Washed Up (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 4) (3 page)

Gracie settled herself in the courtyard to watch black-chinned and rufous hummingbirds dive-bomb each other, while Marc made a series of phone calls about the missing teenager’s connection to the late Manny. Plenty of officers appeared to be working on the case at this point. Marc’s inability to stand down and relax was becoming more than a little aggravating. Marc flashed a smile at Gracie when a copper and green colored rufous buzzed past his head.

“Those little things are aggressive,” he commented, laying the phone on the table.

“Did they find that kid?” Gracie asked.

“No sign of him yet. If he’s hurt, it won’t be good to be out on the mountain all night.”

Gracie shivered, thinking of the wildlife that might be interested in an injured teen. “Let’s hope they find him before dark.”

“Yeah,” Marc responded absently. His eyes were not on her but directed at the splashing fountain. “There’s an all-out manhunt for him now. He probably stole the victim’s vehicle. Those boys may be involved with his death.”

“That’s terrible. Too bad no one heard anything along the trail this morning. We didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary when we were hiking. Neither did anybody else. At least that’s what they said.”

Her stomach growled, reminding her that Italian cuisine had been promised. She wondered if he was ever going to suggest that they get some dinner.

As if on cue, Marc turned back to her, with blue eyes twinkling and a smile that made her feel like a melting frozen custard in a waffle cone. “Are you ready to go eat?”

“Absolutely,” she replied. “Lead the way.”

***

They found seats on the back patio of the restaurant that afforded unobstructed views of the mountains. Mesmerized by the pinks and oranges that streaked the western sky, she missed the server’s question the first time.

“Gracie? Do you want something other than water to drink?” Marc asked.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll try an Italian soda—raspberry.” She focused her attention on the menu and placed her order.

Marc leaned forward and took the menu from her, handing it to the harried, curly-haired waiter.

“Gracie, I want to apologize for how your vacation has gone. The drug case that I’ve been working on is suddenly hot and heavy. I talked with the lieutenant today. It’s going to be tough to do everything I want to do while you’re here. I’m really sorry. Every chance I can, I’ll break away. We’ll squeeze in some fun, I promise.”

Gracie looked into his earnest and enticing eyes, feeling like things might be taking a turn for the better. She knew he was really trying to make everything work.

“That’s great. I was beginning to think that my timing was horrible.”

“No. Crime has bad timing. The drug cartels are a challenge. It’s a complex case that we finally got a break on this week. The missing kids appear to be part of the case. However, the DEA gave us some extra manpower today, so I’m officially at your disposal tonight. No calls and hurried lunches like today.” He settled back against the chair. “So, what do you think of Arizona?”

“It’s beautiful, but way different from Deer Creek. The mountains are unbelievable.” She looked back toward the highest mountain in the range. The sun had almost disappeared, shadows filling the canyons to the foothills. The air was definitely cooler and she took a deep breath, enjoying the lingering scent of rain.

Marc smiled, resting his arm on the table. “I feel the same about the mountains. Max and I have worked in several different areas in the county. Each one has its own beauty. But the woman across the table from me is the real beauty.”

Gracie felt her face flush. “Why thank you, sir.”

“I know we’ve had a rocky start all the way around, but I really want to talk to you about where we’re headed,” Marc said.

“Rocky describes it well,” she agreed.

This was a conversation that she was desperate to have and dreaded to some extent. For all the conversations they’d had on Face Time before the trip and her confidence that she was ready for a serious relationship, Gracie’s few days of vacation had her back on the fence. Smiling, Gracie brushed back a tendril of auburn hair that the warm evening breeze nudged across her eyes.

“I was looking at this trip as a fresh start to figure out where we’re going—if anywhere.”

Marc’s eyes flickered with concern. “I hope we’re going somewhere. This is the place for making a new life. It’s big out here—you can be absolutely independent. I can feel it.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm toward the mountains. “It’s been that way for me so far. I didn’t realize what a rut I was in back in New York. The opportunities in law enforcement here are outstanding, and I’m considering a change myself. Once Max and I are trained in El Paso, I think there’s a good possibility that this could be home.”

Gracie gasped. “You don’t want to come back to Wyoming County?”

She pushed back from the table, her stomach flip-flopping. “I don’t understand. The Arizona assignment was a temporary thing. You mentioned the drug dog training in Texas, but somehow I missed the ‘not coming back to New York’ part.”

The server appeared with hot bread and an antipasto tray. Gracie pulled the small loaf apart, dipping a piece into a dish of olive oil. The smell of fresh bread made her suddenly ravenous.

“That’s what I want to explain.” Marc popped a small mozzarella ball into his mouth. “You talked a lot about your new life without Michael. How you felt your family was too close—that everything was too much the same.”

Her brows furrowed, remembering the most recent conversation with Marc. She had been on a bit of a rant about her family and everyone in town knowing about her personal life. Then there was Isabelle, her thorn-in-the-side cousin, who kept her on her toes. Whether it was a painful social function or wildly concocted gossip, Izzy made living in Deer Creek a misery some days.

A couple followed a hostess to a nearby table. The woman’s animated conversation with her date made the stack of silver bracelets on her slender arm jangle like wind chimes as they passed. Gracie glanced at the man when he sat down. It was Hank Ramage. He smiled in recognition, showing white even teeth.

“Hi … Gracie. Right?” He rose from his chair.

She made quick introductions, and Hank turned to introduce his girlfriend, Mistee Olin. She was waifish with fine features, long black hair, and red highlights in her bangs.

“Gracie’s staying at Amanda’s,” Hank explained.

“How nice! I’m the massage therapist and yoga instructor on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I haven’t seen you at any classes,” Mistee twittered.

“Amanda’s had me busy with other things,” Gracie replied. “Although I’ve been thinking about scheduling a hot rock massage.”

“That’s so good for you, but I’d recommend …” She stopped when Hank touched her arm.

“We’ll let you two get back to your conversation.” Hank gently steered Mistee back to their table.

Marc frowned and stared over Gracie’s shoulder at the parking lot. The silence lengthened between them. She folded and unfolded her napkin, finally smoothing it across her lap.

“Where were we?” She smiled, trying to catch his eye.

Marc’s gaze returned to her, and he gave her a lopsided smile.

“I’m probably jumping way ahead of where I should,” he started.

“Not necessarily. I’ve given you plenty of reasons why a new start somewhere other than Deer Creek might be a very good thing for me.” The words seemed strange on her tongue, and rather freeing. Amanda’s recent words rumbled around in her thoughts—“an independent businesswoman.” She wielded the power to buy and sell, or for that matter to relocate. Marc’s love had been declared in the Face Time sessions before she’d gotten on an airplane. They’d talked about nearly everything, except a move that involved her. The whole idea had come out of left field. Even though the kennel business was flourishing, she was determined to preserve an open mind to
hear what the man with the sexy dimple in his chin had to say. Maybe she was destined for a new adventure to outdo the one she’d chosen by selling the farm and opening the kennel after losing her husband, Michael, and their baby all in one horrific week, now over three years ago.

His face brightened. “Sure you want to hear my shocking idea?”

She nodded, keeping a smile firmly in place. The real truth was that moving away from Deer Creek wasn’t currently an option she was willing to consider, even though her previous statement had indicated otherwise. She was pretty sure she’d experienced enough change for one lifetime. However, as her Grandma Clark used to say, “There’s nothing as constant as change.”

“I’m all ears.”

Gracie opened an eye to peer at the digital clock on the nightstand. It had been a late night of talking with Marc—in fact, they had talked until the restaurant closed. Breakfast time had come and gone at Red Hen Ranch. Sunlight peeked through the crevices of the bamboo Roman shade. She groaned, throwing back the covers. Angry voices broke into the stillness of the morning. Pulling the shade slightly away from the window, she saw Alex and Justin, the purported treasure hunters, hustled away from their tile-roofed stucco lodging by two men in Drug Enforcement Administration jackets. There was no time to waste on an extended toilette. She threw on jeans, a tank top, and ran a brush through her hair. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth, while slipping into sandals. There was no time for personal hygiene either. She crept down the graveled path, keeping a circumspect distance from the men, while trying to stay within earshot.

“You can’t take us in without probable cause,” Alex argued. “Besides it’s medicinal,” he added frantically.

“We need to ask you a few questions about the murder of Manny Enriquez,” the agent with the shaved head responded coolly.

“Murder? We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Justin snorted. He ran a hand over his scruffy face. “We don’t know anybody named Manny.”

Gracie stopped mid stride. Murder? So it was verified.

“Let’s have a little chat in the ranch office,” the other agent with a DEA cap directed.

“Hey! We’re not going anywhere,” Alex protested without success.

Gracie watched the agents escort the men into the Santa Fe. It was no surprise that murder was the verdict. She shuddered, remembering the battered face and twisted limbs. A good push to an unsuspecting victim would cause a fall from the treacherous switchback. Other guests had gathered, watching the little scene. Several had broad smiles with an “I told you so” look on their faces. Amanda appeared from the path to the henhouse, carrying a bowl of large brown eggs. Amanda jerked her head toward the rear entrance of the house. Gracie hurried to join her.

“Did you hear that Manny’s death has been ruled a homicide?” she asked.

“Just did,” Amanda answered. “I’ve given the DEA run of my office for the morning. We’re on the list for questioning. Somehow, drugs are involved with his death. At least that’s what the agents indicated.”

“Drugs?”

“I’m afraid so. I can’t imagine Manny being part of something like that, but people do strange things for money.”

They entered the spacious and bright kitchen, and Amanda set the eggs by the sink.

“You missed breakfast, but there are a few pastries left by the coffee.”

“I’ll take the coffee, but I don’t think I have an appetite this morning.” Gracie quickly poured rich-smelling coffee into a mug from the large insulated carafe.

“I had an early call from Gary,” Amanda continued as she rinsed and sorted the eggs. “He had a couple of agents at his house, along with Marc. Apparently, a special task force, made up of local law enforcement and the feds, are working the case now. Cocaine was found on Manny, from what Gary said, and the autopsy showed that it wasn’t a heart attack or a fall that killed him.” Her eyes welled with tears. “You think you know someone.” 

Her cell phone buzzed, and Amanda excused herself, hurrying outside to the courtyard. Hank entered the foyer, slamming the door behind him.

He strode into the kitchen and filled a glass with ice water from the large crock next to the coffee.

“Hi,” Gracie greeted him. “Did you enjoy dinner last night?” The man avoided eye contact and quickly downed the water.

“Gotta get back to trimming mesquites,” he muttered and walked away before she could summon up an intelligent response.

Amanda returned from the private residence section, a frown creasing her face.

“Hank works here?” Gracie asked. She hadn’t seen him on the property before.

“Hank’s a landscaper I hired a couple of weeks ago to start removing a lot of the mesquites on the back acreage. They’ve been a mess since I bought the ranch.”

“He seems a bit touchy.”

Amanda grimaced. “He’s not very happy about the DEA showing up to question everyone. It is sort of intimidating.”

“I can understand that. I’ve spent more time with police investigators than I care to remember.”

“Really?” Amanda’s look of incredulity made Gracie smile.

“Really. Somehow I’ve found myself involved with a few murder investigations back home.”

Amanda’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Not that I had anything to do with the murders,” Grace added hastily. “I seem to have the weirdest luck when it comes to crime. Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to Marc.” She grinned.              .

“I’m not sure I want to know any more,” Amanda quipped, taking a seat across from her guest at the large pine trestle table.

“I’d rather not get into all of it,” Gracie said. “Why do you think we’re being questioned again?”

“Because Manny was murdered, I guess. The agents were not exactly forthcoming on that. Fortunately for them, quite a few of the people they want to talk to are right here, which includes us.”

“How convenient. They seem to be extremely interested in the treasure hunters.”

“I’m not surprised,” Amanda affirmed. “Those boys are trouble. If I’d known how much trouble, I would have put the no-vacancy sign out when they arrived. They’re doing exploration in the creek area, looking for a cache of gold that supposedly belonged to the Coronado expedition. Coronado and his men came up through Mexico and through the Huachucas on their way to find the seven cities of gold.”

“Gold?”

“Yup. The old story is that some ragtag survivors of a shipwreck made it back to Mexico City in 1530-something with wild tales of seven golden cities with jewelers on every corner. The Spanish government was always looking for new revenue and backed Coronado in 1540 to check out the story.”

“Which didn’t work out, I presume,” Gracie said with a chuckle. “So these guys think the Spaniards hid gold along the way or stole it from someone?”

“I guess. There’s been a story around for a long time that a cache of gold was discovered on Ft. Huachuca back in the 1940s. There are also lots of tales about outlaws stashing loot in caves or burying it in the mountains. We’ve got plenty of notorious outlaws like the Clantons, and maybe these two are cut from the same cloth. If you ask me, they’re up to something.”

“Like what?”

Amanda shrugged. “Maybe drugs. I
do
know they were somewhere near where the maintenance team was working. Saw their vehicle in the parking lot yesterday, and Gary mentioned that the ranger ran them off an old mine near the trail repair area. They don’t have a permit from the Park Service yet.”

“Hmmm,” Gracie murmured, hearing the office door swing open.

The two young men stalked out, eyes blazing, hands thrust in their pockets. Both were mumbling what Gracie assumed to be colorful expletives as Alex slammed the entrance door once again for good measure. The agent with the shaved head appeared from the office, his face hard and unsmiling.

“Mrs. Littlefield, can you ask Mr. Ramage to come in?” he asked.

“Sure.” Amanda scraped back her chair from the table.

Gracie decided she really ought to make herself more presentable for a morning interrogation. She exited through the courtyard, eager to slip back to her cozy little house. She caught a glimpse of Marc stepping out of his truck through delicate leaves of what she’d been told was a velvet mesquite as she passed near the parking area. He saw her and waved. She stopped, waiting for him to join her on the path.

“In a hurry?” he asked, smiling.

“Actually, yes. I need to pull myself together for a police interview.”

“Right. I was coming out to let you know that the case has taken a turn for the worse and to be prepared.”

“So, the man was really murdered?” she asked, resuming her walk.

“Very much so. You saw that the body was in bad shape, but he didn’t die from a fall. He was strangled with his own lanyard sometime the night before.”

“Strangled?”

This was a strange turn of events. The twisted leg and battered face pointed to a fall. The narrow cliffs above the pool of water had seemed to substantiate her logic at the time.

“Mr. Enriquez was definitely strangled. His windpipe was crushed. The medical examiner confirmed it in the autopsy.”

“How did he get so beaten up then?”

“That’s what we’re looking at now. There’s a team up on the mountain trying to find where he was killed.”

“Amanda mentioned that they found cocaine on him.”

Marc shot a sideways look at her. “That’s right. How did she know?”

“From Gary, the trail leader guy, I think.”

“Oh.” He paused, his eyes narrowing.

“What about the foster son? Has he been found?”

“Not yet. Uh … before you sneak any more questions in, let me say that this is a drug case near the Mexican border. There are some really bad guys involved with this … so …”

“So, don’t get involved,” Gracie finished. She stopped at the arched azure door of the earth-colored stucco casita, her hand resting on a wrought iron door handle.

“Exactly. I’ve probably already told you too much, but in the interest of good police relations, you have all the information that should satisfy your curiosity.”

“I’m officially on vacation, but you, on the other hand, seemed to be rather busy with this case. If you and I are contemplating a future together, let’s say I’m interested because you’re interested. It seems to be consuming quite a bit of your time.”

Marc closed his eyes and shook his head. “Understood. But this is not Deer Creek, and you are not a police officer.”

Amanda’s gray head popped through the soft fronds of a large mimosa tree that shaded the casita next to Gracie’s.

“Have you seen Hank?” she asked the coupl
e
.