Death at Lampier

By Alex Harris

Lampier Ranch, just down the road from Bear Ranch, is the site of the murder investigation for Fred O'Neill and Oriole Wolfe, detectives with the Sheriff's Office. Crimson Ranch is on the market and finds a new owner. Fred and Marlowe's friendship heats up. Chalcey gets a new horse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Harris
• Release date: Jan 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465944061

Alex Harris

M. Alex Harris lives and works in Prescott, Arizona. Born in Oregon, she attended the University of Oregon and Northwestern School of Law at Lewis and Clark College in Portland. For the last two decades, she has served as an attorney, judge, mediator, and teacher, handling a wide variety of cases: death penalty to special education issues. She and her husband have an Appaloosa,(Spottypants), two goats, three dogs and at last count, five grandchildren. For the last 30 years, she has taught at community colleges and universities sharing her love of education with others. As a former law enforcement officer, her husband, Kevin McCarthy, provides technical advice for her books.

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DEATH AT LAMPIER

M. ALEX HARRIS

Published by M. Alex Harris at Smashwords

COPYRIGHT 2011 M. Alex Harris

Dedicated to the memory of Captain Ryan Anderson

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter 1

This economy hit Arizona hard and Yavapai County even harder. Houses were selling slow and at lower prices than ever before. There is a prediction that there will be another big drop in the coming year. Frances Pitcher expounded on the financial condition of the real estate market as she ate dinner with her best friend, mortgage broker Lisa Wood.

But you have a lot of listings for bank repos, so you will be okay. Right? Lisa inquired as she took a bite of her steak.

You never know. One week you’re flying high and the next week you’re borrowing money from family just to survive.

But, you got all the listings for State Bank. They were heavy into small ranches. People from California made up most of their clientele. There are literally hundreds of houses in foreclosure and you have all of State’s. Some of those houses originally sold at half a million and even with the problems with the foreclosures, you’ll be listing them at a quarter of a million. Lisa, ever the optimist, was looking for the horse in the room full of horse manure.

Well I do have quite a few on the list of foreclosures and we’re waiting for the renovations on about eight more. Things will start looking up if I can just get two or three into closing. Frances sighed and took a sip of wine. Her composure returned as she studied her dinner. Her short, curly blond hair belied her years, as did her Jones New York suit tailored to perfection.

Frances had made her living as a Realtor in Yavapai County for more than 35 years with a focus on small ranches in the outlying areas. She and her husband had put the kids through college, paid off the family home, and even put aside a nice retirement, before he passed away nine years ago from cancer. The hospital bills ate up the retirement and the bankruptcy that followed took the family home. All Frances had left was her car, a 2004 Toyota, an investment condo she and Tom had purchased years ago, her little rat terrier, Jackie, and a garden plot the size of a postage stamp. Frances took everything in stride trusting in her faith in God and belief in people to get her through in tough times. The current downturn in the economy was, for her, just another storm to ride out. She cut coupons, shopped at resale/consignment stores, and pinched pennies twice in order to stretch the meager earnings she received now from foreclosure sales.

Lisa Wood had worked for years in banking and when the opportunity came to switch to mortgage banking as a branch manager for American Mortgage in Prescott, she jumped at the chance. Lisa owned a condo in the same complex as Frances. Her husband of 12 years, Phil Mason, was a ner’ do well, who spent more time on the golf course than at home, and went through every penny she made until she closed out her bank account to prevent him access.

Frances and Lisa shared a common friend, Summer Bear. Summer, the matriarch of four generations living at Bear Ranch, stood tall--6 feet-- just a little taller than her daughter, attorney Marlowe Sharpe, and granddaughter Detective Oriole Wolfe. Summer taught classes at the community college, raised a garden every year that produced hundreds of quarts of vegetables, managed a ranch of multiple critters and provided a home for her great granddaughter Anders Chalcedony Wolfe--Chalcey for short.

The three friends, Summer, Frances and Lisa would routinely get together to cuss and discuss life in Prescott. Summer was to have joined them for their monthly dinner, but had to beg off because of the recent death of Joyce, Rod’s wife of Crimson Ranch.

Have you heard what Rod’s going to do with Crimson Ranch? Lisa asked.

Summer said he was going to put it on the market. I’m meeting with him later this month after the funeral and he’s had an opportunity to process everything. I feel so bad for him. I know he is just lost with everything he has to do. Summer and I are going to go over and help him figure out what to do with all of Joyce’s things. Their son didn’t want any of her stuff, so we’re calling around to see if any of the clubs or societies can use it in a rummage sale or something. Frances explained the future for Rod.

When is the funeral?

Next Thursday. It’s going to be a memorial service and wake. Summer is hosting it at Bear Ranch. She figured given the length of time Rod and Joyce lived here, there would be lots of folks coming to pay their respects and anyway, Summer and Rod have both been hit with vandals so they figured better not to leave either ranch unattended.

The remote ranches presented perfect opportunities for thieves. And the stuff the thieves would steal would curl your hair-water troughs, feed barrels, pole fencing, and anything else that wasn’t nailed down, screwed down or too heavy to carry off. In fact one rancher had come upon thieves stealing his water tank, boxed them in with his tractor, pulled his 30-06, held them at bay until three hours later the sheriff’s deputy showed up.

Well, I’m off. I have to see what Phil is up to. He’s thinking about studying to be a stock broker. He figures he’d make a lot of money. It can‘t come soon enough for me. I‘m going to have to make some hard decisions soon. Trouble etched its way onto Lisa’s face as she paid her portion of the bill in cash and kissed Frances’ cheek in goodbye.

Frances looked after her long time friend, shaking her head at the idiocy of Phil ever finding a job or if finding one, keeping it. But Frances Pitcher loved her friend Lisa and all the ups and downs of their 30 year friendship. She would support Lisa’s decisions, add her two-bits when and if asked, cry with her over disappointments, laugh with her over silly mistakes and always be by her side. Summer took on a different role with the two friends, more of a leader, organizer and guide. During the long friendship, the three had stood elbow to elbow in marches, burned their bras and bought new ones, climbed mountains and hiked the Grand Canyon.

Chapter 2

School let out for summer vacation the middle of May, giving Chalcey a much needed and well earned break from studying. With summer coming on, she would have time to help in the garden more and polish up her horsemanship skills for the upcoming Rodeo Parade. She and Red, her POA Appaloosa, were registered to ride just before the Sheriff’s Mounted Posse and because Uncle Fred and Oriole were in the Posse, Chalcey wanted to make sure she was at her best.

Summer, when will we be able to harvest from this garden? Chalcey asked her great grandmother while weeding the squash and tomatoes.

If you don’t stop sneaking tomatoes and cucumbers, there won’t be a harvest. The senior matriarch of Bear Ranch smiled at the light of her life and gave her a big hug. Come on, we have to finish here, water and then feed the stock. Your mama and Marlowe will be home before too long and we all have to go over to Crimson to help Rod put together the memorial service.

Am I old enough to be at the memorial service since I’m going to be fourteen soon? Chalcey brushed her bright red hair out of her eyes and repositioned her cowboy hat. I couldn’t go to Janey’s dad’s funeral because Mama said I was too young. But that was two years ago. We‘ve had a whole bunch of animal funerals here and I‘ve done okay with them haven‘t I?

Summer thought back to all the animals that had been buried on the ranch and all the memorial services held in their honor. Well, you know it’s not up to me, you gotta convince Oriole. You might remind her of how old she was when she first attended a funeral.

Well, how old was she and whose funeral?

She was actually two years younger than you are and it was her daddy’s. But Chalcey, that funeral is different than Joyce’s. Oriole and her daddy were real close and Marlowe made the decision to let her attend because she needed closure. Can you see this is different?

Yeah, Granddad was family and Joyce is a neighbor. But Joyce and Rod are like family. They babysat me, gave me the goat, helped bandage Rascal’s side when he got shot. I got it figured out; you’re telling me I should ask Oriole by way of mentioning her dad’s funeral and then explain that I can help out in the kitchen with the buffet and clean up and all that stuff. That will give her more reason to say yes. Summer, sometimes you are so smart. Chalcey had stopped weeding and was leaning on her shovel while she expounded on the magic of negotiating with her mom.

If I’m not careful, your mama is going to shoot me for letting you learn how to make decisions and develop a mind of your own.

So is this manipulation?

Remember last Thanksgiving when we had Jean and her family for dinner. Remember how disturbing it was because of Jean’s behaviors. She cried and threw temper tantrums to get what she wanted. She wanted oyster dressing instead of the turkey dressing. We already had the dressing made. Her oldest son tried to convince her she was a guest and if she didn’t want the turkey dressing, to do without. And she sulked and made everyone feel horrible. Manipulation is what Jean does with her family. The difference is that you are thinking your way through information that will help you present your position and how you react will show whether you are manipulating or negotiating. There’s a huge difference. You always want to look at the end result to see which it is. And, your mom will probably let you know right away which is which.

So what I should do is have dinner ready, get mom a glass of wine, maybe get out the photo album and then present my request without whining or crying and live with Mom’s decision. Chalcey picked up her shovel and began spading the garden.

Summer again covered her laugh with a cough to keep from letting Chalcey know how precocious she found her great granddaughter.

Oriole drove her 4-wheel drive Jeep Cherokee into the yard and was met at the door by her lanky daughter holding a glass of wine. Here, Mom, give me your briefcase and go put your feet up. Chalcey ran into the house ahead of Oriole to grab slippers and the photo album.

Okay, young lady, what’s going on? Did you break something, get into trouble with Summer, forget to do your chores?

Oriole, how you talk. I just want to make you comfortable. I thought we could reminisce while we wait for Marlowe. Chalcey curled up on the old Cordovan leather sofa in the living room next to her mother.

Tell me what’s on your mind little missy.

Mom, I’m pretty grown up. I even conducted our last memorial service for Puddles, remember? I think I’m old enough to help out at the buffet and clean up for Joyce’s memorial service. I’ll work real hard, make you proud of me. May I, please.

Sure, don’t see why not. Oriole had planned on suggesting Chalcey help out in the kitchen to give Summer some help. Knowing teenagers, Oriole figured if it was her idea, Chalcey would have balked, but since it was Chalcey’s idea, she would work hard to prove herself. Run along and ask Summer what you can do to help her get ready. There are all sorts of things she’ll need ahead of time to get organized. And, don’t argue if she gives you a job you don’t like. Just do it with a smile.

Chapter 3

Marlowe Sharpe had designed her office to fit her life style. The lobby was full of antiques collected from garage sales, auctions and second hand stores, a drop down secretary desk hid office supplies, a wire meshed armoire held active files, and her secretary’s desk consisted of file cabinets supporting a barn door that had been refinished by Marlowe herself. Since clients rarely lingered in the outer office, Marlowe had gone with simple but stout leather chairs rescued from an estate sale, between which sat an end table from her great-great grandfather’s ranch up in Seligman. The look and feel of country comfort continued into her office where instead of a desk she had a slab from a 250 year old alligator oak tree, cut and polished after it bit the dust in a huge wind storm some years back. Instead of client chairs, she had favored an old oak couch she found at a garage sale and had re-done in dark mahogany brushed leather. Topping off the oak tongue-n-groove floor, she herself had done, was a Navajo rug given to her by friends of Summer’s when she opened her doors after passing the State Bar. People who knew such things, often told her it was a mistake to use the rug, to walk on it. It should be on the wall to admire. However, when Richard Yellowhorse’s grandmother unrolled it in the office, she said, this rug is to live on, walk on, learn on, and to soak up spirit. So soak up spirit it has.

Marlowe Sharpe showed her last client of the day out the door of her downtown law office, turned to Joan, her trusty, cranky, cantankerous secretary and asked what was on the agenda for court the next day.

"Your calendar is all screwed up. Division 2 became Division 5, 5 became 3 and on and on. The cases on law and motion for 2 will be over in the Verde, I have them all moved to Wednesday, and your Prescott cases will be heard in 3, by Judge Roberts. This reassignment will be awhile shaking out. I told the judicial