I give him an indifferent shrug. “Fine by me, I’ve had dirty fingers before.”
He returns to his car, gives a few instructions over the radio, then opens the trunk. Portable print kit in hand, he ambles back.
He places the kit on the fender, then moves behind me. His signature scent, magnified by the heat, a redolent perfume.
His hand guides mine and we lean forward together as he slowly rolls each of my fingers in the ink, then onto the paper. It’s almost a ballet. The two of us bending and swaying in the warm afternoon. Neither of us seems to breathe, or is it that we’re in unison? I give in and lose myself in the moment. Delicious. Delicious.
After that, we draw apart to sip in silence.
He leans close. “Are you representing Paul?” “I told you I wasn’t. I don’t lie.”
“I didn’t say you were, it’s just that what I’m about to tell you is confidential. Something you need to know for your own protection.”
“Protection?”
“Not in the physical sense, but I’d hate to see you take Paul’s case on without having all the facts.”
“I have no intention of defending Paul. I’m not that experienced in trial work, much less a homicide.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He raises a cautionary finger. “But, this is for your ears only. Okay?”
He waits until I nod. “Paul is about to lose the oil property. Seems the Carpenters never had any legal claim and there were never any overlapping boundaries. If anything, it was an oversight on the Dardens’ part. No taxes were paid for thirty or so years. Paul’s father must have found out, planted a few rusty stakes, made the claim, then paid up. Slick as a whistle.”
My first thought is for Susie and those five children. If this is the truth, she and Del will never have another care. But, then I can’t help but feel sorry for Paul. His silver spoon is about to be yanked for good. “How do you know?”
“Reena was snooping around the courthouse last summer. Said she was doing some historical research on the ranch. I think she found out about the bogus claim, then probably told Del because he’s been down there on a regular basis since then.”
“Del knows about this?”
“It’s public record. All you have to do is spend a little time tracing back through liens and deeds. Guess his dad didn’t have the interest or the know-how.”
It’s then that the harsh words Paul and Del exchanged during my visit to Anacacho in January flash through my mind.
Del’s loaded, Give me the income from one well and I’ll tell my lawyer to drop the suit. And Paul’s angry retort, You keep that lawyer talk up and you’ll see what trouble is.
I remember Reena’s desperation over the pending divorce. She would have used anything, done anything, to preserve her lifestyle. Was that why she went after Del?
“So you think Reena confronted Paul with the news and he killed her to keep it quiet?”
“People have killed for less.” A hint of a smile plays on his face. “Now, I have a few questions for you.”
I freeze and wait, mind speeding through the mazes of my past. What could I possibly know that would help the sheriff?
“I’ll start with the easy one. Why are you here?” “Susie and Paul asked me to come.”
“I can see why Susie might want you here, since you were so close, but why Paul?”
“We go back a long way. We dated some in college.” “How ‘some’? A fun fling? Or more serious stuff?” “Pretty serious.”
“And?”
“You must have heard how Reena dumped Del for Paul? How Del and I ended up on the outside looking in?”
His hands open in supplication and I can’t help but see the hint of amusement. “Don’t shoot. I’m a friend.”
“Sorry, but you’re the second person this afternoon who’s opened old wounds.”
His regret seems genuine. “I wasn’t in town back then. I was in the east; prep, then college and finally the military.”
Eastern education? Why would he come to this small Texas town and run for sheriff?
“So what’s with Paul now?”
Earth to Allie. The sheriff isn’t asking these questions for the record. It’s purely personal and I’m surprised to discover I want him to be personal.
“He was kind enough to send his jet for me. In case you don’t know, I’m staying at the motel over on Highway Ninety.” He smiles. “Oh, I know.”
I look away from those startling blues, then attack. “Paul didn’t kill Reena and you know it.”
“And just how did you come to that conclusion, Counselor?” He’s mocking me, but I ignore it. “I can assure you Paul wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill his wife at his favorite hideaway.”
He doesn’t miss a trick. “You were up there before this morning?”
“Yes, when I visited Reena in January.”
“But, I understood you to say she didn’t ride.”
I swallow and nod. “That’s right. I went with Paul.”
Cotton studies me hard for a minute. To my surprise, I’m the one who breaks eye contact. Damn those eyes. I feel them on me as he drains the rest of his soda and crunches the can in his hand.
We stand in silence while I strain, hoping to hear a motor, hoping for a passing car to distract him from the bare implication. But there’s no other sound except insect whine and an occasional cow low in the distance.
I check my watch. “If that’s all, I better be going.”
His voice cuts to authority-mode. “Fine. I’ll follow. I’m sure Paul will want to cooperate.”
I remember my curiosity about the trough. “I guess your men searched the trough?”
He studies me for a few seconds before he drawls, “Yeah. Sure. Why do you ask?”
“Wouldn’t that be a good place to stash a weapon or for that matter almost anything else a person could carry?”
He throws back his head and laughs. “You know better than that. No one in his right mind would stash the murder weapon that close to the crime scene. Besides, we’re not looking for a gun.”
I start at that. How did I get the idea Reena was shot? I feel his stare and give an innocent shrug. “Guess they must not have found anything.”
“Guess not.” He puts me in Reena’s car, then leans in the window. “Don’t drive too fast; I’d hate to give you a ticket.”
It’s all I can do not to reach out and touch him once more, needing to feel that electricity flow between us. There’s something in his face that draws me to him, makes me want to know everything about him.
Chapter 11
I START TO PULL ONTO the long circular drive leading to the house, when I notice Paul’s black Mercedes 600 parked at the stables.
I motion for the sheriff to pull alongside. “Paul must be at the barns. His ranch office is there.”
He nods and follows me down the road toward the compound of ranch service buildings.
Together we search the office, then the stalls to find one empty. Paul’s horse is missing.
“I guess he’s gone for a ride.” “In this heat?”
I have to agree. What would draw Paul away from the ranch on horseback during the hottest part of the afternoon? The scene that morning at the watering trough replays and I remember Paul’s reaction to my arm immersed in the cloudy water. There was something definitely strange about that. And then there was the sheriff ’s look when I asked if his men had searched the trough. Maybe he was covering a mistake. Is he thinking the same thing?
He gives me a courteous nod. “Well, no point in wasting time here, is there? I’ll come back for the car later.” His words hang in the air a bit too long.
Deciding to let the matter drop—on my end at least, I smile. “I’ll tell Paul to expect you.”
He gives me a long, probing look, then a half-salute. “Catch you later?”
I wait until the patrol car disappears, then return to the stables and wander past the padlocked tack room filled with elegant hand-tooled sad
dles Paul collected through the years.
During my last visit Reena had dragged me to the stables to show off the horses and Paul’s “loot,” as she put it.
Though Reena bragged she had access to most of the ranch, I can’t forget how curious she was about what Paul kept in the tall safe behind his desk. The new addition, she said, appeared out of the blue in the back of a canvas-covered truck a few days before Christmas. She then showed me a notebook filled with every combination she had already tried.
The ranch office is empty. The drone of the air conditioner lures me inside and to the pillow-strewn leather couch shoved beneath a window at the far end of the room. The refrigerated air and the darkness offer a welcome respite from the mid-afternoon heat.
Lulled by the hum of the compressor, I replay the afternoon. Susie, so sad and despairing over Del. Sheriff Cotton, so full of questions, but who also delivered some interesting information about Paul. And Reena’s car, no longer at my disposal. And still, the unanswered question: How did that car get back to Anacacho?
The sound of hooves on cement brings me to in time to see Paul dismount and pull a large package from in front of the pommel. It must be heavy because he strains to carry it with one arm while jockeying his lathered horse with the other. After a brief struggle, he drops the package at the tack room door and tethers his horse nearby. He looks both ways before working on the combination lock. When it springs free, he hauls the bag into the darkness, shuts the door, and locks it.
Miguel appears and hands Paul an envelope, which he rips, hurriedly reads, then jams in his pocket. Whatever is in that letter is causing a lot of hand-waving by Paul and solemn head-shaking by a silent Miguel.
I wait until Miguel disappears before sticking my head into the suffocating afternoon sauna. “Hi.”
Paul whirls toward me. The look on his face is not a pleasant one, nor is the tone of his voice. “What are you doing in my office?”
My antennae engage. No point in revealing what I know. “Waiting for you. It was cool in here, so I took a short snooze. I can’t believe you took your horse out in this heat.”
Before Paul can answer, a phone rings, then Miguel sticks his head out of a door at the far end of the stable. “Señor?”
“Later.” Paul nods to Miguel, who nods back then vanishes. When Paul turns back, his face bears that old familiar smile. “I’ll take the call after I’ve washed up. It’s much too hot down here.” He searches my face, then says, “You’ll join me in the tower for dinner?”
I hesitate, knowing there’s that unasked question in his invitation.
He must read me because the famous smile radiates again. “Just dinner, I promise.”
He motions me to join him in his car, opens the passenger door, and bows.
I slide in, wait until he shuts his door, then give him the news. “The sheriff wants to take Reena’s car.”
Paul stares ahead, a definite set to his jaw. “How do you know?”
“When I was coming down the Dardens’ drive he was parked at the entrance, waiting. We had a nice, long chat.”
He shakes his head and moves the car slowly down the gravel road toward the house.
We’re at the front door, but the motor’s still running and Paul’s made no move to get out.
“Cotton wondered what I was doing with Reena’s car, since you told him she left the ranch in it.” I rush to add, “And frankly, I was wondering, too.”
“But she did leave in that car.” He bangs his fist on the steering wheel. “This noose around my neck is getting tighter by the minute. Everything points to me. Everything. But I didn’t kill Reena. I swear.”
“Where did you find the car?” “In the garage.”
“I didn’t know there was a garage.”
“It’s that long, low, steel building between the stables and the barns. We store the farm equipment there—a tractor with a posthole attachment, a small back hoe, an ATV for running the fences, and there’s a place for our cars, but we seldom use the garage because it never rains.”
“What made you look there?”
“When they found Reena’s body, I realized she had to get back here somehow. So, I waited until the law left and the servants turned in, then I took a flashlight and there it was. All bright and shiny, with a full tank.”
“Oh, Paul, you should have told the sheriff the minute you found the car. There might have been fingerprints.”
“Fat chance of that.” He slumped forward on the wheel. “Face it. I’m being set up. I might as well find Bill Cotton and turn myself in.”
I can’t disagree. Everything seems just a little too pat. “Don’t be too hasty about turning yourself in. There’s no hard evidence as far as we know.” I think a minute, then say, “I guess the question comes down to, who hates you so much that they would kill your wife, then fix it so you’ll hang for it?”
Paul winces at my words, then gives me a thin smile. “No nooses for years and they cashed in Ol’ Sparky for the needle a while ago.” He shudders and rubs his arm. “Oh, God. I hate needles.”
I’m now driving the Anacacho station wagon. Miguel has been demoted to driving a ranch pickup.
The motel room is still stuffy despite the open windows, so I slam them shut and turn on the air conditioner. It rumbles into action, the noise promising more than the pale emission the machine produces, but it’s still cooler than nature’s best.
After collapsing into the creaking armchair, I check my cell for messages. Only one from Del asking that I call him as soon as possible.
I grab the phone and punch.
Del answers on the second ring and yells hello over the blaring television.
“Hi Del, it’s Allie.”
“Just a minute.” He’s all business. I hear the noise fade and a door slam before he mumbles, “I have to speak to you a.s.a.p.”
“What about the diner across from the motel?” “Twenty minutes.”
I’m halfway through my first cup of coffee when I see Del’s truck roll up and the headlights flicker and die. He waves to me, says something to the cashier, then eases into the booth. “Thanks for seeing me.”
After the waitress sets his beer on the table and refills my cup, I lean forward. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing but listen.” He chugalugs half the longneck and bends closer. “I didn’t want to get into this, but I thought you might want to know something. Paul took out an insurance policy on Reena for a million dollars.”
There goes another hitch in the noose around Paul’s neck. “When did this happen?”
“Right after you came to visit last January.” “How do you know?”
He looks away. “Reena. She told me Paul made her go for a physical. Said she wasn’t looking too good. You can imagine how she felt when Doc mentioned the reason for the exam.”
His sheepish look says it all.
“Oh, Del, don’t tell me it’s true?”
He glances at the cashier, who’s leafing through a magazine, then turns back. “It was over last summer, except for a few times in February. Reena was scared Paul was going to have her killed.” “And so you just ambled over and offered your... your... support?”
He winces, then rushes to dig his hole deeper. “I never intended to let things get that far, but when Susie’s nursing, she’s not real romantic.”
“Oh, well, that excuses everything.”
“No, no. But I’m only human. And Reena... you know how persuasive she could be.”
That’s the last straw. I shoot back. “Susie Baxter is one hundred times the woman...” I see the cashier come to attention and lower my voice, “... Reena Carpenter ever was.”
Del’s face reddens. “Don’t you think I know that?”
I snort. “If you recall, it was Susie who saved your life after Reena dumped you. How could you cheat on her like that?”
He looks up, face filled with misery. “You gotta know I would never leave Susie. I love her.”
I pat
his hand. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, make it up to her, will you?”
His large paw covers mine and he gives me a broad grin. “You don’t know how close I am to doing that very thing.”
The worst is over. I’ve chastised, Del’s apologized. It’s time to get back to the subject at hand. “So, you think Paul killed Reena? And he did it for a million-dollar policy?”
“I’m just passing on information.”
“That’s a piece of pretty damaging evidence. But, I don’t think Paul would be stupid enough to kill his wife at his retreat. Besides, Reena couldn’t ride. She told me she was scared of horses.”
Del’s mouth falls open. “She told you she couldn’t ride? When?”
“Last January.”
“She sure had you buffaloed. Where do you think we were meeting? It damn sure wasn’t in her bedroom.”
So that’s how Reena knew. She and Del were using Paul’s hide-away for their own secret rendezvous.
“Did Paul know Reena could ride?”
“I’m not sure, but Miguel knew. He was the one who taught her. Reena told him she wanted to learn as a surprise for Paul.”
“And Miguel bought it?”
Del sighs. “Miguel’s a man, Allie. Reena could charm the birds out of the trees if they were males.”
What if Paul somehow discovered what was going on between Reena and Del? Maybe he followed Reena to the lean-to. Saw them together. Waited until Del left and...? No. Not there. That place means too much to Paul.
“Paul tells me Reena slept around a lot. Were you aware of that?”
Del pulls his gaze from mine to stare out the window. When he speaks, his voice is low. “Okay, dammit. I knew there were others. Lots of ’em. I even ran into Reena and one of Paul’s shooting buddies at the Saint Anthony Hotel in San Antonio. “But for some reason, it didn’t matter when we were together. Reena made me feel like I was the only one.”
I think back to Del’s desolation. How he wanted to die when Reena dumped him to run off with Paul. What did she possess that made her so irresistible? What was it that made Del want to come back for more?
Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery Page 7