Saddled Up 4 Murder Read online

  “Um, I thought of something,” I said. “Video surveillance. Doesn’t this library have video surveillance?”

  The deputy looked around, clasped his hands, and shook his head. “The only camera they have is outside by the computer room entrance. We checked the footage and accounted for everyone who used that entrance that morning. There are no cameras by the front entrance and nothing inside, although I imagine that will change due to recent circumstances. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I need to be on my way.”

  He stood and started for the door before walking back to the table. “One more thing,” he said. “Until this matter is resolved, please leave the investigative work to the sheriff’s office.”

  I did a mental eye roll and widened my eyes. Like that’s going to happen.

  Chapter 9

  “I’m sorry I dragged you away from whatever it was you were doing,” Louise said, “but I was really sure I was going to be read my rights.”

  “No problem. Given your second round of questioning, my take is that you’re not the only one the deputies will be interviewing again. I don’t think the forensic crew was able to pull enough evidence from the scene of the crime. Trace DNA is a tricky thing.”

  “But those TV reporters said it appeared as if Billie had defensive wounds.”

  “Yeah, it was the same party line on all the networks. But it wasn’t definitive. It was speculation. They’re careful to use words like appeared. Anyway, if those deputies had anything, they wouldn’t be re-interviewing the library patrons.”

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but this place is beginning to give me the willies. What if there’s some nutcase out there stalking unsuspecting seniors?”

  “I think you’ll be fine, Louise, if you stay in visible areas with lots of people around. Besides, everyone’s on the alert now.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Thanks again for helping me out. I might as well check out a book while I’m here. A pleasant domestic murder for a change. Like one of Libby Klein’s or Debra Goldstein’s books. I like the food ones especially but I gained ten pounds after reading Debra Sennefelder’s food blogger series. Still, I ordered her next release.”

  I laughed and pushed my chair into the table. “Call me any time. I mean it.”

  If nothing else, past experience taught me that if my mother knew about one of my reconnaissance missions, like the chat with Adelaide Sasher, she’d plague me to death until I coughed up every last detail. Since Marshall and Nate were on their own mission and I didn’t have any plans for the afternoon, I phoned her from the car and asked if she’d be home for a while.

  “You found out something, didn’t you?” she bellowed in my ear. “Those library volunteers are notorious for gathering information. So, what was it? What did you find out? Should I be worried about my Streetman?”

  I’d be worried about your Streetman with or without a recent assault leading to death.

  “Look, I’m a few blocks away. I’ll swing over and we can talk.”

  “Good. I’ll take something out of the freezer.”

  “No! I mean, no, don’t go to any trouble. I already ate. See you in a few minutes.”

  My mother’s freezer was like a meat locker from another century. And one that should come with a warning, “Defrost at your own risk.” The coffee was iffy, too. It could be fresh or, heaven forbid, reheated from the day before. I didn’t take any chances. I swung by Bashas and grabbed a bottle of Coke before proceeding to my mother’s place.

  Streetman greeted me at the door with a quick sniff before darting under the coffee table.

  “See,” my mother said, “he’s getting much better. Sit down and tell me what Adelaide dished out.”

  I moved to one of the floral chairs, Coke bottle in hand, and sat. “She certainly knows the clientele, that’s for sure.”

  My mother took the other floral chair and leaned in my direction. “What does she know about that deli-witch?”

  “Basically, Adelaide is familiar with the reading choices Billie made. Eclectic topics, if you ask me.”

  “Like what?”

  I took a swallow of Coke and caught a breath. “Um, things like, well, money laundering, hedge funds, knot tying, the dark arts, leather working, unconventional investments―”

  “Witchcraft!” my mother screamed. “The woman was into witchcraft!”

  “That’s what you took away from that list? And I didn’t say witchcraft. I said she read books about the dark arts. Among other things.”

  “What do you think the dark arts are? Witchcraft! I’ve got to call Shirley and Lucinda to let them know. And Louise. Poor Louise. Someone has to prepare her.”

  “Prepare her for what? And by the way, I saw her a few minutes ago before I drove over here. She was at the library. Chatting with Deputy Ranston. And before you get all worked up, he was only following through with the original interview. The sheriff’s office is hoping someone will remember something relevant.”

  My mother furrowed her brow and stared at me before speaking. “Did Louise call you and ask you to meet her at the library? How did she know you were there?”

  Once I explained how worried Louise was, given the fact she was the last person to see Billie alive, my mother seemed to relax. “At least she’s not a suspect. That’s the last thing she or our book club needs. So, getting back to Billie. You don’t suppose she was in one of those covens, do you? Your aunt Ina seems to know a few women who belong to one. What was the name? Circle of the Rising Crescent? Or maybe Desert Crescent or Desert Moon. She told me once but it blew past me like most of the things she says.”

  I shrugged. “Look, evidently Billie had lots of interests outside of the deli at the supermarket. And no, I do not believe she was in a coven.” My God, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “If anything, her interests in money laundering and nontraditional investments would have seemed more likely to stir up trouble for her. And if that’s the case, I’m sure the sheriff’s office will look into it. They’ve got the means and the authority to go through her computer and cell phone. I don’t.”

  “But you’ve got the wherewithal to infiltrate that Boomers club and find out more. Remember when we did that with the model railroad club and the Rhythm Tappers?”

  “Impossible to forget.”

  “Unfortunately, none of us have the energy level those Boomers have. Did you pass that group of them on their bicycles? Talk about extreme sports.”

  “They were riding single file down Limousine Drive. Nothing extreme about that.”

  “Like all Sun City West clubs, they always welcome new members. Take my guest card and tell them you’re thinking of purchasing a home but want to be sure the activities in our community will be challenging and exciting for you. Then, get entrenched in whatever Billie did and find out who she could have ticked off to the point where it got physical.”

  “I know this means a great deal to you, so I’ll do what I can. However, you need to promise me that you and the book club ladies will keep your distance on this one.”

  My mother stood, walked over to the small counter in the kitchen and opened a drawer. She returned with a guest card in her hand and thrust it at me. “I’d start by finding out which activities Billie participated in with the Boomers. Ask for the membership director’s phone number. They’re like salespeople. They’ll tell you what you want to know in order to convince you to buy something, or in this case, to join their group.”

  “No problem.” I’m one step ahead of you. Thanks to the lady in the dog park with that cute little black dog named Kugel, I know Billie didn’t make too many friends in water volleyball. Thank goodness I can swim.

  I hadn’t noticed the heat when I left the house in the morning but now, the early afternoon temps were making it known it was the start of summer. When I got home, I peeled off my clothes, threw on a swimsuit and called my friend Lyndy to see if she was interested in a quick dip in our community pool.

  “Great timing,” she said. “I got back a few minutes ago from Target and the sweat is literally pouring off me. See you in fifteen minutes, okay? I’m dying to know what you know about that tower death in Sun City West. I figured if anyone had the inside information on it, you would. All I got was my aunt’s hysteria. She’s convinced a crazed lunatic is out to murder senior citizens.”

  “She can join the club. I’ll tell you all about it. See you in a bit.”

  If I didn’t have Lyndy Ellsworth to bounce things off of, I would have lost my mind a few years ago when I moved out here. Not that I didn’t enjoy or appreciate the camaraderie of my mother’s friends, but it was a relief to be with someone my own age.

  Lyndy and I met at the community pool in Vistancia and have been fast friends ever since. Widowed at a young age, she moved to Arizona to get out of the brutal weather back East and to keep an eye on her looney aunt who lived in Sun City West. Her employment at a medical insurance company was “tedious but paid well.” The retirement benefits were pretty good, too. Although neither of us wanted to think past the next decade, we had to be realistic about our pensions and annuities.

  Lyndy was already in the water when I approached the pool. At least six or seven other folks were in the shallow end, but since Lyndy and I were good swimmers, we hung out in the deep-water section, away from the crowd.

  “Hey, stranger!” she shouted. “Water temp’s about eighty-four. You’ll love it.”

  I stashed my bag on a nearby lounge chair and climbed in. “Ah, relief at last. The past few days have been brutal.”

  Lyndy shook the water from her dark curly hair and swam toward me. “Tell me all the details and don’t spare a thing.”

  I began from the moment Billie was found dead at the base of the library bell tower and backtracked to her physical and character descriptions, as told to me by the book club ladies and the patrons at the dog park. From there, I moved to the horse theft case Nate and Marshall took on and then zigzagged back to Deputy Ranston’s second interview with Louise Munson, pausing now and then to catch my breath and tread water.

  “Good grief,” Lyndy said. “It’s like trying to follow a Fellini movie and giving up at the end.”

  I laughed. “It’s worse. Your aunt isn’t the only one who thinks a deranged killer is loose. Billie, aka the deli-witch, according to my mother, was despised by everyone she came in contact with. Hence, the moniker from her job at the supermarket deli. Apparently she was more than a little abrasive with the customers.”

  “Yeesh. Glad I shop on Happy Valley Road in Vistancia. Please don’t tell me you’re going to poke your nose into this one. It’s not as if the victim was a friend of your mom’s, or worse yet, one of her friends is a suspect.”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s something entirely different.” I went on to tell Lyndy about the Bye Bye Birdie event and my mother’s obsession with making an appearance on Sonoran Living.

  “It’s hard to explain, but my mother’s life at this point is comfortable. Lots of friends, volunteer work at the food bank from time to time, a steady routine, and, heaven help me―that dog of hers.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “It’s too comfortable. Without these little sparks, for lack of a better word, my mother’s world would be flat. She needs something to look forward to. Something exciting and different. That’s why she was in that play, and now on the radio station with those bizarre mystery shows of hers. Without those sparks, it’s just one day after another. The Bye Bye Birdie event is her next big spark.”

  “Gee, I never thought of it like that. I mean, I’ve got things I’m looking forward to, like owning my own home before I turn fifty, and visiting Santorini before it sinks. I understand. The Bye Bye Birdie event is her Santorini. At least for this year. All right, what’s the game plan for this one?”

  “I need to track down a woman by the name of Julia Ornstern from the Boomers club. I got her name from a nice lady at the dog park whose dog’s name is Kugel. I never did get the woman’s name but she told me Julia would have information about Billie.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard to do. My aunt is always giving me copies of the Rec Center bulletin hoping I’ll move to Sun City West. All of the club contacts are listed. If you call the membership person, I’m sure they’ll give you Julia’s phone number or email.”

  “That’s exactly what my mother said earlier today.”

  “Oh, no. It’s scary when I start to think like your mother.”

  Thankfully, Lyndy was a long way off from thinking like my mother. If she did, she would have bounced from the Boomers club straight into the Wiccans.

  Chapter 10

  The moment I got home I noticed the red light flashing on the landline’s answering machine and immediately pressed the button hoping it was Marshall. Instead, it was my aunt Ina.

  “Phee! Louis and I walked into the house a few minutes ago. The tranquility of our meditation retreat was blown to smithereens the second I played back the phone message your mother left. She asked if I was still friendly with, and I quote, ‘those witches who don’t use broomsticks.’ Honestly, I have a few Wiccan friends and they are the most delightful ladies. I couldn’t figure out what my sister wanted until she finally got to the point about some horrid woman who fell, or was pushed, to her death at the library tower. Thinks she might have been a Wiccan. I doubt it. Said you were looking into the matter. Are you doing investigative work at your detective agency now? Call me.”

  I exhaled for what seemed like five minutes before traipsing off to the bathroom to hang up my swimsuit. One of the things I loved about our community pool was its air-conditioned locker room and shiny new showers. Saved all the squeegee work at home.

  Once I settled in with a glass of cranberry juice and a few chocolate chip cookies, I picked up the phone and dialed my aunt. At least my mother had laid the groundwork so my aunt was pretty conversant with the salient details regarding Billie’s demise.

  “As I told your mother,” she said, “simply because someone decides to broaden their horizons by reading about the dark arts, or any arts for that matter, doesn’t make them a dabbler in witchcraft.”

  No kidding. “That’s exactly what I explained.”

  “Still,” my aunt went on, “she does make a point. Who knows what that woman may have been into that led to her untimely death? Every contact she had might have been the very one who caused it.”

  “Um, I’m not really sure what you’re saying.”

  “If this Billie woman had any dealings with the Solstice of the Desert Sands—that’s a highly sought-after coven in the West Valley—then I’m sure my friends Serena and Tersee would know. They’re high priestesses in that order and naturally they shun causing harm to anyone. But they might know if Billie was involved with less harmonious people. I’ll call them and see what I can find out.”

  “Uh, sure. I appreciate it, Aunt Ina.”

  “Not at all. Your mother will be beside herself if that Bye Bye Birdie balloon send-off is canceled. I got an earful from her. All I needed. Now I plan to make myself a nice soothing cup of rose hip and chamomile teas. I need to restore the tranquil state of mind I was in when Louis and I returned from Tucson.”

  “Good idea. And, uh, thanks again.”

  “I’ll call you and let you know what I learn.”

  When I got off the phone, I was doing so many mental eye rolls, I thought I’d get dizzy. Meanwhile, no word from Marshall. Rather than allow myself to get edgy, I did what I always do when I wind up attempting to solve someone’s murder, or in this case, untimely death. I create a murder map.

  Rather than deal with poster board and construction paper, I took the easy way out. I had a stack of new spiral notebooks in my desk and pulled one out. In the middle of the first page, I drew a stick figure of Billie and used it as the focal point for creating an information web. With spikes emanating from my drawing, I drew “suspect hubs,” since I really didn’t have any actual suspects in mind. The hubs included: supermarket deli employees, even though Deputy Ranston ruled those employees out, supermarket customers, Boomers club water volleyball group, possible affiliations with leather crafters club and, heaven help me, local Wiccans. Since I didn’t know of any club that focused on knot tying, I left it alone.

  Then, I drew a second web. Same stick figure but this time with a time line and note to myself to find out who was in the library that morning, in addition to Louise. Usually Nate and Marshall wind up as consultants on some of the high-profile cases in Sun City West since the Maricopa Sheriff’s Office is bogged down with its usual fare―assaults, carjacking, kidnapping, drugs, murder, and anything else under the Phoenix sun.

  Without having an in with my boss and my fiancé, I felt like a castaway as I stared at my recent notebook entry. Tapping my fingers on the table, I thought perhaps I’d begin with the Boomers. Especially since there was no way Deputy Ranston was going to tell me who was in the library around the time of the incident.

  On a hunch, I pulled up Julia Ornstern’s Facebook page and sure enough, a striking photo of a water volleyball match took up most of her banner with the options to “Add Friend” or “Send Message” at the bottom of the screen. No need for a Rec Center directory or a phone book when Facebook had me covered. I immediately sent Julia a message that sounded strikingly similar to the one Madonna’s boyfriend penned in Desperately Seeking Susan. Yeah, I was showing my age.

  Amateur sleuth seeking Billie’s assailant. PM me so we can talk. Got your name from Kugel’s owner.

  Once I pushed the blue Send arrow, I shut down the computer and nuked a Lean Cuisine dinner. It was a little past seven and I debated whether or not to phone Marshall. The last thing I wanted to do was disrupt his investigation, and that included any surveillance he and Nate were up to. I decided to wait until at least nine, and if I didn’t hear from him by then, I’d make the call.

  As much as I hated to admit it, the house felt empty and even a tad creepy. I turned on the Weather Channel so I could hear voices as I ate my chicken and mixed vegetables. Cleanup took all but three minutes and nine p.m. was still a good hour and a half away. Too wired to sit around, and too uninspired to do any cleaning or laundry, I did the next best thing. I grabbed my bag and headed for the supermarket on Happy Valley Road. Usually I hate food shopping, but I wasn’t in the mood for clothes shopping or worse yet, trying on shoes.