by Sheryl Lynn
Elaine’s tongue felt thick and clumsy. Linda intimidated her. An annoying fact, but true. Linda intimidated a lot of people. She was taller than most men and had big shoulders and large, muscular hands. Though in her fifties, she looked as if she could run people half her age into the ground. Elaine had always suspected her father had admired the woman so much because she was kind of scary.
She searched for something complimentary to say. Linda’s gray hair was skinned back in a clumsy bun. Her muddy-gray suit looked like something a prison matron would wear. “Your nails sure are pretty,” she said, relieved to mean it.
Linda actually blushed and hid her fingertips in her palms.
“Who does them for you?” She displayed her short, unpolished nails. “Mama says professional manicures would do wonders for me. I hate to shell out the money just to break my nails while I’m working.”
“I wear gloves when I’m doing housework or tending the garden.” She shyly opened her hands. “You’re looking well yourself, Elaine. Course, you McClintock girls always do. Speaking of which, I heard Marlee is taking a job with Dr. Colton.”
“Yes, she is.” How, she wondered, would she ever gracefully work in references to those maps? “Doc Colton is making noises about retirement.”
“Don’t you believe it. He’ll work ’til he’s a hundred or until a cow stomps his head. Course he’s about a hundred now.”
The waitress greeted them both by name. Elaine ordered chicken breast sandwiches for them both, a fruit platter to share and hot herb tea. Linda seemed pleased by the royal treatment.
“I hear you’ve taken up with that Buchanan boy again.”
It vaguely annoyed Elaine that everyone over fifty in this town insisted on calling anyone under fifty either boy or girl. It also irritated her to be caught off guard. “Ric? He’s a nice man. We’re good friends.”
“Gotta watch them fine-on-the-eyes fellahs. Both my husbands was real handsome. They were as worthless as three-legged cow ponies.”
Elaine bit her lip to keep from laughing. Ric would die if he learned that Linda Pallo thought him handsome. “I haven’t taken up with him. He and Walt have been doing a lot of work for Mama.”
“Lillian.” Linda sniffed. “I swear, does she think folks don’t see her making moon-eyes at that old man? Woman her age ought to show some dignity.”
Elaine bit her lip again, but this time to stop a sharp comment. Walt and Lillian were good friends, nothing more. Their friendship was nobody’s business except their own.
“That Buchanan boy seems real taken with your daughter, too.”
Reminding herself that she’d known full well how narrow-minded and tactless Linda could be, Elaine kept smiling. Their food arrived. The distraction gave her time to order her thoughts. Steering this chat away from anything personal was her top priority.
“Is the realty really losing business?” she asked.
“Wish I could say no, but the strain is showing.” Linda clucked her tongue while she cut her sandwich into four neat pieces. “For instance, Ole Ingmar got himself the cancer. Prostate. It won’t kill him, but it did get him thinking about that hundred acres he owns. Man has five kids and not a one of them is interested in working land. So Ole decided to sell before he died and the government takes it for the taxes. Did he ask Axton to list it for him? No he did not. Trotted himself down to Durango.” She snorted, a bitter sound. “Ain’t had a single offer yet. Serves that traitor right.”
“What about developing land for houses? There’s good money in that. Axton and Daddy used to talk about it all the time.”
“Pie in the sky blathering. Ain’t nobody wants this place to turn into another Durango. All the good grazing given over to ranchettes and high taxes forcing out the natives. Bad enough the EPA is coming out with new regulations every day and grazing fees are shooting to the moon.”
“Hmm. I thought they were serious. I even saw a plat map. It showed a golf course and everything. Riverfront property.” She bit into the sandwich to keep from saying too much.
Linda chuckled. “Oh, that. The Aspens.”
“You know about it?”
“More pie in the sky. Axton was trying every which way to convince your uncle to sell him two hundred acres down by the river. Del and I had a bet going about how many offers Axton would make before King convinced him that he wouldn’t sell.”
“Oh, so it was all Axton’s project?”
“His big dream. Poor dear. Still talks about it every so often. The day is coming when the building boom will hit this valley. But that day ain’t now.”
So, if her father had known all about the big plans to turn King’s riverfront property into a housing development, then it wasn’t a motive for murder. “I’m surprised. Daddy never turned up his nose at making money.”
Linda laughed out loud. The sound brought the waitress to their table where she topped off their water glasses. She asked if they had a good joke to share.
Only if murder is funny, Elaine thought. After the waitress left them alone, she said, “Well, I feel for Axton. I’d hate to see him have to close up shop.”
“It won’t come to that. ’Sides, that boy is a whiz with investments and such. Might have to pay from his own pocket to keep things going until that fool Tom calms down, but keep going he will.” She speared a piece of pineapple from the fruit plate and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm-mm. Pity fresh pineapple costs so dear. I’d eat it every day if I could afford it.”
Investments, Elaine mused, from principle supplied by insurance payouts.
“Is Tom serious about a lawsuit?” Linda asked.
The worry in her voice, more than the question, made Elaine wary. Linda should worry. Even a whiz with investments could be wiped out by a legal battle. Linda could lose her job. “It’s grief,” Elaine answered. “He can’t get over losing Bobby.”
“Stubborn old so-’n-so.” She jabbed at a slippery piece of pineapple, sending it skittering across the plate. “Your Daddy had himself his share of legal tangles. Fortunate he never actually went to court, but a few times things got ugly.”
Elaine shrugged. “He always said every contract is a lawsuit waiting to happen. Never seemed to bother him.”
“Axton told you Tom hired a private eye.”
“Surely Axton doesn’t have anything to hide. After all, Daddy trusted him, and he was an excellent judge of character. Or was Daddy upset about the, what did you call it? The Aspens?”
Linda jabbed the pineapple so hard the fork rang against the plate. She waved her pale yellow prize. “Del wasn’t a bit upset. Especially considering how your mama would fight tooth and nail to prevent carving up the ranch. Why do you keep bringing it up? Do you know something I don’t?”
Elaine considered how much she dared to say. Her father had trusted Linda implicitly, with every aspect of his business. They’d been friends. “Do you think there is any possibility that Axton had anything to do with what happened at the lodge?”
“No.”
The flat answer took Elaine aback. “Tom’s attorney will dig deep. He’ll take depositions from all the employees. Including you. If there was anything remotely shady going on, the attorney will find out.”
Linda slowly set down the fork. Her expression grew tight and solemn.
Elaine refused to quail under that flinty gaze. She wondered how the woman would react to the news that Daddy hadn’t shot Bobby. Caution kept her quiet. All it would take would be one word from Linda to Axton, and if he owned the murder weapon, it could disappear forever.
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Here’s what I think, Linda. I think Bobby was murdered. If Tom Greene goes ahead with the lawsuit, I’m going to help him anyway I can.”
If Linda had bristles, every single one would be standing on end. “You’d do that to Axton? To your daddy’s realty?”
“I like Axton. But if he had anything to do with what happened at the lodge, he has to pay.” She searched Linda’s angry expr
ession. “I know you loved Daddy. He sure thought the world of you. For his sake, please, if you know anything, tell me.”
“Lawyers make fortunes by making folks miserable. They’ll swarm all over this valley looking at private records and disrupting lives. Not a person living doesn’t have some sort of skeleton in his closet.”
“Is Axton hiding something?”
Linda exhaled, long and heavy. Her broad shoulders relaxed. She called over the waitress and requested a box to take the remainder of the fruit salad home. “Del used to say, lawyers are like mildew. Once they get themselves a toehold, it doesn’t take long before they’re all over everything. Might remind Tom that if he starts a lawsuit, Axton will get himself a lawyer, too. Dirt digging goes both ways.”
The barely veiled threat rattled Elaine. Daddy used to joke that Linda had missed her true calling—she should have been a Mafia don’s enforcer. The joke didn’t seem funny in the least right now. Linda had enough insider knowledge about everyone in the valley to heavily arm Axton if he decided to counter-sue.
“Fine lunch, Elaine. Thank you. But I best get back to the office before Axton starts routing phone calls to China.”
Chapter Eight
On an overcast afternoon, Ric and Elaine met at the Greene ranch. Ric studied signs of neglect around the property. A few shingles littered the yard. A tiller had been left to rust. It was painful to see ruts in the driveway and tools stacked carelessly on the front porch. Tom Greene used to take pride in his property. Even his pickup, which he’d babied into lasting nearly a quarter of a century, looked as if it hadn’t been washed or waxed since Bobby died.
Elaine stared at the century-old house where Bobby had grown up. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” she said. “Tom is pretty mad at us.”
He dropped a hand on her shoulder. “Look at this place. It’s going to pot. He can’t afford a lawsuit. Not financially, not emotionally. He’ll end up losing the ranch.”
“I don’t think he cares anymore. And he’s so paranoid…” Her voice trailed, and she shook her head sadly.
Ric understood what she left unspoken. After Elaine told Tom about her conversation with Linda Pallo, Tom had accused Elaine of conspiring with the enemy. Then he’d blown up at Ric and Walt. The topper was, when Tate explained his reasons for not wanting to force the sheriff’s hand just yet, Tom had accused the deputy of corruption and dereliction of duty.
“Tom should have calmed down by now.” Ric hoped.
Gwen Greene stepped onto the porch. Once, she’d been a pretty woman, slim and dark-haired with big gentle eyes. Every time Ric saw her, she seemed smaller, older, and grayer. She waved at them.
“If he doesn’t hand over the private investigator’s report,” Elaine said. “And if he doesn’t agree to hold off on the lawsuit, then what?”
Ric didn’t want to consider failure. “Let’s assume he’ll be reasonable.”
They walked up to the house.
Ric and Elaine kissed Gwen’s cheek. The front of her housedress and her cheeks were dusted with flour. She smelled of cinnamon. “Using up the last of my peaches,” Gwen said, inviting them inside. “I’ll be bringing cobbler out of the oven in a half hour or so.”
In passing through the parlor, Ric noted the many framed photographs of Bobby and Jodi. Large and small photos perched on tabletops and hung on the walls. His insides clenched. If Jodi’s paternity came to light, the Greenes would be crushed. He supposed he could deny his daughter. Then Jodi could despise him for not only embroiling her in scandal and making her the subject of taunts and gossip, but for shirking responsibility.
Life would have been better all the way around if he’d never returned to McClintock.
Tom was sitting in the kitchen. Without a hat covering his lank hair, the way he was neglecting not only his ranch but himself was clear. Gwen gazed at her husband and sighed.
“How are you doing, Tom?” Elaine asked.
He glowered into a coffee cup.
Ric sat. He leaned so close to Tom that the old man either had to look at Ric or leave the table. He lifted bleary eyes.
“Listen to me,” Ric said. He noted the flicker of heat in Tom’s eyes. He took it as a good sign. “You are not alone in looking for justice. You never have been.”
“You’re all against me. You’re siding with that—”
“I said listen to me.”
Tom snapped his mouth shut. His bushy eyebrows lifted high.
“If you file your lawsuit, Axton Cross will counter-sue. The realty is losing business in good part because of you. An attorney won’t have any problem finding witnesses who’ll testify you’re guilty of slander. As it stands, he has a better chance of winning than you do.”
“I know he killed my boy.”
“No, you don’t. Tate needs time to figure out who did.”
“You got proof there was another shooter. You got bullets.”
“Which mean nothing by themselves. In order to run ballistics tests, Tate has to have the weapons that fired them. Del’s .38 is locked up in the sheriff’s station cellar. We don’t know who owns the .44.”
Gwen timidly cleared her throat. “The kids are right, honey. That report you got is full of questions, but no answers.”
“The insurance angle is suspicious,” Ric said. “But it isn’t proof of anything.”
“My lawyer says I got a case.”
“Even if you do, is that good enough? A civil suit could take years to resolve. And what if Axton isn’t the murderer? You’ll be responsible for ruining an innocent man’s life.”
Tom crossed his arms and hunched into himself. His chin thrust forward at a stubborn angle. “If you’d married this girl, my boy would be alive today.”
Low blow, Ric thought. From the corner of his eye, he caught Elaine’s flinch.
“Tom,” Elaine said. “I want to catch Bobby’s killer. I want him to pay with everything he’s got. I promise you, if any hard evidence turns up against Axton, I’ll join you in a wrongful death suit. I’ll finance it, no matter what it takes.”
For the first time Tom looked more interested than angry.
“But I won’t do it unless I know for sure Axton is guilty. And I will not jeopardize a criminal case. I want the murderer behind bars. Please, cooperate. Give us the investigator’s report. Back off from making threats.”
“I ain’t threatening, I’m promising.”
“You can’t do this on your own,” she said.
Ric echoed the sentiment, then shut up. Elaine and Gwen both seemed to be holding their breath. Finally, Tom rose. He left the kitchen, then soon returned. He slapped a thick envelope on the table before Ric. The investigator’s report.
“Tell Tate he’s got a week. He don’t come up with something, I’m filing the lawsuit.”
At seeing Elaine readying for a protest, Ric warned her with his eyes to keep quiet. Tom was nearly at his breaking point and further arguments might push him over the edge.
Gwen saw them out. Elaine pulled a folded check from her pocket and urged Gwen to take it. Gwen’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to give it back, but Elaine shoved her hands beneath her armpits.
“It’s made out to you,” Elaine said softly. “Buy groceries, pay bills, put it in the church collection plate. It makes no difference to me. I know what Tom is doing to you. Please, take it. A gift from Bobby. Okay?”
Nodding, the woman slipped it into a dress pocket.
Ric kissed Gwen goodbye, then walked Elaine to her Jeep. “That was a nice thing to do,” he said.
“It’s blood money,” she said bitterly. “If I hadn’t been such a coward, Tom wouldn’t be in the state he’s in now. Sometimes I just hate myself.” Her eyes grew moist with tears. “Will we ever prove who did this?”
Unable to resist, he cupped her face in both hands. Her skin was so soft he could barely feel its texture through the calluses on his fingers. “Trust Tate. He knows what he’s doing.” He brushed a tear from the co
rner of her eye. “Are we still on for tomorrow night? I think we can both use a change of scenery.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He’d have kissed her, but standing in Tom Greene’s driveway was not the right place. Reluctantly, he turned her loose.
“RIC!” JODI PUSHED open the screen door. Giggling, her eyes shining, she invited him inside the house. She wore her hair in two long braids. Her delicate ankles showed beneath jeans she was clearly outgrowing. “Flowers, oooh.”
Flustered, he handed her a pink tin box of Almond Roca. Giggling anew, she scampered toward the kitchen. Tonight was the night, he’d determined. He would tell Elaine that he knew about Jodi.
“Mommy isn’t ready yet.” She searched through a cupboard. “Way she’s going, she’s never gonna be ready. She’s changed clothes about a hundred times. Boy, you sure look nice.”
“Thank you.” The collar on the brand new shirt was scratchy and the tie felt too tight. Since Jodi approved, the discomfort was worth it. “You aren’t staying alone, are you?”
She plunked a crystal vase onto the table. “No.” She dragged out the word in dramatic disgust. “Mommy says I have to go to Grandma’s. I’m almost thirteen, old enough to stay alone. Don’t you think so?”
Images of house fires, tornados, freak accidents, mad ax murderers and swarms of killer bees paraded through his mind. “Being alone isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
“Grandma won’t let me watch music videos.”
Good call. “She’ll come up with something fun to do.”
With a harrumph and a snooty expression, she took the bouquet of pink roses. She smelled the flowers. The snootiness disappeared. Like her mother, apparently, she couldn’t resist the sight, texture or scent of flowers. Ric unbuttoned his jacket, and took a seat at the table. He watched her artfully arrange the baby roses in the vase.
“How’s school?”
“Boring. I can’t wait for summer vacation. If you’d buy a horse, we could go riding together.”
“I saw my physical therapist last week. She says as long as I’m not bulldogging or jumping fences, riding won’t hurt. It might even help my balance.”