Murder at Marigold Mesa: Diane Phipps, P.I., #5

By Karen Hudgins

Diane Phipps., P.I., devotes herself to finding out who poisoned the owner of a turquoise mine in New Mexico--yet, nobody appears to dislike him enough for murder.

Who had murder on their mind? Diane Phipps, P.I., accepts a new case in Marigold Mesa, New Mexico to expose who poisoned Ethan Marlboro, owner of the Apache Plume Turquoise Mine, after a miner dies. Working with Detective Jim Diamond, questions rise. Was Rosamond Santorini, Ethan's fiancée and Diane's own client at fault? Did estate manager Rocky Michaels hold a grudge? Maybe grateful housekeeper Gloria King? Or Tiny Mackinaw, the victim's museum curator? Did ex-girlfriend Natalie Waterman gain revenge? Confronting the prime suspect rivals Diane's battle with a rattlesnake. But determined Diane soon stamps "CASE CLOSED" on the Marlboro file.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613096024

Book preview

Prologue

Tonight, Ethan Marlboro wanted privacy . He showered, shaved, walked into the living room and eyed the bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket. Soon, Rosamond Santorini would ride her quarter horse Blackie down the nearest slope.

Ethan sauntered to the front door and opened it. His timing was perfect to see her cresting the raised dirt lane about a hundred yards away. Honestly, she stole Ethan’s breath. Her slim legs hugged the steed, and her brown hair waved, keeping rhythm with her horse’s gait.

Rosamond had been his second chance for love since he got there. His first was a brief and heady affair from which he had walked away. Some things were just not meant to be.

Six months ago, he’d met Rosamond at the Santa Fe Opera and soon discovered they were neighbors. Ethan believed fate could not have done better. He’d changed his world to fit his vision, and he found the woman of his dreams...next door...with only forty acres and the Coronado Creek wedged between their homes.

Good evening, darling, Ethan greeted as she dismounted.

I’ve missed you, she said softly.

He kissed her and took the reins. They took slow and easy strides to the stable to put Blackie up for the night.

You’re a little tense, Ethan said, noticing how she clung to him as they walked.

Just back from the office in Albuquerque. Protecting water rights can be so...exhausting.

Ethan gave her a sympathetic squeeze. You’re here with me now. Come. I’ve finished the project, and added a crown...you must see.

Proudly, he led her by hand to the north side terrace of the house and inside through the open family room next to the oversized kitchen. Her boots tapped the terracotta floors as she followed him to the billiards room with its vaulted ceiling and tall windows facing Cimarron Butte six miles away. They exited to the outside gardens filled with xeriscape plants for easy growing. But Ethan’s rose garden was his pride and joy. He even deadheaded the roses himself.

Approaching his newest addition, he wasn’t surprised when Rosamond stopped dead in her tracks.

It’s a moon gate! she cried. The half-circle stone structure added depth to the terrace and framed the view of the swimming pool and landscaping. A turquoise Zia crowned the top. The flagstone path lay ready for them to walk from this side of the arch to the other.

Come. Let’s walk through together.

She fell into spirited step with him. Will it bring us good luck?

He chuckled. It might. But I expect it’ll just take us to the other side. Then I have something to ask you.

Hand-in-hand, Ethan walked with Rosamond on the new path and through the keyhole-shaped entrance. Once on the other side, he drew her over to the O’Keeffe sculpture that stood amidst the roses. This is my favorite piece of art, he said with reverence. Perfectly placed.

Rosamond stepped closer for a better look. That’s saying a lot, considering your collections.

He puffed with pride. They grow all the time. My little museum in town gets a fair number of visitors...and people donate things. Just the other day, someone left a box on the doorstep with another treasure inside.

What kind of treasure?

A Hopi kachina. I’m happy to have him.

Ahh, a kachina, Rosamond said, with little enthusiasm. There are a lot of them here.

This one’s a death kachina. Old and hand-carved, heavy and a little dusty. He has marvelous coloring, a few dark feathers, and red carved circles around his blank black eyes.

Rosamond shuddered. I’m not a fan. Intertwining her fingers with his, From whom?

Unknown. No note, this time. I’ve put the kachina up on a shelf directly under my Georgia O’Keeffe painting at the museum. The display is striking. I’m using a photo of it on my new postcards for promotion. I’ll see that you get one.

I hope so. You have exquisite taste, Ethan.

Reaching the edge of the pool, he wrapped his arm around her waist. Twilight threw pastel sky colors onto the water. The hot daytime air still held, and he settled Rosamond at a table just outside the bath house. A brick-red umbrella, intended for shade during the day, tilted overhead. He ducked from beneath the canvas and walked to the patio bar.

A sweet peace dropped over him while getting in the water. He’d earned every single luxury here at home, including a fancy icemaker, and having a professional live-in housekeeper. Gloria was easy on the eye. He could’ve hit on her, but never did.

He’d told her earlier, I have some company coming,

Your special lady?

Yes.

Gloria, her blond hair wisped about her face, had wiped her hands dry on a white dishtowel. I’ll be in my suite, if you should need something. There’s fresh pie on the counter if you want a late snack.

He shoveled ice into barrel-cactus-shaped glasses, filled each, and added lemon. In this dry part of the county, water was priceless.

Cool glasses in hand, he turned back toward Rosamond. He suddenly jerked and stiffened.

Damn, he muttered under his breath. Another odd, out-of-the-blue shortness of breath besieged him. It’d been happening lately, along with bouts of gut ache and flash fevers, but he’d rallied. By the time he’d reached Rosamond, he was breathing normally. Relieved, he handed her the glass. She sipped as he lowered himself into the chair opposite her.

So, darling. What do you think? he asked.

This is so good. I was thirsty.

He scraped his chair in closer. I mean about us, Rosa.

She raised her eyes to meet his. We’re best friends. I think about you...a lot, every day. I couldn’t ask for a better neighbor, either.

Ethan reached for her hand, and she slid hers into his. As usual, her skin was smooth and silky. Her warmth calmed him. I was wondering what you’d think about us...being more than best friends.

Rosamond’s wide-set brown eyes sparkled. What’re you saying, Ethan?

He cleared his throat and resolutely rose from the chair, circled the table, and dropped to one knee in front of Rosamond. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?

Surprise and awe lit up Rosamond’s face, which further charmed him. She leaned over and cradled Ethan’s face in her hands. Yes...yes. A thousand times yes.

His chest constricted again, leaving him almost breathless. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out what he’d tucked inside. Then he waited.

He’d made plenty of deals in his life. Many were sweet and quick. Like his Apache Plume Turquoise Mine in Valeria, sixty miles northwest. It had been a slow-go, bringing it up to full-speed with inspiration and local labor. He claimed success, despite the recent fatal accident.

Ethan had spoken privately to Bill Evers about the accident right after it had occurred. Steady, my friend. This is merely a hiccup. We do business, as usual. Everyone still has their job, don’t they? It seemed callous, but everybody knew that dangers came with mining territory.

But this situation with Rosa sitting in front of him was a matter of the heart. The scope of it left him trembling and perspiring. Or, was it another flash of his recent ailment?

Oh, my, she began about the ring. "It’s gorgeous, and so are you!"

Words escaped him as he slid the three-carat diamond ring onto her finger. He loved her honesty, how she’d never asked him for anything, and her responsiveness at night. She understood big money. Her family had built ships in Spain.

To celebrate, let’s have some wine, dinner, and go for a dip...later, under the stars, he said, his breaths shortening.

Rosamond looked into his eyes. My, it’s so warm, why don’t we swim first? She paused, then, You look a little flushed.

Ethan stood. As you wish. The stars can wait.

A quick clothes change later, Ethan dove into the pool water and surfaced. Rosamond lowered herself into the deep end from the ladder. Releasing her grip, she fell back into the water with minimal splash, turned, and swam to him. Her dark hair framed her face, and she blotted water from her eyes with her fingers.

You’re making me very happy, she said with a hug. C’mon, let’s swim to the fountain.

He took her up on it and overpassed her by several of powerful strokes...until the hitch in his lungs ambushed him again. He struggled for his next breath as Rosamond cut out ahead of him. His body tightening, he stopped mid-stroke and tread water. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Nausea sapped his strength.

Rosa!

He sank under the water. Dizzily, he lunged and kicked upward. Air! Popping up to the surface, he coughed as Rosa’s voice reached him.

Ethan! She sped toward him. What’s wrong? What’s happening?

He reached for her shoulders and missed as she swiveled, screaming toward the house. Help!

His strength faded faster. He slipped under the water again and went limp. His burning lungs were ready to burst, and he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. Involuntarily, he gasped, and again. His lungs froze. Time stopped for Ethan.

TEN DAYS LATER, ROSAMOND met with Dr. Gerald Hamilton, Medical Examiner. Plants decorated his office. Proper, framed diplomas and photos of his children hung on the walls.

I’m deeply sorry for your loss, he said after introductions. I usually see immediate family, but made an exception. I know your brother Carlos from the golf club. Shall we begin?

Compelled to relay what had happened, Rosamond began. Thank you. Ethan seemed fine...until I saw him thrashing about in the water. He’d just proposed to me. She rubbed the engagement ring on her finger. I yelled for help, but no one came. I dragged him to the pool steps and called nine-one-one.

Dr. Hamilton folded his hands on his desk. I’m sure it was truly...horrendous. He gave her a moment and leaned forward. May I go on?

Rosamond nodded. Please do. It’s why I’m here.

Technically, Mr. Marlboro drowned...from respiratory failure. He had breathing trouble?

I never noticed, except if we took a long hike, then he needed to sit for a bit and just take in some air, you know, but so did I. She hesitated, then, We didn’t talk about health much. She heaved a sigh. We were busy living and being with each other.

Not a mistake, Dr. Hamilton said quietly.

She stifled a new sob. Now he’s gone. Our future’s gone. I had no way to save him, or it. She lowered her head, and her hair brushed against her cheeks. She had cancelled her salon visit. Nor did she go anywhere, on or off Blackie. Everything still seems so surreal. I just wanted to hear it directly from you. I thought it might help me believe all this. Ethan was only fifty-three.

In the silence that followed, Rocky Michaels, Ethan’s estate manager, approached her from the side and spoke softly. I’ll take you back home now.

Without a ride from him, she wouldn’t have been able to make it to Albuquerque for this appointment. Now, she had trouble driving and concentrating. Losing Ethan, suddenly and unexpectedly, had been such a shock. Suddenly and unexpectedly did that to survivors. Slowly, she got to her feet.

Dr. Hamilton went on. Wait, please. He paused. Our reports are in here. He pointed to the computer sitting to his right. Toxicology, pathology, and my autopsy observations. Official death certificates can be ordered, in person, in Santa Fe. Here’s a card.

She let it sit. Thank you, but I wasn’t his keeper. Not yet, anyway.

Rocky stepped forward. I am. He looked at Rosamond somewhat apologetically. Ethan only had his mother, and Covid took her. He asked me to be the manager for his estate ten months ago...before you met him. For me, it was a promotion. For him, it was responsible planning for the future. He reached over her arm and picked up the card.

The medical examiner leveled a gaze on Rocky. Good luck to you...and you, ma’am. He rose to shake hands and added, Also, the reports have been faxed over to Detective Jim Diamond in Marigold Mesa. You see, it’s...customary.

Bewildered again, Rosamond sank back down into the seat. "Detective Diamond?"

Dr. Hamilton’s expression turned grave. We found something else...something unusual.

One

The Call

Atlantic Beach, Florida

Diane Phipps, P.I., turned the call for help over in her mind while she poured her husband Tom his first cup of coffee. A perplexing foul play case was wreaking havoc for Detective Jim Diamond in Marigold Mesa, New Mexico. The victim’s fiancée wanted more eyes on the case.

Diane shared the gist of the conversation with Tom. His dark hair was still uncombed and he wore a white knit shirt and khaki shorts, which evidenced him taking a break from his classified reconnaissance work.

Apparently, Chief Mason had suggested me to help, she went on. You remember him from my next to last case? The one in Peak Village near Pikes Peak, and how that poor archaeologist was murdered?

Tom tilted his coffee mug at her. Of course, and I’m not surprised your name came up.

Sweet of you, she said. Chief Mason and Diamond are cousins.

He leaned back in the chair and studied her. So, when’re you going?

Diane hesitated. She’d been in a reflective mood about her work lately. Do you think I’m getting too old for this? Either one of us, really? You trekking off to unknown parts for tracking scourge of the Earth people, and me hunting down killers.

Tom drank and set down his mug. Not in the least. Neither of us is.

Okay...just a reality check. She didn’t know anybody in her line of work who didn’t do them once in a while.

So, what’d you tell Detective Diamond?

That I’d check my schedule and would call him back.

Tom eyed her knowingly. "There isn’t anything on your schedule. You need a new client...or you’ll get restless