Murder, Sonoran Style Read online

  Murder Sonoran Style,

  An Adventure Calls Mystery

  by

  Kathy McIntosh

  Copyright ©2019 Kathy McIntosh

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations used in a review.

  This is a work of fiction, and is produced from the author’s imagination. People, places, and things mentioned in the novel are used in a fictional manner.

  Published by Dogged Kat Press

  ISBNs:

  978-0-9992930-2-7 paperback

  978-0-9992930-3-4 mobi Kindle

  Also by Kathy McIntosh

  Mustard’s Last Stand, A Havoc in Hancock Humorous Suspense

  Foul Wind, A Havoc in Hancock Humorous Suspense

  Dedication

  For Caroline/CT/Froggy

  If you think you see yourself in any of these characters, it is because you are always in my mind and in my heart.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE: MISTAKEN SALVATION

  CHAPTER TWO: KEEP YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER

  CHAPTER THREE: ANGER'S CONSEQUENCES

  CHAPTER FOUR: STOLEN SOLITUDE

  CHAPTER FIVE: ILLICIT ENCOUNTER

  CHAPTER SIX: LOST AND FOUND

  CHAPTER SEVEN: DESERTS CAN BE DEADLY

  CHAPTER EIGHT: SHOW AND TELL TIME

  CHAPTER NINE: CALLING IN THE NEWS

  CHAPTER TEN: WE'LL SOLVE THIS TOGETHER

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: ENTER THE SHERIFF

  CHAPTER TWELVE: THIS WAY TO THE BODY

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: HOW I FOUND IT

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: LONG WALK HOME

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: PARTNERS

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: WHAT'S THE PLAN?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE SLEUTH'S FIRST VENTURE

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE SLEUTH TRIES AGAIN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE TROOPS STRAGGLE IN

  CHAPTER TWENTY: UNWELCOME ARRIVAL

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: HELP ME, HONEY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: ONE GUIDE'S STILL MISSING

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: THE SEARCH PARTY CONVENES

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: HUNT FOR KATE: MADRONE & JESSE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: HUNT FOR KATE: BEN AND GABE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: FRANCES WAITS

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: TWO SLEUTHS STRATEGIZE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: HIS LEGACY WILL GO ON

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: SLEUTHS SEEKING STRATEGY

  CHAPTER THIRTY: MADRONE AND LORRAINE TAKE A RIDE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: FRANCES HITCHES A RIDE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: DINNER FROM NOTHING

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: BEN'S BAD ADVENTURE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: WHAT HAPPENS IN BENSON

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: SLEUTH OR TOURIST?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: SNARKY WOMEN SERVE IT UP

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: KATE'S CONFESSION

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: ADVENTURE CALLS

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: MADRONE GOES TO THE RODEO

  CHAPTER FORTY: ADVENTURES AFTER DARK

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: GABE'S DILEMMA

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: CUCKOO HUNT

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: HEATHER'S SECRET

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: GABE MEETS THE PLANT LADY

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: PLEASE DON'T CUFF ME

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX: WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER?

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: JESSE SPILLS SOME

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: MADRONE GETS THE REST OF THE STORY

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: WHERE'S KATE?

  CHAPTER FIFTY: UNDER THE IRONWOOD TREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: WE ALL HAVE OUR SKILLS

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: EPILOG

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE: Mistaken Salvation

  G abe Ramsay put his hand on Kate O’Shea’s arm. “He’s not worth your anger, Kate. Trust me.”

  The young woman shook off his hand and ran to the front of the stunned party crowd. “You pompous, self-serving, pretentious braggart,” she yelled at the evening’s surprise guest. “You know nothing about preserving the environment and even less about quality of life. The world would be better off without you!”

  She stomped out of the room and up the stairs to the guest bedrooms. The other party-goers stood silent, appearing shocked yet pleased.

  At the back of the room, Gabe stood with his host and new business partner, Tripp Chasen.

  “I’d call that a success.” Tripp crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

  Gabe stared at him, unsure whether Tripp’s words were sarcastic or sincere, less sure how to respond. “A success?”

  “Hey, they ate all the food. Nobody threw up or fell asleep during his ridiculous raving. Can’t say you were bored, can you?” Tripp smiled. “Not much worse than boring.”

  Gabe grimaced. What he had believed might be his salvation could become his biggest mistake.

  CHAPTER TWO: Keep Your Enemies Closer

  S quatting in the Sonoran desert can be risky. Gabe Ramsay crouched on the ground next to the saltbrush and focused his camera on the collared lizard basking on a flat rock. The calls of the doves and woodpeckers faded into a pleasant background melody, the early morning sun warming his back as it did the lizard’s.

  Photos like these could illustrate a mini-guide that guests would receive when they registered for a tour. His photos, combined with the knowledge of the guides and Madrone’s incredible cooking, would make Adventure Calls Touring soar to number one on the list of eco-touring companies. Eco-tourism was hot and he’d make his new venture the hottest on the market or poke himself in the eye with an agave leaf.

  But first they had to make it through the two-day “scavenger hunt,” the brainstorm of his new partner. He glanced over to where his battered backpack lay beside the casita door, packed with everything he thought he’d need for the two day adventure. He’d had two special pockets made for it: one for his knife and one for his field microscope. Tripp had laughed and told him the scope was just extra weight, but to an entomologist the scope was perhaps more essential than the skinning knife. Certainly he’d used it more often.

  The tiny reptile cocked its head. Was it warning him against getting his hopes up about Adventure Calls? Mocking his optimism?

  The crunch of gravel alerted him and he jumped up. He did a quick 360, trying to locate the source of the sound. Couldn’t be Madrone. She was busy in the casita.

  There. Coming down the hill that led to the road. Everett Poulsen. Every muscle in Gabe’s neck and shoulders tightened. Hadn’t last night’s debacle at Tripp’s party been enough? If only he could wipe that smile from the arrogant developer’s face.

  “Gotcha,” Everett crowed. “Can’t believe you didn’t hear us coming. We weren’t exactly stealthy.”

  “I heard you,” Gabe said through clenched teeth. Should have heard the car but he must have been focused on the lizard. Damn. That kind of careless inattention would have gotten him killed in Afghanistan. He looked past Everett but saw no one. “We?”

  Everett spun on his expensive hiking-booted foot. “Where the hell’d she go?” he muttered. “Lorraine should be here any minute. Whining witch. She spent the whole trip here nagging me not to come.”

  Too bad Lorraine hadn’t been more persuasive. “What do you want, Everett?”

  In his early 40s, Everett Poulsen was losing the battle to keep his youth. His potbelly almost hid a showy turquoise and silver buckle. His brown hair brushed upward from an increasingly high forehead. But his short-sleeved polo—not enough for the chilly desert mo
rning—revealed muscular arms and his scruff of a beard was fashionable instead of sloppy. What a way to ruin a great morning. He breathed in. Stay cool.

  “You sent them off already?” Entitlement whined in Everett’s tone. He spat on the ground. “Call ‘em back. I’m sure you have some clever signal.”

  “Can’t see as how I want to call anyone back. In fact, I’m about to head out myself.” He gestured toward his backpack that lay beside the door to the casita.

  A woman cursed. “If I fall on my ass, I swear I’ll kill you, Everett.” Lorraine Poulsen stumbled at an angle down the sandy hillside. “Crap, crap, crap. Why did I even try to stop him?” she muttered. Her shoes—ballet slippers, thought Gabe, who had learned way too much about fashion from his three sisters—were totally inappropriate for the desert. She must have left home in a rush, yet she still sported her Arizona bling—dangling turquoise earrings, a pounded silver band bracelet, and several native American designed rings.

  The manners long ingrained by his mother surfaced. He smiled at Lorraine when she made it down the hill. Her light sweater wouldn’t keep her warm this morning. “Madrone’s in the casita. Bet she’d give you a cup of coffee.”

  Lorraine headed for the small adobe structure.

  “Bring me a cup, too, sweetie, if you would,” Everett said to his wife. “Black. Three sugars.”

  Lorraine kept walking, giving Everett a one finger salute over her head. “Aye, aye, your lordship.” Why had Everett’s seemingly innocent request warranted that response? Eh, who knew about married couples?

  Everett gave a slight frown in his wife’s direction and then seemed to dismiss her and refocus his anger on Gabe. “What happened last night was inexcusable. I can tolerate disagreement. I cannot tolerate flat out rudeness. You’re making a mistake assuming I’d still want you . . . people traipsing all over my land?”

  At least he called us people. Gabe had expected radicals, idiots, terrorists, worse. Everett generally spoke in hyperboles. When he wasn’t outright lying.

  “Something about a written agreement you signed?” Not that the Everett he’d known in school would honor inconvenient promises. “We have the use of the casita and any of your property adjoining BLM lands. We’ll leave it as we found it.”

  Everett curled his lip. “As if I’d trust any of you after last night.” His scowl faded and left a pained expression in his eyes. “You may not believe me but I respect this land, too. I could make a hell of a lot more money building ticky-tacky houses shoulder to hip, but Mountain Shadows will be a tribute to nature. Not some sort of desecration.”

  “Last night you spoke about your commitment to preserving the natural environment. And you welcomed everyone.” Everett had droned on and on about his commitment and about his plans. “What changed?”

  “What changed was that little spitfire screeching at me after I spoke. I know of ecos like her who import endangered species onto people’s property just to stretch out the environmental approval process. I saw how the rest of you grinned when she hollered at me. I should have known this whole thing was a bad idea.” He looked into the distance. “Like I said, call them back.”

  “Like I said, no. Much of the land we’ll be on is BLM. We have a signed short-term agreement with you to use your casita and to be on your property. This show’s already on the road. Give it up, Ev.” He used the nickname Everett had hated in high school. With luck it still annoyed him.

  “It’s Everett. I don’t want you, your partner or your ridiculous eco-guides on my land or in my casita. Have your hot little chef start packing up. Or you’ll all regret it.” Everett stomped toward the casita, where Lorraine stood in the doorway, smirking. “Where’s my damn coffee, Lorraine?”

  Her face tightened. “Aren’t you worried the ‘hot little chef’ might have poisoned it?” She extended the mug to her husband.

  Gabe ambled toward Everett. At 6’ 3”, he stood a few inches above the other man. Gabe had managed to stay in decent shape, and keep more hair than Everett, a fact which shouldn’t please him, but did. “Watch your mouth. And trust me, you’re the one who’s gonna have regrets. Not me. Maybe Lorraine will, for marrying a total bozo.”

  Lorraine smiled.

  Poulsen sipped his coffee, then thrust the mug back at his wife. “This is cold. I don’t drink cold coffee.” To Gabe he said, “I see. Interested in the little brown cookie? I’d better warn her. Got some stories about you the little hottie needs to hear.”

  Gabe pulled Everett around by the shoulder. He breathed in, out, in, but couldn’t hold the tether on his temper. “Keep your filthy mouth shut. One of these days someone will shut it for good.”

  Everett reared back and raised his fists. “Not a wuss like you.”

  “Exactly like me.” Before Everett’s fists twitched, before Gabe considered the density of a jawbone as opposed to a gut, Gabe slugged the developer in the jaw. Everett fell backward and slumped to the ground.

  Lorraine knelt beside her husband, lifting his head to rest on her thighs. She looked at Gabe. “Big mistake. Everett doesn’t forget or forgive.”

  CHAPTER THREE: Anger's Consequences

  M adrone strode from the casita and handed a plastic baggie of ice to Lorraine. Then she moved to Gabe. “You should ice your hand. Come with me.” She walked into the casita and Gabe followed her, ignoring the Poulsens.

  The little adobe building still basked in the aroma of coffee, plus Madrone’s calabacitas and bacon she’d served the team as an early breakfast. Her dark brown hair, pulled back in a turquoise and green print scarf, swept across her back in time to her hips. She stopped at the fridge. “Packing everything up will take this hot chef several hours. Plus I don’t know how to let the rest of the team know where I’ll be.”

  Gabe took the ice-filled bowl she extended and stuck his aching fist into it. “If you heard the whole nasty encounter, you heard me tell Everett we’re not changing a thing, not budging an inch.”

  “Yes. Emphatically.” She grinned.

  Gabe managed a tight smile. “Everett and I have a history, with no good memories. He hasn’t changed much except to grow a beard and a potbelly.” He wriggled his fingers in the ice. “I wish to hell Tripp had told me who owned this land. Took me by surprise last night.”

  Little more than a month earlier, Gabe had bought into Adventure Calls Touring as Tripp Chasen’s business partner. At the time, the new partnership seemed an ideal solution. After leaving his position as a college professor, he needed new direction, and he’d seen the eco-tourism company as a way to introduce tourists to the environment Gabe loved. Tripp had checked out financially and the references for Adventure Calls glowed. He’d flown to Tucson and met with Tripp, who came across as friendly, savvy and competent. It seemed the perfect match for Gabe’s eco-geekiness and his desire to escape Colorado. He invested his retirement account and the rest of his savings in the new venture. Now doubt niggled at him. Another bad decision for Gabe Ramsay? Christ, he hoped not.

  Madrone turned and stared at Gabe, one hand to her lips.

  “Far be it from me to give my new boss advice, but be wary of Tripp. He’s a bit of a slick Willy.”

  Gabe grinned. He didn’t want to reveal his annoyance with his new partner or his concerns about this new venture, and especially not regret about how he’d handled the confrontation with Everett. “So I’m learning.”

  Lorraine Poulsen leaned into the doorway. “We’re leaving now. Watch us climb the hill, if you would. If you see Everett sprawled face first, maybe you could help.”

  Everett, holding the ice bag to his jaw, spoke from the door. “Everett’s not going to sprawl anywhere. I’m fine. I’m headed back to Tucson. First thing I’m doing is calling Tripp. This isn’t over, Gabe.” He started to spin around, but staggered against the door frame. No one spoke or tried to help him. In a moment, he glared over his shoulder and walked off, Lorraine a few feet behind him.

  “That went well,” Gabe quipped.

 
Madrone didn’t laugh. “I wouldn’t trust either of them. You heard Tripp. Last night, he praises Everett—to his face— as the world’s most environmentally friendly developer. This morning, he tells us to find anything we can to stop Mountain Shadows. I like him, like his attitude toward the earth, but he can surprise you. Makes him a good politician and salesman, I guess.”

  “I hear you. Not sure quite where he’s coming from. But like I said, I knew Everett when we were teens. Not to be trusted, but not much to fear.”

  She shook her head. “Everett may be an ass, but he’s a rich, powerful ass.”

  “Maybe I should head into town, try to reach Tripp, calm things down.” So much for the big new boss of Adventure Calls Touring. First he loses his temper, now he’s not sure how to fix the mess he made, or even if it’s fixable. Holy Hannah.

  Madrone plucked Gabe’s hand from the ice and examined it. Her warm fingers moved over each finger, to his thumb, then his palm. She could hold his contented hand forever, her touch gentle, firm, skilled and comforting. “Good. No cuts. No Everett cooties. Once your hand aches less, you take off on the infamous scavenger hunt. I’ll talk to Tripp by SAT phone and manage things here. The more people out on the land, the harder to call you back.”

  “Thanks, for the first aid and the advice. Your suggestion makes sense. You generally do.” Madrone, with Adventure Calls Touring for a little over two years, served as both a guide and a cook. During the scavenger hunt, which would serve as the final exam for the new guides, and training for Gabe as the new partner, Madrone would remain at the casita headquarters. She’d provide assistance to anyone returning prematurely and welcome them all at the end of their time on the desert. Not yet thirty, she often displayed more maturity than her forty-year-old boss, and definitely more maturity than the thirty-six-year-old new partner, Gabe Ramsay. His face warmed despite his freezing knuckles. How had he let Everett once again get to him?