Marty wrote down the name of Kevin Sanders and then drew a line through it.
“Jeff, you haven’t mentioned Pia’s sister, Gerta Martelli. Any fingerprints for her?” Laura asked.
“I didn’t mention her because I haven’t been able to get an answer on fingerprints for her. She’s a teacher, and while here in California teachers have to be fingerprinted, I don’t know what the practice is in New Jersey where she teaches. I was able to find out what district her school’s in, but evidently they have an annual three day break this time of year, which may be why she came out here. I don’t know why or what the break is attached to, but there’s been no answer either at the district office or at her school. I did find out they’ll be back in session tomorrow. I hope to have an answer in the morning. Other than that, I’m out of suspects. Do any of you have some brilliant thoughts you’d like to share with me?” Jeff asked looking at the others.
They shook their heads, indicating no. He turned to Laura and asked, “Based on everything you’ve heard tonight, are you getting any psychic feelings as to who the murderer might be?”
“No. Everything you’ve said tonight pretty much backs up what I already told you. I still have a sense of feminine energy surrounding the murder, and I don’t think it’s the feminine energy coming from Pia. I’ll be interested to see what happens tomorrow when you finally connect with the school district.”
“Me too. If I find out teachers are required to be fingerprinted, I can get in touch with the local police force in New Jersey. In a perfect world I could send the prints from the cigarette and the piece of newspaper to their lab, and they’d have an immediate answer as to whether or not the prints matched Gerta’s.”
“Well, if they did, then what?” Les asked.
Jeff ran his hands over his face clearly frustrated and tired. “I’d talk to my captain and try to convince him that the matching fingerprints are enough evidence for us to arrest her. We’d have to arrange her arrest through the police in the suburb where she lives outside of Trenton. I’d probably have to travel there and bring her back. If all that happens, there can still be a problem with the police in a small town. They often feel like the big city cops are upstaging them. We’ve had problems before when the suspect is from a small town in another state.”
“Okay, my friends, on that note I think it’s time we wrap it up for tonight. I have a couple of hours of research ahead of me. See you in the morning,” Marty said. The others followed and soon the compound became quiet as the courtyard lights were turned off for the night.
*****
Marty spent several hours on her computer checking out comparable prices for the pieces she’d appraised in the art glass collection. A few years ago when the auction houses began charging for people to see what the auction items had actually sold for she’d gladly paid the fee, figuring the cost was well worth the time and effort she would have otherwise had to spend researching them.
Although it was time-consuming, she was able to substantiate the values she was placing on the items by what other similar pieces by the artist or company had sold for. In each case the pieces in Pia’s collection were far better in quality than other similar pieces that had been sold. In many cases, they were one of a kind, and therefore somewhat priceless. Once again she hoped the appraisal would never need to be used because of theft, breakage, or a fire. They really were unique items.
Now that the hard work of determining the values to be placed on the pieces was finished, she needed to dictate the description, condition, and value of each piece. Carl, a friend of hers in the Palm Springs Appraisal Society, had recommended a woman who typed his appraisals. Marty had developed an excellent relationship with her, and she’d typed up all of Marty’s appraisals ever since Marty had begun appraising in the Palm Springs area. Although Marty knew she was tight on time, she was too tired to dictate the report right then. She emailed Janelle, the typist, and asked about her availability for the next few days, because she had a rush project of one hundred twenty-three items.
Within minutes she received a return email from Janelle stating that she’d put Marty’s appraisal at the top of her list, and she could have it for her within forty-eight hours. Marty thanked her and wrote back that she’d get it to her within the next couple of days. She took Duke out for his late night walk and then got into bed next to Jeff, whose breathing bordered on being a slight snore but not enough to keep her from quickly falling asleep.
CHAPTER 23
When Marty woke up Thursday morning she found a note from Jeff. “Good morning, my beautiful wife. I wanted to get to the station early and call the school district in New Jersey, since there’s a three-hour time difference. I just want to let you know how much I love you, and I’ll see you tonight. Have a wonderful day.”
She smiled thinking how lucky she was to have found and married such a wonderful man in her mid-life years. Between Jeff, her appraisal work, and her friends at the compound, she wasn’t sure life could get much better. She made a pot of coffee and took Duke out for his morning walk.
As she often did, she used Duke as a sounding board on her walks with him and this morning was no different. “Duke, it’s almost like there’s something I should be doing, but I don’t know what it is. Something’s flitting around my brain, but it hasn’t landed yet.”
He looked up at her quizzically as if to say, “And you’re asking me? As if I’d know.”
“Duke, I know you don’t know what I’m talking about, but let me talk it out. Maybe something will come to me. Thanks for being such a good listener.”
Marty saw a car coming towards the compound, and she waved at Yolanda, the housekeeper who came every other week to clean the four houses in the compound.
Sure would make my life more difficult if I had to clean the house and try to get an appraisal out on a rush basis, she thought. I imagine the same thought has occurred to Jack. If he didn’t have Lupe to take care of everything his life would be even more difficult.
She continued to talk to Duke and then she stopped suddenly while Duke kept walking. Her arm was painfully jerked from the strain of him pulling on his leash. “I knew I was missing something, and that’s it. Come on, Duke, let’s go back. We’ve all missed the most obvious thing.” She hurried back to the compound and walked through the gate, carefully latching it behind her, although since Duke never ventured out into the desert without his booties, she realized she was probably being overly cautious.
Marty changed into jeans and a blouse. When she first became an appraiser she’d worn dresses and skirts. She quickly found that as much bending over and reaching up as she was required to do while conducting an appraisal, those types of clothes simply did not work well at all. Slacks became her uniform, and when she’d moved to Palm Springs she exchanged the slacks for jeans. People dressed casually in the resort area, and she was more than happy to follow their lead.
Marty was just gathering up her appraisal equipment when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said, expecting to see Yolanda. Instead Laura walked in with a worried look on her face. “Laura, what’s wrong? I can see something’s bothering you. What is it?”
“I know you respect my whatever it is I have, you know, my psychic abilities. We’ve talked about it often enough over the years. I have a favor to ask of you. Please don’t go to your appraisal today.”
“Laura, I can’t do that. You know how important it is that I finish up this appraisal so I have time to do the work on the art glass appraisal. I’ve even arranged for Earl Mathers, the guy that’s the expert on antique books, to meet me there this afternoon. Your boss would be furious if I didn’t show up. What makes you say something like that?”
“I had a dream last night. You were in the Polo House, and you were in danger, a great deal of danger. I could feel feminine energy surrounding you. I don’t know what it’s about, but please stay home today.”
“Laura, I think you’re worrying unnecessarily, but I’ll be extr
a careful today, I promise.”
Laura sighed and said, “I was afraid you’d say that. Do me a favor. I know you have a gun. Would you take it and keep it with you today as a favor to me? I still don’t want you to go, but if I know you have a gun, at least I’ll feel a little better.”
“As a favor to you, I will.” She walked over to her desk and opened the drawer where she kept it. She unlatched her purse and dropped it in. “There, that should make you feel better.”
“Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing,” Laura grumbled. “See you tonight, I hope.” She walked towards the door.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marty asked. “Not a very optimistic thing to say to your sister.”
“May not be. Think about it. There’s already been one murder at the Polo House. I don’t want you to be the second one.”
“My dear sister, I have no intention of being murdered. Before you know it I’ll be back here and finished with the appraisal. We’ll have our usual glass of wine in the courtyard and a fabulous dinner courtesy of John. Life will be good. You’ll see,” she said to Laura’s back as she was leaving to walk back to her own house.
There’s no way I’m going to share my plans for today with her. She’d probably tie me up and lock me in her house until Jeff came home. No, I’ve got a murder to solve today, and I have a pretty good idea how to find out for sure who did it.
CHAPTER 24
Marty pulled up in front of the Polo House promptly at ten o’clock, once again enchanted by the beauty of the large desert home. She rang the doorbell, and in a moment it was opened by Lupe.
“Good morning, Lupe, how are you today?” Marty looked at her and thought she looked like she was in pain.
“Except for the headache I have, I’m fine, but with all the aspirin I’ve taken I’m sure it will soon be better. Will you be finishing up your appraisal today?”
“I hope so. I only have three areas of the house left to appraise, Mr. Rutledge’s office, his suite, and Pia’s suite. There will be another appraiser coming this afternoon to look at the antique books. His name is Earl Mathers.”
“I’m glad you told me. Mr. Rutledge asked me to get a few things for him at the store. I’ll plan on doing that later this morning, so I’ll be here when Mr. Mathers arrives.”
“That’s not necessary. I can let him in.”
“No. One of the things Mr. Rutledge feels very strongly about is that everything associated with the polo club have a professional image. That was one of the first things he told me when I started working for him. Anyway, I think he’s feeling much better, and he seems to finally be getting over Mrs. Marshall’s death, which is a good thing.”
Finally getting over Mrs. Marshall’s death? In only a couple of days? Is this woman dealing with reality or is she living on some planet I’m not on? Marty thought.
“Excuse me, Lupe, I need to get started in order to finish today. When you see Mr. Rutledge, please tell him I’ll be doing his office first and then the two suites. I’ll see you later.” Marty walked down the hall to Jack’s office and put her purse and appraisal equipment on the floor inside the door.
Marty had decided earlier in the morning what she had to do if Lupe left the house. The thought of what she was about to do sent a cold shiver of fear down her back. It helped to ease her nervous tension by keeping busy. For the next hour Marty took dimensions, photos, and made notes as to the condition of the things she was inspecting. She’d need that information when she dictated the report. She heard a car pulling out of the garage and saw Lupe backing down the driveway. She listened for a moment, and the only sounds she heard were the voices coming from Taffy’s television in the kitchen.
Marty walked down the hall to the living room and opened the French doors which led to the back yard. To her right was the three car garage, and she saw Lupe’s apartment directly behind it. She looked around, but didn’t see any gardeners or anyone else in the back yard. She quickly walked towards Lupe’s apartment, hoping against hope she hadn’t locked the door.
Lupe’s white adobe apartment with its red-tiled roof matched the Polo House and looked like a guest house, which it could easily be used for if it wasn’t being occupied by a live-in housekeeper. The back of the apartment shared a common wall with the rear of the garage.
Although her heart was beating wildly, Marty steeled herself to calmly open the door as if she knew it was unlocked. She didn’t know what she’d do if Lupe returned and hoped against hope she’d be long gone from Lupe’s apartment before she did return. The door was unlocked, and she walked in. Marty looked around at the comfortable room. Although it hadn’t been furnished in the Arts and Crafts style as the Polo House had been, it had a warm feel to it. She took a few steps down the hall and saw the bathroom and the bedroom. Marty assumed the brightly colored serapes hanging on the walls throughout the apartment were reminders to Lupe of her Mexican heritage.
Between the bathroom and what looked like Lupe’s bedroom was a closed door which piqued Marty’s curiosity. Even though she knew there was a possibility that Lupe wouldn’t be gone too long, she couldn’t help herself. She had to know what was behind the closed door. She listened for any sounds that would indicate there was a human or an animal behind the door. She heard nothing and gingerly opened the door. She stood stock still, shocked at the sight in front of her. Although the window was closed and a black-out shade had been hung over it, with the natural light coming in from the hall she could clearly see what was in the room.
Every inch of wall surface had been covered with photos of Jack Rutledge and articles about him. There were several photographs of Lupe and Jack. There was an empty L shaped space on one wall, and Marty was certain that the newspaper clipping Taffy had found attached to the back of the cupboard door had been pinned to the wall in that empty space. The shapes matched perfectly. An altar of sorts was on the back wall with a large picture of Jack in the center. It consisted of a tall table with small vases of flowers and candles on it. In front of the makeshift altar was a meditation pillow resting on a small rug.
Taffy told me she was certain Lupe was in love with Jack Rutledge, and from what I’m seeing, I have to agree with her. The articles, the pictures, the altar - this is a room dedicated to Jack Rutledge. Wow! Wait until I tell Jeff about this. It makes perfect sense that Lupe would want to murder Pia to keep Jack from getting married. The only problem is this shrine she’s built to honor Jack still doesn’t prove Lupe was the murderer, and I’m sure it wouldn’t stand up in court.
She stood for several moments looking around the room which paid homage to the man Lupe evidently loved. Marty knew she had to think of something that would tie Lupe to the murder when the word “fingerprints” popped into her mind. She was sure the hunch she’d had that morning when she was on her walk with Duke was correct. Now she needed to get something with Lupe’s fingerprints on it and take it to Jeff, so he could have the police lab analyze it.
Marty knew whatever she took from the apartment had to have Lupe’s fingerprints on it, but only Lupe’s. She had no idea if anyone else was ever in Lupe’s apartment. On her way down the hall she passed by the bathroom and thought, Of course. No one else would use her toothbrush. That would have to have her fingerprints on it.
When she’d left her house that morning Marty had put a couple of small plastic bags in her pocket, not quite certain what she’d use them for, but knowing they might come in handy. She took a piece of Kleenex that was on the bathroom counter, picked up Lupe’s toothbrush, and put it in a plastic bag. Even though she’d felt foolish, she’d brought her purse with her to the apartment, because she’d promised Laura she’d keep the gun Jeff had given her some time ago close to her today. She put the plastic bag in her purse and opened the door to the apartment. She didn’t see anyone and began walking towards the main house.
“Good morning, Marty,” she heard Jack’s booming voice saying. “Did you find something to appraise out here?” he asked.
“No,” she said laughing. “It’s an old habit of mine to always check out the back of houses and yards in case there’s something of value there the owners have overlooked. You’d be surprised what people use as planters, but in your case, I didn’t find anything. My husband said he’d treat me to lunch today if I thought I was far enough along in the appraisal to justify it. My friend won’t be here until two this afternoon to appraise your book collection, so I’m going to take a little break and meet Jeff. Is that okay?”
“Of course. As hard as you’ve been working this week, you deserve it. Enjoy your lunch. See you later.”
She walked around the house to where her car was parked, got in, and headed for the police station.
CHAPTER 25
On the way to the police station, Marty called Jeff. He answered on the first ring. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around this morning, but I needed to make that call to the school district back in New Jersey.”
She interrupted him, “Jeff, I want to hear all about it. I’m on my way to the station. We’ve met at the coffee shop next to the station before. Can you meet me there in five minutes?”
He was quiet for a moment and then he said, “Somehow, this worries me. Yes, I’ll be there. Anything you want to tell me now?”
“No. See you shortly.”
When she pulled up in front of the coffee shop he was crossing the parking lot from the police station. He walked over to her car and opened the door. “Want to stay in here and talk, or do you want to go in the coffee shop?” he asked.
“I can’t eat. I’m too nervous, but I sure could use a cup of coffee.”
He looked down at her curiously. “Let’s go.”
Murder at the Polo Club Page 11
