Chapter 15
Saturday brought a light rain to the ranch, settling the dust and freshening the air. The horses were frisky, running back and forth in the pasture, calling to each other to play. The goat and her kid were romping in their pen. Chalcey felt the excitement of the critters as she mucked out the stalls with the help of Joe and Fred and fed Timothy hay to the horses and alfalfa to the goats. “Fred why do we give Timothy to the horses instead of alfalfa, like we do the goats?” Chalcey always had another question.
“Alfalfa gives the horses extra energy. Too much and they’ll get froggy. That goat needs it to produce milk for her kid. The Timothy is lower fuel and healthier right now for the horses. Come winter, you’ll be feeding alfalfa to the horses to keep them warm.” Fred seemed to always have an answer for Chalcey.
“Will we grow enough or do we have to lay up a store for winter?” Based on the syntax of her question, Fred could tell Chalcey’d been listening to Summer.
“It all depends, my little lumpkin. It all depends.” Fred and Joe finished and they all trooped up to the expansive porch where ice tea and lemonade and cookies were waiting. Marlowe had gone into town to meet a client and Oriole rode in to get groceries. On the way, the 2nd and 3rd generation talked about the coming events and implications of dating friends.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date, I’m not even sure what to do any more. Is it like riding a horse or a bicycle? Do I just go with the flow? Should I just be me and if it goes wellOK and if not Fred and I can still be friends? What if he has some horrible twitch that I just can’t overlook? Oriole, stop laughing and help me out here.” Marlowe was truly perplexed and obviously distressed at the prospect of a real date.
“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you.” Oriole was still chuckling under her breath.
“I’m not laughing, you imp.”
“Look Mom, how long have you known Fred, twenty, thirty years? Granted you only know him in the context of horses, the ranch, and my work, but in all the times you’ve seen him and interacted with him, has he ever done anything that made you go, ‘ugh, I don’t like that’? Has he ever picked his nose and eaten it? Has he ever farted at the dinner table? You can’t know everything about someone until you spend quality time with them. It builds each time you see them in different environments. You have to do things together to see if you want to do more. It’s a process. I suggest you go slow and take your time.”
“Oh, my God, I’m getting tutored by my daughter on dating. How weird is that? Don’t you tell a soul or I’ll take away TV for a month.” Marlowe laughed with her gorgeous daughter at the irony on the situation.
“So what are you going to wear? Hair up or down? Boots or sandals? A light cologne or a fruity one? Cleavage or conservative? These are all things to think about. You only get one first date, unless you’re Reese Witherspoon.” Oriole was enjoying her role as matchmaker.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t given it a thought. I figured I’d just get dressed and go. What? I have to plan ahead. I have to think through all this stuff. Why can’t I just brush my hair and go? There’s a lot to this dating stuff. Maybe I’ll just stay home instead. It’d be so much easier.”
“You are not staying home, and that’s that. You will get ready and go and have a great time. Now what are you more comfortable in pants or dress?”
“Well, it’s May, evening’s will get chillly so, I guess pants.”
“So, we’ll look for dressy causal. Now, if you wear those fancy rodeo pants and the Lucheses, probably the black ones. Do they need polishing? How about the suede vest with that French cuff white shirt and those crystals that Eva made for you?OK. You’re dressed. Hair. Up is so sophisticated, but down is soft and feminine. How about down this time? I’ll even help you put in hot rollers and add a little curl. Now what’s left? Perfume. You don’t want to be overwhelming, but you want something fresh and light. Pheremone. Do you have any left? If not you can use some of mine. Wow. I missed my calling. I should have been a date planner-you know like the wedding planner.” Oriole was plainly pleased with her accomplishments.
“Oriole, don’t you be so smug. Just you wait. It’ll be my turn soon enough. Then you think back to this conversation and remember payback’s a bitch.” Marlowe couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the reversal in roles.
“Joe, got a minute?”Fred approached the make shift desk in the bunk house.
“Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“Well. You know Marlowe and I are going to the movies and dinner. Can I ask you about this dating thing? I haven’t dated in 30 or more years. Do we do dinner first or the movie first? Do I wear a suit or jeans? Do I buy her flowers? What the hell do I do?” Fred was pacing back and forth in front of Joe’s desk, hands stuck in his pants pockets, clearly suffering through this ordeal.
“Oh, man, I hear you. Do you open the door or let her get in by herself. Do you pull her chair back or let her do it. Too many questions about this dating stuff. How are you most comfortable? Jeans and blazer? Boots and hat?
“I always wear blazer and jeans. I’m never without my hat. I only own boots.”
“Then go with comfort and stylish. Are your boots clean-don’t want horse shit on ‘em. Forget the flowers-unless you wanted to get some for Summer and the girls. Dinner or movie first? Umm... Do the movie first, then dinner so you can relax and talk about the movie. Or ask her what she wants to do. Or provide both options and negotiate. You’ll do fine. Go to have fun and relax and enjoy yourself. Don’t make it too hard.” Joe kicked back in his chair as he finished.
The witching hour found Chalcey, Oriole, and Summer in Marlowe’s bedroom suite helping her get organized for her “date”. “I’ve already decided what to wear, how to smell, what else do I have to do for this date?
“Marlowe, you should put a quarter in your boot.” Chalcey offered from the four poster pine bed.
“What’s a quarter in my boot do?”
“Well if you have to call home you can use your quarter.”
“I’ve got my cell phone for that.”
Oriole flipped a condom to her mother without a word.
“Oriole Wolfe! Shame on you.” Summer chided.
“What was it? I missed it.” Chalcey begged to be included in the joke.
“Chalcey, your mama is being a pickle. Never you mind.” Marlowe hugged her granddaughter and kissed her on the head. “Oriole, you keep this you’ll probably need it before me.” Marlowe threw it back at her daughter.
“Come on Chalcey, what are you going to wear on our get together with Joe.” Summer took Chalcey’s hand and walked her to her room for a diversion.
“I’m going to wear that new outfit, the long skirt and vest, my boots and I think I’ll wear my hair in a pony tail.” Chalcey took her great grandmother to the closet to show her the selection.
“Good, Sweetie, let’s get going. Joe’ll be ready shortly. Women in this family never keep a man waiting on purpose. Too often something else will come up that happens to forestall our presence. Shake a leg, girl.” Summer left to go change.
Oriole and Summer were downstairs waiting when Joe walked in. “May I help you sir?” Summer good naturedly teased Joe who was dressed in pressed Levi’s, shined boots and a suede blazer.
“Very funny, Summer. I’m here to take three of the best looking women out on the town.”
“Chalcey. Joe’s here for our date.” Oriole called up to her daughter. The gangly thirteen year old had disappeared to be replaced by a charming, well dressed, sophisticated looking young lady. “Maybe I should go change so you all won’t be ashamed of me.” Oriole smiled at her daughter.
Joe looked at Oriole, “you look fine to me. I like what you did with your hair.” He turned to Summer and Chalcey, “you all look just great. I’m about the luckiest guy in town. Let’s get going.” He was hoping to get the parade over before poor Fred came to collect Marlowe.
Sunday afternoon Joe’s cell ph
one rang, “This is Joe.”
“Joe. This is Lt. Miranda. Sorry to disturb your Sunday. Something’s come up. You need to put the task force on notice. You’ll be working for a while here. Check your email for details. I was just concerned about the walls.” Lt. Miranda hung up and Joe immediately checked his secure email and then immediately got ahold of Oriole and Fred.
“Looks like we have another homicide. It very well could be connected to your DB. Name is Janelle Jankowski. Office Manager/Receptionist out at the pipe line. Found her dead this morning in her trailer. Looks like a drug overdose. Next of kin is some sister in Las Vegas. LVPD made notification. Sister is coming in tomorrow. SO has secured the scene and is holding everything for us and the ME. She had a trailer out in Chino. Let’s take two cars in case we have to later split up tasks. Sorry to ruin your Sunday.” Joe was sincerely apologetic while knowing Fred and Oriole put work first.
“Let me tell Summer and Marlowe to make sure they have Chalcey covered.”
“I’ll change and be out front.” Fred was already moving toward the bunkhouse.
They arrived at the mobile home that sat in the county. Fire and paramedics had already been and gone. The ME arrived in their dust. Joe took the lead and assessed the trailer. It was a salmon color, faded with wind and sun exposure to a pale pinkish orange. A circular driveway paved with AB rock greeted visitors. A metal set of steps accessed the front door. Trash littered the thumbnail front yard-car parts, black garbage bags, paint cans, fast food sacks and remnants of a left over hot tub. The front door opened into the living room which was covered in more of the same litter minus the car parts. The carpet had long since lost its claim to beige, soiled with what looked like dog feces, oil, mud and tracked in cow manure. A blank spot the size of a couch sat in front of the picture window to the left. A 60" plasma TV adorned the wall straight ahead seemingly incongruous with the residence. Off to the left, Joe could see what once was an open kitchen floor plan, now cluttered with packing boxes, pizza boxes, chairs, tables and dirty dishes. Moving down the hall, the three detectives encountered three doorways; the first was to a bathroom, the second to a bedroom about 9x12, and the last to the master bedroom.
They stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, eyes moving right to left in a circular motion. On the queen sized bed, with her feet dangling over the edge of the bed, lay Ms Jankowski. Within two feet of her right hand lay a syringe, dried blood on the needle. Next to her was her purse, a baggy of white powdery substance, and a notebook containing pay and owe information. A tourniquet circled her left bicep.
Photographs and videos had already been taken of the scene before the detectives or ME arrived. Rod Culpepper moved quickly and professionally in checking the body temperature for time of death, which he placed at six to twelve hours earlier making time of death between midnight and six a.m.
The deceased was dressed in black nylons, a red mini skirt, stretch tube top in red and black swirls, black spiked heels, a red and black Swarovski crystal necklace lay on the bed, matching earrings were in her pierced ears, a synthetic ruby ring on her right ring finger and a knock off Rolex on her right wrist.
“Looks too pat to be a drug overdose.” Joe ventured. “Doc, what’s it look like first blush?”
“I try not to judge in the field. But there is petechia, which could mean a lot of different things, but I’ll be looking for strangulation marks in the autopsy. Her watch is on her right wrist, the syringe next to her right hand. Does that mean she was right handed wearing her watch on the right instead of left or does that mean she was left handed and someone didn’t know and put the syringe in the wrong place? Won’t know til probably later. Right now this is a suspicious death as far as I’m concerned. I’d treat it as a homicide til we know better.” Culpepper finished his examination, nodded to the technician to bag her hands and get the body bag.
After the removal, the detectives gloved up, put their booties on and entered the bedroom. A systematic search of the bedroom turned up little of consequence: no scales, no baggies, no pipes, no other syringes and no other evidence of drug use. The evidence technician bagged and tagged the items on the bed to send to the lab for fingerprint and chemical analysis.
“The landlord found her this morning when he came to collect the rent. The front door was open, her car in the driveway, no one else around. He thought it odd that the door was open and she didn’t respond to his hellos so he walked in calling her name. He found her and immediately left the house to call it in. He said she’d been here about five months, always paid in cash, never gave him any trouble. He said he planned on cleaning the place up because she seemed to plan on staying. He never noticed any drug activity and since he lost two other places to meth labs, he’s real sensitive about that.” Fred finished reading his notes from interviewing the landlord and looked at the other two detectives.
“I didn’t notice any other track marks, no outward signs of drug use. Rod will be able to tell us more on that tomorrow after the post.” Oriole provided.
“Let’s divide this up. Oriole, you get ahold of Marlene Stutz and get what information you can. Fred you call Smith/Walsh for info and I’ll call Littleton. Let’s get together at 5:00 or before at the bunkhouse and see what we have. I want to keep this under wraps as much as we can since it appears to be a drug incident. I don’t want the narcs in on it for now.” Joe finished with the assignments and the detectives left the mobile home.
That evening after supper of Shepherd’s Pie, coleslaw and strawberry-rhubarb pie, the detectives collated the information they had accumulated and started a new homicide book.
Rod Culpepper called Joe’s cell phone to give him an update on the post mortem. “Looks like there was an overdose of pure methamphetamine. But there’s more: stomach contents inexpensive Pinot Noir, tossed salad with chicken strips. Besides the meth in her blood stream, I found Ecstasy. Best guess is with the wine. No surprise surgical implants size E. And the frosting on the cake she was smothered maybe with a pillow. So someone wanted this girl dead.”
“Ecstasy? The date rape drug? Would she have been incapacitated by the drug?” Joe was furiously writing to keep up with the preliminary information.
“Maybe at least groggy enough for someone to do what they wanted. But then why smother her? That’s what I can’t get to. Any thoughts?” Rod was more than perplexed.
“Maybe he or she was afraid the meth wouldn’t be enough to kill her. How much was in her system?”
“Enough literally to kill a horse. Let me know if you need anything else. The report will be done by tomorrow and on your desk. Talk to you later.” Rod finished the call and cleaned up the autopsy room.
Joe, Oriole and Fred convened in the parking lot of Frontier Village to update each other on the autopsy and investigation so far. “It’s definitely murder, if anything it’s overkill.” Joe relayed the ME’s findings to the other detectives and listened to what Fred and Oriole had found so far.
“Smith says he was camping this weekend. Solo. Got back last night about 8:00. Hadn’t seen Janelle since Friday at work. He said she had plans to go out Saturday night, but he didn’t know where. He didn’t have cell service where he was camping-up near Flagstaff. So no alibi.” Fred relayed his findings.
“Littleton said he saw her Friday, but she didn’t mention anything about a date or going out at all, in fact he said she was grumping because she didn’t have anything to do last weekend.” Joe added his intel from the CRI.
“Well, I got lots more than you guys. Send a woman to do a man’s job and it gets done right the first time.” Oriole rubbed salt in the wounds. “Marlene said Janelle was particularly bummed on Thursday and Friday. Seems she had a date lined up and it was a bust. Then Marlene gets a call from her on Saturday asking if Janelle can borrow Marlene’s red purse ‘cause, here we go, Janelle has a hot date. Marlene tried to find out who and what the agenda was but Janelle blew her off gently enough to get the purse and not reveal anything. Marlene
thought Janelle didn’t want her to know because it was someone they both knew. And you know that’s a small list. Janelle got to Marlene’s about 6:30 Saturday night, dressed like we saw, but with a little black fur cape thing. Marlene thinks it was rabbit. We didn’t find a rabbit stole at the house. So find the rabbit, find the killer? Here’s something else, Marlene had to do some work Saturday morning out at the pipeline and saw Smith working on some equipment. So sounds like someone isn’t totally truthful.” Oriole finished her rendition of titter-totter Marlene’s information.
“Sounds like we might need to double team Smith to get some more information. He’s probably out at the pipe line. Why don’t I take Oriole and see what I can get from him?” Fred seemed to want to supplement his incomplete interview with Smith.
“Why don’t you take me? What is that? To see what you can get from him? What am I milk toast? Why don’t I take you out to the pipe line and show you how to thoroughly do an interview to fill in all the blanks.” Oriole joked with Fred knowing if there was information that was contradictory it was because someone lied and there were two things that made Fred mad: a liar and a thief.
Fred and Oriole headed out to the pipe line planning their strategy along the way.