“I’d very much like to talk to her. May I say you suggested I get in touch with her?”
“Course. Here’s her phone number. She lives on the reservation down in the Springs, but she lived with Randy fer a lotta years, so she might know somethin’. Gotta tell ya’ it was lonesome at the Road Runner last night. Missed seein’ him sittin’ at the bar with his bourbon and branch water. He was always there. Didn’t seem right fer him not to be in his usual place. Uh-oh, boss is givin’ me the stink eye. Think I better get to work. Call me if ya’ find out somethin.”
“I will, Lucy. Thank you so much.”
She hurried to her car and called Jeff. “Jeff, I have a license plate number for a man who bought some Desert Springs cigarettes from Lucy. He was the only one who’s bought any for a week. He must have been out at Randy’s because he was the one who asked Lucy where Randy lived. I think we’re getting closer to finding the killer.” She read off the license plate number to him and said, “I’ll call you later. I have another call coming in on my phone.”
She punched a button and said, “This is Marty Morgan.”
“Ms. Morgan, Rich Willis gave me your number. I’m the one he referred to as the undercover agent for the BLM. Before we begin to have a conversation, I’d like you to know I’ll be recording it, and I’d like your assurance that anything we say will be strictly confidential between us. Can you promise me that?”
“Yes,” she said in a curious tone of voice.
CHAPTER 24
“I’ve never talked to an undercover agent before, so I have no idea how this is supposed to go,” Marty said.
“I’ll help. First of all I won’t be giving you my real name. That might jeopardize my cover. What I am going to tell you is I had scheduled a meeting with Randy Jones the afternoon you discovered his body. I’ve been working with him for over five years. In order to gain his confidence, I’ve had to sell him some Native American artifacts that were obtained illegally.”
“You must be Colin Sanders.”
“That’s the name I go by. The only reason I’m telling you this is because at some point in this investigation you probably would have tried to get in touch with me, even giving my name to the sheriff and perhaps other law enforcement personnel. When you never heard anything back from them about me, your suspicions may have been aroused, and you might have tried to go to the media, and then I would really have some problems. Does this make sense to you?” he asked.
“When you put it that way, yes. I assume you were given the photographs I took of the items at Randy’s place.”
“Yes, and I thank you very much for them. They’re a huge help to us. I was supposed to meet with Randy the afternoon he was murdered on the pretext I was interested in buying his collection. He had telephoned me about it. As soon as Rich heard Randy had been murdered, he called me and told me not to go out there that afternoon. I’d planned to examine the pieces and then the FBI was going to take over and arrest Randy for possessing them and offering to sell them, both of which are crimes.”
“It must have really thrown your plans into an uproar when Randy was murdered.”
“You have no idea. I suppose the good news is the BLM has gotten a court order to move the artifacts to a safe place, so they can be given back to their rightful owners. The other good news is that with my reputation as a dealer in black market Native American artifacts, more people are coming to me to buy things, which means exposure to even more people who might have other black market items that hopefully we can repatriate over a period of time. It just takes years.”
“I’m rather surprised you’re telling me all this. Aren’t you afraid I’ll blow your cover?”
“No. I understand you’re in a relationship with Detective Jeff Combs, and he’s known to be one of the most honest and ethical law enforcement officers around. From what I know about him, there’s no way he’d get into a relationship with someone who didn’t meet his high standards. Secondly, of course we investigated you. There is absolutely nothing in your past or present to indicate you’d be a threat to us. From what we found out, you’re a very discreet appraiser, and we decided that would carry over into this area. And lastly, the reason how you came to discover Randy’s body speaks volumes. An appraiser who would turn down an appraisal from which she could make thousands of dollars because of ethical concerns is someone we felt we could trust.”
“Thank you, and you definitely can trust me. I just wish the killer could be caught. Quite frankly I’m a little freaked out thinking he may have seen me, and at some point in time he might identify me and be afraid I know something. I left some papers with Randy when I was there that had my name, address, and phone number on them. I’m hoping he didn’t get them, and that they’re safely in the possession of the sheriff or Rich. I have to tell you I’m not sleeping very well because of my concern about this situation.”
There was a long pause. “I’m not surprised to hear that, and I’m sorry. Marty, I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but the sheriff and Rich told me they thought it was strange that you hadn’t left any information about your appraisal with Randy.”
“I did. I left my estimate of how much the appraisal would cost and the length of time I estimated it would take me to complete it. If the papers weren’t there, that means the person who killed Randy must have taken them, and it also means the killer knows who I am.”
“I’ll call Rich and Luis and tell them that you did leave paperwork with Randy that had your name and contact information on it, and there is a very good possibility that the person who killed Randy has it. They definitely should know about this. I probably don’t need to tell you since you’re around Detective Combs a lot, but I’m sure he’s already told you to be extra careful. If you see or hear anything you think is suspicious, please call one of them. I’d also like you to promise me that you’ll tell Detective Combs about this development. The murder wasn’t committed in his jurisdiction, but I’m certain this is information he’d want to know.”
“I will, but I have to tell you I have goose bumps all over my body. I feel like going home, locking my door, and staying in bed until this is over.” She touched her eyelid and tried to make it stop twitching. It didn’t.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” the man she knew as Colin Sanders said. “To change the subject. I had copies made of the photos you took at Randy’s, and they really are a huge help to us. If it ever should come up why we were investigating Randy, one look at those photos will convince anyone that we had reason to. An heir or someone intent on making trouble for us could always claim we brought in stolen pieces to make it look worse for him than it was. They could say we tried to set him up. Your photos show otherwise.”
“Thank you. I assume we’ll never meet, but I’m glad I could play a part in returning to the tribes what never should have been taken from them in the first place. What you’re doing sounds terribly dangerous, but I have to say I’m glad you’re doing it.”
“I’m sure a lot of people would think that having a government official sell something that is illegal to a collector is a serious waste of tax dollars, but I think of it as a sting. Just like you hear about stings involving drug raids, well I work with stings involving Native American artifacts. I have to go now, but I wanted to personally thank you for what you did. Like you said, we’ll probably never meet, but I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”
“Be careful, and thank you for your service. What you’re doing for the Native Americans is long overdue.”
Well, I can scratch Colin Sanders off the list of suspects. I think I’ll see if I can get ahold of that doctor when I get home. Wonder how long it will be before Jeff has a name to match up with that license plate number I gave him. Plus, I need to call Lucy’s cousin, Mary BirdSong, and see what she knows. If she lived with Randy for a long time, I might be able to get some information from her. Looks like I’m going to have a busy day. I just hope no one other than Duke is waiting for me when I get home.
When Marty parked in front of the compound she was halfway expecting to see someone lurking near the gate or next to the side of the house, but the only thing she saw was Duke in his customary spot waiting for her. John and Laura were gone for the day, and Les was working in his art studio. She could hear music coming from it when she got out of her car.
“Duke, I wasn’t gone that long, so you should be fine. I need to make a phone call. Come on, let’s go inside.”
She sat down at her desk and retrieved the doctor’s business card from the desk drawer she’d put it in when she’d come home late yesterday afternoon. A cell phone number had been written on the back, and she thought she’d probably have a better chance of reaching him by calling that number. Receptionists who worked in doctors’ offices often felt they had an obligation to protect their bosses, and one way of doing it was by waiting until the end of the day to give them their messages.
Punching numbers into her phone, she sat back and hoped he’d pick it up rather than having to listen to a recorded message. In just a moment she heard, “This is Dr. Lowenthal. How may I help you?’
“Doctor, my name is Marty Morgan. I was talking to an antique dealer in Palm Springs, Carl Mitchell, and he told me you have a very fine collection of Native American artifacts. I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time.”
“I’m always interested in talking to people about that subject, but it will have to be short. I’m scheduled for surgery in a few minutes.”
“This won’t take long. I’m an appraiser who was preparing to do an appraisal for Randy Jones. I was led to believe that you know him, in fact, Randy told me he had scheduled a meeting with you about possibly buying his collection.”
On the way home from the Hi-Lo she’d been thinking about how she could approach the subject of Randy, and she’d finally decided to just be honest. She wanted to see how he reacted. She knew it was a risk, but if he was the killer, he already had her personal contact information, and if he wasn’t it didn’t matter.
“I met Randy several times at Native American artifacts shows. We talked a few times, and he said he had some very good pieces. I told him if he was ever interested in selling them, to call me. He did call me, and we set up a meeting for the afternoon I understand he was murdered. I’ve thought about it a lot and wondered if I had made it to the meeting if I would have been murdered too. You see, I had to do an emergency follow-up operation on a patient of mine, John Seymour, who developed complications from a prior surgery I’d performed on him, and I wasn’t able to keep my meeting with Randy. It happened so fast I never even had a chance to let Randy know I had to cancel the meeting. I was planning on calling him the next day, but then I read in the paper that he’d been murdered.”
“I see. Yes, you may have been very lucky. By the way, Doctor, what hospital are you associated with?”
“I do all of my surgeries at Desert Regional Center Hospital. Why?”
“A friend of mine in Los Angeles has been told she should have a knee replacement. I’ve been trying to get her to have it done here in the desert, so she could stay with me while she recuperates. Thanks.”
“No problem, but I don’t understand exactly why you called me.”
“Doctor, other than the killer, I was the last person to see Randy Jones alive, and I feel I have an obligation to find out, if I can, who’s responsible for killing him. The more people I can eliminate, the closer the authorities will be to finding the killer. You’ve just been eliminated.”
“Well, I think this is a first for me. Don’t believe I’ve ever been thought of as a murderer, although there have been times I thought I could kill for a certain artifact, but fortunately, I’ve never acted on it,” he said laughing. “I have to go now. Good luck with your friend, and if she does decide to come to the desert for her surgery, please recommend me.”
“That I promise,” Marty said as she ended the call feeling a bit guilty about her white lie. She’d wanted to find out the name of the hospital, so she could double check that he had actually been in surgery on the afternoon of Randy’s murder.
Ten minutes later the person she spoke to in the surgery center at the hospital confirmed that Dr. Lowenthal had indeed done a surgery on the afternoon in question. Marty wasn’t very proud of herself for telling the person that her father, John Seymour, told her he’d developed complications and had to undergo a second surgery. She’d told the person her father had a history of lying to his out-of-state daughter to get her to come and see him. She said she’d been out of town on business and just picked up her messages. The woman Marty spoke with said she remembered it because it had been an emergency, and she had to reschedule several other surgeries in order to accommodate Dr. Lowenthal. She still wasn’t very happy she had to work past her quitting time in order to do it.
That’s two down, Marty thought. Time to see if Jeff’s found out anything.
When she called Jeff he said, “I was just getting ready to call you.”
“Does that mean you were able to find out the name of the man who owns the Cadillac Escalade?”
“Not only found out his name, I also found out a lot about him, but from what you’ve told me about Randy, they are quite an unlikely pair.”
“Lucy said the same thing. I’m all ears.”
CHAPTER 26
“Jeff, I can’t stand the suspense. Tell me everything,” Marty said after finding out that Jeff had successfully located the owner of the black Escalade through the license plate number Lucy had remembered and given to her.
“I matched him instantly once I put him in the system. After I got his name, which is Luke Peterson, I googled him. He’s been very successful in the video gaming field, so it was pretty easy to find out about him. A number of magazines have done articles on him. He’s kind of a wunderkind, you know, one of those people who does incredible things at an early age.” He spent the next few minutes telling her the story of Luke Peterson.
When he finished, she said, “I guess I could call the gaming company and ask to speak with him.”
“I figured you’d want to get in touch with him, although I want to caution you that he could be the killer. Then what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ve got a little of Laura in me, but I don’t have a bad feeling about him.”
“If you’re only talking to him on the phone, I don’t think that’s particularly dangerous. It might be a good idea to use your maiden name. Don’t give him your phone number or your address. Can you promise me that?”
“Yes. That sounds reasonable. So do you think I should call the gaming company where he works?”
“No, through the miracle of modern technology and by calling in a few favors, I was able to get his cell phone number for you as well as his email address. I think that should work,” Jeff said in a self-satisfied voice.
“Jeff, you’re amazing. That is absolutely wonderful. I’m going to call him right now. I’ll get back to you after I talk to him.”
“Good luck and remember, be careful.”
*****
A man’s voice answered her call and said, “This is Luke Peterson.”
“Mr. Peterson, my name is Marty James. If you have a few minutes I’d like to talk to you.”
“I only have a few minutes before I have to attend a meeting. What can I do for you?”
She took a deep breath and began speaking, “Do you own a black Cadillac Escalade, and do you smoke Desert Springs cigarettes?”
He was quiet and then asked, “Why do you want to know? Those are very strange questions to just call up and ask me.”
“Yes, I’m sure they do seem strange. I was told by someone you were asking for information about a man named Randy Jones. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but he was murdered a few days ago. Several Desert Springs cigarette butts were found not far from where his body was discovered. I believe you were present at the scene of the murder. I’m helping the sheriff try to locate
his murderer, and I’m wondering what you were doing there, when you were there, and if you saw anything that seemed to be strange.”
She heard what sounded like sobs coming from the other end of the line.
“Mr. Peterson, are you all right?”
He took a deep breath and said in a ragged voice, “I recently found out that Randy Jones was my father. I’ve been trying to locate him for years. A private investigator I hired was able to find him through a photograph. It’s a long story, but after he told me I drove to High Desert to find him. I wanted to talk to him, maybe get to know him. Since he’d never contacted me I wasn’t sure what the reception would be. When I got to High Desert I sort of lost my confidence, and I turned around and came home. Two days later I drove up to High Desert again, intent on introducing myself. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Of course, and I’m so sorry. I was with him shortly before he was murdered, and he mentioned he had a son, but he didn’t know where he was.”
“My mother left him when I was two years old and took me with her. I won’t bore you with the details, but I was subsequently adopted by a family and my legal last name became Peterson. Even if he’d tried to find me, he probably wouldn’t have been able to because of my new adopted last name.”
“Well, I guess that’s something we’ll never know.”
“Let me tell you what happened. I went out to his place and parked quite a ways from where his truck was parked. I walked up the path and saw an old man sitting at a table in the shack with his back to the open door. For some reason I couldn’t just walk up and say something like ‘Hi, Dad, remember me?’ He looked old, so I was afraid if I did, it could give him a heart attack. I stepped behind a nearby large boulder and watched him from there. I was nervous, and I smoked several cigarettes while I was watching him, so those are probably the cigarette butts that were discovered. I never thought to pick them up.”
Murder & The Secret Cave: High Desert Cozy Mystery Page 10
