Peril by Ponytail (A Bad Hair Day Mystery) (3 page)

Wayne led them on a winding path with abundant landscaping and shady trees. Some of the plants were labeled, like that prickly pear cactus. It had a purplish tint and Mickey Mouse shaped ears. She particularly liked the spreading mesquite tree with its fern-like leaves, and the beautiful palo verde tree with its bright green trunk and leafy canopy. Never mind the nature walk. She could learn about the native plants by exploring the resort. Despite its lack of grass, the grounds had their own beauty.

Wayne introduced them to other guests they passed along the way. Like a good host, he knew everyone’s name. From the friendly greetings, she surmised that he was well-liked.

“This is the main building,” he said as they approached a large adobe structure in a central location. “It holds our restaurant, card room, lecture hall, library, and a lounge with a television. The gift shop is located here, too.”

Under the covered patio were wood benches with wagon wheels at either end for support. She halted on the brick flooring while Wayne pointed out a bulletin board listing the day’s activities. Signs for the Laundry and Bike Shop pointed down an alleyway.

Marla noted the limited dining hours. “Is this where we’ll come for meals?”

“You can eat either here or in the staff cafeteria since you’re family. You’re welcome to join me and Carol at home in the evenings. I’ll give you directions. We’re expecting you for dinner tonight at least since our kids are eager to meet you. We don’t get relatives out this way very often.”

He ended on a slightly bitter note, making Marla wonder at the sentiment behind his words. Dalton’s mother rarely spoke about this side of the family. How had Kate become estranged from her brother, Raymond?

“Did you get your water heater fixed?” Dalton asked, shading his face against the sun.

Wayne’s lips thinned. “Yes, but we had a mess in there. The plumber said a valve had been opened. We have the air-conditioning going full blast to help dry things out.”

“A valve wouldn’t turn by itself, unless it had failed because the unit was old.”

“I know. These troublesome incidents have been happening more often lately. I can’t prove anyone is behind them, but they worry me.”

A guy sauntered past in a plaid shirt, cowboy hat, and boots. He waved to Wayne on his way. From his lean body and lined face, Marla surmised he was one of the staff.

“That’s Nick, a wrangler,” Wayne said, confirming her theory. “Let me show you the horses. You’ll want to make reservations for your rides. You have ridden before, right? If not, the boys give lessons but you have to sign up early.”

Marla smelled the animals the closer they got to the corral. It appeared emptier than when they’d first arrived. As they descended a slope toward the riding station, she noted far to the left a place where the horses appeared to be led for the night. There wasn’t just one fenced corral. It was a series leading out almost to the hills.

“Here’s our nature center.” Wayne pointed out a structure with a flight of stairs. “Stop by and talk to our naturalist when you have a chance. He’ll explain the exhibits. That building beyond has a ballroom for conferences or large social affairs.”

Marla noted a tennis court, children’s playground, and arena with bleachers down a path to the side of the last building. It would be fun to explore the resort’s nooks and crannies. Then again, if Dalton went riding in the mornings, she would have time on her own to laze around. Her shoulders sagged. Relaxing would feel good right about now. Either the jet lag was catching up to her, or she was hungry. This would be three hours later back home.

Dalton nudged her. “We’ll have to sign up for the breakfast ride. They make blueberry pancakes with bacon and scrambled eggs.”

Oh, joy.
“Sure,” she said, not wishing to disavow him of the notion that she’d be joining him. Maybe she should give it a try. She’d taken a lesson or two in her youth. It couldn’t be so difficult to catch on again. And the thought of eating breakfast in the great outdoors had its appeal, minus the bees and flies.

She swatted away a fly, realizing they were much more in abundance here than in South Florida. No mosquitoes, though. The dry air took care of those pests.

“Hey, Jesse,” Wayne hollered to a wrangler with a trim black beard and dark eyes to match. He was busy putting away some equipment. “I’d like you to meet my cousins.”

“One minute. I’ll come out through the tack room.” He disappeared behind the building in front of them.

Marla’s sandals crunched on gravel as the paved walkway ended. She needed better shoes. Not only was this terrain hillier than she’d expected, but being near horses brought to mind unforeseen hazards. She didn’t care to step in something unpleasant.

Several closed doors faced them on the beige structure ahead. Signs indicated the Wrangler’s Roost, Riders Entrance, Game Room, and Staff Only. The last door burst open, and the man named Jesse strode toward them. Marla’s gaze zeroed in on his tar-black hair, mustache, and beard.

Her eyes narrowed. That tint was suspiciously uniform. Did he dye his hair?

Wayne introduced them. “Jesse Parker is the man I’d recommend if you need lessons, although any of our wranglers would suit. Jesse has a broad-based knowledge and can answer any questions you might have about the horses or the ranch.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jesse said with a polite expression. He didn’t offer his hand, likely because he’d been out in the field.

He looked fairly young, maybe in his late twenties, but his eyes held years of experience and a hint of inner pain. What drew men to become wranglers? Did they like horses more than people? They still had to work with guests at the resort. Maybe it was in their blood, like dog lovers.

A pang hit her for her own pets. She hoped Lucky and Spooks were doing well in their absence. Thankfully, the dogs were fine after being sedated by a killer who’d used them to lure Marla into a trap. After she’d escaped, Dalton had rescued their precious pets.

“You take good care of these people, you hear?” Wayne advised Jesse. “This is their first visit to Arizona.”

“Is that right? Where do you guys live?” Jesse hooked his thumbs into his belt. He wore a dark brown cowboy hat, plaid shirt, and jeans tucked into a pair of high boots with spurs. His belt carried a cell phone, radio unit, and big knife in a leather sheath.

“We’re from Florida,” Dalton replied, giving him a onceover.

“Dalton is a police detective back home,” Wayne remarked. “We had a problem earlier today with the water heater near the dining room. A valve opened, and the floor got flooded. I’m troubled by the incidents we’ve been having lately and am hoping Dalton might shed some light on them.”

“No kidding? Is that why I saw the sheriff’s car here earlier?”

“Uh-uh. He came to tell us Garrett Long is dead. His body was found out on the Snakehead Trail by a couple of hikers.”

“What? That’s impossible.” Jesse’s tan faded under his sudden pallor.

“I know. It’s hard to believe Garrett would be so careless as to fall off a ledge. Hopefully, the sheriff’s office will investigate and determine what happened.”

“You don’t understand. He must have gotten too close. I’ve gotta go.” Jesse spun and dashed back into the tack room, slamming the door while they stared after him.

“What did Jesse mean by saying Garrett must have gotten too close?” Marla asked her husband’s cousin. “Too close to what?”

Wayne scratched his head. “Damned if I know, but I’ll leave it up to you two to find out.” His cell phone trilled. He took it out and read a text message. “I have to run. We’ll see you at dinner, right?”

Dalton nodded and his cousin took off.

Marla hooked her arm into Dalton’s. “Let’s go back to our room and rest for a while. We can deal with these problems later.” They weren’t her personal issues, but she knew Dalton would want to help his relatives. And until they talked to Jesse again or learned more about him from another employee, they’d have no clue what his mysterious words meant.

After washing up and changing into fresh clothes, they headed over to Wayne’s house.

When they arrived, an older guy opened the door. “Dalton, it’s good to finally meet you in person.”

“You must be Uncle Ray. This is my wife, Marla.” They all shook hands.

Raymond’s lean build and deeply lined face hinted at years of outdoor living. He had short, cropped white hair, sharp brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and ruddy cheekbones. Having expected a grizzled old coot, Marla was surprised by his clean-shaven appearance. He wore the typical rancher outfit of a plaid shirt, blue jeans, and boots.

“Come on inside. The gals are in the kitchen, and the children are watching TV. We can chat until the meal is ready.”

“Can I help?” Marla offered, wishing they’d been able to stop off somewhere and buy a bottle of wine. She didn’t know where people did their food shopping around town.

“Nope, Carol has everything under control. Wayne is late getting home. He should be here shortly.”

The Campbells lived off-site from the ranch in the small town of Rustler Ridge. A cozy community, it could almost be missed if you travelled by on the highway. Marla still couldn’t get over the wide, open spaces between most big cities in Arizona. South Florida held one town after another, suburban congestion flowing nonstop from the cities toward the Everglades.

The sloped yard in front of the Campbell’s Mediterranean-style home was attractively landscaped with various cacti and palo verde trees amid a ground cover of red rocks. A metal statue of a donkey stood next to a miniature wooden cart. Huge polished wood doors led inside.

As she followed the men into the interior, Marla noted mixed Mexican and southwestern influences in the furniture and décor. They passed a formal living and dining area on their way to the kitchen, where she sniffed garlic and rosemary. She spied a stone fireplace and imagined cold winters in the desert. Mornings were cool enough by her standards, down into the sixties. She’d brought a wrap for her skirt ensemble in case the evening temperature dropped.

Raymond led them toward a combined open kitchen, casual dining nook, and family room with an entertainment center. Greetings rang out as Marla and Dalton met Brian, age nine, and Ariel, age six. They were adorable kids, albeit a bit boisterous.

A kid’s show blasted on the television. To the right of the TV unit was a bar complete with a granite counter and glassware. Mounted on the wall was an oval mirror. Its colorful frame, decorated with jungle parrots, matched the carved barstools and coffee table in front of a U-shaped sofa. Another fireplace sat to the left of the entertainment console.

Carol dried her hands on a dishtowel and strode over to welcome them. “This is Wayne’s sister, Annie,” she said, signaling for a slender brunette to approach. “Annie is a dietitian. She runs a nutrition clinic downtown.”

“Really? That’s great.” Marla pumped the younger woman’s hand, liking her warm smile and independent attitude. “How can you be out of college? You look so young.”

“I’m thirty-one. There’s a seven year age difference between me and Wayne. I still get carded at bars.”

“Oh, I’m only a year younger than him then.” She’d turned thirty-seven in February.

“I hear you’re a hairdresser. Maybe you can tell me what to do with my hair. I tie it back in a ponytail because it’s easy, but I should get a decent cut.”

“Braids are popular today if you want to leave it one length, but I’d be happy to discuss styles with you any time.”

“That sounds like fun. When you come into town, stop by my clinic. We can have lunch together, and I’ll tell you where to go shopping if you want.”

“You’ve got a deal. I really need to buy a pair of boots.”

Annie returned to the kitchen to finish tossing a salad. Marla glanced at the floor-to-ceiling window panels overlooking a free-form pool and covered patio with a view of the mountains. Flowering pink bougainvillea grew over the fencing. The patio had a large gas grill, a generous seating area, a round table and chairs, and yet another fireplace. How were those things heated? There weren’t any logs piled around.

Dusk had fallen, and soon it would be dark. Marla hoped she and Dalton could find their way back to the ranch on the country road.

Meanwhile, they milled around the kitchen, snacking on appetizers Carol had put out on the counter and drinking wine. When Wayne arrived, they took their places in the formal dining room.

“Kids, mind your manners,” Carol told her children. She bustled back toward the kitchen to get their first course.

Raymond sat at one end of the table with the opposite armchair reserved for Carol. Her children flanked her. Next to Ariel came Annie and then Marla. Dalton sat across from her beside Wayne on one side and Raymond on the other.

After they’d eaten a hearty vegetable bean soup, Raymond addressed Wayne. “Did you get that leaky water heater fixed?”

Wayne’s mouth tightened. “Yes, we did. The plumber said a valve had been loosened. Maybe it got knocked open by a broom that may have fallen over, but I think it was deliberate. At least we were able to clean the dining hall in time for the next meal.”

“I told you to put more video cameras in place.”

“Carol is still waiting for an estimate from the security company. Why do you look like you swallowed a lemon pit? I’ll take care of it.”

Raymond gripped his water glass. “I attended a town council meeting today. Hugh Donovan is stirring up trouble again.”

“What did he want this time? Donovan owns the Dead Gulch Ranch on the other side of the mountain,” Wayne explained in an aside to Marla and Dalton.

“His cattle aren’t doing well, and he blames my renovations,” Raymond said. “The guy’s an idiot. We’ve done the proper environmental impact studies, and they were approved. There’s no way our ghost town project can be contaminating his property.”

“It’s not the first time he’s complained, and you can bet it won’t be the last.” Carol rose to take away their empty soup bowls.

Annie stood to assist her, while the two kids slid a dessert spoon back and forth across the table at each other. Brian made sputtering noises like a damaged motor.