"That's what he said."
Before Carly could say anything more, Dan's arm tightened around her waist. She glanced at him. A slight negative motion of his head told her that he didn't want to upset Melissa.
Yet.
Carly smiled and said nothing. She agreed with Dan that an amiable Melissa was more useful than an irritated one.
"Come in, come in," Melissa said. "It's cold out there. Sometimes I wonder if winter will ever end."
A voice called from the back of the house.
"It's Dan Duran and Carly May," Melissa called out. "They're here to see Winifred."
Carly and Dan didn't look at each other. They'd clearly asked to see Melissa, too.
"That's my husband, Pete," Melissa explained. "The governor has him working overtime on the books. From what Josh said at Sylvia's wake, there's already considerable interest in the ranch."
Carly saw that Melissa's smile didn't go beyond her lips. Obviously the housekeeper was worried about the future, both for herself and her husband. She had reason to be.
One foot out the door. Whether they liked it or not.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Carly said. "It's sad to end a long tradition."
Melissa nodded tightly.
"I understand your mother and grandmother both worked on the ranch," Carly said.
"Yes."
"Do you have time now to talk about that with me?" Carly said. "Your family has been and is an integral part of the Quintrell family history. Your viewpoint would be invaluable."
Melissa's mouth turned down. "The governor made it very clear that no one was to talk with you about the Quintrell family. I'm sorry."
"So am I," Carly said.
Dan looked at Melissa and asked, "How long does the gag order last? Until the ranch is sold?"
Melissa stiffened. "Governor Quintrell didn't say."
"And he's the one writing your references," Dan said. "Got it." He looked at Carly. "Let's see how Winifred is doing."
"Wait," Melissa said, touching Carly's arm.
Carly looked at the older woman curiously. "Yes?"
"Winifred." Melissa sighed. "She isn't… well."
"We know," Carly said. "We won't stay long."
Melissa's fingers tightened on Carly's arm. "No, you don't understand. I think…" Her voice died. "I think," she whispered, "that Winifred is losing her mind."
"Why?" Dan's voice was rougher than he meant it to be. "What makes you think that?" he asked more gently.
Melissa frowned. "Losing Sylvia, and the pneumonia, and the food poisoning, and the ranch being sold, well, I just think Winifred's losing her grip."
Carly looked at Dan. He was watching Melissa with an intensity that both women found uncomfortable.
"What happened?" Carly asked, patting the ringers that were clamped around her arm.
Slowly Melissa's grip lightened. "She's always hated the Senator, but lately, it's like some kind of obsession. She burns with this wild energy whenever his name comes up. It's crazy. And now she's been talking wild, saying that the ranch is hers, not the governor's, because she's the last living Castillo and the ranch can only be inherited by someone with Castillo blood."
Dan's eyebrows lifted. "What's the basis of her belief?"
"That's just it," Melissa said in a rising voice. "There's no reason at all. It's just crazy. The governor is Sylvia and the Senator's son. He has Castillo blood in him through his mother, but Winifred hates the Senator so much she can't stand to see his son inherit, so she's insisting that the ranch belongs to her." Melissa let out a harsh breath. "I'm afraid she's losing her hold on reality."
Uneasily Carly remembered the times she'd seen Winifred's fervor and wondered about the woman's sanity. Carly glanced at Dan. He was looking past Melissa. His expression said he was thinking hard.
"I'll take you to her," Melissa said with a bright, unhappy smile. "Just don't tire her too much, and don't believe everything she says. Maybe she'll be better in a few days. Here, let me have your coats. Would you like some coffee or tea and cookies?"
"Not for me," Carly said instantly. She wasn't interested in eating or drinking anything at the Quintrell house that she hadn't personally prepared.
"None for me, either," Dan said. He helped Carly out of her coat and shrugged out of his jacket. "We had a late lunch."
Because they knew they wouldn't be eating at the Quintrell ranch if they could avoid it.
Carly and Dan followed their jackets and Melissa's tight butt down the long arcade that led to Winifred's suite.
Melissa tapped lightly on the door. "Winifred? Do you feel up to visitors?"
"Yes."
The single word was hoarse, almost urgent.
Melissa opened the door, then followed Dan and Carly inside. Winifred was in the recliner she liked better than Sylvia's hospital bed. The heavy steel cylinder of an oxygen tank stood by the chair. She adjusted the clear plastic tube so that she could talk more easily.
"Remember to save your strength," Melissa cautioned.
Winifred made a disgusted sound.
With another brittle smile, Melissa left to hang up the coats.
"Have you found any more names?" Winifred asked.
"Do you mean possible children of the Senator's?" Carly asked.
The old woman nodded curtly.
The door to the hallway didn't close after Melissa. Dan noted it and said nothing.
"No new names," Carly said.
Winifred shook her head. "Then why are you here?"
"We hoped to talk to Melissa about her mother and grandmother."
"It didn't take you long," Winifred said.
"The governor issued a gag order," Dan said. "Since he's the one who will be writing recommendations for Melissa and her husband…" Dan shrugged. "How about you, Miss Winifred? Are you under the governor's gag order?"
Her dry laugh ended in a cough. "He wouldn't dare. Why do you care about Melissa's family?"
Without looking away from Winifred, Carly checked that her recorder was on. "Susan Mullins worked for the Quintrell household and had a baby out of wedlock in 1941," Carly said. "The boy, Randal Mullins, had no father listed on the birth certificate."
"The Senator's bastard," Winifred said.
"Are you sure?" Carly asked.
"There wasn't a skirt within reach that he didn't lift. It was a point of honor with him. He even made a grab for me after Sylvia's so-called stroke. I told him I'd poison him if he touched me again. He believed me."
Dan just shook his head. "The man was clinical."
"The man was evil," Winifred said.
Carly tried to head off the savage anger she saw in Winifred's eyes by changing the subject. "When Susan married Doug Smith, they had a daughter, Betty Smith."
"Melissa's mother," Winifred said after a moment. "Beautiful woman, but she was as loose as her mother. I've always wondered if Melissa was the Senator's child."
"Melissa is his granddaughter, not his daughter," Carly said.
Winifred's eyes changed, opaque as stone, black as her thoughts. "The womanizing son of a bitch wouldn't have cared either way."
"What do you say to that, Melissa?" Dan asked, turning toward the partially open door. "Is the Senator your father or grandfather-or both?"
At first there was silence. Then the door to the hallway opened wider and Melissa walked through, their coats still over her arm.
"He might be my grandfather," Melissa said evenly. "My father is Mel Schaffer."
"Might be your grandfather?" Carly asked. "Don't you know?"
Melissa shrugged. "My grandmother wasn't very reliable. She took too many drugs, drank too much. A lot of what she said wasn't true."
"Sounds like my own grandmother," Dan said.
"Liza," Melissa said. "I heard about her."
"A lot of people did," Dan said.
"Whatever," Melissa said, turning to Winifred. "Suggesting that the Senator could be my father is not only sick, it's the kind of wild a
ccusation that will cause you a lot of trouble. The Senator would have laughed it off, but his son won't."
Winifred's eyes narrowed. She didn't say a word.
Melissa's hand went to the older woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I
shouldn't have snapped, but I worry about you. The governor could make life… very difficult."
"I won't be around here long enough to worry about it," Winifred said. "And neither will you."
Melissa's mouth thinned.
Dan said to Winifred, "What do you remember about Randal Mullins?"
"He died in Vietnam."
"Did he have any children?" Though he was asking Winifred, he was looking at Melissa. The way her eyelids flickered told him that she knew the answer.
"Not that I know of," Winifred said. "He never married."
"Turn off the recorder, Carly," Dan said.
She looked at him, then hit the pause button.
He stared at Melissa.
Silence grew.
"Oh, all right," Melissa said finally. "But if you tell the governor I told you, I'll deny it."
"We won't tell Josh Quintrell the time of day," Dan said.
Melissa let out a long breath. "Randy Mullins was my uncle, or half uncle. Whatever." She made an impatient gesture. Her words came out clipped, rapid, like she was getting through something distasteful as fast as she could. "He hated my father, Mel, and started running away when he was eleven. Most of the time Randy went to live with Angus Snead up in the high pastures or in his winter quarters on the ranch. Laurie was the old man's daughter, seven years younger than Randy. Randy spent most of his time with Old Man Snead. Laurie was pretty much raised by her aunt after her mother walked out. Angus Snead pretty much raised Randy."
Carly held her breath and hoped that her recorder had done its usual wake-up trick five seconds after being told to pause. She had a feeling Melissa wasn't going to go through the story twice.
"Anyway, just before Randy shipped out to Nam, he went on a tear-down-the-town drunk. Angus was sick, so Laurie drove down to pick Randy up from jail. About nine months later she gave birth to twins."
"Jim and Blaine Snead," Dan said. "Your cousins. And likely the Senator's grandsons."
"Maybe, maybe not," Melissa said, shrugging. "He never treated them any different from anyone else."
"Including you?" Dan asked.
"I was a woman. Of course he treated me different from the Snead boys. I was real, real careful never to be alone in the house with him when he was at the ranch. Winifred helped a lot." Melissa smiled at the older woman. "She told me to watch out and I did."
Carly's mouth turned down. The more she heard about the Senator, the less she liked him.
"Even after his heart trouble when he was in his seventies?" Dan asked. "Didn't that slow him down? It sure ended his career as a politician."
"He was plenty spry until a few years ago," Winifred said. "But after he turned eighty he wasn't strong enough to wrestle an unwilling woman down to the floor anymore."
"Winifred…" Melissa looked unhappy. "No rape was ever proved. It was whispers, that's all. With a man like the Senator, there was always gossip."
Carly looked at Dan, who shrugged and said, "Just one more thing that didn't make the local paper."
"Do the Sneads know who their grandfather is?" Dan asked.
"Nobody knows" Melissa said, gripping the coats hard against her body.
"Do they think they know?" Carly asked.
"Why?" Melissa said.
"She's curious," Dan said easily, but his eyes were hard, intent.
"Oh, hell, I'm sure someone told them." Melissa hugged the coats to her. "Gossip goes around quicker than truth."
"Is that why the governor is so touchy?" Carly asked Melissa. "He's heard the gossip and doesn't want the truth known?"
"What truth?" Melissa asked impatiently. "There's precious little of it in gossip."
"You know the old saying about smoke and fire," Carly said.
Melissa just shook her head. "The Senator is dead. Let it all die with him. Would it do the Sneads any good to have all the old gossip and lies raked up? They're grown men and don't give a damn who their grandfather might or might not be." She glared at Carly. "Anyway, a wolfer and a felon have no business being in a Quintrell family history."
"Castillo," Winifred said harshly. "This is a Castillo history and the Senator's bastards have no part of it."
"Then why did you want me to-" Carly began, but Winifred talked right over her.
"That's what the-" A spasm of coughing shook Winifred, then another and another.
"You'd better go," Melissa said, looking worried. She shoved the coats at Dan.
He took the coats but made no move to leave. He didn't want to. He had a feeling Winifred was weaker than she wanted people to know.
"Shouldn't you call the doctor?" he asked Melissa.
"He was here today," Melissa said as she replaced the nasal feed on Winifred's oxygen. "There's nothing more he can do except take Winifred to the hospital, and she refuses to go. Unless the governor goes to court and has her declared incompetent to handle her own affairs, there's nothing anyone can do. Besides, if Winifred wants to stay here as long as possible, who are we to interfere?"
Winifred kept coughing. Her face was ruddy from effort.
Carly took her coat from Dan and headed for the hallway. The sound of Winifred's dry, racking cough followed them to the front door. The door opened and then shut behind them, leaving them in the wind-haunted cold of night.
Neither said anything.
Both wondered what Winifred had been trying to tell them.
Chapter 44
CASTILLO RIDGE
FRIDAY NIGHT
THE NIGHTSCOPE MAKES IT EASY. GOOD THING, THE COLD IS TAKING THE FEELING out of my hands, and the wind…
The wind was always a rifleman's enemy.
The sniper watched through the scope as Carly and Dan left the house. They got into his truck, but instead of heading toward the road leading back to Taos, the truck turned toward the outbuildings.
Now what?
The headlights would blow out the nightscope, so the sniper tracked them with binoculars. They drove past the barn and out the pasture road to the graveyard.
Well, damn. I had my spot all picked out and they're going in the other direction.
Cold, stiff, cursing silently, the sniper watched the truck pull up to the Quintrell family graveyard. As soon as the lights went off, he switched back to watching his target through the nightscope mounted on his rifle barrel. It was more for practice than anything else. The graveyard was just under a mile from the main house, but that wasn't the real problem.
The eight-foot-tall wrought-iron fence made shooting really dicey.
The angle wasn't great enough for him to shoot over the fence unless the target stood tall and straight away from the fence instead of bent over grubbing around the gravestones on perimeter, right next to the fence. The gravestones themselves were another shooting hazard Not to mention the trees that had been planted on or near some graves.
The faint sound of voices lifted on the fitful wind. A flashlight turned on below.
The sniper went back to night-vision binoculars.
Finish whatever you came for, get on the road, and circle hack around the other side of the ridge to get to the highway.
He ached with cold. It was time to get it done and move on.
Come on, come on, hurry up. Make it any harder on me and I'll kill both of you.
Chapter 45
QUINTRELL RANCH
FRIDAY NIGHT
CARLY SMACKED HER HANDS TOGETHER. EVEN INSIDE LINED GLOVES, HER FINGERS were getting cold.
"I can't figure out any rhyme or reason for the placement of graves," Dan said.
"Usually, the closer to the founder's grave, the higher the rank," Carly said. "But Liza's grave isn't with her brother's or her sister's."
Dan dusted snow off the last headstone. "Nope
. This one is a memorial stone to a Quintrell who died in the Civil War."
"Really?" Carly came over, took a digital photo, and shoved the camera back in her pocket. "Samuel Quintrell. Wonder if he was a brother or a father or an uncle or-"
"Doesn't matter," Dan cut in. "Winifred only wants-"
"Castillos," Carly finished in disgust.
"Let's try the lower half of the graveyard."
Carly looked toward the section of the graveyard reserved for ranch workers. "Are you saying that some of the employees had higher 'rank' than the Senator's daughter?"
"If we're talking about my grandmother, yes," Dan said as he walked the length of the ghostly white fence. "I'm guessing that Liza was lucky to be buried here at all. Probably wouldn't have been, but the Quintrells didn't want to make any fuss that would attract more attention to Liza's sorry life."
Carly moved the flashlight over the modest gravestones that paralleled the fence. "These are all Isobel's cousins or retainers or whatever."
"Same difference. Back then, the whole family-distant cousins, in-laws of cousins, in-laws of in-laws-followed the money. Isobel had it and Andrew Quintrell made it grow. Once the Senator got into politics and increased his connection to the Sandovals through Sylvia, he kept the money growing."
"You're so cynical."
"It's my middle name."
"Really?" she asked.
"It's better than Warden."
"Warden?"
"My middle name."
Bright as moonlight, Carly's laughter floated up into the darkness until the wind caught it and swept it away.
After poking around the fence, Dan knelt near it and rubbed wind-driven snow off a headstone. The grave that had been set apart from even the distant family who worked on the ranch.
"Here we go." His voice was matter-of-fact. He could have been talking about the weather. "Elizabeth Isobel Quintrell, 1936 to 1968."
"Thirty-two years old," Carly said. "What a waste."
"She must have liked her life well enough."
"How can you say that?"
"She didn't do anything to change it."
Carly looked at the silver and darkness of the grave. "Maybe she couldn't."
"Such a tender soul." Gently he touched Carly's face with a cold gloved fingertip. "She never tried, Carolina May. Not even once."
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