Chapter 6
Tuesday, April 18
A few minutes before nine the next morning, Henry walked to his car with the Colt and Glock in their cases while Charles was taking his turn at swimming laps. Pierre was running along beside him at the edge of the pool occasionally barking some encouragement. Henry put the gun cases in the trunk of the car; he didn’t like having a weapon in the passenger compartment unless he had it strapped to his waist. He backed the car out of the garage and went down Mel to Avenida Caballeros where he turned right. He drove to Ramon Road, turned left and settled back for the long drive out to the Gun Club.
After a while he passed over the Interstate, and took a left on Varner Road. Out here, the area was mostly industrial or nothing but desert, depending on which checkerboard square of the Agua Caliente Indian Reservation you were on. The Indians charged a lease to building owners for use of their property, so out here in the desert outside of town, the undeveloped squares were Reservation. Building owners just didn’t want to risk the unknown of not owning the property under their investment. Over in the more developed part of Palm Springs, the checkerboard reservation continued, though you could hardly tell what Indian land was and what was not. The only difference was that some people had title to the land their house was on, and others paid the Indians a lease for their property.
But out here in the desert, it was more apparent, and developers tended to shy away from leased land for structures such as the Express package delivery building Henry just passed, or even the auto wreckers. Right across the road from those establishments was an empty, obviously Agua Caliente, square of land. The Palm Springs Gun Club was on one of these undeveloped squares of land. For the Club, the empty piece of desert was a perfect place for their pistol and rifle range.
Ordinarily, the range was not open to the public, but Wayne was the law enforcement liaison to the Club and as such had a key to the gate. The club didn’t have many facilities, the bathroom was a portable outhouse, and refreshments were in the ice chest in the trunk of Henry’s car. But there was plenty of space, there was no charge other than the Club’s membership’s dues, and on a weekday morning once a month, he and Wayne had the place to themselves. Most of the Club’s activities were on weekends when they had match shootouts and something called a Western shootout, which Henry had not really figured out.
A couple of more turns took Henry onto an unpaved road, and within a couple of hundred yards, he was at the gate to the Gun Club’s range which Wayne had already opened. The Crown Victoria with its exempt license plates was already parked up ahead, and Henry pulled his nearly twin Mercury Grand Marquis next to it. Wayne was setting up their targets and Henry got out of the car and walked back to the gate to close it.
He waved at Wayne as he walked back and yelled, “You never called me yesterday afternoon.”
“You’re right, and it’s not because I forgot.” Wayne smiled, putting the staple gun that he had used to attach the targets down at the pistol station.
“I figured it was because whatever you found out was inconsequential.” Henry smiled unlocking his trunk and grabbing his gun cases and a couple of boxes of ammunition.
“Well, you may not think so, but it doesn’t amount to much.” Wayne said, opening the passenger door to his car and pulling out his hearing protectors.
“That’s what you keep saying.” Henry smiled, “What did you find out?”
“The lab tells me that the measurements of the mark are consistent with a picture frame with an eight inch side.” Wayne said, “We didn’t see it yesterday, but there was a second mark probably made by a support rest of some sort.”
“So like an 8 by 10 frame set up in portrait format, for example?” Henry asked setting his gun cases down on the shooting rest.
“The lab guys say it could be an 8 by 10, but it could be an 8 by 8 as well, it’s hard to tell exactly what size it was.” Wayne explained.
“But the mark is definitely not the right size for holding flyers, which are printed on 8 ½ by 11 paper.” Henry said, unlocking the Glock’s case and taking out the clips so that he could load the 9 mm ammunition into them.
“No, it’s too small for a standard piece of paper, like they use for flyers.” Wayne said, pulling his own Glock out of his shoulder holster and checking the clip in it, which was already loaded.
“So why would an empty house, no furniture, no decorations of any kind have a picture frame on the mantle and what is inside that picture frame?” Henry asked, pushing one of the loaded clips into his Glock.
“Good questions, the big question you didn’t ask is, where is that picture frame now?” Wayne said putting his protective glasses on, and taking aim at the target down range. “Range is hot – commence firing!” He yelled before pulling the trigger on his weapon.
“Find the picture, find the murderer if you ask me.” Henry yelled over the noise of Wayne’s weapon, as he fired his own pistol at the target that Wayne put up down range.
After an hour and a half of shooting the Glock and his slower and heavier Colt, Henry was on his way home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Rosie at the Coachella Real Estate office.
It was just about 12:30 when he showed up at the office and walked through the front door. Tiffany, the receptionist, went through her phone, nail file, magazine routine and seemed to remember him.
“Hi Mr. Wright, Mrs. Murphy is expecting you, and she’ll be right out.”
“Thank you, I’ll wait right here.” Henry turned to look out the windows preferring to stand instead of sitting in one of the well-worn lobby chairs.
“Mr. Wright, I made reservations for lunch, I do hope that you have not eaten that you’ll join me?” Rosie Murphy came walking her brisk walk out from the cubicle maze, her strawberry blond curls bouncing, wearing a green blouse with black pants with a small black sweater over her shoulders. She had black high heeled shoes on and carried a thick manila folder in one hand and a small black purse in the other.
“Eh, no I haven’t, sure I’d like that.” Henry answered her questions while pushing open the door.
“Call my cell phone if you need anything.” Rosie yelled over her shoulder at Tiffany as the door closed. “I can drive, I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all.” Henry was getting to like this small woman’s spunk. He hoped that she had invited him to lunch that perhaps she was interested in talking about more than just business. He thought it strange that he wanted to know about more than business with her; he usually didn’t get personally involved with the cases he was investigating. This time he thought, it is different.
“I’m parked right over here, Henry.” Rosie waved at a red Volkswagen new beetle and pulled the car’s key fob out of her small purse and opened both doors with a click and a beep.
Henry wasn’t sure why he smiled inwardly when he saw the little red Volkswagen and realized that it fit Rosie well. He was happy that Rosie had returned to addressing him as Henry as opposed to the more formal Mr. Wright that she used in the office in front of Tiffany. He folded his six foot frame into the front seat of the small car while Rosie tossed her purse and the big manila folder onto the back seat before getting into the car herself. She held her door open while she started the car and got the air going. Closing the door she turned to Henry with a smile, “I hope you like Mexican food, I made a reservation at the Blue Coyote Grill.”
“I do and know it well; it’s not too far from my house.” Henry smiled back.
“Good, I’m hungry; I told them we’d be there at 12:45.” As she put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot and onto South Palm Canyon Drive.
Hmmm, he hadn’t noticed all the little freckles she had on her nose; he guessed they were more noticeable in the sunlight outside. He was wondering why he was noticing all these things about her; he hadn’t noticed things about women for a long, long time.
She deftly steered the little car through the traffic and they arrived at the parking lot behind th
e Blue Coyote with minutes to spare. They were seated right away and Rosie ordered a margarita for herself and Henry ordered a cup of coffee. The staff at the Blue Coyote seemed to be familiar with Rosie and Henry wondered how many times she had been here with Thornbird plotting to rip off unknowing home buyers. As quickly as that thought came into his head, he pushed it out of his mind, he didn’t want to think of Rosie that way, but he knew he needed to remain objective towards her. At the same time, he didn’t consider her a suspect, her grief at Thornbird’s death had seemed too genuine, and there was really no motive for her to kill her office’s cash cow.
“I really like the enchiladas here.” She smiled, putting down her menu.
“I agree, the enchiladas are good; but I think I’ll have the fish tacos today.” Henry said putting his menu on the table as well. The waiter arrived with their drinks and they gave him their order. He picked up the menus and disappeared into the back of the restaurant leaving them alone at their table.
Henry felt a little awkward, but he wanted to know more about Rosie’s relationship with Thornbird outside of the office, he thought about how to ask his question, but decided there was really no easy way to get around it and he wanted to be direct.
“Rex and I used to come here for lunch after realtor tours.” Rosie said carefully picking up her margarita and licking some of the salt off the rim.
“Ah, it seemed as though the waiters and staff recognized you.” Henry was relieved that Rosie had brought up Rex without him having to ask why the staff seemed to know her.
“Did you see Thornbird often outside of the office, other than these realtor tours – and can you tell me what those tours are?” Henry took another sip of his coffee, it was not as good here as at Rosie’s office.
“We socialized occasionally, but it wasn’t a serious thing, if that is what you mean,” Rosie took a sip of her margarita. “We met here once every two weeks after the realtor tours. A tour is where all the agents drive around and look at all the new houses on the market. Since there were usually too many houses, we split them up and then compared notes afterwards over lunch. Usually we met here, sometimes at the La Taqueria near the Plaza.”
“So during a tour you drive over to every new home on the market, look at it and take the flyers? I picked up a bunch of realtors’ business cards yesterday from the house on Granvia Valmonte where Thornbird died; they must be from the tour?” Henry looked at Rosie and was fascinated at how she kept licking the salt from her glass before taking small sips from her margarita.
“Generally whenever a realtor goes into a house, either on the tour, or with a prospective buyer, they will leave their card behind as a courtesy to the listing agent.” Rosie answered.
“That’s what Wayne Johnson, the police captain who called you to let you know that I was coming to see you, mentioned to me as well.” Henry picked up his coffee again, and looked directly into Rosie’s bright green eyes. “You told me yesterday that Mr. Thornbird had a penchant for finding and selling celebrity owned homes, can you tell me a little bit more about how he did that?”
Rosie took another sip of margarita, “Did I tell you yesterday that he sold an Albert Frey designed hotel that had a Marilyn Monroe connection to a young couple from Chicago?”
“Yes, you did mention that. And my housemate Charles mentioned to me that there was a small hotel near the Racquet Club where Marilyn Monroe was rumored to have met President Kennedy in 1962, I think it was.” Henry moved his coffee cup aside as the waiter brought their plates.
“Housemate? I’m sorry; I assumed that you were married. You wear a wedding ring.” Rosie said with a flustered tone in her voice as the waiter set her enchilada plate in front of her.
“Will there be anything else folks? Would you like a refill on that margarita, Ma’am?” The waiter asked having set the hot plates on the table.
“I normally don’t, but I think that this time I need another one.” Rosie nodded to the waiter. Henry pushed the refried beans around on his plate and looked down at his left hand where his wedding ring was still around his finger.
“My wife Irma died suddenly about three years ago.” He said quietly, “I haven’t felt a reason to take it off. It was just before my retirement from the police force, things were kind of hectic and I just have had a hard time letting her go, so I guess that’s why I didn’t take my ring off.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Rosie put her fork down, she too was quiet. “I know what you must feel like; I lost my husband in a plane crash five years ago. One minute he was whistling a tune as he walked out the door on the way to the airport, the next thing I knew the Highway Patrol was on the phone with me to let me know that his small plane crashed while he was trying to land. He was such a good pilot too.”
Henry looked up at Rosie, whose eyes seemed misty at the thought of her dead husband.
“I’m sorry for your loss as well.” Henry finally said.
“You know, you’re not the first person I have ever met who lost his wife and then became gay.” Rosie put a forkful of enchilada in her mouth.
“Gay, what do you mean?” Henry asked incredulously. Rosie finished chewing,
“You know, you lost your wife, your life with her was obviously very happy since you still wear your ring, you couldn’t imagine yourself with another woman, so now you live with Charles.”
Henry couldn’t help but chuckle, “Well you’re partially right, Irma and I were very happy, but Charles rents a room from me, we don’t have any relationship beyond friendship and as far as other women, I haven’t really given them any thought after Irma died.” Until now, Henry thought to himself taking another look at the lively woman across the table from him.
Rosie put her fork down, “I’m so, so, sorry for making the wrong assumption.” Her face turned nearly the color of her hair. “Yesterday I saw your wedding ring, I assumed you were married, and then just a moment ago, I thought you were happy in your relationship with Charles, I don’t know how to apologize, and can I buy you a margarita?”
“Is everything ok here folks” the waiter appeared as though summoned.
“I’ve decided to have a margarita as well.” Henry was still laughing, “Better make it a large one, frozen with salt please.”
“Yes, sir! One large frozen margarita with salt coming right up.” The waiter disappeared again.
Henry attacked his fish tacos with renewed interest. It seemed as though something had been cleared up between Rosie and himself. He had not enjoyed lunch with a woman in a long time; he was certainly beginning to enjoy this lunch and this woman.
“I’m glad we’ve resolved that, yesterday I was wondering if your husband was jealous of your relationship with Thornbird.”
Rosie licked the salt off her margarita glass and took a much larger sip than earlier. “When my husband died, he didn’t have any life insurance or anything, so I had to go to work to support myself. I started as a receptionist, just like Tiffany, at Coachella Real Estate and eventually worked my way up to office manager.”
The waiter set Henry’s margarita in front of him and brought Rosie’s fresh margarita as well. Henry picked up his glass and held it in front of him as Rosie lifted her glass to his and touched it to his. “Here’s to communication without assumptions.” Henry said as Rosie nodded.
“I’ll drink to that as well.”
Henry took a drink from his margarita, and set it down on the table.
“Let’s get back to telling me about the hotel that Thornbird sold to the couple from Chicago.”
Rosie took her own drink. “Well as I mentioned, it was the first property that Rex sold with a celebrity connection. The hotel seemed to be what the couple wanted but the Monroe story certainly helped seal the deal.”
“Did the property sell for a premium price?” Henry poked his fork into his fish tacos which had cooled off considerably during their little misunderstanding.
“No, I think that was before Rex realized that a celebrity tie-in
would make a property more valuable.” Rosie said as she put another forkful of enchilada in her mouth.
“The next house, the Robert Goulet place, did get fifty thousand more than similar houses in the same neighborhood. I’ve included both of those places in the report that is in my car.”
“Do you have any idea how he researched the celebrity lineage of these homes?” Henry finished the last of his tacos; he didn’t really feel like eating the cold refried beans or the rice.
“All realtors have access to the county records of home ownership of course.” Rosie took the last bite of her enchilada. “Rex was very computer savvy and certainly would have been able to look up which homes were owned by celebrities; from there it would be a simple matter of trying to get the current owners to put them up for sale.”
Henry pushed his plate aside and leaned on the table looking Rosie right in the eyes, “Do you think he went through all that trouble?” Rosie met his gaze,
“No.”
“Somehow, I didn’t think so either.” Henry sat back in his chair, here was a question he didn’t want to ask, but he had just told her, no assumptions.
“Did you know what was going on?” Rosie sat back also; she looked down at the napkin in her lap,
“You know, I had my suspicions, but it all seemed very plausible, given the Hollywood connection that this town has.”
The waiter came over and cleared their plates, “Can I get you folks anything else?”
“Do you want anything?” Henry asked as Rosie shook her head no.
“We’re set, we’ll just finish our drinks and you can bring the check whenever you’d like.” Henry wasn’t real anxious for lunch to end, he was enjoying himself, and he took a very small sip from his margarita.
“Did Thornbird ever have a problem with any of his ex-clients once they found out that perhaps the home they just bought wasn’t what he said it was?”
“No, hardly anyone ever complained. You know, it’s actually pretty difficult to discover that a celebrity didn’t own, or didn’t stay in a house. All of the buyers wanted to believe that they had a piece of Hollywood glamour, so I don’t think they ever thought of researching the true house lineage or complaining for that matter.”
Henry noticed that Rosie had stopped drinking her margarita all together. He sort of hoped it was because she didn’t want their lunch to end either. It could be that she is full, or maybe she has had enough to drink he thought. “I’m having a really good time; I don’t really want to go back to the office.” Rosie interrupted his thoughts.
“How about seeing a movie down the street?” Henry asked.
Rosie appeared to be thinking about it as the waiter set their check on the table.
She reached for the bill, “I invited you, so I’m buying. A movie? No, I’m sorry; I can’t take the whole afternoon off, how about a walk around the block to work off some of this lunch?”
Henry was surprised that he felt a little disappointed. “That sounds great; you’ll have to walk slower so that I can keep up. And I’ll let you pay for lunch if you’ll agree to let me pay for dinner later in the week.”
“Deal!” Rosie dug cash out of her purse; Henry noticed with satisfaction that she was a more generous tipper than Wayne and they got up and walked out the front door.
Palm Canyon Drive was fairly busy after lunch and the temperature was in the low nineties, certainly bearable for a walk. They walked next to each other towards the Hyatt Regency Suites hotel. Rosie had indeed slowed her walk; Henry had no trouble keeping up with her. They must have appeared an awkward couple though; Rosie was barely over five feet in her heels while Henry was just over six feet tall in his loafers. No one paid any attention to them, and they didn’t pay attention to anyone else on the street.
“So after I started at the real estate office, Rex was very nice to me and suggested that I take some computer classes at College of the Desert.” Rosie explained. “I did and started working on entering the properties into the Multiple Listing Service that all the agencies across the country use.”
“You mean the realtor.com website that I used to find my house here is connected to your Multiple Listing Service?” Henry asked.
“That’s right, there’s a regular update, but MLS has been around a long time before the Internet and has been used by agents across the country for decades.”
They reached the Hyatt hotel and without discussing it, turned around and headed back towards the Blue Coyote and Rosie’s car. “You know, you might be able to find out a lot more about some of his past customers if you could look at Rex’s computer.” Rosie suggested.
“That’s not a bad idea; I suppose Wayne’s team has already checked his place out pretty thoroughly.” Henry thought of all the things that Wayne told him didn’t amount to much and decided that he should probably head for Thornbird’s home that afternoon.
“Rex carried a set of keys with him and he had a spare set in his office. But I’m sure your friend Wayne can get them to you; if not...” Rosie suggested. Henry looked down at Rosie appreciatively.
“You know, you and I could make a good team at this detective stuff.”
“You flatter me.” Rosie’s face turned the color of her hair. “I do hope you find out which one of his former customers were that upset with Rex as to do this to him.”
They had walked back to her car while talking and got in to drive back to Rosie’s office. Henry leaned into the back seat for the manila folder and started looking through Thornbird’s past real estate sales. Rosie pulled her car in next to Henry’s in the parking lot and turned to Henry, “You know, this morning I thought we were going to have a standard business lunch, but I want you to know that I had a really nice time being with you.” This time it was Henry’s turn to blush the color of her hair.
“Me too, you’ve helped me a lot and not just with my investigation.” She held out her hand which Henry shook and held.
“Can I call you for dinner later this week?” He smiled at her.
“I’d like that; I’ll be expecting your call.”
She smiled as she got out of the car. “See you then.” She waved to him as he got into his own car and she walked up the steps and disappeared into the real estate office.
I’ll be darned, Henry thought, of all the things I expected to find while investigating this murder; I certainly didn’t expect to find this. He started his car and headed for the police station to see if he could get the keys to Thornbird’s house from Wayne Johnson.