Christmas Witness

by Aimée Thurlo

  “Is something wrong, Martin?” Jake asked. “Do you need a painkiller?”

  “No.” Martin shrugged. “I was just thinking. This incident has given me a mortality check. I won’t live forever, and before anything else happens, there’s something you and Nick need to know. You, too,” he said, looking at Annie. “It’s important.”

  It was his tone that scared Annie the most. She had a feeling Jake wasn’t going to like whatever Martin had to say, and neither was she. Every instinct she possessed assured her of that.

  AN HOUR LATER Jake led Martin into the den. Nick took a seat on the sofa and Annie took the chair.

  “It’s time for you brothers to learn what happened between Saya and Paul.” Martin paused, then, gathering his thoughts, continued. “I’ve never repeated this story because it was told to me in confidence, but it’s your right to know. Maybe it’ll eventually help you understand the turmoil your father went through and why things fell apart in your family.” Martin took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m the only one, except maybe your uncle Thomas, who knows why Paul destroyed Saya’s studio that night so many years ago.”

  Jake leaned forward. “Tell us what happened. I know that night changed everything between them.”

  “Paul discovered that Saya was leaving the ranch twice a week to meet with her art teacher, a Pueblo man who was a renowned artist but also had quite a reputation as a womanizer. Paul didn’t want Saya anywhere near him, but she refused to stop attending her classes. In a rage, Paul decided to pay the teacher a visit, determined to teach him a lesson about staying away from other men’s wives. But Saya guessed where Paul was going, and, afraid of what he might do, called her teacher and warned him. The man grabbed whatever he could carry and took off before Paul could find him. He ended up in Arizona, I heard.”

  “At least Paul didn’t hurt the man,” Annie said with a sigh of relief.

  “Paul hurt himself most of all that night, destroying the trust in his marriage,” Martin answered. “When he returned to Saya’s studio in the bunkhouse, he was still angry. Saya held her ground, insisting she’d done nothing wrong. She told Paul that she’d guessed where he was headed and warned her teacher, fearing for all of them. If Paul had found and hurt the man, he could have ended up in jail. But Paul wouldn’t let the matter drop. Saya refused to argue, and kept painting instead, ignoring him. Finally, Paul exploded. He trashed the studio, ruining months of her work.”

  Martin paused and exhaled softly. “It was all such a waste. After that night, Saya quit painting, though she kept sketching because it was easy to hide her drawings. She never spoke to your father again, either, except when absolutely necessary or around you and your brother.”

  “It almost sounds as if you were there that night,” Nick said.

  “I wish I had been. Maybe I could have reasoned with Paul. Your father told me everything the day Saya died, including Saya’s last words to him, denying that she’d ever been unfaithful.”

  Jake remembered the sketchbook and deposit slip they’d found from his mother’s account Perhaps it had been more than just a nest egg. “Do you think she considered leaving him at one time?”

  “I’m sure she must have thought about it, but, deep down, she knew she’d never leave Paul. The fact was, she loved your father deeply and, no matter how much he hurt her, that never changed.”

  Silence descended over them. Finally, Annie spoke. “You look exhausted, Martin. You really should get some rest.”

  Martin stood. “Can you drive me home, Nick?”

  “Sure, let’s go.”

  When, at last, Martin left accompanied by Nick, Jake walked into his father’s study. As his gaze took in the damaged desk, he remembered the many times he’d seen his father seated there, grumbling as always about the high price of hay.

  Recalling the story that his father had routinely given away hay to the other farmers in the pueblo, he began to question how well he’d really known his father, or his mother for that matter. Perhaps if he had that mysterious diary, he’d find out the truth about them once and for all.

  Annie came up behind him a moment later. “This house has seen too much unhappiness.”

  “Yes, it has. But there were good times here too, once. After my father’s killer pays for what he’s done, maybe we can all look to the future and finally put the past to rest.”

  “When you restore this place, Jake, it’ll mark a new beginning for Black Raven Ranch because you’re its future.”

  He watched her as she walked out, then added, “As are you, Annie.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jake spent the following morning helping the ranch hands and working alongside Nick. With Martin unable to assist and, instead, keeping an eye on the house, nothing seemed to go quite as smoothly.

  By the time Jake was ready to take his lunch break, Annie was packing her finished carvings into boxes she’d acquired in the kitchen. She’d been up since dawn.

  “Looks like you’ve been hard at work,” Jake commented.

  “But I’m finished—finally!”

  Hearing a knock at the front door, she stopped. “Don’t get up, Jake. Eat your lunch. I’ll go answer that.”

  Annie returned a minute later. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but Iris, your dad’s former housekeeper, has dropped by. She’s insisting that there’s a white wolf fetish somewhere in the house that belongs to her, and she wants permission to search for it.”

  Without waiting for an invitation, Iris entered. “I don’t want to bother anyone, but Paul gave me that hand-carved fetish as a gift. I had it here while I was working for him, but forgot to take it when I quit. Now I’d like it back.”

  Jake glared at her, annoyed at the intrusion. “If it was something you treasured, why didn’t you take it with you when you left his employ?”

  “I didn’t remember where I’d put it, and I figured I could come back later anyway. But I lost track of time. Then, with everything that’s happened lately...” She shrugged. “Anyway, it’s mine, and I’d like to have it back.”

  Jake looked at her pensively. The woman was as nervous as a cat in a rainstorm, leading him to believe she was interested in more than the fetish. He wondered if perhaps she, too, was after the diary. The existence of the diary was, thanks to his uncle Thomas, common knowledge. What people didn’t know was that someone else already had it—the blackmailer.

  Or maybe Iris had heard about the hidden evidence, and wanted a chance to try her luck at finding it. Of course, there was also the slim possibility she was actually telling the truth.

  “I have no desire to keep what’s yours,” Jake told her. “If you’ll leave a detailed description of the fetish with Patrick Kelly, our attorney, Annie and I will do our best to find the piece for you.”

  Iris’s expression changed from confidence to confusion, then abruptly to anger. She turned her head and glared at Annie. “It’s always you in my way, isn’t it? Your innocent face hides more than any of the Black Ravens realize. It was your fault Paul fired me, don’t think I don’t know that. You wanted him for yourself, so you undermined my position here and forced him to choose you. Now you’ve got your sights set on Jake.”

  “What?” Annie stared at her in shock. “You can’t honestly believe that.”

  “Paul was going to be mine, but you wanted him, too, and you’re young and pretty. You did everything in your power to become part of his life. Everyone in the pueblo knows it.” She looked back at Jake. “You need to open your eyes before she twists you around her finger like she did your father.”

  “That’s enough,” Jake snapped, his voice all stone and ice. “I won’t have you making wild accusations like that in this house.”

  Iris faced Annie. “I promise you one thing—you won’t win at your game. You’ll never find happiness here at our pueblo or in this house.” With one last glance at Jake, Iris rushed past Annie and left the house, cursing the entire length of the hall.

  “Don’t
let her get to you,” Jake said, going to Annie’s side. “She’s obviously upset, and was talking nonsense.”

  “Maybe so,” Annie said, “but the hatred in her voice was very real. I wonder how many others share her opinion of me.”

  “None who matter,” Jake said gently. He tried to pull her into his arms, but she pulled away.

  “No, Jake,” she said firmly. “I have to take my carvings to the gallery in Santa Fe today. There are a few people interested in them already, according to the owner. I’m hoping it’ll turn into a bidding situation. I’ll get a better price that way.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got to get going. I’m already late.” -

  “How about letting me drive, then take you out to lunch later in Santa Fe? I have to go up to meet with Patrick Kelly.”

  “All right. I feel a little uncomfortable driving alone so close to term.”

  “It’s a wise precaution. Let me get your coat,” Jake offered.

  Five minutes later they were on their way. The roads were clear and dry, although there were patches of snow in the shady spots beside the highway.

  Annie looked back at the box holding her immediate economic future. “I sure hope someone will appreciate all the work I’ve put into these carvings.”

  “They will. I’ve seen your carvings, Annie. You’re very talented. Why don’t you let me help you give your work the attention it deserves?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I could place ads promoting your work in the local and Albuquerque papers. It’ll give you the kind of exposure you need.”

  “Ads are expensive. It’s not just space in the paper—you have to hire someone to do the layout.” She shook her head. “I’ve thought of doing that myself, but the fact is, I can’t afford it.”

  “That’s why I was offering to foot the bill. Think of it as an early Christmas present.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Why? It’s not that big a deal. I’m just glad to be in a position to give you a gift you can really use.”

  “You don’t understand.” She paused for several moments, trying to find the right words. “I’ve had to work so hard to make it this far in my career. I want to go the rest of the way on my own. I’ve paid my dues. I spent hours studying, sketching designs, trying to create a pattern or image with a sharp knife, a piece of wood, and my imagination. To come this far alone, and then achieve success because of what someone else bought for me at a crucial time, would take away from everything I’ve managed to accomplish by myself.”

  Jake nodded slowly. He, better than most people could have, understood her need to prove herself. He’d felt the same way about his construction company.

  Thirty minutes later Jake watched as Annie entered the well-known art gallery near the plaza. He’d offered to advertise her work for purely selfish reasons. His feelings for Annie were strong and it was clear to him now that what they really lacked was a bond to bridge the things that separated them. He’d thought that if he could become part of the world of art she loved, if he could help her in some small way, it would have been a first step. But he should have known Annie’s pride would never allow it.

  As he pulled back out into the street, he had to acknowledge the inescapable similarities between his parents’ situation and his own with Annie. What was worse, in a lot of ways the past was repeating itself, and that was one thing he could not allow to happen.

  JAKE LEFT Patrick Kelly’s office later than he’d expected. As he walked west toward the plaza, he noticed Annie strolling the sidewalk on the north side of Saint Francis Cathedral. He doubled his pace, wanting to catch up to her, but as he drew closer, he noticed someone tailing her.

  Jake struggled to make out the man’s face, but the stranger was wearing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat that hid his features, and his thick winter coat all but obscured his build.

  Determined to catch and question the man, Jake cut through a small courtyard that led to several connected shops and restaurants. Hurrying through a clothing shop, he dashed down a small interior stairwell, and came out behind Annie, on the other side of a waist-high wall. He ducked down, pretending to tie his shoelace, careful to hide his face.

  As the man started to pass Jake, his gaze focused on Annie, Jake straightened suddenly and grabbed him by the arm.

  Jake stared at the very familiar face of his uncle Thomas. “Why are you following Annie?” he demanded.

  “Because, like your father, you’re blind when it comes to this young woman. Someone has to find out where she fits into everything that’s happened.”

  Annie came rushing up, having heard and recognized the loud voices. “What on earth is going on?”

  “My uncle decided to follow you,” Jake said, never taking his eyes off Thomas.

  “Listen, Jake. Annie Sandusky is the only outsider at the ranch. She and Paul were close friends, and he must have confided in her. If anyone knows or can guess where Paul hid the evidence that points to the killer, Annie can. I’m willing to bet that Saya’s diary is in the same hiding place, too. I was hoping that she’d eventually lead me to it.”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re mostly interested in the diary, not who killed my father. That’s what’s been bugging me about you, Uncle Thomas. What exactly does this diary contain that makes it so important to you? There’s more to it than you’ve let on. And tell me straight. I’m running out of patience.”

  Thomas started to protest but then recanted. “All right. The plain truth is, Saya was very easy to talk to. People always trusted and confided in her, so she knew everyone’s secrets. Her diary, depending on what she chose to write in it, could prove damaging to many in this community.”

  “I’m not interested in other people’s family secrets,” Jake said, “only in ours.”

  “If you do find the diary, what will you do with it? Will you read it?”

  “I’ll let you know if and when that day comes.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Thomas said.

  After he left, Jake took Annie to his favorite restaurant on San Francisco Street, but neither of them could concentrate on the food. Their minds were on the case.

  “I keep thinking that I’m missing a vital piece of the puzzle,” Jake said, picking at a beef enchilada with his fork.

  “Your father was a highly intelligent man. We know he had a fondness for hiding places, but he would have been far more careful after Saya’s diary was stolen from the cubbyhole in his bedroom. What if he hid the evidence in plain sight? It could be something we’ve seen a hundred times and never realized it.”

  “I think my father would have really enjoyed that—fooling his enemies with such a simple strategy.”

  BY THE TIME they arrived back at the ranch, Jake felt as taut as a bowstring. Hurrying up the walk to the front door beside him, Annie matched his pace.

  The tension between them was palpable as they entered the study. “Okay, any suggestions where we should start our new search?” Jake asked.

  “His desk. He would have wanted whatever he considered important close to him,” Annie replied.

  “Right,” Jake acknowledged.

  Three minutes later they were still staring at the massive desk, now blackened on one side by the fire. The items originally on or in the desk were still there, mostly in boxes now, though some had suffered from the flames or the attempt to extinguish them.

  Annie located and opened the daily calendar, the appointment book, and the notebook-sized business checkbook.

  Jake studied the correspondence from the In and Out baskets. He even checked the telephone itself, which was sitting on the floor, now working again after the melted cord had been replaced.

  Standing to his right, Annie flipped through the circular Rolodex card file, which had escaped both fire and water.

  “There’s nothing here,” Jake said at last. “Maybe we should concentrate on another room. I’ve searched everything else in the study while
I was cleaning up and repairing the wall.”

  She continued flipping through the Rolodex file, checking card by card. “There sure are a lot of cards in the section for last names starting with XYZ. I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of even one person around here with a last name beginning with one of those letters.”

  Jake took one of the cards out of the ring. “What kind of name is ‘X-1’?”

  As he held up the card, Annie leaned forward, studying the other side. “Turn it around. There’s a bunch of stuff written on the back.” She checked the other cards in the file. “There’s something on the back of a lot of them, especially in the XYZ section.”

  “They look like accounts,” Jake said, reading the information carefully.

  “What on earth have we found here?” she mused, more curious than ever.

  “He’s turned the backs of these cards into an accounting ledger of sorts. I guess he wanted to keep this out of the books the accountants would audit.” He studied the entries for a long time. “Look,” he said at last. “The sentence at the top of each card makes no sense unless you take the first letter of each word and put them together. Look at this—‘My Appaloosa Ran Through Interesting Neighborhoods.’”

  “Martin,” Annie said after a moment.

  “Exactly. The two columns below are debits and credits. On the left is the date and amount loaned. On the right, the payments. Martin borrowed twice. You can see from where he paid off the first loan that my father charged no interest.”

  “He must have coded the cards to keep them private, despite their easily accessible location,” Annie said.

  “If you just happened to come across these, they’d almost look as if he’d been figuring out some math problems,” Jake said, pointing to the stray pencil marks on the side.

  As they sat and began to review the entries, Annie glanced at the amount Martin still owed. “That’s quite a substantial amount. It’s got to be equivalent to a year’s salary for him.”