Peril by Ponytail (A Bad Hair Day Mystery) (22 page)

Tell me something I don’t know.
Anyone standing on a mountain surrounded by the beauty of nature would feel the same thing. “And the other kind?” she asked to be polite.

“Inflow vortexes are where energy flows into the earth, like in a valley.”

“How about a cave, or a manmade tunnel like in a mine?”

The woman’s eyes glittered. “You’re closer to the electromagnetic grid that circles the globe when you’re underground. This cosmic energy field underlies the tectonic plates. The grid lines are called ley lines. Where they intersect, vortexes are located. These resonate and interact with our chakras and meridians. Thus people experience them in different ways.”

“Let’s talk about ghosts. Why do spiritual beings supposedly appear as orbs?”

“That’s the easiest form for them to take. It’s not uncommon to find them in the mines. Mining accidents killed more miners than homicides back in the day.”

“How so?” Marla asked as though she didn’t know. She glanced toward the curtain that partitioned off the psychic’s space. Hopefully, Dalton was entertaining himself in the shop. She’d spotted a pen inlaid with turquoise stone that might make a nice gift for him if she could buy it on the sly.

“The miners had to climb ladders, yes? Someone from above might drop a tool. That could hit a miner on the rungs or cause him to lose balance. Rotten rungs could give way, or he could slip and fall. Falling down a shaft was a common hazard. Fires were always a risk, and so were explosions. Often a man would pull out a stick of dynamite from the rock wall where it had been set to go off but didn’t. Instead of being a dud, it would blow up in his face.”

“What kind of superstitions affected the miners?”

Madame Duval adjusted her patterned skirt. She wore ordinary street clothes enhanced by turquoise stone jewelry. “Crows were a bad sign. If a crow flew across a miner’s path on his way to work, he’d turn around and go home for the day. Men carried talismans into work to ward off evil. Some even nailed horseshoes into the timbers where they were drilling. They all feared ghosts, believing the spirits of miners killed on the job still lingered down below.”

“My husband’s uncle is restoring the town at Craggy Peak. That place has plenty of ghost stories associated with it.”

“I’ll bet you can find lots of orbs in those old buildings. Arizona is rich with history.”

“Some say orbs are merely dust globules or moisture droplets. Camera artifacts do seem more likely than spiritual entities,” Marla said, taking Dalton’s viewpoint.

Madame Duval hunched forward, shaking her drop earrings. “If you don’t believe in the paranormal, why did you come to me?”

“I didn’t say I’m a non-believer. In fact, down in the mine, I felt someone tap my helmet more than once. My husband says he didn’t do it. And I’ve had other experiences.”

The psychic jerked upright, her eyes widening. “May I hold your hand? Someone wants to communicate with you.”

Startled, Marla complied as goose bumps rose on her flesh.

“It’s a man who wants you to keep asking questions.” Madame Duval closed her eyelids to concentrate. “The entity says you’re getting close.”

Marla stared at her. Those words reminded her of Jesse’s parting sentence when they’d first met him. If this truly was a spiritual connection, who could it be—Garrett Long, the dead forest ranger? Or maybe Eduardo, the man who’d fallen down the hole? Or Tate Reardon, whose wife and daughter were mysteriously missing?

“Close to what?” she said more sharply than intended.

“He warns you to look closer to home. That is all he has to say.” The woman’s eyes snapped open. “This is why you came here today. You were guided to seek me.”

Marla paid the woman and departed feeling more confused than ever. Not spying Dalton inside the shop, she paused to purchase the pen and hide it in her handbag. She’d save it for a special occasion as a memento of their trip together.

Outside, he loitered under a shady tree while storm clouds gathered overhead. Marla glanced at them with concern. Clouds were an anomaly during their visit, and it didn’t bode well for the afternoon. She hurried to their car.

“How’d it go?” Dalton said as he pulled out of their space and merged into traffic.

Marla related her conversation with Madame Duval.

“Look closer to home? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sheriff Beresby said something similar, so we must be on the right track. We just have to fit the pieces together.”

They drove to Wendall, fifteen minutes down the highway from Sedona. Unfortunately, the forest supervisor’s office was closed for the weekend. Marla cursed their luck. They should have called ahead. Anyway, Beresby had probably interviewed the man by now.

Returning to Sedona, they stopped for lunch. The storm clouds brought rain, but the skies had cleared by the time they finished eating. They explored a few of the area’s highlights before leaving town.

As they drove into the ranch, Dalton pointed out a bunch of cars occupying the spaces in the main parking lot. “Wayne had been expecting a wedding party. Was that this week or next?”

“I don’t remember. Let’s see if he’s in his office. We should give him an update.”

As they entered the lobby, loud voices emanated from the inner sanctum. Janice gave them a weak smile as they approached the front desk.

“What’s going on?” Marla asked the redhead.

“You’d have to ask Wayne. Go on back. He’ll be glad to see you.”

Dalton led the way past the gate. His boots thudded on the tile floor as he strode toward his cousin’s office with an air of purpose.

A semicircle of four men stood facing Wayne who sat behind his desk. The middle-aged individuals wore angry expressions along with the ubiquitous plaid shirts and jeans.

“If you don’t do something, we’ll call our lawyers in the morning,” one guy said. “An injunction should get your daddy to stop his construction.”

Wayne spotted the newcomers and stood, relief flitting across his features. “Allow me to introduce my relatives. This is my cousin, homicide detective Dalton Vail, and his wife, Marla. Come in, please. These folks are blaming my father for the drought on their property. I’m telling them his project has nothing to do with their problems.”

“Isn’t the desert supposed to be dry?” Marla asked with an innocent expression.

“We used to have a creek running alongside our ranch,” said one fellow with a thatch of peppery hair. “The water isn’t there anymore because Raymond is stealing it for his project.”

“That’s nonsense,” Wayne said. “He’s gotten all the proper permits.”

“We know he has the mayor under his thumb.”

“What does that mean?”

The man’s face reddened. “It means he has plenty of money to spread around. Where does he get his funding? Is your dude ranch doing that well?”

“It’s none of your business, Calvin.”

“It is when somebody is offering to buy us out.”

“That’s not my father. You’re barking up the wrong tree. We’ve had the same offers.” A vein stood out on Wayne’s temple. He looked about to have a stroke.

“Maybe Raymond is poisoning our cattle so we’ll have to sell,” another man suggested.

Marla leaned against a wall, listening with stunned dismay to the conversation. How dare these men come here to accuse Wayne’s father?

“You’re way out of line.” Wayne hooked his thumbs into his belt, but not before Marla noticed the flicker of doubt cross his face.

With Raymond’s dubious history, she wasn’t sure they could trust the patriarch. Yet she didn’t believe him responsible for climactic conditions on people’s land. Plus, he blamed Hugh Donovan for their own problems, although that could be a smokescreen.

Maybe Donovan had put these guys up to this confrontation. The notion made her stand up straight and speak out.

“Someone has been sabotaging Raymond’s project as well as causing malicious incidents at Last Trail,” she said. “We’re in the same boat.”

The man named Calvin replied. “Raymond is probably trying to throw you off track by causing trouble himself.”

“He wouldn’t hurt his own wife or nephew.” Marla related the incidents with Carol’s horse and the rattlesnake in Dalton’s luggage.

“Be that as it may,” Calvin said to Wayne, “we’re going to sue for injunction if your daddy doesn’t remedy the situation.”

“And I may countersue for slander if you keep bad-mouthing my father.”

“He must have diverted our creek. You get him to fix things properly, or else.”

The stand-off ended as the four men stomped from the room.

Wayne sank into his chair and covered his face with his hands. “Will my father never cease to aggravate people?”

“He’s not the root of these issues,” Dalton said, his tone somber. “But someone else may very well have a motive to induce people to sell. Marla, show him your photos.”

She retrieved her digital camera from her purse. “We hired a hiking guide recommended by your father and discovered an entrance to the old copper mine up on the mountain. Guess what? Somebody has reopened it and has an active operation going on down there.”

Wayne’s face registered surprise as he studied the pictures. The orbs weren’t evident on the camera, only on the computer. But ghosts weren’t the topic here.

“Those tunnels extend for miles. They might even underlie Craggy Peak. That could explain why someone wants to shut down my father’s project.”

“You’re catching on.” Dalton’s voice held a note of approval. “But this doesn’t account for the problems on Donovan’s ranch and elsewhere. Or on our place, for that matter.”

Marla’s ears perked up. This was the first time Dalton had referred to Last Trail in the possessive.

She put her camera away. “It would help if Raymond would level with us. Why won’t he admit where he got the money to buy the ghost town and start construction?”

Wayne plowed his fingers through his hair. His cowboy hat hung on a hook behind the door. “It doesn’t make sense. I can’t understand why he’d keep something like this from his family. What is he hiding from us?”

“Maybe he took out an equity loan on the ranch,” Dalton suggested, his face pensive.

“He said he hadn’t taken out any loans,” Marla reminded them. “Besides, Carol would have noticed since she does the books.”

“I’m fed up with his attitude. This has gone on long enough,” Wayne said in a firm tone. “Either Dad reveals his source of funding, or he can hire another general manager.”

“Now Wayne, don’t let those neighbors or their threats get to you.” Dalton settled into a chair opposite his desk.

“I should call the bank to see what I can find out.”

“That’s a good idea. It’s Sunday, though. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Let tempers cool in the meantime.”

“I see Carol isn’t here,” Marla noted. “Is she feeling all right?”

“She’s taking the day off, but she’s fine, thanks.”

“Then if you guys don’t mind, I’m going to rest before dinner. Dalton, I’ll meet you back at the room.” She’d let the men have some private time to discuss things.

On her way out, Marla stopped at the front desk. “Janice, can you tell me where the housekeepers stash their carts for the day? Is it the same place where they obtain supplies?”

She wanted to encounter Juanita again to see what the maid could tell her.

The redhead glanced up from her computer screen. “I’m so glad you dropped by,” she said in a hushed tone. “Wayne would be intolerable after a visit like he had today. Those men are totally off track.”

Marla leaned across the counter, keeping her voice low. “Where do
you
think Raymond got his funds to buy the ghost town?”

“He must have had a partner.”

“That’s what Dalton thinks. Could it be anyone we’ve met?”

Janice pressed her lips together. “I have my theories. It’s pretty obvious if you think about it. Anyway, the maids keep their carts in a storeroom beyond the laundry room entrance. Why do you ask?”

“One of the housekeepers is hot for a wrangler on the ranch. I want to ask her about him.”

Janice’s brows lifted. “Do you think he’s responsible for the mischief that has been happening here?”

“It’s possible. I’d like to see what she can tell me.”

When Marla finally located Juanita, the raven-haired woman was cleaning her last room for the day. Marla entered through the open door, her arrival prompting the maid to respond with a torrent of words in Spanish.

“Please, calm down. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is wrong,
señora.
Jesse does not care for me anymore.”

At the bedside, she whipped a top sheet toward the headboard, tucked it in, and then laid out the comforter with jerky motions. She smoothed it with her palms, her face averted from Marla.

“Why would you believe Jesse has lost interest in you?”

“I do not know. I tell him how I feel, and at first he seemed happy. But now he does not come around for days.”

“Maybe he’s busy.” Marla stood back as Juanita sprayed disinfectant into the air. The mist gave the room a fresh smell.

“Not true. He has things on his mind, and they don’t include me.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” She followed Juanita into the bathroom where the housekeeper lugged a plastic tote holding cleaning supplies.

“You would be surprised. But even though he rejects me, I not give away his secrets.”

“Juanita, people have gotten hurt. Carol fell off her horse when it hit a trip wire and smacked her head. My husband almost got bitten by a rattlesnake somebody put in his suitcase. If Jesse knows anything about these incidents, you should tell us.”

Juanita paused midway to wiping down the mirror and glared at her. “My Jesse would not do such terrible things.”

“According to what you’ve said, he isn’t
your
Jesse anymore. So why be loyal to a guy who’s turned his back on you?”

Juanita waved her rag in the air. “I tell you this. He understands you people blame the Donovans. But Jesse believes the fault lies elsewhere.”

“Yes, you told me this before. Who does he think is doing these things?” Marla squeezed her fists in frustration.

“Jesse wants proof before he says more. I hope he is not wrong about
Señor
Donovan. It surprises me how he defends the man after . . . well, I must get back to work.”