The Mysterious Detective

Book 15: High Desert Cozy Mystery Series

by Dianne Harman

Genres: Culinary Cozy Mysteries; Amateur Sleuth

Synopsis

It seemed like any other routine appraisal. But that was before Marty found out about the theft, the illegal gambling and other questionable activities, and then there was the note in the book. A note that resulted in twenty police officers putting their lives on the line to arrest those responsible.

When Marty's hired to do an appraisal at a storage unit and the residence of the wife of a Palm Springs detective, she had no reason to think that there would be a problem with it.

The appraisal looked pretty run-of-mill with its small antique items and furniture, but that was before Marty discovered that all of the antiques she'd appraised in the storage unit had been stolen. And then several hours later her friend, Carl, who was appraising the antique books at the client's residence, found the note. The note that caused an all-points bulletin to be issued for a man who was going to be murdered.

When Marty's client decided to stay at a spa for a few days while the appraisal was taking place, a spa for a total mind, body, and spirit rejuvenation, who knew that meant she wouldn't be able to be contacted. But when her husband is about to be murdered, rejuvenation is no longer an issue, locating him and saving his life takes precedence.

And Marty had no idea that Patron, her psychic boxer guard dog, would end up on the Palm Springs police force. But since he'd saved her husband Jeff's life, she'd be the first to say that Patron deserved it!

This is the 15th book in the High Desert Cozy Mystery Series written by a USA Today Bestselling Author.

Release date: October 15, 2021

Print pages: 159

Sample

CHAPTER ONE


“This is Marty Combs. How may I help you?” Marty asked as she answered her ringing phone.
“My name is Teagan Espinoza. I understand that you appraise antiques and things like that,” the woman’s voice on the other end of the line said.
“Yes, I do. What kind of things do you have, and why do you want an appraisal?” Marty asked.
“It’s kind of complicated. My mother collected things. Actually, many years ago she drove down the streets of wealthy neighborhoods before anyone had heard of garage or yard sales and picked through their trash.”
The woman sighed deeply. “I can remember how embarrassed I was when it was my turn to go with her. My brother and I alternated helping her, which she demanded we do in return for getting our weekly allowance when we were kids. I absolutely hated every minute of it.”
“Let me guess,” Marty said. “You’ve found out that some of the things she got were valuable.”
“Yes, but much more than that. About ten years after she started her curbside rummaging, she won the lottery. We moved to a very nice home in the Hollywood Hills, and instead of driving through neighborhoods, we drove with her to antique shops to help her with her purchases. Over the years, she built up quite a collection of various kinds of antiques.”
“What an interesting story. Where are these antiques now?”
“They’re in my garage and in a storage unit I rented. My mother passed away about six months ago, and I’ve been slowly moving the antiques here to Palm Springs. My mother talked about her antique finds all the time, so I have some idea of what’s valuable and what isn’t. The ones I didn’t move here I sold at a garage sale just before I sold her house. Even those did quite well.
“My brother didn’t fare as well as I did. When we moved, he resented it, and started doing drugs with some of his new friends, as he called them. Long story short, he died of an overdose many years ago. With everyone gone, I inherited her personal property.”
“I’m assuming you need an appraisal for insurance purposes. Would that be correct, Teagan?”
“Yes, and when I met my husband, he was so intrigued by what my mother had that she convinced him to start a collection of something he was interested in. He’d always been a reader, so he chose books, and he has a lot of first editions, and I don’t know what all.
“My husband, Carlos, is a police detective, and he’s out of town this week on a case. I thought I’d surprise him with an appraisal of his books as long as I needed to get one for my mother’s things. I was hoping you could do this in the next day or so,” Teagan said.
“Yes, I can do that. By the way, my husband is the head of the Palm Springs Police Detective Unit. I’m sure your husband and Jeff must know one another,” Marty said.
“Not only know one another, you must be Detective Combs’ wife. Carlos has often spoken of your husband,” Teagan said. “I never put the last names together until now. Any chance you could come over this afternoon and take a look at things?”
“Yes, I’d be happy to. Would you like me to meet you at your house or your storage unit?” Marty asked.
She was quiet for a moment and then said, “Let’s start with the storage unit. Here’s the address.” She gave Marty an address which was just outside the city limits of Palm Springs. “When we’re finished there, and I’m thinking all you need to do today is see what I have, then you can follow me to my house in old Palm Springs. Would 2:00 work for you?”
“Yes, that would be fine. Looking forward to seeing your treasures and meeting you, Teagan.”
“Me, too.”
*****
“Good morning, Danielle. This is Marty Combs. Is Carl available? I need to talk to him for a few minutes.”
“Yes, he just came back from taking Miss S. for a walk. She has a new matching red dress and ruby necklace he was anxious to show to some of the nearby business owners. I think they stopped in every shop on the block.”
“You’re a saint, Danielle. Does his obsession with that dog ever drive you to drink?”
“Funny you should ask. At the moment I’m on a countdown until I can walk into my kitchen at home and make myself a strong martini. You know how it is, kind of like a carrot at the end of a long day.”
“I totally understand. I think you know that when I got divorced, I came to California at my sister’s urging, and moved into a house in the four-home compound she owns in High Desert.
“The other residents, as well as my now husband, meet every evening in the central courtyard where we enjoy wine while we share the events of our days, as well as have a fabulous meal prepared by one of the residents. I’m well aware of what a carrot is at the end of the day, and that’s mine.” Marty said.
“Do all of you like to cook and rotate dinners?” Danielle asked.
“No. The resident who provides all the dinners is a man named John. He’s a chef who owns the food trucks called the Red Pony as well as a catering company by the same name. He uses us as his guinea pigs. I’ve decided it’s kind of one of those ‘I know it’s tough, but someone has to do it’ things.”
“Lucky you,” Danielle said. “Some nights I’m so tired after working at Carl’s antique store or going on an appointment as an interior decorator that dinner consists of a poor man’s Oreo.”
“That’s an expression I’ve not heard before. What is it?” Marty asked.
“Two saltine crackers with peanut butter in between. Takes less time to make than my martini does.”
“Before you transfer me to Carl, how is the decorating part of your job doing?” Marty asked.
“Absolutely fabulous. Carl says the shop has never done so well, and it’s mainly because the people I design for buy all of their antique furniture and decorative items from his shop. I make money working in the shop plus I earn a fee as an interior decorator. Carl makes money off of me, and I make money off of him. It’s a win-win for both of us.”
“I’m so glad. Obviously, you’re good for each other.”
“Yes, I care deeply about him, even if he does go off the deep end now and then over Miss Simone. He really does treat that dog like a daughter. The dog lives a far better life than most people,” she added with a laugh.
“Off the record, Danielle. How did Miss S. look in red today?”
“I’d go on the record with this one. She looked better than a lot of the wealthy high society women we get in here as customers. I think she’s grown into the role of the most spoiled dog in Palm Springs. I swear, she doesn’t walk when he takes her outside to show her off, she literally sashays.”
“Unbelievable, just unbelievable. Thanks for the update. If Carl’s available now, you can put me through to him, please.”
A moment later she heard Carl’s voice. “Good morning, Marty. How’s that wacko psychic sister of yours?”
“Laura is fine, Carl. She hasn’t enlightened me with any of her premonitions for a while now, which is always a good thing.”
“I dunno’. After that incident when she cut the Styrofoam wig stand open and found the missing diamond ring at the appraisal we were doing, I try to stay as far away from her as possible. I still find it hard to believe that UCLA actually validated her psychic abilities,” he said referring to when Laura had taken part in a study there years ago when she was in college.
“I’m well aware of that, Carl, which is why I never ask you to the compound for one of John’s dinners.”
“Maybe she’ll have to go out of town one of these days, and you could invite me then,” he said with a laugh.
“Carl, if she does, you’ll be first on my list of people to call. How’s that?” Marty asked.
“Works for me. What’s up?”
“I have an appointment today to meet with a woman about an appraisal at her home and at her storage unit. I can do most of it myself, but I would like to bring you in to do her husband’s book collection. It’s not my forté, and I know you have your own private collection of books, plus you also sell books from your store. I thought it might be of interest to you,” Marty said.
“When is it?”
“I’ll start the appraisal tomorrow. Why don’t you plan on meeting me at her house about 1:00 in the afternoon? Will Danielle be there to take care of the shop when you’re gone?”
“Let me ask her,” Carl said as he put his hand over the phone. Marty could hear muffled voices, then he came back on the phone a moment later. “Yes, she doesn’t have any appointments tomorrow, so that would work for her. What’s the name and address of the woman?”
“I don’t have the address. I’m meeting her at her storage unit and when we finish there, I’m following her to her house. I’ll text you with it later. Her name is Teagan Espinoza. Evidently her husband is a detective who works under Jeff at the police department.”
“That name sounds familiar, but I can’t come up with anything at the moment. I’ll let you know if I do. Gotta go, Marty, one of my better customers just came in. See you tomorrow.”