Chapter 9
“Shh! Keep it down. Keep it down, will ya? Don’t need to have anyone hear you.”
I stopped screaming momentarily and turned away from Roland LeDoux’s body. Jake grabbed my arm and motioned for me to follow him.
“Look, miss, the park ain’t gonna open for another fifteen to twenty minutes. We can hightail our butts outta here before it’s too late. Let some hiker or tourist find the stiff in the rocks. I’ve got better things to do with my day.”
“We can’t just leave him here. What if he’s still alive? I’m calling nine-one-one.”
“Stop! Don’t call. He’s dead, I tell you. Dead. Take a good look. The side of his head looks all smashed in like he cracked it against one of those rocks, and that’s not dirt on his face, it’s dried blood. Dries real quick in this heat. And what about his wrist? It’s all swollen and bruised. Weird position to be lying in, huh? I mean, it doesn’t look like he took a header off those rocks. Fell the other way. Like he was after something and got . . . Holy crap! Look at the guy’s arm, will ya? He got bit by a snake. Probably a rattler. That’s why there’s a red streak running down his arm. Come on, let’s go! We’re outta here!”
But it was too late. I had already dialed 911 while Jake was raving about Roland’s body. The operator asked me to identify the emergency and provide a location. I did both.
“Oh, what the hell, lady!” Jake was beside himself. “I can’t think of a worse way to spend my day.”
Then he looked at the petroglyph rocks and mumbled, “Ah, it could be worse, I suppose. Least we’re vertical.”
“Do you think there’s some sort of chance he’s alive? Maybe we should be doing something until the EMTs get here.”
“I’ll tell you what we should be doing. We should be going back to our cars and waiting. You wanna wind up bit by a snake like that jerk?”
“He’s not a jerk. He’s a reputable chef and a—”
“Wait a second. You know this guy?”
Jake looked at me as if I was the one responsible for the man’s demise. What did he think? That I lured Roland LeDoux to this spot and then killed him before Jake arrived?
“I don’t know him personally. I know of him. He’s on this month’s cover of Phoenix Home and Garden. He’s Master Chef Roland LeDoux from Saveur de Evangeline restaurant in Surprise.”
“That so? I didn’t get a good look at his face. Saveur de Evangeline, huh? Your aunt’s caterers. We’ve had to deal with them, and it wasn’t pretty. Fussy bunch of snobs.”
The faint sound of sirens grew in the distance. The emergency response team was on its way.
I had to give Jake Felton credit for knowing one thing—Roland was dead. Had been dead for a few hours, according to the EMTs. An autopsy would provide the exact results, but their guess was Roland climbed into the petroglyph ditch in order to retrieve something, got bit by a venomous snake, fell backward, and hit his head. The head wound didn’t kill him, in their opinion. Something called anaphylactic shock did.
“Poor guy must have had an allergic reaction to the snakebite,” one of the responders said as he helped load the gurney into the ambulance. “It happens sometimes.”
Jake and I were asked to provide identification and give our statements to the local sheriff’s deputy, along with our contact information. A lone park ranger stood off to the side, letting the deputy handle the situation. Neither Jake nor I mentioned entering the park before hours, and no one asked to see a park pass. I explained we were at Petroglyph Plaza so we could assess the right spot to set up my aunt’s wedding pavilion. Then Jake chimed in.
“Yeah, the crazy aunt’s getting married at sunrise, so she sends her niece here to figure out where to pitch the tent. Wanted the sunbeams to be in the right place. But, hey, that’s what we do at Feltons’ Pavilions, Tents, and Awnings.”
I didn’t know if he was giving the deputy a sales pitch or trying to legitimize his reason for being here. Either way, it didn’t matter. We were free to leave the state park and go about the rest of our day. I sent a text message to Nate, explaining I would be late, and started to walk back to my car. This time Jake was a few steps behind me.
Suddenly, I turned around. “Um, Jake, what do you suppose Roland was trying to get in the ditch?”
“How the hell would I know? Why? What difference does it make? Guy’s dead.”
“It could hold a clue to his death. I mean, maybe someone deliberately lured him out here.”
“If there’s something to find in that damn ditch, let the sheriff or the park rangers do it. If ya noticed, they were wearing boots. And like I said before, ‘It ain’t none of my business.’ What a pisser if it would’ve happened on the day of that wedding.”
I rolled my eyes, hoping Jake wouldn’t notice. “Listen, Jake, I’ve got to walk back and ask the sheriff’s deputies something. So, are you all set with the preparations for the pavilion and the canopy?”
“Sure thing. The crew’s got to get over here by three in the morning for the setup if your aunt wants the ceremony at sunrise. Like I said before, ‘sun comes up around five.’ We gotta pay overtime for our crew. And you’re gonna need special park permission for us to arrive that early. It’s one thing to kinda sneak in like we did today, but not with a bunch of men who are gonna be pitching tents in the dark.”
“Do you know where I get the permission form?”
“I guess at the ranger’s station. Or maybe some Web site. They always send you to a stinkin’ Web site. Anyway, we’ll be in touch. And, lady, next time you might want to swap those sandals for some hiking boots. This ain’t the beach.”
Terrific. Everyone gets to tell me how to live my life. “Yeah. Sure. Um, and thanks.”
Jake headed to his truck. Then I turned the other way and walked back to the sheriff’s deputies, who were studying the scene of Roland’s death. By now the yellow crime scene tape plastered the entire area. I was still walking carefully, watching the ground in front of my sandals. My aunt Ina wasn’t going to handle this situation very well. Losing her master chef would be tantamount to a Super Bowl team losing its quarterback. I should at least try to find out why he wound up smashed against a boulder and if indeed it was a snake that killed him.
“Excuse me.” I approached one of the deputies. He was tall, blond, and at least twenty years younger than me. “I hate to bother you. I know you’ve got my statement and all, but I was wondering, um . . . before you got here and I saw the body, it looked like maybe the guy was looking for something. I mean, it could hold a clue to his death.”
“I’m sorry, miss. This is a crime scene now, and we can’t divulge any information to the public. Not at this time.”
“I understand. I’ll be on my way.” Once I complete a little theatrical performance.
I took two or three steps, then turned around. “Oh no! Oh no! I must have dropped my cell phone over there in all the commotion. Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Be quick about it, okay? And be careful! We don’t need another tragedy.”
I thanked him and walked toward the ditch in the hope I could overhear the conversation going on between the two deputies, who were checking the area where Roland’s body was found. If I’d learned one thing from my mother, overhearing conversations could be very useful.
“Remember, Phee,” she always said, “there’s a difference between eavesdropping and accidently overhearing something. Eavesdropping is just plain snooping around, but accidently overhearing is an entirely different matter. It’s fortuitous.”
No doubt. That was the word for it—“fortuitous.” Call it what you wanted, but I lucked out. I heard every word those deputies said as I pretended to look around for a lost cell phone.
“Find anything, Mike?”
“Nothing. Just the guy’s motorcycle key. He owned a Ducati. Key must have dropped when he fell.”
“Anything else?”
“Nah, we’ve been all over this place.”
“When we get back to the station, let’s see if anyone with a Ducati was camping here last night. He could have rented a campsite nearby and decided to take an early morning hike. Bike’s probably at the campsite with the rest of his gear.”
At that point I figured I had lingered long enough at the scene, so I bent down and pretended to pick up my phone. Then, to make it official, even though I doubted anyone was listening, I shouted, “I found it! I found my phone!”
It was highly unlikely Roland LeDoux had been camping here last night. The one thing he was doing was having Cecilia Flanagan and Myrna Mittleson taste his hollandaise sauce, and that would have been after dark. No, most likely Roland had arrived at the scene of his death in the morning. So, where was his motorcycle? And why was he here in the first place?
This really had nothing to do with me, and it certainly wasn’t a case for Nate. He had his own suspicious death case to contend with. Mere yards from my mother’s house. Right now, I had to figure out a way to break the news to Aunt Ina. I thought about it as I ambled back to my car. Surely Roland’s restaurant had other chefs who were equally impressive. My mind wandered a bit as I struggled to find the best approach. Just as I came up with something, I realized it was too late.
The Channel Five news van was headed up the mountain as I was approaching the exit gate. Two minutes later, it was followed by Channel Fifteen, Channel Three, and Channel Twelve. Fox News Ten brought up the rear as I turned onto Cotton Lane, heading into Surprise. I pulled off the road and started to dial my aunt’s number when I remembered something—the police wouldn’t divulge the victim’s name until they notified the next of kin. I had a reprieve. No sense blowing it with a call to my aunt.
Thirty-five minutes later, I was back in the office and anxious to share the news with Nate. Surprisingly, I thought I’d be more shaken up about seeing a dead body. The ones that I had seen were at funeral parlors and looked more like wax figurines than actual decomposing humans. Roland LeDoux’s body looked real. Real and dead.
Augusta hadn’t arrived yet. Nate was over by the copy machine when I walked in.
“Hey, kiddo. Got your text. What’s up?”
“You won’t believe this. I don’t even believe this. My aunt’s master chef from Surprise is dead. In a ditch. I saw the body. Snakebite. He hit his head. Dried blood. Not dirt. That’s what I saw. I thought it would be more gruesome, but I guess it was gruesome enough. I had to give a statement to the sheriff’s deputies and then—”
Nate stopped what he was doing and walked toward me.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Slow down, Phee. Take it easy. One step at a time. Where was this? And why were you there?”
I took a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts. Maybe I was more shaken up than I realized.
“Look,” Nate said, “why don’t you make yourself a cup of coffee and sit down. Augusta won’t be in for another hour or so and it’s pretty quiet in here. So suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything.”
“Okay. Give me a minute.”
I walked into my office, stashed my bag in a drawer, and headed over to the coffeemaker. Somehow holding a warm cup of coffee made me feel more relaxed. I followed Nate into his office and sat down. Starting with yesterday afternoon’s visit to the tent company and ending with my finding Roland LeDoux’s body in Petroglyph Plaza first thing this morning, I told Nate everything. Including the fact two of my mother’s book club members were at Roland’s restaurant at closing hours to taste hollandaise sauce.
Still, something else was nagging at me. “This wasn’t like finding a body on the golf course, Nate. That really could have been anything. But this one didn’t look like an accidental death to me. Not that I’m any kind of expert, but honestly, no one in their right mind goes traipsing into an area known for scorpions and venomous snakes. And then the way his body looked next to that boulder . . .”
“Hmm, no wonder you’re so wound up. His death does sound kind of suspicious, doesn’t it? I imagine the authorities will find out how he got there and what or who killed him. That is, unless the media beats them to it and fabricates their own scenario. That’s been known to happen more times than I care to imagine. Anyway, are you going to be all right today? These kinds of things can really shake up a person.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not the one we should worry about. However, my aunt Ina is going to be beside herself when she finds out her master chef is dead. She’s not the kind of person who adapts easily to changes in venue. When my cousin Kirk and I were in second grade, she took us to the Sibley Park Zoo during Christmas to see the reindeer. Unfortunately the exhibit was delayed due to weather. You should have seen her pitch a fit. The entire time she kept yelling at the docents, ‘If we wanted to see goats and rabbits, we wouldn’t have waited until December.’ Imagine what this will do to her. It took her months to decide upon the right culinary artist for the wedding.”
“Your aunt Ina will be all right. Saveur de Evangeline has more than one chef, I would imagine. In all likelihood, their sous chef will probably step in. Say, speaking of Saveur de Evangeline, didn’t I read somewhere they were going to open another restaurant in Scottsdale? Yep, come to think of it, I did. They were going to call it Saveur de Madeline.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Roland mentioned it in that article in Phoenix Home and Garden. But that new restaurant is at least a year off. Now, maybe even longer, if at all. I don’t know if Roland had any financial partners to back his endeavor. The article didn’t say.”
Just then the phone starting ringing, and I got up to answer it. A prospective client inquiring about our services. By the time I got off the line, Augusta had arrived and settled in at her desk. Nate was already back in his office. I had my own work to do and tried not to think about the body in Petroglyph Plaza or my aunt Ina. Nothing like spreadsheets and accounts to get one’s mind off murder.
At a little past one, Nate left to meet with one of his clients, the deadbeat dad case, I guessed. I forced myself to concentrate on my work so I wouldn’t have to think about Aunt Ina, figuring I’d call her once I got home. By two, I was starving, so I stepped out to grab a hot dog from Quick Stop, where I bought the magazine the other day.
Like every store, restaurant, gas station, nail salon, and beauty parlor in Arizona, there was at least one full-screen television on the wall featuring the news. My eyes immediately shot to the footage as I read the ribbon on the bottom of the screen. “Authorities have identified the body of a thirty-eight-year-old man who was found dead of an apparent snakebite in the White Tank Mountains. His name has not been released yet.”
“Oh, thank God,” I said to myself. “Please do not release that name until I’ve had a chance to call my aunt.”
No sooner did I finish my hot dog when the annoying musical tune from my cell phone went off. My mother’s voice at the other end was equally annoying.
“Phee! Where are you?”
“Um . . . work. Well, getting lunch, but work. Why?”
“Why? Cecilia and Myrna had to report to the sheriff’s station for questioning, that’s why. Have you been watching the news? No, I suppose not. You’re at work. Well, anyway, that chef, the one from Saveur de Evangeline, was found dead in a ditch at the White Tank Mountains. Are you listening?”
“Yes, yes. I’m listening.”
“The county sheriff’s office sent two deputies to the restaurant once they identified the body. Cecilia told me the chef’s name was Roland LeDoux. I suppose they couldn’t locate any next of kin. Anyway, to make a long story short, the deputies found out the last two people to see that man alive were Cecilia and Myrna. According to the restaurant’s calendar log, the chef met with them after closing at eight-thirty. No one else was in the restaurant at that time. Cecilia called me practically in tears from the sheriff’s station. It’s a good thing they didn’t have to report to district headquarters. That’s in Mesa. It might as well be in Albuquerque it’s so far away. Phee, are you listening?”
“I haven’t gone anywhere. Of course I’m listening.”
“Don’t you understand? Cecilia and Myrna were the last two people to see Roland LeDoux alive. That makes them ‘persons of interest.’ One minute you’re a ‘person of interest’ and the next minute you’re a suspect. This is awful.”
By now I had moved to a small table by the vending machines, away from the counter.
“Cecilia and Myrna can’t possibly be considered suspects. Roland’s body was found in the Petroglyph Plaza ditch. That’s at least a quarter-mile hike from the main park road. For heaven’s sake, I’ve seen Cecilia get winded bending over to tie those black shoes of hers. And Myrna? She may be tall, but those legs of hers do not and I mean do not move quickly. We have to wait at least ten minutes for her to walk into any restaurant. No one can possibly think they’re suspects. Look, Mom, does Aunt Ina know about this? Did she call you?”
“Oh, who knows? She might have. I’ve been on the phone all day with Cecilia and Myrna. Phee, you need to do something. Find out who killed that chef before two of my dearest friends wind up in jail for a murder they didn’t commit. And while you’re at it, you can light a firecracker under your boss so he can catch the killer in my neighborhood.”
“Mother! You’re going off the deep end. Calm down. As soon as I get out of work, I’ll stop by. Okay?”
“It’ll have to be okay. I just hope it’s not too late.”
My mother was being overly dramatic, as usual, but it was a minor league performance compared to my aunt Ina’s reaction when I called her a few minutes later. I wasn’t about to take time away from work, so I placed the call while I was still at Quick Stop.
“I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! This is horrendous. A nightmare. Roland LeDoux dead? By the very spot where Louis and I will take our eternal vows? I’m gasping for air, Phee.”
“Take a deep breath, Aunt Ina, and try to relax. It will be okay. Saveur de Evangeline has many fine chefs. I’m certain of it.”
“I don’t understand any of this. What was it you were saying? That my chef extraordinaire was trampling around those Indian ruins and got bit by a snake? What was he doing there? Only the tent people needed to be there. Oh my. I can’t breathe. The air in this room is getting heavier by the minute.”
“Sit down, Aunt Ina. Um . . . unless you’re already sitting. Pull yourself together. And er . . . um . . . well, there’s more.”
“More? What else could there possibly be? My master chef is dead and now the wedding meal will be prepared by underlings.”
“I wouldn’t exactly refer to the other chefs as underlings. From what I’ve heard, they’ve all trained at top culinary schools. Anyway, Aunt Ina, there’s something you need to know.”
This time I didn’t give her a chance to say a word or make gasping noises over the phone. I got straight to the point.
“Cecilia Flanagan and Myrna Mittleson were taken in for questioning since they were the last two people to see Roland LeDoux alive. They were at his restaurant after closing hours in order to taste the hollandaise sauce for you.”
All I could hear were more gasping noises and something that sounded like a moan.
“Aunt Ina, are you all right? Say something!”
“I’ll be fine, dear. Tell me, are they suspects? Were they arrested? Why would they kill my chef?”
“They’re not suspects. Not yet anyway. They haven’t been arrested and they certainly haven’t murdered your chef. Now calm down, Aunt Ina, and relax. I’m sure someone from Saveur de Evangeline will contact you to discuss the catering once things have settled down at the restaurant. I’m sure this is a shock for all of them.”
“A shock for all of them? What do you think this is doing to my nerves? I can hardly process a coherent thought. No, Phee. I can’t wait for them to call me. You have simply got to go over there and make sure my wedding meal menu is still intact.”
“Isn’t that something you can do?”
“In the state I’m in? Don’t be absurd. Why, I swear, my heart is palpitating. So you’ll go? Won’t you?”
“Look, I’ll see what I can do. I’m not making any promises but—”
“Thank you, Phee. Thank you. And call me once you’ve met with them. I’ve got to get a glass of water. My nerves are getting the better of me. Bye.”
I started to say “good-bye,” but she had already ended the call. I sat there at the counter feeling like the biggest sucker in the world when something dawned on me. I had the perfect excuse to meet with the staff at Saveur de Evangeline and maybe, just maybe, find out who might have had a motive for killing off their boss. Sure, Roland LeDoux died of a presumed snakebite, but everything about his death was suspicious, as far as I was concerned. Just like Theodore Sizemore’s. Needing all the caffeine I could get, I bought a can of Coke and headed back to the office.