High Desert Detective, A Fiona Marlowe Mystery (Fiona Marlowe Mysteries) by Marjorie Thelen Read Free Book Online Page B

help me solve a mystery anytime,” Hoover said.
    Jake rolled his eyes. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”
    “It’s a wide open playing field, isn’t it?”
    “Depends who’s calling the parameters of the field,” Jake said. “Are
you finished with us? We need to be getting back.”
    Hoover smiled. “That’ll be all. I can handle it from here on. I’ll
stop by later to see if you’ve thought of anything else. Look forward to seeing
you again, Fiona.”
    Jake tried not to scowl as he steered Fiona to his rig. This
woman was trouble. She could stir up male testosterone quicker than any woman
he had ever met. She sure touched his male hormones in a bad way, and that
could only mean trouble for him. Maybe he should take a break from ranching and
do a little rodeo- ing to calm down.
    He banged the chain into the truck bed, helped Fiona into the
passenger side, and backed around. Dora and Fred tore off in the opposite
direction. The ambulance left ahead of them with Caleb and Zeke trailing
behind. The Sheriff stayed at the accident scene, guarding the bones.
    It had been an eventful day, but one Jake didn’t want to repeat.
They never did get to the site of the skeleton in the desert. Now there was the
skeleton in the hot springs.

 
    * * * * *

 
    After the day’s events, Fiona was still keyed-up and wide awake.
She hoped she wasn’t going to be bothered by ghosts again. Jake had begged her
not to spend the night by herself. Opal had insisted she stay in one of the guest
bedrooms. But there was something about this old bunkhouse that she was
beginning to like. Besides she didn’t really believe in ghosts. Or at least she
didn’t think she did.
    An odd thought occurred to her.
    What if someone were trying to scare her off? Where did that
rogue thought come from? Why would anyone want this old bunk house?   Why would anyone want her to leave? Was there
something more valuable about her new acquisition than she knew? Maybe there
was buried treasure hidden underneath the bunk house. Now her imagination was
really going wild. Easy, girl, easy. Maybe there were
vast mineral deposits under this little rise where the bunk house stood. Maybe
it was oil. Maybe gold. She’d heard they mined gold to
the north of here. That was getting pretty far-fetched. But her brain was in overdrive,
and she was beginning to think there might be merit to the bizarre idea that
someone was trying to scare her off. She’d run it by Jake and Opal in the
morning.
    Tomorrow she’d be back in familiar territory. The contractors
would start work on the bunk house. She relished the creative start of a new
project. It was like sculpture. She would re-work the walls, pick fabric for
curtains, have them made to her specifications, paint
the new walls in the amazing colors of the desert with a touch of bright
something, tear out the back wall and add a bedroom and sumptuous bath. It
would be so much fun, and it would be hers. The house in the country she had
always wanted.
    But she was wide awake, and it was midnight. She had had a glass
of wine with Jake when they returned. Opal had put out leftovers and listened
with rapt interest to their recount of the day. She had had her own opinion about
the bones.
    “There was a man came through here looking for work,” she said,
“must have been three or four years ago. It was the real dry year, you
remember, Jake?”
    Jake shrugged. “I remember the last dry year. I don’t remember
any man.”
    “Maybe you were away. Well, this man came up to the house, and I
answered the door. He spoke with an accent, but he wasn’t one of the Basque
people. You don’t see many Basque looking for ranch work anymore. No, he had a
foreign accent, reminded me of a Mexican. Maybe he was one of those fellows
from Peru that come to herd because he was looking for sheep work. I said I ran
cows but I gave him the names of a few of the sheep ranchers. He thanked me and
left and that was the last I heard of