Saddled Up 4 Murder Read online

  Marshall chuckled. “Me? Look who’s talking. I’m surprised I don’t have any more gray hairs from some of the situations you’ve gotten into.”

  “You don’t have any gray hairs.”

  “And I intend to keep it that way. Relax, Nate and I will exercise the appropriate amount of caution. And I’ll keep you posted best as I can via text or voicemail if I can’t reach you.”

  “Thanks. I know it’s your job but worrying is now part of mine. Um, speaking of tentacles, I had an enlightening little chat with a lady at the dog park this morning. She said Billie was active in the Boomers club and―”

  “Oh, no. Please don’t tell me we have to worry about Operation Agatha Part Two from the book club ladies.”

  “Not if I can help it. That Boomers club is enormous. I plan to start slow. With a woman who volunteers at the library. Cindy said the woman knew Billie. After work tomorrow I’ll swing by there and see what I can find out.”

  Marshall let out a slow breath and the tight lines around his eyes loosened. “Good. The library. A nice, safe place with lots of people.”

  “And a bell tower that’s now a crime scene. Tell me, do you really believe the sheriff’s office is still gathering evidence?”

  Marshall shook his head. “Nope. I think they may be worried about a copycat murder. Or, in this case, accident, as a result of an altercation.”

  “And here I thought I was the only one who reached that conclusion.”

  • • •

  The sound of rustling noises woke me before dawn. I sat up in bed and watched as Marshall moved about in our walk-in closet. The dim light seemed to brighten as my eyes got used to the semidarkness.

  “Are you packing already?” I asked. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

  “No need to do that. Get back to sleep. I’ll be fine. I’m meeting Nate at the office and from there we’ll head south.”

  “Whose car?”

  “His. It’s bigger and more comfortable according to him. Although we’ll both take turns at the wheel.”

  “I’m up already. Might as well have that first cup here.”

  If there was one word to describe Marshall’s idea of packing, it was light. He threw a few shirts and a change of pants into a carry-on bag along with socks, underwear, and an old ratty T-shirt that he sometimes slept in. The toiletries barely took up any space and he wore his sweatshirt since mornings were still cool by Arizona standards.

  Less than twenty minutes later he was out the door and I was way too wired to go back to bed. Instead, I picked up around the house and plunked myself in front of the computer to do some internet searching of my own. Beginning with Billie Churl’s Facebook page.

  Talk about a total bust. With the exception of extreme sports photos, the Facebook page didn’t offer much. Of course, there was the opportunity to connect with her as a friend, but unless I wanted to contact a medium, all bets were off. Instagram, LinkedIn, and Twitter weren’t even on Billie’s map.

  Resigning myself to the fact I’d have to resort to old-fashioned gumshoeing, I took a shower, got dressed, and headed to the office. An early start meant an early getaway, and if I was lucky, maybe Adelaide Sasher could fill in the blanks. Or, in this case, paint the entire canvas.

  It was one of those rare days when I beat Augusta to the office. Even if it was only by four or five minutes.

  “Couldn’t get back to sleep with Marshall leaving so soon, huh?” she asked the second she opened the door. “It’s a sign you’re meant to be an old married couple.”

  “Gee, thanks. For your information, I wanted an early start. I don’t want to miss Adelaide at the library. She and this other woman, Julia something, from the Boomers club are the only leads I have. Good thing I wrote her full name down and stuffed it in the car’s console.”

  Augusta laughed. “You would have made Sam Spade proud.”

  “Very funny. By the way, social media was a total waste. I tried tracking Billie down on Facebook and every other reasonable site known, but came up empty. Now I’m resorting to gossip media. Hey, did Nate or Marshall ever mention DNA evidence from Billie’s body? I meant to ask them but they were both so preoccupied with those stolen horses. I thought perhaps in their conversations with Ranston and Bowman something might have come up.”

  “Mention those names and the only thing coming up is some unsettled food in my stomach. No, neither of them said anything.”

  “I supposed if there was DNA evidence or even trace DNA, it would leak out to the press. So far nothing. According to the TV stations, Billie’s assailant hasn’t been identified. Anyway, I’ve got a stack of invoices to deal with, so off I go. As soon as I make myself the second cup of coffee for the morning.”

  The phone rang a few times and with my door ajar, I could hear Augusta conversing with a few potential clients. Then another call came in and this time it was for me.

  “Phee, it’s a lady by the name of Louise Munson on the line. Is that the book club lady with the African gray parrot? Hers can’t be as bad as the one Mr. Williams is babysitting.”

  “According to Nate, nothing’s as bad as having Mr. Fluffypants as a roommate. Go ahead, transfer the call in here.”

  “Phee! It’s Louise. Louise Munson. From the book club. I tried you at home but there was no answer and then I remembered you work every other Saturday morning.”

  Since Louise was most likely the last person to see Billie Churl alive, other than the person who made sure she wasn’t, I hoped she didn’t call to tell me she needed bail money and couldn’t reach my mother.

  “Uh, hi, Louise. Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m calling you. You work for that detective agency. Maybe you can help.”

  “I, um, er . . .”

  “That horrid deputy called me first thing in the morning and wanted to speak with me again. Asked if I could meet him at the posse station today.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t. I sort of hung up on him and unplugged my landline. Then I left the house and spent most of the morning at Costco.”

  Oh, geez. If that’s not an admission of guilt, I don’t know what is.

  “Where are you calling from now?”

  “I’m back home. I had to put the groceries away.”

  “Okay. Fine. Call the sheriff’s office, ask for Deputy Ranston, and when you get him on the line, tell him you had some phone trouble and then had to leave for an appointment. Don’t elaborate. Ask if he’d be willing to chat with you at the library after two p.m. I’ve got to be there on some other business and I’d be happy to sit in while he speaks with you. Does that sound all right?”

  “Phee, you don’t think I need a lawyer, do you? What if he arrests me?”

  “There’s no evidence pointing to an arrest.” Unless that forensic crew did find DNA and it belongs to Louise. “Try to relax. Make yourself a cup of tea and call my office back once you reach the deputy. Fair enough?”

  “Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  I walked to the outer office and plopped myself in the chair next to Augusta’s desk. “I think I may have signed on to offer legal services but I’m not sure.”

  “What? Snooping around and playing detective isn’t enough? Now you want to go all Janet Reno on us?”

  “Deputy Ranston wanted to bring in Louise Munson for more questioning and she panicked. I told her I’d sit in with her today. That is, if Deputy Ranston agrees to talk with her at the library. I have to be there anyway. You know, to―”

  “I know. I know. To pry every single drop of information you can from some poor lady who gives book recommendations.”

  “That poor lady may very well turn out to be the one person who can nail this case.”

  Augusta rolled her eyes and went back to her computer monitor. “I’d have a plan B if I were you.”

  As it turned out, not only did I need a plan B, but a plan C and D wouldn’t have hurt.

  Chapter 8

  Adelaide Sasher was seated at a round table adjacent to the library counter when I arrived at twenty to one. Stacks of books were piled everywhere and a few were fanned out. An elderly petite woman with tight bluish curls thanked her and walked past me. I smiled and made a beeline for the table, hoping my grumbling stomach wasn’t audible.

  I’d planned on forgoing lunch in order to make it to the library before Adelaide left knowing I could hit a fast-food place on the way home. But now, since I added the Louise Munson–Deputy Ranston tête-à-tête to my early afternoon to-do list, my stomach would rival one of those F-32s from Luke Airforce Base.

  “Hi!” I said the minute I approached Adelaide. With her perfectly styled chin-length hair and a matching pink sweater and skirt ensemble, she reminded me of my fourth-grade teacher, only a few decades older. “I’m hoping you can help me out. Do you mind if I take a seat?”

  “Please do. Take that comfortable chair on the left. I’m delighted to help folks with their book selections but I must say, you look young to be living in Sun City West.”

  Whew.

  “My mother lives here. Harriet Plunkett. I’m―”

  “Harriet Plunkett! I listen to her radio show whenever I can. Murder mysteries are my favorite genre. So, what brings you here?”

  “That very thing. Only not in the form of entertainment. I’m Sophie Kimball, but everyone calls me Phee and I work for Williams Investigations in Glendale. As their bookkeeper and accountant. But I’m not here because of Williams Investigations.” I’ve got to stop rambling. It’s quarter to one already. “I’m here on my mother’s behalf to help figure out who could have been responsible for causing Billie Churl to fall to her death in the library tower.”

  Adelaide turned her head in the direction of the tower and then looked back. “Shocking thing. Of all places. Were you close to Billie?”

  “I didn’t even know her. Gee, this is sounding more and more bizarre so I’d better explain. Right now, the library tower is cordoned off and it may remain that way for quite a while. Investigations emanating from the sheriff’s office tend to take a long time. That means the annual snowbird send-off won’t come with its usual panache.”

  “The balloon launch?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I love that balloon launch. It’s better than watching the ball drop on Times Square. But I’m not sure how I can help you. I wasn’t here at the time of the incident.”

  “Oh, I’m not looking into the incident, I’m trying to find out who might have had a motive to assault Billie in the tower. I was told that if anyone knew anything about her, it would be you, since you’re so familiar with the library clienteles’ reading habits.”

  Adelaide leaned forward and repositioned the fanned books. “I was certainly familiar with Billie’s.” She motioned me closer, and when our heads all but touched, she whispered, “I think that woman was a witch.”

  I straightened my back. “Oh, yeah. I’ve heard that from lots of sources. Including her nickname, the deli-witch, because she was so abrasive to the customers.”

  Adelaide shook her head. “Not that kind of a witch. A witch-witch.”

  “You mean one of those practicing Wiccans who sanctify nature?”

  Again Adelaide shook her head. “Nope. I mean a self-serving woman who may have dabbled in the dark arts. At least according to her book selections and requests. All nonfiction. And many from interlibrary loan from universities.”

  “Please don’t tell me she was interested in casting spells and making potions.”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. From time to time she’d ask for recommendations about other topics such as knot tying, leather working, money laundering, hedge funds, and nontraditional investments. Go figure.”

  “Wow. That’s a bit unnerving. I don’t suppose you have any idea who she tangled with in the tower?”

  “Not a clue. I wish I could be more help. I’d like to see things get back to normal around here, too, but it’s hard with crime scene tape plastered a few yards from the romance section of the library.”

  I chuckled to myself. “It’s daunting, all right. Anyway, thank you so much for your time, and if you think of anything, please call me.” I handed her my Williams Investigations card, and unlike other times in the past, I didn’t cover up the words bookkeeper and accountant.

  It was now ten after one. Enough time for me to grab a bite from the Subway shop across the parking lot and get back in time for Louise and Deputy Ranston. That is, if Deputy Ranston agreed to meet with her. I figured if he was anxious to press her for further information, he would be at the library within the hour.

  No sooner did the sliding glass doors open than I nearly collided with him.

  “Miss Kimball. Please tell me you’re checking out a book for your mother and not engaging the patrons in one of your unsanctioned investigations.”

  “Nice to see you, too. In fact, I’ll be seeing more of you. Louise Munson asked if I’d be willing to sit in for moral support during her conversation with you. I figured I’d have time to grab a bite for lunch first.”

  “You still didn’t answer my first statement. Please don’t tell me you’ve got your nose in Billie Churl’s unfortunate demise.”

  My nose and every other part of me apparently.

  We skirted away from the sliding entrance doors and positioned ourselves against the outside of the building. “Look,” I said, “you know as well as I do that whenever a body crops up within a fifty-mile radius of my mother and her book club friends, I’m going to be coerced into doing some serious sleuthing. My mother can be very convincing.”

  Deputy Ranston let out a slow, loud sigh. “I give up. Just don’t get in the way. That woman’s fall has led to more speculation than anything I’ve seen in the past year. And being one of those Boomers, she was into everything. Darn it all. Why couldn’t she have just belonged to the knitting club and called it a day? Too bad your boss and your fiancé are unavailable to assist with this one. The interviews alone are going to kill us. Do you have any idea how many people we need to speak with?”

  “We as in Deputy Bowman?”

  “Unless MCSO decides to hire additional staff, it’s Bowman and me on this one.”

  “Tell me, you don’t really think Louise Munson had anything to do with Billie’s death, do you? I mean, I could understand if it was, say, Myrna Mittleson, on those stairs doing cardio exercises. She’s built like a Russian tank. But Louise? Honestly.”

  “I really shouldn’t be offering up information like this, but I know it won’t go any further. Louise is not a suspect. However, she may know more than she realizes. Sometimes when things like this happen, witnesses don’t recall all the specifics of a situation until hours or sometimes days later.”

  “But Louise left the library tower before the incident happened.”

  “That doesn’t mean she didn’t hear anything or even smell anything.”

  For a brief second I remembered an odor I smelled a while back and it was instrumental in solving a murder case. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. Were you thinking perhaps it might have been a delicatessen odor? From someone who worked with Billie?”

  “Our office interviewed everyone from that deli and all the employees had ironclad alibis for the time in question. That leads us to believe Billie Churl’s assailant was either someone she knew from her activities in Sun City West or―”

  “My God! Don’t say it―some poor psychotic person off of his or her meds. The West Valley has seen an uptick of homeless people on the streets and many of them refuse to get help.”

  “We’re not ruling out anything but we do have to start somewhere.”

  “Well, you can start by telling Louise she’s not a suspect. The poor woman is one step away from cashing in her IRA to hire an attorney.”

  “It’s not my fault your mother’s friends are, shall we say, a bit prone to overreacting.”

  “Just tell her. Meanwhile, I intend to dart out for something to eat. I’ll be back in a little bit. By then, Louise should be here.”

  I gobbled down my half roast beef sub and washed it down with Coke before racing back from Subway to the library. Louise and Deputy Ranston were already seated at a round table across from the DVD section. The adjacent tables were unoccupied but a few patrons milled about.

  Deputy Ranston kept his voice low but it was audible as I approached their table. “As I was saying, Ms. Munson, you were most likely the last person to see Billie alive. That’s why I need you to think back and recall every single detail you noticed. Even if it seems irrelevant.”

  “I already told you, I was partially up the stairs when that wretched woman, may she rest in peace, elbowed past me and called me an old fossil.”

  “Prior to her arrival, did you notice anything that seemed strange? Perhaps directly above you on the base of the tower bell.”

  “I wasn’t looking up at the tower bell. I’m not an owl.”

  “What about odors? Did you notice an unfamiliar odor?”

  I pulled out a chair, smiled at Louise and motioned for her to continue.

  “The bell tower always has a musty odor. Not terribly bad but stale air. Hmm, come to think of it, there was something else. Like overdone campfire smell.”

  “Overdone?” he asked.

  “It was cloying. That’s the word―cloying. Definitely a mix of smoke and ash, but with something sickening sweet mixed in. I didn’t really give it any thought at the time. Those maintenance guys are always checking out that bell. Oiling it, dusting it, whatever they have to do. I just assumed the odor came from one of them. Maybe it was an aftershave. Or something they used to cover up smoking. Smoking’s not allowed on the premises but I’ve seen them behind the Dumpster next to the fitness center. They think no one’s looking, but we are.”

  Deputy Ranston reached in his pocket, pulled out a pen and small pad, and proceeded to jot down something. “That’s been very helpful, Ms. Munson. Very helpful indeed. If you can think of anything else, you have my card.”