Murdered by Country Music: A High Desert Cozy Mystery Read online

  MURDERED BY COUNTRY MUSIC

  By

  Dianne Harman

  (A High Desert Cozy Mystery - Book 3)

  Copyright © 2016 Dianne Harman

  www.dianneharman.com

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Website, Interior & Cover design by Vivek Rajan Vivek

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1530741250

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, I really appreciate your taking the time to read my books, review them, and letting me know how much you like them. It’s humbling, and I’m truly honored. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

  This book is the latest one in the High Desert Cozy Mystery Series. There’s a backstory on how I came to write it. I was having a little problem with my back and was seeing a physical therapist. One day while he was treating me several people around me began to talk about a music festival that was going to be held near Palm Springs. They were talking about mollies, Fireball whiskey, and how people came from all over the country to attend the festival. I became fascinated and started asking them questions. That’s how Murdered by Country Music came into being. My sincere thanks to Chad Beauchamp and all the rest of the staff at Fitness Solutions. Without that conversation this book never would have been written.

  I would be very remiss if I didn’t thank the two people who are an integral part of why my books have become so popular. First there is Vivek, who patiently formats my books for both print and digital, as well as designing fabulous book covers. I sent him an email with a couple of sentences of what the book was about and that not only did I not have a working title for it, I didn’t have a clue what the cover should look like. Later that afternoon I received an email from him with his proposal for the cover. It was perfect. How he interprets what I need when I don’t even know what I want is a mystery to me! The second person I want to thank is my husband, Tom. He’s very careful to make sure that my books are as error free as possible, particularly as to time and characters. He’s even been known to forego a golf game for my books! Thanks to both of you.

  And as I usually do, I want to thank my boxer dog, Kelly, (named after Kelly of Kelly’s Koffee Shop, the first in the Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery Series), for becoming a dog that I can finally trust when she’s quiet! Believe me, that took a little time. Thanks, Kelly!

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  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  EPILOGUE

  Recipes!

  ABOUT DIANNE

  PROLOGUE

  The High Desert Country Music Festival is held in the Spring of every year at the White Stallion Ranch outside of Palm Springs, California. The event is hard to describe. It’s a lot easier to experience it. Reminiscent of the 1969 Woodstock Festival, the youth of today come in large numbers, some with flowers in their hair and stars in their eyes, some looking for romance, some looking for a meaningful experience, and others simply wanting to be part of the action, whatever it might be. The preferred dress for men is jeans and a bare chest, while Daisy Mae shorts and a tank top is the standard dress for women. Many of the festival attendees wear cowboy boots, belts with big silver buckles, and cowboy hats. While the Palm Springs area is not considered “country,” the wannabes all play the part for the weekend.

  Like anything else, there’s a flip side, a dark side if you will, to the festival. Drugs are rampant, and the festival food and drinks don’t come cheap. Beer and Fireball whiskey are the drinks of choice while molly capsules are the drug of choice. Who knew the dark side would include the murder of a once famous television chef making a comeback after spending several years in seclusion?

  CHAPTER 1

  Darkness had settled over the high desert area located not far from Palm Springs, California. In a small residential compound owned by Laura James, a modern day psychic who worked for an insurance company, six friends were enjoying dinner in the courtyard under a large spreading tree strung with twinkling lights that made the setting almost magical. John Anderson, the portly affable owner of The Red Pony food truck, regularly prepared dinners and tried out some of his new recipes on the people who lived in the four houses that formed the compound. Included in the group that evening was a soon-to-be permanent addition to the group, Detective Jeff Combs of the Palm Springs Police Department. He and Laura’s sister, Marty Morgan, had recently announced their plans to get married in a few months.

  Marty had accepted Laura’s invitation to move to California from her long-time home in the Midwest and take up residence in the compound after her husband, Scott Morgan, had asked for a divorce so he could marry his long-time secretary. Marty was an art and antique appraiser, and through Laura’s insurance connections she’d started an appraisal practice in the desert. Over the last year she’d developed a very good reputation and had become highly sought-after as an appraiser of personal property. Laura’s long-time boyfriend, Les Anderson, a well-known artist, and John’s assistant at The Red Pony, Max Samuels, rounded out the group that had gathered in the courtyard that evening.

  As usual, they shared a glass of wine and discussed the events of the day, while John and Max brought out the food for the evening’s dinner. Max worked for John and helped him prep the food truck for the following day. He was pretty much a regular dinner guest at the compound.

  “Max and I’ve been so busy today getting the food ready for the High Desert Country Music Festival, and at the same time setting up The Red Pony for lunch, that I didn’t have time to fix a special dinner tonight,” John said. “These are some of the things I’ll be serving at the festival. Since it’s a country western festival, I’m serving food I think will fit in well with the theme. I really appreciate it that all of you have volunteered to help me out during the festival. I’m kind of nervous about it, since I’ve never done an event that large. I just hope I have enough food and that people like what’s on the menu.”

  “John, where is the Pony physically going to be set up at the festival?” Les asked.

  “Fortunately, I’ve got what I think is an excellent spot. I’m the first food truck on the left when people enter the food truck court. Even if they don’t buy anything, I’ll be the first truck they see when they come in and the last one they see when they leave. If nothing else, it’s got to be good advertising for The Red Pony.”

  He stopped talking and answered his ringing phone which was playing the song, Country Roads. “John Anderson, here.�
� He stood up from the picnic table where the group was seated and walked away from it, as he listened to the voice on the other end. He waved his hand indicating that the others should start eating without him. A few moments later he returned, his face twisted and red with anger.

  “I don’t believe this. I’ve been telling you about this guy named Jacques Ruchon who got kicked off that food television show a few years ago,” he said, sitting back down at the table. “He went into seclusion, as he calls it, for a couple of years, although others have insinuated he went into rehab to deal with his drug habit. Recently he started a food truck business called French Food Obsession. His truck always seems to be near mine at lunchtime. It’s like he’s trying to horn in on The Red Pony’s business. Now I find out that Rocco, the owner of the Italian Stallion food truck, and the person who was going to be parked next to me at the festival, is sick and won’t be bringing his truck to the festival.

  “The person in charge of the food trucks put Jacques’ truck next to mine,” he fumed. “For three days I’m going to more or less have to share space with him, and I hate the guy. I’ve always suspected he isn’t really French. I spent a little time in Paris attending a cooking school, and his accent sure doesn’t sound like what I heard when I was there. I bet he paid off the festival promoter so he could park next to The Red Pony, because he wants to steal my clientele.”

  “I can’t believe he’d be a threat to your business,” Laura said. “You’ve developed a cult following of foodies in the area. He shouldn’t be a problem. Remember, most of the people who will be there are young, and your food is going to appeal to them a lot more than French food, plus, all of the employees at the insurance company where I work swear by your food. They love it.”

  “Thanks for trying to make me feel better,” John said. “I wish I could believe you, but I’d bet my last dollar that he has some sneaky reason for wanting to park his truck next to mine. He’s one of the few people I know that if something bad happened to him, I wouldn’t feel the least bit sorry. I’d like him to just go away and get out of my life. In fact, I’d probably celebrate if something bad actually did happen to him.”

  “I’m right there with you, Boss,” Max said, “but right now we got other things to worry about. Forget Jacques. He ain’t worth your time. We need to get all the supplies up to that building the owner of the ranch is letting us use. I’m glad it’s got a walk-in refrigerator. We’re gonna need it.”

  “I’m planning on doing that after dinner, so we can use tomorrow morning for last minute packing and getting the motor homes loaded.”

  “John, what do you want us to do tomorrow?” Jeff asked.

  “We need to get out to the festival grounds about 9:00 in the morning, so I can be ready when the festival opens at noon. Marty, I’d appreciate it if you would drive Jeff and Max to the motor home rental place about 7:30. I’ve reserved two motor homes. There’s one for the four of you and one for Max and me. Jeff and Max can drive the motor homes to the compound, and we’ll load them up with the food I’ll be needing.

  “I’d like to convoy to the festival. We’ll get there early, and the event planner guaranteed me two parking spots for the motor homes right behind where The Red Pony will be located in the food court. I’ll drive the Pony in, and Max and Jeff can park the motor homes in our assigned spots. Even though we have assigned spots, I don’t want any last minute glitches, and that’s why I’d like us to drive out to the festival in a convoy. At least we’ll be together if there’s a problem. I just hope they haven’t assigned the spots next to our motor homes to Jacques and his group.”

  “I’m excited,” Marty said. “This is a first for me. I’ve never been to a music festival before. I’m sure I speak for all of us, John, when I say just let us know what you want us to do, and we’ll see that it gets done. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to pack and make sure I have everything ready to go. I’m taking Duke to Lucy’s home early tomorrow morning. You all know her. She’s the one who works at the Hi-Lo Drug Store. Jeff, if you’re ready to leave, I’ll walk you out to your car.”

  “Yes, I need to go home and pack,” the large middle-aged detective said. Even though Marty’s fiancé was greying at the temples, he was still a very handsome man. From the looks he received when they were out together, she knew she wasn’t the only woman who felt that he was quite attractive. The thing that had originally attracted her to Jeff was his smile. Her love of it hadn’t diminished with time. It lit up his whole face and never failed to make her smile in return.

  As was his custom when he didn’t have his pink booties on, Duke, Marty’s loveable but sometimes neurotic black Labrador dog, stopped at the gate while Jeff and Marty walked over to his car, arms around one another as they shared a goodnight kiss. “See you in the morning, handsome,” she said.

  CHAPTER 2

  The next morning John stopped The Red Pony at the entrance gate leading to the festival parking lot and showed his vehicle pass to the attendant. She looked at it and the two motor homes that were following him and waved them through. In the distance they saw a big sign that said “Food Truck Court.” John stopped his truck, jumped out of the cab, and walked back to the two motor homes.

  “We’ve got the original spaces they gave me. I’m going through the gate that leads to the food court with the Pony, and I’ll park it on the left side. You can both park your motor homes on the other side of the fence behind the Pony. That’ll make it real easy for me to get some of those dry food items and the extra things I packed in the refrigerators and storage areas in your motor homes. When you get parked, come on in. Since the food court isn’t open to the public until noon, tell the attendant at the gate that you’re with The Red Pony. Shouldn’t be a problem. See you in a few minutes.”

  Laura, Les, Marty, Jeff, and Max told the attendant they were with The Red Pony and walked over to it. The space reserved for the French Food Obsession was empty. They helped John set up the awning which he hoped would provide enough shade to keep the area near The Red Pony bearable in the spring desert heat.

  A few minutes later a handsome dark-haired man maneuvered a food truck bearing the name “French Food Obsession” into the empty space next to John’s truck. When John realized Jacques had arrived, he visibly tensed up, but then he resumed getting ready for the crowd that would soon be descending on the food trucks once the festival gates opened. A few moments later there was a knock on the bottom half of the Pony’s dutch door.

  “Bon jour, John, I see that we are to be neighbors, oui?” Jacques asked.

  John walked over to the door and answered coldly, “Yeah, it looks like it.”

  “Well, it’s probably time for you to see how a real chef cooks. Maybe that’s why we were parked next to each other, so you could learn from a master. Good luck. I have to go back to the Obsession and prepare for the crowds that I’m sure are going to love my food,” he said as he walked back to his truck.

  John turned and faced his friends who were clearly shocked by what Jacques had just said. “See why I’d like to see the guy planted in the ground? Now you understand what I have to go through each time I see him,” John said. He was so angry he was visibly shaking.

  “Getting angry isn’t going to do you one bit of good, John,” Marty said. “You’ve got a lot more important things to do right now than worrying about that jerk, and by the way, I happen to agree with your assessment of his French heritage. I think he’s about as French as I am. When I was in college I spent a semester in Paris studying antiques and art. There is definitely something off about his accent, but none of that really matters now. What’s important is that you’re all set up and ready to go when the swarms of hungry people come through the gate. Let’s forget about him and get started.”

  It was apparent to all of them that John was having a very hard time turning his attention back to the business at hand in the Pony, but within a few minutes he’d given each of them a “to-do” list, and they spent the rest of the morning g
etting ready for the crowds that were expected to descend on the food truck when the gate opened at noon.

  Jeff and Marty had been given the task of getting the sit-down eating area ready next to the truck. The festival promoter had provided plastic tables and chairs which they set up under the awning. Laura had purchased several bunches of flowers and they made floral arrangements for each of the tables by first putting rocks and water in large plastic cups and then placing some brightly colored red flowers in each of the cups. The red and white motif played perfectly off of the fire engine red color of The Red Pony. They placed napkin dispensers and salt and pepper shakers on the tables, finishing up a few minutes before the first of the festival attendees would be entering the food court area.

  John walked out of the truck with some chalk and a menu list written on a piece of paper. “Jeff would you write the menu on the chalkboard next to the window? Here’s what we’ll be serving,” he said as he handed the list of Jeff. “I want the people to start thinking about the food they can order. Thanks,” he said as he hurried back into the Pony.

  Jeff looked at the list and said, “Don’t know about the customers, but my mouth is watering just looking at this menu.” The food John was serving at The Red Pony was comfort food with a country flavor, sure to appeal to the large crowd which had lined up at the gate, wanting to be the first to sample the foods from the different trucks.

  Marty nodded her approval as Jeff began to list the items being served: brisket of beef sandwich, pork ribs, ham steak with red eye gravy, coleslaw, barbecue beans, chicken fried steak with cornmeal hush puppies and gravy, ranch style eggs on a bacon waffle, watermelon, and oatmeal cookies. Marty thought the cold long neck beer bottles that the festival attendees could buy at the nearby beer stands along with John’s food was bound to meet with the approval of the young festival attendees.

  She looked over at the French Food Obsession truck which was painted in a soft green color with accents of pale watery blues and milky whites reminiscent of the colors used in a French country kitchen. The inside of the truck was painted white and the window where orders were placed and served had a charming green and white striped awning over it. Gleaming copper pans hanging on pegs inside the truck could be seen through the window.