Chaos in the Canyon (Miranda Marquette Mysteries Book 5)

Book summary

Miranda's attempt at a fresh start is quickly interrupted when she discovers her neighbor's body during a morning run near Henry Coe State Park. With a growing list of suspects, she and her friends must solve the mystery before the killer strikes again.

CHAOS IN THE CANYON is a gripping murder mystery.

Excerpt from Chaos in the Canyon (Miranda Marquette Mysteries Book 5)

Chapter 1

May 2011

I took a left out of the driveway for the first time since moving in with Jason nine months ago after my friend Patricia’s mom took over my apartment lease. It was Saturday late afternoon, and I had already spent a couple of hours tinkering with my motorcycle. I didn’t want my bike to feel neglected after spending all that time getting Jason’s up and running that morning. Jason, my live-in boyfriend and boss, had taken off to parts unknown after I completed a tune-up of his Kawasaki. Left to my own devices, I grabbed my boots and helmet and set out on an adventure of my own.

A right turn would take me toward the 101 and civilization near Gilroy, California, nearly an hour south of Santa Clara. I had no idea where a left turn would take me, so I turned left. Within several hundred yards, I came to Gilroy Hot Springs Road. I surmised this route might lead to the Gilroy Yamato Hot Springs, which I had heard of but had never ventured to.

The road took me directly to the Hot Springs in a mile or two. I passed one hiking trail and an unnamed road off to my right. Otherwise, there was nothing else in that direction. Reading the historical plaque, I learned that the Yamato Hot Springs had been

an active tourist venue from the late 1800s until the 1930s and the depression. World War II dramatically impacted the springs when Japanese citizens, including the owner of the site, were put into internment camps. Attempts had been made over the years to return it to its prior splendor and even make it into an overnight resort, but when the on-site hotel burned to the ground in 1980, the efforts never came to fruition. The site was now a derelict part of California Parks and Recreation, apparently abandoned and forgotten.

I strolled around the grounds and found them deserted. In the middle of the compound, which included several small rooms that looked like changing rooms, was a pool, which I assumed was fed by the natural hot springs located underground. The doors to the changing rooms had all been held open by small pieces of wood. The rooms were immaculate, so clearly, the place was cleaned often.

Not ever shying from an opportunity, I ran back to my bike and grabbed my bathing suit out of my saddlebag. I found it odd that there were no ‘No Trespassing’ signs, no chains, no gates, no locks, absolutely no deterrents to entering the property. But on the off chance someone in authority discovered me here, I could cite that as an excuse. I could seem pretty innocent when I wanted to.

I picked a changing room and slipped into my bikini. Ten years ago, I might even have attempted it sans suit, but my more modest side was revealing itself since I hit thirty. It was hard to believe that was nearly nine years ago. Not one to waste time, I stuck my foot in the pool. It was perfect, very similar to my old hot tub. I would estimate the temperature at 102 degrees. Without further ado, I stepped into the pool.

Built-in benches lined two sides of the pool. It was probably a thirty-foot square with a painted concrete surface, similar to most pools constructed during that era. It was absolute heaven. I hadn’t been in a hot tub since I left Malibu, and since this pool was fed with natural mineral water, it was soothing in a medicinal, Zen sort of way.

That was probably why it was even more disconcerting when I felt a cold gun barrel touch my head as I rested it against the side of the spring-fed pool. I was afraid to open my eyes, so I just froze.

The man, whoever he was, started talking, “So, I finally caught you. You thought you were so smart, a-comin' up here and usin’ the place. Well, I outsmarted you now, didn’t I? I wonder what the cops are gonna think about that. They ain’t gonna be too happy now since they couldn’t catch ya. I’ve got a mind to give them a call and see what they want to do. Maybe we could all have our way with you. What do you think about that? Yeah, you’re quite a looker, ain’t ya? Yup, quite a looker.”

Uh-oh. I was in serious trouble. I was barely dressed, and this psycho had a gun. He also seemed to have a case of mistaken identity, but it didn’t seem like a good time to start arguing or calling him a liar. With the gun barrel still grinding into my head, I figured I had to start talking soon before he got trigger happy. “Mr.—”

“Oh, so she can talk. Burt, just call me Burt.” I couldn’t tell what Burt's horrible smell was, but it was some combination of liniment, sweat, and chewing tobacco.

I squirmed a little under the pressure of his pistol.

He laughed out loud. “Oh, am I hurting you? That’s a shame, just a shame, ain’t it?” He tsked. “Just a shame.”

I tried my best not to move. “Hey, Burt. You seem like a nice guy. And obviously, you’ve got the gun, and I’m in the pool, so you’ve got the upper hand, and I’m not going anywhere. Do you think, maybe, you could take the gun from my head so we can have a chat?”

He didn’t respond, so I didn’t know if he was thinking about it or trying to come back with some clever remark. Then, he removed the gun from my head so, I figured we were making progress. “Okay, I removed the gun, now what are you going to do for me?” I couldn’t see his face, but I could only imagine it was said with a smirk.

This was getting creepy fast. I had to decide if I would need to take evasive or aggressive action. Nine out of ten times, guys like this were completely harmless and could be talked out of anything with a wink and a flirt, but that tenth guy was a real problem. And identifying them before it was too late was critical. I also needed to decide if I was safer in or out of the water. At this point, I was thinking I was safer where I was because if he tried to get in, I had a tremendous advantage, having been trained in hand- to-hand combat in all depths of water. I wished he would get in and even things up.

I hadn’t actually been able to look at my enemy yet because he stood behind me. I wasn’t sure how to solve that standoff. Finally, I had a relatively low-risk idea. I figured he could only say No. “Hey, Burt, now that you’re not pointing the gun at my head, maybe you could come around the other side of the pool, so I can see who I’m talking to.” I pondered being a bit more flirtatious, but you can’t take it back once you say it, so I figured I start out safe and slow.

He didn’t respond; he just walked slowly to the other side of the pool. He was a big man, mid-fifties. Even with his flannel shirt on, I could see his chest hair between his buttons. He was around six foot five, probably two hundred and eighty pounds, mostly muscle. He was the kind of guy you wanted on your team if you were camping in the woods and a bear was scavenging through your food.

As menacing as he had seemed behind me with a gun, I couldn’t look away from his face, which seemed kind, but maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. I took a chance, “Burt, when you said before that you finally caught me, I think you might have me confused with someone else.”

He shook his head. “Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me you haven’t been comin’ up here, usin’ the showers, leaving cigarette butts in the wastebaskets, and clogging up the toilets?”

I smiled. “Burt, do I look like someone who would clog up toilets?”

He couldn’t help but laugh in spite of himself. “Okay, you got me there. God, I hate this job. I’m just no good at it. I tried to scare the crap out of you, and in ten minutes, we’re already jokin’ around. It’s a curse.”

I gave him an innocent look. “You mean to say you never meant you were going to have your way with me?”

He threw his hat down, “God, no! If my wife ever found out she would kill me!” He pulled up an Adirondack chair. “So, what ya doin’ up here, anyway? Most people don’t even know it exists.”

I started to get light-headed from being in hot water too long but still a little too exposed to hang out with Burt in a bikini. “Miranda Marquette. I live down on Roop Road.”

He perked up. “Well, how about that—Burt Roop at your service. My family bought this place in the 1860s and ran an upscale resort during its heyday. Then my grandmother took it over, trying to save it during the depression. My dad had a dream of bringing it back to its splendor, which was dashed when the hotel burned on the fourth of July weekend in 1980. We’d have a Class A resort if it weren’t for that damned fire.” He swore under his breath. “I’m going to catch the guy that burned this place down if it’s the last thing I do. I know who it is.”

I was surprised. “You do? How come they haven’t been caught?”

He stared into my eyes. “We did catch him back when he did it and they let him go, but I’ll get him. Wait and see.”

I nodded. “I hope you do. What’s his name? Maybe I can help. I have an investigation background.”

He looked at me for a long time as if he were debating spilling his guts but held back.

I smiled. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where I live.”

He said, “Thank you,” and re-gathered his thoughts. “Now, we rely on volunteers and the kindness of others to keep the place afloat. My dream, though, is to reopen it to the public someday. This pool is a small concentration of the springs, which are all around this ten-acre area.”