspenders and cowboy boots. I’m really curious to talk to your aunt and find out what’s happening.”
“Drink up. Time for you to meet Aunt Agnes,” Mike said as he motioned the waitress over and asked for the check.
Later, Kelly wished they’d spent that hour with Aunt Agnes instead of at Lucky Luke’s. Their time with her was cut short by unexpected events. Events like murder.