Marjorie Thelen - Designer Detective

“Ratko was extorting Alice, too, because he said she wasn’t making payments.”

Hudson’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Miss Marlowe. That is valuable information. We will follow up. You are a superb detective, and I heartily thank you for your valuable service to the cause.”

I smiled at the idea of being a superb detective. I felt more like the superb bumbler. I turned to Jake. “And you were nervous the night of the party because Alice was there and you knew who she was and you didn’t want any of her ears to hear what we were talking about.”

“Yes. That was the problem all along. You were good at figuring things out. I wanted you out of harm’s way, but I wanted you close to me, too.”

“There is irony in that,” I said. “And Cody?”

“He’s still on the loose,” Jake said.

“I guess that’s the end for me then. I’ll leave Cody in your capable hands. I have a plane ticket to Sydney, and I’m going to be on the flight.”

Jake exchanged looks with Hudson, who cleared his throat.

“Miss Marlowe, I’m terribly sorry, but I need to ask you for that ticket and the check that I believe you said you had. You see, that is evidence against Alice. We’ll need your statement as to what transpired in your conversation with her.”

There went that paid vacation. I searched in my purse and found the ticket and voucher and handed it to Hudson. I felt strangely defeated. The worse feeling was being a pawn in the game. “Let’s get to the paper work. I’ll be free to leave then, won’t I?”

“Yes, I believe so. Shall we step into the kitchen and have tea? Just like old times.” Hudson gave me that gallant little smile that always won me over.

“Why not? Tea is always so civilized.”

“Right this way,” he said with a gentlemanly flair of the hand.

We entered through the infamous back entrance where it seemed all the real intrigue with the family took place. I guess, though, that Hudson wasn’t part of the family as much as he was part of the intrigue.

* * * * *

Jake gave me a ride home in the Rolls Royce which was a nice touch since I had never ridden in one. The interior was all burled wood and tan leather. It had that wonderful old car smell, but I hardly could appreciate the luxury, I was so out of it. I had duly signed a statement that might keep Alice on the hook. I signed a statement that I was a witness to the happenings at the Lodge house that morning. My part in the whole woeful affair was over.

I didn’t feel like talking, and Jake didn’t either, so it was a glum ride. A ray of sun finally peaked through the miserable overcast that had dogged the day. The clouds were breaking up in the western sky. I took that as a good omen. Normal life as I knew it was returning.

“Drop me in front, please,” I said when we pulled in the circular drive to my building. The Rolls rolled to a stop at the main entrance. As I grabbed the door handle, Jake put his hand on my arm. “Fiona, don’t go like this. I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you hurt. The more I knew, the more I had to cover up to protect you.”

“You keep saying that. Why did you insist Hudson needed an alibi? That brought me back into danger.”

“I didn’t want you to leave. I was afraid I’d never see you again. Hudson decided at the last minute that you’d fit into the sting operation, that you and I were the perfect bait. We were the ones Ratko and his men were following. I figured if I stayed with you, I could protect you.”

I leaned back against the headrest. “Jake, I’m so exhausted I don’t know which end is up. It has been a nerve wracking twenty-four hours. You keep saying you were trying to protect me.” I looked into his big browns. “Frankly, my dear Jake, I don’t need any more of your protection.”

I opened the car door and with carry on and purse in hand walked inside my dear, familiar building to the elevator. On my floor I stumbled down the hall, rummaging in my purse for the keys which didn’t seem to be there. I stopped at my door ready to turn the darn purse upside down when I noticed the door wasn’t latched. Then I remembered. Cody had the keys.

I eased the door open, hoping I had an ounce of adrenalin left to flee, if need be. Maybe I had forgotten to latch it when we left. There was a funny smell in the air, like burned toast. The venetian blinds were closed. I always left them open. Someone had camped out in my beautiful condo. Step by step, I inched to the living room. Cody sat spread leg on the couch, the coffee table littered with beer bottles.

“Hello Fiona,” he said, slurring his words. “I need a little help.”

I started to laugh, and then I couldn’t stop. Tears ran down my face. I shook so hard with laughter I dropped my purse and carry on.

“Fiona, it’s not funny. I can’t find my wallet, and I need money. I don’t have a cent. You don’t seem to keep any cash around this place. I got guys on my tail. I’ve been waiting all night for you to come. I’ll leave as soon as you give me money to get out of here.”

I had lapsed into hysterical giggles. “Sorry,” I said between hiccups, “I don’t mean to laugh it’s just that. .” I got hysterical again.

Cody started yelling. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

I heard the door open behind me and was afraid to turn around to see who else had joined the party.

“Excuse me,” Jake said, delicately moving me aside so he could get by. He yanked Cody off the couch before he could protest and gave him a resounding punch in the face. He went down in a drunken heap.

Jake stood looking down at Cody a moment then came over and pulled me into a big bear embrace. “Fiona, I keep saying you need me to protect you.”

“You’re right, Jake Manyhorses.”

Jake and I sat on the front porch of the old bunk house in Harney Valley, Oregon, watching a line of rigs stir up the dust on the ranch road to Opal’s house. Opal had hosted a come-one-come-all barbecue, the guests were leaving, and we were recovering.

Jake said, “I’m glad the Lodge family disaster is over.”

“Yes, it is. Let’s not think about the disaster. I want to think about decorating my bunkhouse and Opal’s house. That’s all I want to think about.”

“Right. Though, you know, I heard they found a guy down in the desert east of here. He was in an old rusted car, nothing but bones. The sheriff doesn’t know if it was murder or suicide.”

Really?” I said, trying to keep the excitement from my voice.

Jake started laughing.

I soon recovered my senses. “I’m not interested in the least.”

Marjorie Thelen lives and writes novels outside a small town on the Oregon frontier. She enjoys writing stories that entertain her and, hopefully, her readers. If you would like to learn more about her books or to contact her, visit her web site: www.MarjorieThelen.com. She enjoys hearing from her readers. The second book in the Fiona Marlowe mystery series, High Desert Detective, is now available on Amazon.com.