House of the Fox: Anza Borrego Desert

Are you ready for an adventure that intertwines mystery, art, and the enigmatic landscapes of Borrego Springs and surrounding areas?

“Hikers find a body in Canyon Sin Nombre in the Anza Borrego Desert on the border between Mexico and California.

The victim’s brother identifies Ramon Matus, a Mexican-American conceptual artist. Intriguing connections between the dead artist and several participants in a winter solstice retreat at the nearby Casa del Zorro desert retreat raise questions.

Can the key to the murder be found in Ramon Matus’ complex and powerful art or in the U.S.- Mexico border conflict?”

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Cornelia Feye is an author, an art historian, and publisher of the indie press konstellationpress.com. She graduated from the University of Tübingen, Germany, before traveling around the world for seven years. Adventures on the road found their way into her writing.

Her trilogy of art mysteries began with “Spring of Tears”, which won the San Diego Book Awards. “House of the Fox”, set in Anza Borrego Desert, and “Private Universe” followed. She co-edited the anthology “Magic, Mystery & Murder” with

Tamara Merrill. It also won the San Diego Book Award in 2019. Her latest publication is a short story in the anthology “Crossing Borders”, edited by Matt Coyle and Lisa Brackmann

After a five-year stint in New York City, she settled in Ocean Beach, California, where she likes to rollerblade a long the water, when the coastline is not closed due to the corona virus.

Thursday, December 19, 5:30 AM

His day began quietly before dawn. The air was so cold that he could see the breath coming out like steam from his nostrils. To keep warm he broke into a light trot following a tire track into the deep desert. The frosty morning air had not managed to produce any moisture or dew on the sparse desert shrubs and wrinkled cacti. The ocotillo and teddy bear cholla looked as beige and dry as the sandy ground. The air was still; not the slightest breeze stirred the shrubs. No birdcall broke the silence. As he trotted through this silent world, he suddenly realized that he was not alone. He detected a human presence close by. Motionless he sniffed the air for any smell other than desert sage and mesquite bark. From the direction of the canyon came a faint and unfamiliar scent and a subdued flutter of movement. It was too early for the hawks to fly in search of prey in the air, but he realized that dark birds circled the updrafts ahead of him. They were not hawks, however. They were turkey vultures. He followed their trail and came to the edge of the Canyon-Without-Name. Below he saw a scene of shameful activity. Vultures had landed on a body lying on his back in the sand. They picked at his eyes and hands. Some of them hopped away with morsels of flesh to devour in peace, others competed for space on the corpse’s face. Just then, due East, the first fiery sunrays broke free from the mountain’s edge. The sky immediately lit up in orange and yellow streaks of light. The range loomed as a black silhouette before the sunrise, unable to hold back the light of the new day any longer. The desert fox trotted down into the canyon to join the feast.

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