Desert Places

by Erica Abbott

  Her opportunity came after lunch. Rita, her designated lookout, told her Del Franklin had left for the day. Jean told Rita to keep an eye out as she prepared to go through Todd’s office. She didn’t want to have to explain to her boss what she was doing, at least not yet.

  “What are you looking for?” Rita asked her. “Can I help?”

  Jean considered. “Todd didn’t give you anything in the last few days before he died, did he? Notes or correspondence, anything?”

  “No, nothing. Is that what you’re looking for?”

  “Yes,” Jean admitted. “But I don’t even know if what I’m looking for exists. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck. Is it important, what you’re looking for?”

  “Maybe,” Jean responded. Maybe it got Todd killed.

  She’d been through Todd’s office before, but she’d been searching specifically for the Lambert file. Now she was looking for something much harder to find because she didn’t know what form it might be in.

  Jean tried Todd’s file folders first, since she thought it was at least possible that he’d made a file on the Lambert case. She found no such file, so she next went through every drawer in his desk and credenza, looking for handwritten notes. All she discovered were blank legal pads. Many had been used, but the remaining pages were blank. She found not a single written note anywhere.

  That left his computer. Jean found a couple of thumb drives in his desk drawer, so she powered up his computer and began to go through the files on the drives. Nothing seemed promising until she found a single file labeled “lambertmemo.”

  She opened the file, relieved that it wasn’t password protected. It was a draft of a memo Todd had written to her about the Lambert case. She checked the date—it was dated the morning of the day Todd had died.

  The first paragraph contained the usual summary of the assignment she’d given him, then discussed his efforts to perform research on the case. She read the last paragraph.

  It appears that the plaintiff Lambert’s claims that he was terminated for his knowledge of improper use of county resources for private purposes are unsupported by the available evidence. Such claims may have been fabricated by the plaintiff to justify his…

  The draft ended in mid-sentence and Jean frowned at it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d left a memo like that, even in a first draft. Had Todd been interrupted while he was writing? Or perhaps another thought had struck him and he’d left off, thinking to get back to it at a later time that never arrived.

  She finished her search but found no other reference to Lambert’s case. Disappointment mounted as she logged off Todd’s computer. Outside the office she could hear the low chatter of voices and clacking of someone typing at a computer keyboard. She was no closer to the answers than she had been two hours ago. Sighing in frustration, she returned to her own office.

  How was she going to find out about Lou Hawkins if she couldn’t even prove whether or not Lambert was telling the truth? Although logic told her that if Lambert had been lying as Todd’s memo suggested, he and Todd would still be alive. There was no reason to kill them unless there was a cover-up.

  Why hadn’t she followed up with Todd earlier? Jean berated herself. She might have saved his life. Or, she considered, she might have been one of the victims as well. She remembered Lea’s warning of the night before.

  Her cell phone rang and Lea’s name appeared on the display. She smiled at the coincidence and answered, “Were your ears burning?”

  “All the time,” Lea responded. “Were you talking about me?”

  “Only to myself,” Jean said.

  “That sounds interesting,” Lea said and Jean could hear the smile in her voice. “Listen, I know this is really short notice but I wondered if you were free for dinner tonight.”

  “After last night, I thought you might wait more than eighteen hours to ask me out again.”

  “Technically, it’s not my invitation. My mother is very insistent that you make an appearance at the ranch tonight. Apparently Loren has invited Rita over for dinner and Mother wants another friendly face at the table. You’ve been elected to act as a buffer. Are you up to the job?”

  Jean considered the level of discomfort she might have if she had dinner with Lou and Linda Hawkins. But her next thought was that she might be able to find out from Lea’s family what she couldn’t discover otherwise. It seemed worth the chance.

  “I’ll be there,” she said. “What time?”

  * * *

  “All I’m saying,” Lou Hawkins pointed his fork at his son, “is that horses will always have a place as working animals. I don’t care how many ATVs you’ve got, there’s terrain that will always require a horse. And there are parts of the world where horses are pretty much all there will ever be for everyday transportation.”

  Loren chewed and shook his head at the same time. “What century are you living in? There’s hardly anyplace where you can’t hear the sound of an engine, from the Arctic to the Amazon jungle.”

  Lea shot Jean a look across the table. She muttered, “I’m so glad we’re going to be treated to the latest version of this argument.”

  “They’ve had this one before?” Rita interjected as she finished off the last bite of her cherry pie.

  Lea said, “Every dinner since Loren was old enough to sit at the table and talk.”

  “There may be engines, but horses can go where vehicles can’t, you know that,” Lou continued. “That’s why there’ll always be a need for them.”

  “That’s nuts,” Loren argued. “Soon there won’t be anywhere a vehicle can’t go. People keep horses because they want to, not because they have to.”

  “That’s not true everywhere,” Lou said forcefully. “Can you imagine rounding up cattle with a bunch of Jeeps? I’m saying—”

  “Good God, Dad, nobody does round-ups. That’s what feed lots are for.”

  Linda Hawkins asked brightly, “Anyone need more pie? There’s plenty left.”

  Lou said, “I’ll have some more.”

  “That question was not directed at you, dear,” Linda responded sweetly. “Loren, more pie?”

  “Why does he get seconds?” Lou grumbled. “I work as hard around here as he does.”

  “His last cholesterol reading wasn’t through the roof,” Linda answered. “Would anyone like more coffee?”

  “I’ll get it,” Lea offered. She refilled Rita’s cup and Jean’s as well. “That was a wonderful meal, Mrs. Hawkins,” Rita said politely.

  “Thank you. We’re so glad you could come this evening.” Her smile around the table included Jean and Lea as she added, “You know how much I love having my children and their friends come to the ranch.”

  Loren said to Lea, “Don’t you love it when she refers to us as the children?”

  “I feel so young,” Lea laughed.

  Jean turned to Rita and said, “Just wait until you get invited back for the chili.”

  Now everyone laughed, Linda included. Loren turned to Rita and said, “Are you up for an after-dinner walk? Or would you like to go see the horses?”

  “Oh! I’d love to see the horses,” Rita answered happily. “Do you think we could bring Jay out sometime? I’d love for him to see them too.”

  “Sure thing,” Loren said and it pleased Jean to hear the happiness in his voice.

  Lou added, “You and your boy are welcome anytime, Rita. Has he ever ridden?”

  “No. We’ve just never had a chance to do that.”

  “Why don’t we find a time over the weekend for you two to come out? I think we could spare Loren for a couple of hours.”

  Rita curled her fingers around Loren’s arm. “That would be just great.”

  Loren beamed. “Let’s go pick out a nice horse for him, honey.”

  After they had gone, Lou said to his wife, “Well, that seems to be going well.”

  “Lou, leave them be. It’s still new for them.” She gave Lea a lifted eyebrow.

&nb
sp; Lea cleared her throat and said, “I’ll load the dishwasher. Why don’t you guys go into the living room?”

  Jean rose. “I’ll help you.”

  “No, it’ll only take me a minute. Go on.”

  It suited Jean’s purposes to have a private conversation with Lea’s parents, so she let Lea clear the table alone and followed the Hawkinses into their living room, carrying her coffee cup.

  Here goes nothing, Jean thought, gathering her courage. If she concentrated on how much was at stake in the next few minutes, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go through with the conversation.

  “The flowers still look great,” she began.

  Linda said, “Thank you. The rains will keep them fresh for a while.”

  “Yes. Lea told me the rainy season is just about here.” After a moment she added, “She also said it can wash away a lot of the gravel roads. Yours seem to be in really good shape. I noticed them driving in. Do you grade them yourselves?”

  She held her breath and for a moment she thought there would be no response. Then Linda said, with mock severity, “My dear Jean, you’re not allowed to mention our roads.”

  “I, ah, what?” Jean fumbled.

  Lou growled, an incoherent noise.

  “Lou, leave her alone,” Linda said. “We shouldn’t talk about it. Your blood pressure, dear.”

  “My cholesterol, my blood pressure,” he groused. “Leave me alone, woman.”

  Linda rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t call me woman, old man.”

  “I hate to interrupt,” Jean said carefully, “but what’s the big problem with the roads?” She was trying not to shake and she had to set her coffee cup down on the table beside the sofa.

  Linda answered her. “Some silly mix-up year before last that had Lou spitting nails. A county public works crew came out and graded all of the roads on the ranch.”

  “A county crew? You mean a contractor?” Jean tried not to sound disingenuous.

  “No,” Lou snorted, “county equipment and employees. Can you believe that?”

  Oh, yes, Jean mused. I can believe it, all right. Aloud she said, “Well, you don’t need a lawyer to tell you how illegal that was.”

  “You’re quite right, young lady, I do not,” Lou Hawkins grunted. “And let me tell you, when I got home, I had a few phone calls to make. And Linda’s right, I was madder than a hornet’s nest.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t know anything about it ahead of time, then,” Jean said.

  “Hell, no! I got some supervisor on the phone—who was it, Linda?”

  “A Mr. Skelton.”

  “Yes, Skelton, that’s right. His story was that his crew thought it was a county-maintained road. That was nonsense and I told him so. I finally had to talk to Hayward Lyons. He assured me the people responsible would be disciplined.”

  “Commissioner Lyons told you that?”

  “Well, he wasn’t a commissioner at the time. He was still the head of public works. But he said it was a misunderstanding and he’d take care of it.”

  Well, it got taken care of, Jean thought. Skelton got early retirement and an all-expense-paid trip to Puerto Rico and Fred Lambert got fired—and then murdered. Was Lyons the one behind this? Or had he been told what to do by whoever was really responsible?

  At least one thing was clear to her: Lou Hawkins was telling the truth. The indignation was still in his voice and on his face and Jean believed every word he was saying. She said, “Did you tell Lea about this?”

  Linda interjected, “We didn’t want to bother Lea. Lou didn’t tell her for months and when he did, she was none too happy about it either. But it was over by then.”

  Apparently not. But Jean was convinced by his fierce reaction, and so relieved that Lea and her family were innocent of wrongdoing that she could barely keep track of the rest of the conversation.

  Lea came into the room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Everything’s squared away, Mom. What are we talking about in here?”

  “Nothing interesting,” Jean answered. Her voice sounded so bright that Lea gave her an inquiring look. She switched the subject by turning to Lou and saying, “So tell me all about paint horses. How do you get the colors you want in the animal?”

  Lou Hawkins happily delivered a long discussion of American quarter horses, Thoroughbreds and the difference between paint horses and pintos. By the time he finally wound down, Linda was openly yawning.

  “Time for the old folks to go to bed,” Linda said. “Come on, Lou.”

  “I suppose my bedtime is doctor’s orders too,” he grumbled, but he got to his feet. He took Jean’s hand in both of his big rough ones and said, “Don’t pay us any mind. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Anyone who survives two meals in the Hawkins household is officially family.”

  After they had gone, Lea said, “Are you all right? You’ve been jumpy all evening.”

  Jean, aware that Loren and Rita could return to the house at any moment, responded, “How would you feel about sitting out on the porch for a spell?”

  That got her the wry grin from Lea. “I don’t know how long a ‘spell’ is, but I’m happy to have a chat on the porch.”

  They settled onto the bench in front of the house. The dogs appeared from wherever they’d been to join them, lying happily within reach in case some friendly human felt inclined to pet them.

  The faint breeze was warm and carried the sweet and spicy scents of sage and juniper to Jean’s nose. Night air caressed her skin, the perfect warm temperature to relax her. There were no sounds of traffic here, no city lights to blind them. The night sky was velvet black, with a generous jeweler’s display of diamond stars strewn carelessly across it. Jean could feel herself relax, the cold knot of fear that had tied her down for days finally easing.

  Lea said quietly, “Will you explain something to me?”

  “If I can.”

  “First I think you might be attracted to me and then you tell me you don’t want a relationship, that you can’t be with anyone. Yet you seem to still be interested in me. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what to do. Do you want me to leave you alone? Try to be your friend? Convince you that I care about you and that I still want more? Tell me what’s going on with you, Jean.”

  Jean sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Yes,” Lea said dryly. “I figured out that much for myself.”

  “It has to do with Todd Moorman’s murder, my friend Maryke and my mother.”

  Lea settled back and propped her boots on the porch railing. “I think I’d better get comfortable. Sounds like this could take a while.”

  Jean started from her trip to Dallas to see her mother to her conversation with Maryke to her return and the news about Todd.

  “I was ready to call you and invite you out to tell you I’d changed my mind about dating,” Jean admitted. “But then I read Lambert’s deposition, trying to find a reason Todd might have been killed. And that’s when I discovered…” Her voice trailed off. How exactly was she going to tell Lea she believed her father was crooked?

  “Just say whatever it is,” Lea said.

  A single coyote howled somewhere in the foothills far away. The sound of loneliness.

  Jean explained about the deposition and what Lambert had said. Halfway through the story, Lea took her boots off the railing and planted her feet on the wooden planks of the porch. Jean finished by saying, “I still don’t know what happened, but your father was so upset, even after all this time, that it’s clear to me that he had no idea about the county grading his roads.”

  Lea was quiet for a long time. Jean wondered what she was feeling.

  “I knew it wasn’t a mistake,” Lea said at last. “Dad was angry that someone would think he’d exercised his influence to use county equipment for his private benefit, but he always thought it was just some mix-up. Now I know it wasn’t an error—either someone was trying to do him a favor they could collect on later or maybe they were trying to get some i
nfluence over him.”

  “Extortion, you mean?” Jean hadn’t thought of that.

  “Maybe.” Lea shrugged. “Whatever the reason, I have to think it’s connected to Lambert’s murder. My investigators are convinced that Crabtree, our Joya burglar, had nothing to do with Lambert’s death. And I’m still convinced that Lambert’s murder is connected to Moorman’s death as well.”

  “Your father said he talked to Hayward Lyons,” Jean said. “You think he was responsible?”

  “I don’t know. He was probably just following orders from someone else, since he was just a county department head at the time.”

  “So the question remains: who was responsible?”

  Lea exhaled a long breath. “I have a bad feeling that whoever it is, he—or she—is a very highly placed county official.”

  It was a disturbing thought, one Jean had already had. Probably only an elected official would have the power to manipulate the county resources or issue orders to Hayward Lyons. “How are we going to figure this out? I’ve been through Todd’s office but I can’t find anything that indicates what his research might have turned up. Other than the deposition of Fred Lambert, of course.”

  Lea looked thoughtful. “I’ll run some background checks, see if I can turn up anything personal or financial in anyone’s background that might be a motive. Maybe I can find something on Lyons that we can use to pressure him to tell us what he knows. Assuming he knows anything.”

  “How many elected officials are there? That could take a while.”

  “Yep. I’ll try to prioritize.” She gave her typical half smile. “I imagine I can leave the investigation on the sheriff for last.”

  “Good thinking.” Jean grinned back. “If I can do anything else, let me know.”

  “You’ve done quite a bit,” Lea responded. “And I’ll remind you that we’ve had this discussion before. I don’t want you doing anything remotely dangerous. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Jean agreed. “I’m not interested in putting myself in the line of fire. I’ll leave that to professionals. People who carry guns.”

  “Don’t forget it,” Lea said emphatically. “Now, how about we talk about something else?”