Murder at the Polo Club

by Dianne Harman

  “Right. You know how well that goes over with him. While having a resident chef prepare gourmet dinners is an asset, having a resident chef who takes offense if anyone is late to his dinner is a liability. I think you and John are going to have to come to a meeting of the minds on that issue, because I’m sure there are times when you’re definitely going to be late, and he’s going to have to get used to it.”

  “I agree. I’ll have a talk with him. I just pulled into the station, so I’ll see you later. I love you.”

  “Love you too. I’m on my way to the Hi-Lo Drugstore. I need to pick up the photos I left with Lucy this morning. The art glass appraisal is my number one priority because of the binder. It’s for one week only, and I don’t want to be the one responsible for that collection not being insured. Jack asked me to appraise everything in the house that has value, so I’ll probably be working late a few nights. You can remind me of that the next time you have to work nights,” she said laughing. “See you later.”

  *****

  “Well if it ain’t my favorite appraiser lady. Man, them pictures were somethin’ else. Hard to believe somebody gots all them purties in one place,” Lucy said as she handed Marty a bag filled with the photograph prints made from the disc Marty had left with her to be developed that morning.

  “Thanks for the quick service, Lucy. I really appreciate it. I have six more days to get this appraisal done, so I’m really tight on time. Here are my photos from today, but there’s no rush on these. I would have sent them from my computer, but since I was coming here anyway, I thought I’d just drop them off with you.”

  “Went home at lunchtime and took a coupla of pics of Herman fer ya’. Knew you’d want to see my little guy,” Lucy said. “Man, has he got sharp teeth. Be glad when he’s outta the puppy stage. Nothin’ is safe. I got puppy tooth marks on my readin’ glasses, the television remote control, and my phone. You name it, and it’s probably got little tooth marks on it. To say nothin’ of my toes. If I could clone my toes and sell ‘em to people with puppies, I’d retire a rich woman. My toes seem to be Herman’s favorite things to chew on.” She handed the puppy photos to Marty.

  “Mercifully, those days are behind me. I’d forgotten about the toes. Guess they’re about on a puppy’s eye level. Maybe that’s the reason for their fascination with them,” Marty said laughing. She looked at the photographs Lucy had handed to her. “What a little darling. Any time you want me to return the favor you did for me by keeping Duke, I’d be happy to keep Herman for you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. Jes’ one sec before ya’ go. Gotta share my latest puppy thing with ya’. Got it off the Internet this afternoon. Ready?”

  “Sure. What did you find?”

  “Here it is, ‘Acquiring a dog may be the only time a person gets to choose a relative.’ Don’t know ‘bout you, Marty, but me and my ol’ man got some relatives that would make the nastiest junkyard dog seem like a saint by comparison. Kind of reminded me of some quote I heard once ‘bout how ya’ can pick yer friends but ya’ can’t pick yer’ family. Lotta truth there, don’t ya’ think?”

  “Sheer wisdom, Lucy, sheer wisdom,” Marty said as she thought of Pia and her sister Gerta. “Again, thanks for the quick service.” She walked out to her car and drove the rest of the way to the compound while she slowly reviewed in her mind the events of the last two days.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Hi everyone, let me take Duke out, and I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Marty said as she greeted John, Max, Laura, and Les who were seated around the courtyard picnic table having a glass of wine.

  “No need to, Marty. He and I just got back from a walk,” Laura said. “I thought you might be a little rushed with your appraisal and everything that’s taken place. Put your stuff away and then come join us.”

  “Back in a minute. Sounds good. By the way, Jeff called, and he has to go to the station to make a couple of calls, but he said he’d be here within an hour. John, he specifically wanted you to know that he’s hurrying.”

  “I appreciate that. When I was in Italy several years ago I took a cooking class from an Italian chef, and her favorite saying was, ‘Pasta waits for no man.’ I’ve kind of adopted it and changed it to ‘My dinner waits for no man,’ but given Jeff’s profession, I’m probably going to have to ease up on that rule as it applies to him,” John said laughing.

  “I’m sure he’d be very appreciative. He’s got enough on his mind at the moment.”

  Marty walked into her house, deposited the sack with the appraisal photos on her desk, and changed clothes. She walked out to the courtyard and said, “Les, I’d love a glass of wine from that lovely looking bottle of chilled white wine you have in front of you. It’s been a long and hectic day.”

  “We were just talking about the murder, and we’re all curious what happened today. Want to tell us or do you want to wait for Jeff?” Laura asked.

  “Let’s wait. No sense repeating everything. Actually, you’re not going to have to wait very long, because I think I just saw Jeff’s car pull into the driveway.” She stood up and walked to the gate. A moment later Jeff greeted her with a hug and a kiss.

  “Let me change clothes, and I’ll be with you all in a minute.”

  *****

  Jeff returned a few minutes later casually dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. “There’s something pretty freeing about taking that gun off, believe me,” he said as he poured himself a glass of wine. “Since I only got a few hours of sleep today, I really need to catch up tonight. Maybe this glass of wine will ease the way.”

  “Jeff, we’ve been waiting to hear what’s happening with the Pia Marshall murder case. Any leads yet?” John said.

  “Possibly. A couple of interesting things happened this afternoon. Marty, I believe you overheard Pia’s sister tell Jack that Pia had been married to Frank Marshall, a felon who was just released from prison a couple of weeks ago.”

  “You’re kidding!” Les said. “Did Rutledge know about it?”

  “From what he told me, no. He said Gerta told him the murderer was probably Pia’s ex-husband. Then he said she demanded that he give her the art glass collection that Pia inherited from her parents.”

  “Are you serious? That’s pretty brutal considering the poor guy’s fiancée was just murdered,” Laura said.

  “I’ll vouch for it. I was in the library appraising Jack’s art pottery collection when I heard her come in. I was going to close the door to the library, but I couldn’t help but overhear what she was saying. Being the brazen snoop that I am, I stood there and listened. He told her he wouldn’t be giving her the collection, because Pia had signed a trust two days ago giving it to him. Gerta was furious. He told her to leave, or he’d call his security guards.” Marty turned to Jeff. “Do you think that makes Gerta a suspect?”

  “She is in my book. She definitely had a motive for killing Pia – the art glass collection which, don’t forget, is worth several million dollars. That, plus the fact she was at the cocktail party last night puts her near the top of my list of suspects, but as always, naming a suspect is one thing, proving they committed a murder is another.”

  “Jeff, what are you doing about Pia’s ex-husband? I would think he’d be a suspect just because he served time in prison,” Les said.

  “Of course my antenna went way up when Jack told me that little tidbit of information. One of the reasons I had to go back to the station tonight was to call a friend of mine in Los Angeles. He and I went to the police academy together years ago, and we’ve stayed friends and kept in touch. I’ve helped him out a couple of times, and he’s helped me out as well. He’s going to see what he can find out from Frank’s parole officer. He’s also going to try and find out where Frank was last night.”

  “Hey, everybody. I really want to hear what Jeff has to say about the other interesting things that happened today. Okay with you if we eat a bit late tonight?” John asked.

  “Only if I have permission to be lat
e from time to time,” Jeff said grinning at John.

  “Permission granted. Now what else was interesting?” John asked.

  “I met with Jack, his administrative assistant, and the security guard who was at the guard shack during the cocktail party. It was an interesting setup. Each guest had an invitation with their name on it. They gave it to the guard who took a picture of it along with the guest.” He looked at Marty. “Remember how angry Jack got when the guard called him last night and told him he thought he’d recognized Kevin Sanders, but he had an invitation with a different name on it?”

  “Yes. I remember.”

  “Well, the guard was right. When Jack compared the man’s photo with the name on the invitation, he positively identified the man as being Kevin Sanders. Evidently the name on the invitation belonged to a doctor who had invested in Jack’s polo team last year and couldn’t attend the party, because he had to be on duty at the hospital. The doctor knows Kevin Sanders, and asked him if he needed another invitation. He didn’t know about the bad blood between Jack and Kevin. My problem with Sanders is the same as my problem with Pia’s sister, Gerta. Kevin was evidently at the cocktail party, but there is no evidence to link him to the murder.”

  “I seem to remember seeing the name Kevin Sanders in the papers over the years. He’s a bigwig in the polo world, isn’t he?” Laura asked.

  “Yes. From what Jack told me that’s the reason for the bad blood between them. He was the number one polo guy in Palm Springs before Jack moved here. There was an old polo club where Kevin played. Jack came to town and built this state of the art polo club and along with it, made his team the best in the United States and maybe the world. He thinks his team is that good.”

  “What does Kevin do now?” Marty asked.

  “He has his own polo team, but his team has definitely become second rate compared to Jack’s. From what Jack told me, he blames Jack for him now being considered a ‘has-been’ player. He can’t get investors, and he can’t get good players. Everyone prefers to be with Jack.”

  “Sounds like a motive to me,” Les said.

  “Yes, so now we have as possible suspects Jack’s son, Jensen, Gerta, Kevin, and Frank,” Jeff said. “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Jack as a suspect.”

  “What?” they said, almost in unison. Marty was the first to speak. “Jeff, you can’t be serious! His wife-to-be was the woman who was murdered. What possible motive would he have for killing her?”

  “Marty, easy. You’re the one who told me Pia’s art glass collection was probably worth several million dollars. Any time that much money is on the table, it becomes a motive.”

  “Jeff, I know you’re the detective, but I don’t see Jack Rutledge as a murderer. You may have him on the list, but I think he should be at the very bottom.”

  “So noted, Marty, but I’m keeping him on the list. There’s one other thing that was interesting. One of the names on the guest list was a man by the name of Luigi Marco. Jack doesn’t know him, but his administrative assistant said a man, obviously Italian, called last week and said he was interested in possibly becoming an investor in Jack’s polo team. He said he couldn’t come to the cocktail party because of a prior commitment, but he’d like to send one of his employees, and the employee could report back to him. Nicky kept a record of everyone who had been sent an invitation, and she’d sent it to a man by the name of Roberto Battisto. He’d asked that the invite be sent to him but issued in the name of Luigi Marco.”

  “I’d think Jack would be thrilled to have people interested in becoming sponsors,” Les said.

  “Yes and no. We maintain a large database at the station of known Mafia members. It may be profiling, but any time someone with an Italian name is connected to a crime, we run it through that database. Nothing came up on Luigi, but Battisto’s rumored to be the West Coast Mafia Family’s number two man. According to what I found out, his uncle is now the head of it, and Battisto will be taking over the Family business in the future.” He sat back and sipped his wine while they digested the information.

  “Are you saying he could be a possible suspect?” John asked.

  “I think the timing is interesting. Jack says he never met the man, and he doesn’t know Battisto. The problem with Marco is motive. What could possibly be his motive? I’m having my friend in Los Angeles check out that angle as well. I’m hopeful we’ll have something tomorrow. Oh, one more thing. Marty, I don’t think I told you this morning that a cigarette was found next to Pia’s body.”

  Marty interrupted him. “It probably was Pia’s. She told me she was trying to give up smoking, but she felt she could justify one cigarette. When she left to go outside she said the last hour had been stressful for her, and she wanted to have a cigarette. What did you find out about it?”

  “You’re right. Although DNA tests usually take weeks, once in a while I can request that one be done on an emergency basis. Pia’s DNA was found on the cigarette. What’s interesting about it is she must have just lit the cigarette when she was murdered, because it didn’t look like more than a couple of puffs had been taken on it. I was able to get fingerprints other than Pia’s off of it.”

  “Do you think the fingerprints are those of the murderer?” Marty asked.

  “Possibly, very possibly, but it may not do us any good because although the prints are clear, I ran them through the national fingerprint databank, and there was no match.”

  “What does that mean?” Max asked.

  “It means the person whose fingerprints are on the cigarette has never been printed by any law enforcement agency which tells me the person doesn’t have a criminal record. Essentially, the fingerprints are of absolutely no value to us at this time.”

  They were all quiet processing what Jeff had just told them. Laura was the first to speak. “Jeff, I know you’ve become somewhat of a believer in whatever psychic gift I have. Here’s what I’m getting. I’m sensing a lot of feminine energy surrounding Pia’s death. I know you have a number of male suspects, but I’m not getting that kind of energy.”

  “Well, if you’re right, and you usually are, that means Gerta must be the murderer. She’s the only woman we’ve identified as a suspect. Does that sound right to you?” he asked.

  “I can’t say for sure, and I could be wrong. The only solid thing I’m getting is that it’s none of the men you’ve been discussing.”

  “Maybe it will be a little clearer as we begin a process of elimination,” Jeff said. “I expect to know something tomorrow.”

  “Jeff, if you’re pretty much through giving us an update on the murder investigation, Max and I need to put the finishing touches on dinner.”

  “John, with the past twenty-four hours I’ve had, I’ll be fine with whatever you bring out. What are we having tonight?” Jeff asked.

  “Something new for me. It’s a crab mac and cheese pasta. The reason I want to try it out on all of you is I think I could make it ahead of time and put it in little ramekins and then heat them in the microwave when someone places an order for it. Since more and more people like to try a couple of things for lunch, this could be my version of a small plate at the food trucks. Back in a couple of minutes.”

  *****

  “John, this is a no-brainer. Anyone who wouldn’t like this dish doesn’t deserve to eat at your food truck. It’s wonderful and definitely worth five stars,” Marty said. She looked around the table. “Don’t you all agree?”

  The answer was a resounding yes. Within minutes the table was cleared, and everyone headed to their own home. It had been a long, long day.

  A few minutes later Marty closed the door to their house and said, “Jeff, why don’t you go to bed? I can tell from that vacant look in your eyes you’re out on your feet. I really do need to do a little work on the art glass appraisal.”

  “Thanks for being so understanding. This wasn’t quite how I wanted to start our married life, but unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice. What’s on your agenda tom
orrow? Finishing up the art glass appraisal?”

  “No. I’m going back to Jack’s. Like I said earlier, I have to appraise all of the rest of the things in his house I consider to be of value. It really puts me under the gun to complete this appraisal. I’ll be in bed in a couple of hours. As I told you, a lot of this appraisal is simply going to be my judgment call on values. I just hope he never has a loss, and I’m never challenged. Good night, sweetheart. I love you.”

  “Marty, I’d like to say I’ll be gallant and wait up for you, but we both know that isn’t going to happen. See you in the morning,” he said as he turned off the light.

  CHAPTER 18

  Lupe opened the front door of Jack’s house and walked along a narrow gravel path that led to her apartment behind the garage. She was glad Jensen would be staying with his father again tonight. She’d also be glad when they buried Pia tomorrow and things in the Rutledge house could get somewhat back to normal.

  She opened the door of her apartment, luxuriating in the spaciousness of it. When she was a child growing up in a small village in Mexico, Lupe, along with her brothers and sisters, slept with her parents in their one room hovel. There were no beds, only a makeshift sleeping area. They huddled together for warmth in the winters, substituting their body heat for a non-existent furnace or fireplace. Her father desperately wanted to give his children a better life than he and her mother had, and one day he told his young family that they were going to move to the United States. He said he’d given all his money to a man who promised he would take them there using a special secret route he knew about.

  It turned out the secret route hadn’t been so secret, and it didn’t help that the man had been on the payroll of the American border patrol. The van they were riding in had been filled with illegal immigrants trying to sneak across the border into the United States, and when it had been stopped at the roadblock set by the border patrol, everyone in her family had been taken into custody and sent back to Mexico. The only thing that kept Lupe from being sent back was the flashlight the border patrol guard had shined in the van. The battery died before the light could illuminate Lupe who was huddled in a corner far away from the door. The guard had to get a new battery from his car, and she had just enough time to slip out of the van and hide behind some desert scrub plants before he returned.