"From what we can assess so far from the scene, I would have to say that he did."
Michaela nodded. "Do you think he killed my uncle?"
Davis sat down in the chair across from the women. "I don't know of any other reason for him to write that note and do what he did."
"I don't believe it." Michaela shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't. You met Bean. The man was like a six-year-old child. He couldn't have done this. He didn't have the wherewithal."
"Ms. Bancroft, I hear you, and we will investigate this situation completely. I did meet Bean and yes, he was very childlike. However, I have heard of some children gone very wrong who have done horrendous things to siblings, friends, even parents. There is not a lot of sense to be made out of a situation like this."
Michaela had had a similar reaction to Bean and his behavior just the other day. She'd even wondered if he somehow feigned much of who and what he really was. Had his behavior all been an act? But why? And for all those years? Or, was he like a child who had become angry at something Uncle Lou did and reacted in the heat of the moment before he'd realized what he'd done? If that were the case, then the morning that she'd discovered Lou's body, Bean likely would have reacted differently than he had. She couldn't help wondering if he would have even shown up. That is, if he truly had the mentality of a six-year-old, wouldn't it have been more likely that, after doing something so terrible, he'd run and hide? He'd seemed genuinely shocked over her uncle's death. She brought this up to Davis.
"Because of Bean's emotional immaturity and low IQ, it is possible that after killing your uncle, he blocked the memory due to the trauma it caused him. Then something might have sparked his memory, which upset him, causing him guilt, and he couldn't take it. I don't think he murdered Mr. Bancroft intentionally if he in fact did. I'm not a psychiatrist, so I can't say for certain. But believe me, we will continue to try and find out exactly what happened."
Michaela sighed. None of it sat well with her.
"I am going to need to take statements from both of you. Separately, of course. It's procedure."
"I need to use the bathroom," Cynthia said. "Is that okay, Michaela? Do you mind going first?"
"No. Go ahead."
Cynthia tried to smile, but it was forced and came out looking more like a frown.
After she left the room, Davis said, "I realize that this seems incomprehensible to you, but from everything I've seen so far, it appears that Bean committed your uncle's murder and killed himself."
"Yes, it's difficult to believe, but I guess so. I don't know what else to think. If the police are sure that's what happened..." She shrugged.
"The evidence points in that direction."
She nodded and looked down.
"I don't want to sound crass. You and your family have been through a rough time, but at least now you can bury your uncle with some sense of peace."
Her head jerked up. "Sense of peace? I'm not sure about that, Detective. I don't know how much peace can be found when you learn that a man with the mentality of a child has murdered someone you love dearly, then kills himself. There's no peace in that."
"I'm sorry."
Neither one said anything for several seconds. She felt like she was suffocating in that room with Davis, who stared at her. She needed to get out of there and think... or not even think, but just be.
"Why don't we go over what happened here today and how you found Mrs. Bancroft and Bean?" Davis finally asked.
Michaela told him everything from the time she arrived at the ranch. She didn't recognize her own voice as she relayed the story to him. It sounded far off, as if someone else was explaining to Davis what she'd encountered. But it was her. It had been her. Her neck and shoulders tightened with each word she spoke, and she knew that if she didn't get out of there soon, she would crack. Right there, in front of Davis, she would break down. Thankfully he finished his questions. He stood and held a hand out to help her up from the couch. His hand was warm. He squeezed hers and then let go. "I am sorry for all you've been through."
"Thank you." She saw Cynthia briefly and told her that she had to go. Cynthia seemed to understand.
Walking past the kitchen, she saw that Bean's body had already been covered with a tarp. She couldn't help but look. Was it morbid curiosity that made her do it? Or the fact that she still couldn't accept any of this? She heard herself say out loud, "Why?"
A police officer approached her. "Ms. Bancroft, you really shouldn't be here."
She turned to leave. Her eye caught the corner of the kitchen counter. On top of it sat a book. She walked over, ignoring the cop. She looked down at the book—Peter Pan. The same book that she had found yesterday in the stall at the old dairy farm.
TWENTY-FOUR
MICHAELA FELT IN HER GUT THAT BEAN HADN'T killed himself, and she doubted that he'd murdered Uncle Lou. He just didn't seem capable. How wrong could she have been about Bean? Had he really done it and fooled everyone? She needed a sounding board.
She walked into Joey Pellegrino's shop fueled by confusion and this strange twist of events, one that she didn't want to believe. "Hey, Mick. How's it... wait a minute, what is it? What's wrong?" Joey came out from behind his shop counter.
She tried hard to keep her emotions in check. "I need someone to talk to."
"Yeah, sure. Wait a sec, will ya? I gotta take care of a customer first." Joe walked over to help out some guy in the paint department. Once he'd finished, he locked the door behind him and turned the OPEN sign around to CLOSED. "Figure by the way you look and sound, you'z don't want no one buggin' us."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
"C'mon. Follow me to my office."
They walked past aisles of nuts, bolts, and nails. He pushed away a pale blue curtain to reveal boxes upon boxes. He pointed to one of them. "My office. Take a seat. It ain't fancy, but it'll do." She smiled and was glad she'd come to see him as she sat down on the box. Joey sat down opposite her. "So, tell Joe what's goin' on." Oddly enough— or considering that it was Joe, maybe not so odd— opera music played from the radio in Joe's office. "Wait a minute." He got up and turned the radio down, then grinned and blushed as he turned around. Obviously he hadn't wanted her to see his softer side.
She started with how she'd found Lou dead in Loco's stall, how Ethan was keeping something from her that was related to an argument he'd had with her uncle; how Camden and Kevin Tanner had joined forces and their intentions appeared dishonorable. Then, she told him about the cancelled checks and contracts and how Uncle Lou's memory was apparently fading on him, and how Dwayne and Sam both thought he could use a vacation. She filled him in on Cynthia's pregnancy, the horse at the dairy farm and what she figured had been going on there, and how she thought Brad was somehow connected. Finally she told him about Bean's apparent suicide and the doubts she'd had about him— whether or not he was just a really good actor, or someone who enjoyed playing the victim card.
"I mean, doesn't it seem odd to you?" she asked Joe. "Here's a guy with the emotional and probably the intellectual equivalent of a six- or seven-year-old and supposedly he did this? Why?"
"Maybe he got pissed at your uncle. You know, like you said, even the cop told you that he's seen it all. That there are some mean kids out there. And, this Bean guy was no kid, even if he acted like it."
"Yeah. But what about him sleeping at the old dairy farm with that mare? It had to be him taking care of the mare. I don't think he could have come up with some type of breeding scheme on his own."
He shook a finger at her. "You said so yourself that maybe you had some doubts about Bean, like maybe he was faking some of it. You know he's obviously been around horses, watched your uncle's operation. Maybe he saw a good thing as far as money and he thought he could get some of it. But once he realized that he wouldn't be able to get away with it... well, then it all soured on him. Then, maybe he figured, you know, like your uncle was gonna connect it all, or maybe your uncle did put the pieces together, a
nd voilà! The guy goes all looney and stabs him with the pitchfork." Michaela winced. "Sorry."
"It's okay. No, Joe, it still doesn't ring true. Yes, it does look like Bean was involved in this somehow, at least the breeding scheme, which I'm still sure was going on."
"What about these two guys— Sam and Dwayne— who worked for your uncle? Bean worked with them, too."
"Yeah. Maybe." She shrugged. "They just don't seem like bad guys."
Joe laughed. "Oh my friend, things are never what they seem."
"The morning my uncle was killed though, they were in Vegas."
"Can you confirm that one?"
"Pretty sure. They were taking out a few horses. I'm certain there are hotel and restaurant receipts that can confirm their whereabouts. As soon as Dwayne heard about what happened he was on his way back."
Joey rubbed his chin. "I don't know. Sounds like one mess. I gotta tell you, Mick, why don't you let the police take care of it? They think they've got it all figured out, right?"
"I don't think they do. It's a gut feeling, but I really don't think they do have it figured out."
"But you ain't no detective, and I'm afraid you're gonna get hurt mixin' yourself up in this thing."
"All I'm doing here is talking with you, bouncing off ideas. I trust you, and you've got good instincts."
He smiled. "I do, don't I? Okay, since we're just bouncing out ideas here, you telling me about this wife of your uncle's gives me an idea. The lady is preggers, and you're thinking you heard somewhere in your family rumor mill that Uncle Lou didn't have the goods. You ever think that maybe she got knocked up by another dude, and then knocked off her hubby?"
"I did think of that, and I keep telling myself that maybe the pregnancy test I saw was wrong, or maybe Uncle Lou never had the vasectomy."
Joey shook his head. "You gotta tell the cops this. They need to know she's expectin', and you gotta find out if Lou was able to make that happen for her. Pretty big motive for murder, don't you think? And, if Lou's wifey was doing the deed with some other guy, well..." He shrugged, his large palms face up. "You know the guy bangin' her... oops sorry, sometimes I don't use the nicest language."
"No problem."
"Anyway, the guy sleeping with Lou's wife could have taken him out on account of her. Man gets all funny when he knows his seed's been planted. He might've gotten all possessive over Cynthia, with the kid comin' into the world. Or, it could have been a planned thing between them. They wanna get rid of Lou, so they can crawl off somewhere, start a new life as a family. Plus, your uncle wasn't exactly poor. Leave the money for the wife and she and her new family might be lookin' to have a real nice life together."
"True. I hate to think that, but of course, it could be true. You're right, I need to give the police this information, because I don't know who she might have been cheating on my uncle with. If she was, you're exactly right: it does make a motive for murder, doesn't it?"
"You bet. But don't you go looking into it. If Cynthia and her boyfriend— if she had one— took your uncle out, and you sniff around, it's possible you could be in danger too. You remember, we're just throwin' out ideas here."
"I got one more thing." She opened her purse and took out the cancelled checks and the contracts from the breedings. "Can you take a look at these?" She handed them to him.
"The contracts you was talkin' about?" She nodded. "What am I lookin' for?"
She started to tear up. This was all getting to her. "I wish I knew. Maybe where the checks were deposited? Maybe see if somehow Cynthia is connected, although if she is, I don't know why she'd ask me to look into it for her."
"Cover her tracks. Criminals know how to manipulate. I'll check into it. I got a second cousin who I think has a nephew in banking, maybe he can find something out."
"Thanks. I don't see Cynthia as a criminal, though."
"Maybe not her, but if she was cheating on your uncle, her lover might be real trouble, and people do insane things for love."
Michaela could buy that. Love did seem to make people crazy. That's why she was determined to tread carefully when it came to the romance department, especially after the way Brad had screwed her over. "Possible. I don't know. Look, I've got one more thing." As if he wasn't already doing enough for her.
"Name it."
"Can you see what you can find out about a Dr. Verconti? See when my uncle might have gone to see this guy. I always thought his doc was Dr. Sherman. The same doc my family has seen for years. Anyway, I found a prescription for Lou from this Dr. Verconti and I don't know if there's any way to find out why he prescribed Ativan for him, but if you could, I'd be grateful."
"Ativan, huh? For anxiety. Yeah, well, I gotta tell you, gettin' medical record info is tough, but I'll see what I can do. You say Verconti, huh? Italian. That might work in my favor. Who knows, I might have a cousin who knows somebody who knows someone who could get the lowdown from this doc." Michaela nodded and sniffled, tears again welling in her eyes. Joey was being so good to her with all of this, but talking about it, she couldn't stop the emotion rising in her again. "Hey, hey. C'mon now. It's gonna be okay. No more cryin'! Sure, I'll see what I can do for you. I told you I would."
"I know. It's hard, that's all. And you're being awfully kind to me, Joe. Whenever you want to bring your daughter by, I'll get her started on those riding lessons, and we'll see what we can do about finding her a horse. In fact, I've got one I can start her on," she said, thinking about Booger. He'd make a perfect kid's horse. If he could put up with Camden on his back flopping all around, he'd handle having a kid on him just fine.
"Maybe over Christmas break. That's in a coupla weeks, and by then the dust should have settled some for you. Look, why don't you go on home and get some rest. I'll check things out, see if there's more to any of this. Try not to worry your pretty head any longer."
She stood. "Thanks, Joe."
"Sure. I'll call you if I find somethin' out. And, well, anytime you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you." He thumped his chest and stood. "I'm glad you came to me."
"You're okay, Joe Pellegrino."
"You ain't too bad yourself. Be careful."
She was glad she'd gone to see Joe. The man was true blue. But she couldn't help feeling even more confused than ever. She knew what it was like to really want a child. There were times in the past when she thought she'd die if she didn't get pregnant, and as difficult as it was, she'd had to come to terms with it. Knowing that ache, she couldn't help wondering now if Cynthia could have wanted a baby and a life with a new man badly enough to kill for.
TWENTY-FIVE
MICHAELA LEFT JOE'S HARDWARE STORE AND suddenly felt famished. She knew there was nothing at home to eat. When was the last time she had eaten, anyway? The day had gone by in another blur— fast and furious and more confusing than ever. Joe was right: She needed to tell Davis that she thought Cynthia was pregnant and not likely by her uncle. Right now though, she had to eat, and she wasn't too sure what to say to the detective. She'd have to select her words carefully, especially since Davis seemed certain the case had been solved with Bean's suicide. And, what if that were all there was to it? She doubted it, but still, what if her theories were just her imagination gone wild? Michaela knew she'd wind up sounding like a complete lunatic to Davis, and she really didn't want that. Nah; she'd hold off calling him until maybe later, and if she didn't reach him, she'd leave a message. For all she knew he'd already packed it up for the day and gone home. He'd likely be out with some cop buddies having a beer... or maybe home with his daughter. The thought of Davis having a kid made her smile. She'd bet he was a great dad. Let calling him go until later. Plus, she promised her mom that she'd bake a pear tart for the reception. Couldn't let Mom down.
Michaela picked up the ingredients she needed for the tart at the grocery store and thought about grabbing something to make for dinner, but didn't have the energy to cook for herself. And a microwave dinner didn't sound appealing. Before loadin
g her groceries in the truck she called over to the China Lion down the street. She ordered some Kung pao chicken and an egg roll. That would do.
When she walked into the restaurant the smells of ginger, garlic, and red pepper spice assailed her senses. Her stomach growled. Mmm. Good choice. The place didn't look to be too busy, which meant her order probably wouldn't take long. She walked up to the hostess booth and gave her name. The petite Chinese woman said, "One minute, please. I see if food ready." She nodded politely and disappeared behind a red drape.
Michaela heard someone call her name and saw Sam sitting alone in one of the booths. He motioned her over. "Hi," she said. "How are you?"
He motioned at the spread of food in front of him. "Not too good. I eat even more when I'm upset. You know..." He shook his head. "Can't believe Bean would do this. Good man. A little slow, you know, but good. Just snapped in the head. Dunno. Don't understand, but it's terrible. Found out when we got back from the feed store, me and Dwayne. Bad dream, I tell you."
"More like a nightmare. I can't believe it. Do you really think Bean had the capacity to kill my uncle and then himself?"
"Dunno. Looks that way. That's what Mrs. Bancroft tell us. Who knows what goes on in the mind of a man? Maybe Bean be more of a thinker than we all figure. Maybe he have some anger stuff going on and Lou make him angry."
"Maybe." But it sure didn't sit well with Michaela. Bean might have been slow and even a bit odd... but angry? No. He was too kidlike to be that angry. However, she had been wrong about people before. Hell, look at what she'd been married to. "Where's Dwayne?"
"He back home. I eat. He don't eat when he upset. It be that way since we were kids. I can't help myself though. He real tore about all of this with Bean and Lou. Real sad and like all of us, mixed up 'bout it. Sit down." He sipped his beer. "Want one?"
"No. I ordered takeout. It should be ready in a minute. Uh, I hate to sound like a mother, but Sam, should you be drinking beer and eating like that with your diabetes?"
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