The downside of the new wealth was that people had little reason to go to college. They knew that each month they would get a large check. The new wealth allowed for even more abuse of alcohol and drugs, as many of the tribal members who received them saw no need to work. The money from the casino was a double-edged sword, with the winners often being local car dealers, liquor stores, and drug dealers.
Mary and Richard wanted to retain as much of their tribal culture as possible for future generations. Both of them had worked hard to help the younger generation learn the Cahuilla language by teaching it through the bird songs which both of them had learned as young children. The songs also told legends about the origin of the Cahuilla tribe. In 1990 only thirty-five people had spoken the language, but through Mary’s and Richard’s dedication to helping their tribe, many now spoke the language. Obviously, Mary had been named for the tradition by her father who often sang the bird songs at tribal gatherings.
Richard had been part of a coalition that had gone to Sacramento, California, and later to Washington, D.C., working to have objects that been stolen from tribal burial sites or other sacred places repatriated to the tribe from which the objects had been stolen. He was a nationally recognized authority on the topic of stolen Native American artifacts, and he spoke to Native Americans throughout the United States on the subject. Some people considered him to be fanatic about the subject.
“Well, Mary, what did you want to talk to me about?” he asked.
She ran her hands over the truck’s steering wheel and then wiped them on her jeans. “Richard, this is difficult for me. I guess I better start at the beginning. Several years ago I met a man named Randy Jones in a bar outside of town called the Road Runner Bar. Richard, don’t look at me like that. I rarely drink any more, but once in a while I used to go in there. We got to know each other, and one thing led to another. He asked me to move in with him, and against the wishes of my family and other tribal members, I did.”
“I know Randy Jones, and I’m well aware you lived with him. No one in the tribe could understand it, particularly since a lot of people know he’s a big collector of our sacred artifacts. Some say he has things that are illegal. Maybe you’d know about that.”
She brushed a piece of hair off her forehead. No one would ever consider her to be an attractive woman. She was heavy and had a thick body along with a pock-marked face from the acne she had as a young woman. Her complexion was sallow and she looked much older than her age. The years of drinking had taken its toll on her lined face. Mary held up her hand. “Please, let me continue. When you get to be my age, and no one has ever wanted you for a wife, or pretty much anything else, you get a little desperate. Okay, maybe very desperate. Anyway, he was good to me and remember, this was before the tribe had any money. I moved into his small shack and lived with him until a few months ago.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. He came back from the bar one night and told me to get out. He said it was over, and he didn’t want anything more to do with me. I think maybe he was worried I’d found out about the cave where he keeps the special pieces of his Indian artifacts collection, the ones no one ever sees.”
“I’m at a loss here, Mary. What are you talking about?”
She gulped several times and continued, “Randy has all kinds of things that he must have gotten on the black market hidden in a cave near his shack. I watched him go there one day, and he moved two rocks that were in front of a small opening on a large rocky hill. I was fascinated by what he was doing. He must have done it a lot of times before then, but maybe it had been when I was at work. When I was sure the tribal money wasn’t going away, I quit working, so I was at the shack a lot more.
“Anyway, he moved the rocks, and I saw there was a door he must have built that opened into a cave. I saw him walk into it. He was in there for about an hour. When he came out he put the rocks back and walked back to the shack. I pretended like I was making some fry bread for dinner. Although he didn’t say anything, I wonder if he looked out of a peephole or something in the cave and saw me watching. I don’t know.”
“Did you ever see what was in the cave?” Richard asked.
She swallowed nervously and said, “Yes. He went to town a few days later, and I went in it. I couldn’t believe what I saw. There were sheets of rock art, headdresses, weapons, baskets, pottery, and all kinds of things. I’ve never seen Native American objects like that, even in the museums. Richard, almost everything in there was illegal. None of it could have been bought in a store or at an auction. I know how hard you’ve fought for repatriation, and I’ve struggled with myself for several months about whether or not to tell you what I saw in that cave. I don’t know what can be done about it, but when I woke up this morning I knew I had to tell you. For the sake of the tribe, I had to tell you.”
Richard’s face became flushed with anger, and he started breathing heavily. “Tell me where the cave is, Mary. I’d go out there right now, but I have a meeting in an hour, and I’m tied up tomorrow until late afternoon. I’ll go then. I want you to draw me a map of exactly where the cave is located.”
She took a notepad from her purse and drew a map for him. When she was finished she handed it to him and said, “In many ways Randy’s a good man. I know he smokes and drinks too much, so his health may not be so good. A few months before I left he started coughing a lot. I know how important this is to you, and I felt I had to tell you about it.” Mary said as she started crying.
“You did the right thing, Mary. You don’t need to worry about it anymore. Thanks, and I’ll let you know what happens after I talk to him.” He reached over and patted her arm and then opened the passenger door.
Richard got into his truck, becoming angrier by the minute. He was tired of the waiting. The courts, the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and the Bureau of Land Management all moved too slowly, if at all. It was usually years before something happened, before he could get the sacred items back in the hands of the tribe to whom they belonged. If there were a lot of things in the cave, and Mary had certainly led him to believe there were, he might not even live long enough to see them returned to their rightful owners.
Maybe it’s time I took justice into my own hands. What right does that man have to possess the sacred items of my tribe and others as well? As long as there are buyers like him, there will always be people willing to desecrate our sacred lands. He’s an old man. I’d probably be doing everybody a favor by getting rid of him. I’ve never done anything like this in my life, but I’m tired of working so hard and still having to stand hopelessly by as our sacred sites are raped. It’s wrong. I can always say someone donated the illegal items anonymously to the tribe. No one will have to know where they came from. Mary might, but she won’t say anything. Be pretty fitting if he was killed by something made and used by Native Americans, like a tomahawk. And I know where to find one.
He drove to his modest home on the Agua Caliente Reservation which was right in the middle of Palm Springs thinking how wonderful it would be to recover his tribe’s and other tribe’s sacred objects. Richard had discovered his calling early in his life and if the calling involved murder, so be it.
CHAPTER 9
The morning after she got back from her trip to Chicago, Marty and Duke were walking by Laura’s house just as she stepped out with a cup of coffee in her hand. “Welcome back. How was Chicago?”
“Terrific. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now I have a dog that needs to commune with nature. See you in a few minutes.”
Laura kneeled down and scratched Duke’s ear. “Glad I don’t have to do the bootie bit anymore, big guy. Mama’s home, and I have to tell you I felt like a fool walking around with some huge black dog wearing pink booties.” She looked up at Marty. “Maybe it’s time to see if you can dispense with the booties.”
“Don’t think so. I tried before I left, so you wouldn’t have to put them on, but he stood perfectly still and absolutely refused to hav
e anything to do with the desert floor without his booties. Trust me, if that big boy doesn’t want to move, it’s not going to happen.”
“I’d like to talk to you for a minute when you get back,” Laura said. “I’m going to drink my coffee in the courtyard and check my messages. Want a cup? I’ve got plenty.”
“Love it. Oh, good morning, John. You’re up early,” she said to the resident chef who was also the owner of The Red Pony food truck.
“Yeah. Some office put in a large order for panini sandwiches. I need to assemble them and get The Red Pony down to the Springs, so I can grill them and keep them warm. They placed an order for forty of them. It’s going to take a while to do them on my grill. I’m off to pick up Max. He’s going to help me. Oh, by the way, I’m trying out a noodle paella tonight. I’ve never made it before, and it may be way too much trouble for the Pony, but we’ll see how it goes. Looked interesting when I read about it in one of the food magazines. I imagine your detective friend will be here for dinner, Marty. Would I be right?”
“Probably, although I haven’t talked to him since I got back. I’ll give him a call later on and invite him. He’s one of your biggest fans, and I’m sure he won’t want to miss the paella. Good luck today,” she said, as she walked through the gate with Duke.
When they returned a few minutes later Marty said, “Laura, can you give me a couple of minutes more? I need to feed Duke, and then I’m all yours.”
“Sure. I still have a little time before I have to start getting ready for work.”
“Okay, Laura,” Marty said a few minutes later as she sat down at the large picnic table that was the central focus of the courtyard and was surrounded by the four communal style homes. “I’m all yours. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Well, I hate to butt into your life, but you know sometimes I get special feelings or whatever you want to call them.”
“Somehow I don’t think I’m going to like what I’m going to hear in the next few minutes. I well remember when you had the feeling about where the lost diamond ring was at that appraisal I was doing at Mrs. Jensen’s home. Since she’d been murdered and couldn’t tell us where she’d hidden the ring your whatever you want to call it took over and found it. I have to tell you though, when you sliced the styrofoam wig stand open with that butcher knife, and the ring popped out, I think you took ten years off of my friend Carl’s life. Matter of fact, I’ve noticed he avoids me at the monthly antique appraiser meetings. I have to admit that was pretty spectacular,” she said laughing.
“Marty,” Laura said becoming serious, “I had a dream last night about you. It involved some Native American things and a tomahawk. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was about, but I had the feeling you were going to be in danger. Does any of this make sense to you? Are you involved in some appraisal concerning Native American artifacts?”
“Nope. I’m kind of surprised I haven’t been asked to do an appraisal of that type here in the desert. Certainly seems like those things fit in with the desert a lot more than some of the European and early American items I’ve recently appraised. Actually, I know quite a bit about those types of artifacts, but I haven’t made use of it here. I did several appraisals of Native American artifacts when I was living in the Midwest before Scott and I got divorced, so I’d enjoy using what I learned. I just haven’t been asked.”
“I know it’s not much to go on Marty, but if you find yourself doing something with Native American artifacts, be careful. Maybe that’s the message. You need to be careful. I have a feeling you’re going to be involved in something to do with those types of objects, and it’s going to be soon. My alarm bells are starting to go off.”
“Swell. That’s just the way I want to start my day out. You telling me your alarm bells are going off.”
“Marty, I know how you hate for me to say this, but I can tell that what I just said made you nervous. Your right eyelid is twitching.”
“I am not nervous. My eyelid’s just telling me it didn’t get enough sleep last night. That’s all it is.”
“Right. You can fool everyone else about your nervous twitch, but you can’t fool me. I remember when we were kids, and you were afraid that mom or dad would find out you’d done something you shouldn’t. They always knew you’d done something bad because your eyelid would start twitching.”
I’d like to throw this cup of coffee in my dear big mouth sister’s face, but the scream would probably wake Les up, and I know he needs his sleep. Good grief, I’m a grown woman about to celebrate my fiftieth birthday, and that darned eyelid is still giving me away. I wonder if I’ll ever outgrow it.
“So, Marty, what’s on your agenda today?” Laura asked, deftly changing the subject from what she knew inflamed her sister.
“I need to do a lot of research on the Tiffany pieces I saw in Chicago. The identification of them wasn’t hard for me, but it’s going to take a bit of work to find out what they’re worth. Some of them are really rare, and that makes it even harder. A lot of it’s just a judgment call on my part. I also have to go into town and get the photos I took in Chicago from Lucy at the Hi-Lo. Need anything in town?”
“No, I think I’m good.” Laura looked at her watch. “Love to sit here and talk to you some more, but it’s time for me to get my act together and look presentable for work. See you tonight.” She stood up, turned, and walked into her house.
“Come on Duke, let’s go call Jeff. He should be at work by now.”
Jeff was Detective Jeff Combs with the Palm Springs Police Department. She’d met him when she’d appraised the estate of a woman who had been murdered, and it had been Jeff’s case. There had been an instant attraction between the good-looking middle-aged detective and the attractive appraiser, and the relationship had grown from there, although neither one of them was quite ready to commit to marriage.
A few minutes later she heard a warm masculine voice on the other end of the phone say, “I missed you, Marty. I’m glad you’re back. It’s lonesome here without you.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the women you know,” she said in a teasing voice. “In a town like Palm Springs, attractive single women are a dime a dozen.”
“That may be true, but they’re not you. Speaking of which, when can I see you?”
“John’s making noodle paella tonight, and he specifically invited you. Actually, Jeff, I missed you, too.”
“Knew I’d get you to admit I’m creeping under your skin. It’s just a matter of time, and you’ll be all mine.”
“Or vice-versa. I definitely feel a deep attraction to you. Beyond that I don’t know.”
Jeff laughed. “Well, I guess that’s a good start, but it sounds like you’re not quite ready to invite me to the compound for good.”
“Not quite, but I won’t absolutely rule it out for the future.”
“A man can live with hopeful words like that. Gotta go, I’m late for a meeting. See you around six tonight. Loves.”
She hung up, shaking her head. He’s incorrigible. After Scott, I never thought I’d want to get into a serious relationship, but it sure looks like I’m heading for one, and I don’t seem to be putting up much of a fight.
CHAPTER 10
Marty spent the morning and the early afternoon pouring through auction catalogs, reference books, and on the Internet looking for replacement prices she could put on the Tiffany pieces. In many cases, they were one-of-a-kind items, so there weren’t any comparables available. Items with no comparables were the ones that always worried Marty when she did an appraisal. It became a judgment call, her judgment call, and one she sincerely hoped was never questioned.
She looked at the time of day displayed on the bottom of her computer screen and realized the day had gotten away from her. She just had time to go into town, pick up the Chicago appraisal photographs from Lucy, and make it back in time to get ready for dinner.
“Come on Duke, let’s go for a ride.” With those magic words the dog turned hims
elf into a pretzel. He walked to the gate with Marty but then came to a complete stop.
“Duke, come on, you can walk to my car without your booties on. It’s just a few steps.” He looked up at her as if to say, “There is no way I am putting one paw on that desert floor.”
“All right, you win, but this is ridiculous,” she said as he accompanied her back to her house to get the booties. She slipped them on and he eagerly walked over to her car, wagging his tail, and waiting for her to open the door. As soon as he was in, she reached over and removed the booties. The people in the compound knew he wore booties and so did Jeff, but that was where it ended. She was still a newcomer in the little redneck town of High Desert, and she could only imagine what would be said about her if people found out her big black male dog wore pink booties.
The Hi-Lo parking lot was full. It seemed to be a day when everyone needed something from the Hi-Lo. She rolled down all of the windows in the car and made sure Duke had some water in his dish. One of the things she’d learned early on in the desert was how hot a car could get when left in the sun with the windows rolled up. Since it was very early spring and relatively cool, she felt okay about leaving him in the car, something she would never think of doing in summer or early fall. As she opened the door to the drugstore she was immediately greeted by Lucy.
“Hey, lady. Them Tiffany pictures are somethin’ else. Saw an ad fer the museum in LA on the tube one time ‘bout them havin’ some exhibit on Tiffany lamps. From what I saw in yer’ photos, looks like that guy had more good stuff than he could say grace over.”
Murder & The Secret Cave: High Desert Cozy Mystery Page 4
