A Whisper of Trouble

by Susan Y. Tanner

  “It’s more than I expected,” Liz admitted. “Almost a cute little city out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Supposedly it was sleepy, small town America until the casino. When money started rolling in, local businesses thrived and began pouring money into spiffing up appearances. Tucker says the boasting of French cuisine here isn’t false advertising. The chef studied in France and came home to make a living.”

  “Are you familiar with French cuisine because I’ll admit, I’m not?”

  He smiled. “I like to eat, so yeah, French, Italian, German, I only know enough to be dangerous but I do have my favorites.”

  And he proved it when the waiter returned.

  As the waiter walked away with their selections, Liz said, “You’re nothing like a cop.”

  He thought she sounded surprised by the fact and maybe relieved. “I’m not one so…” He studied her, curious and not sure where this was going.

  “But, along with the pistol, you have that ‘take charge’ air about you that cops have. And, yes, I know that goes with the territory and isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

  But it can be. The words hung in the air, unsaid, but Will could hear them.

  “I take it you don’t like cops?”

  “Not particularly.” She picked up her glass but didn’t drink, just swirled the liquid in the glass. “I was married to one.” She set the glass down, untasted.

  “And?”

  “I objected to the fact that he was sleeping with my best friend. He disapproved of my objection.”

  He went still, suspecting he wouldn’t like where this was going. “He hit you?”

  “He pushed me around. Told me I bruised too easily and should see a doctor.”

  Will clenched his jaw, determined to listen, to let her talk it out. He suspected this was not something she shared easily or often. Or, even, at all.

  “I did him one better. I saw a doctor, a lawyer, a judge, and his captain.”

  “He left you alone after that?” Will found that hard to believe. A bully never liked being bested.

  “Nope. He came back one last time.” She took a deep breath. “It wasn’t good.”

  Again, Will waited. Silent, listening.

  “He made the mistake of falling asleep after. He woke up as I got his hands tied to the bed post. I walked out telling him I planned to set the house on fire, that the rags around his hands would be nothing more than ashes after the fire and no one would ever know what I’d done.” She hesitated. “He was terrified and crying when I walked out. And, I was in tears, too. Crying for him, for his fear, which is crazy, I know. But no one should be that afraid to die.”

  It took a moment for Will to unclench his jaw enough to speak. “I take it you aren’t. Afraid to die, that is.”

  “No. I’ve always been more afraid of never having lived.”

  “Who’d you call to untie him?”

  She gave him a faint grin and some of the tension eased from his shoulders. Not all, but at least some. “My attorney. I let him know Ray had walked through the restraining order as we’d known he would and I’d tied him to the bed to give me time to get out of town.”

  “I hope no one was in a hurry to get to the bastard.”

  “As it turned out, I must have caught my attorney at a bad time. It was several hours before he reached Ray’s captain and, by then, I was several hundred miles away.”

  “Good for you. And your attorney.” Without letting himself overthink, Will reached across the table and took her hand.

  She hesitated, then turned her hand so that their fingers curved together. “Not so good for my ex-best friend. I warned her because we’d been friends forever but they got married as soon as our divorce went through. A year later, he pistol-whipped her. She died of her injuries a day later. He’s still appealing the death sentence.”

  Will hated the anguish he saw in her eyes. “She made her choice.”

  “No one should have to die for making a bad choice.”

  “Maybe not but it happens. Every day.”

  * * *

  Liz enjoyed every bite of her lunch, even more so because their conversation turned light once food was placed in front of them. She had no idea what had caused her to share her past with Will. It wasn’t something she did as a rule. She’d had to tell her parents and her brother because they’d needed to be careful for their own safety if Ray had come looking for her.He never had, at least as far as she knew, and she was grateful for the fact.

  But she’d told no one after that. Her work was her life but her clients were not friends. She appreciated and kept in touch with some of them but it was more to follow the progress of the horses she’d helped along the way. It felt odd that she’d told Will the things she did. She wasn’t sure that she liked it.

  From the restaurant, they walked to a corner market. Finding it clean and well laid out, they wandered the store as they had the town, sniffing produce and marveling at some of the more interesting items available.

  Will held up a jar labeled mayhaw jelly, the contents a pretty coral color. Liz raised her brows. “Do not tell me you don’t know what mayhaw jelly is?”

  “Okay, I won’t but I don’t.”

  She laughed. “Put it in the cart and I’ll see if I can prevail upon Jana to make biscuits in the morning. Mayhaw jelly is a treat you don’t want to miss in the South.”

  “I’m from the South,” he protested.

  “Apparently not south enough.”

  Will retreated. “We’d better be deciding what we’ll make for dinner tonight.”

  There it was again, Liz thought, that couple thing. She wasn’t ready for that and feared she might never be…but they did have to eat. In the end, they decided on pan-seared pork chops with golden squash cooked down in butter and jasmine rice as their sides. With a loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine they were done and on their way.

  The light-hearted mood they’d enjoyed evaporated with the ring tone of Will’s phone through the truck’s wireless system and the news from Jonas that another body had been found. He’d added all pertinent information into the group file for Will to review.

  * * *

  As they pulled in at the ranch, Will suggested they put the food away in his cabin and read Jonas’s report with the particulars.

  Liz wasn’t surprised to see Trouble waiting on the porch. In fact, she realized, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the cat knew the news before they did. She wouldn’t have wanted to explain that to anyone or even have them explain it to her—but she wouldn’t have doubted what she was told.

  She tucked things into the refrigerator while Will and Trouble pulled up the file he shared with his team members. It was an interesting concept, having one repository for the information they uncovered. Any entries were tagged with their initials so there was no problem determining who had added what.

  Jonas’s last entry included a photograph of the deceased, a sprightly looking gentleman with a bowler cap and a pipe clamped between his teeth. Liz’s heart hurt thinking that someone had darkened that twinkle in his blue eyes with death and, perhaps, fear and suffering in the process. She didn’t know how Will did this type of work but she hoped he was successful in helping to bring this murderer to justice.

  Mr. Billy Easterland died of blunt force trauma to the head. He hadn’t died right away but, authorities believed, he’d never regained consciousness from the blow which had cracked his skull. A co-owner of the first stallion stolen, a Pentro, he was believed to be enjoying life aboard a Caribbean cruise ship until his body was discovered in a wooded field several miles from the stables which had housed the Pentro until his theft.

  “This really sucks,” Liz said bitterly.

  Will nodded agreement. “It does, that.” He pulled up a photograph of the horse.

  Liz thought the animal regal-looking with his lifted head and forward-pricked ears. His chest was deep and muscular, more so than his hips which were sleekly in line with a shor
t, strong back and a long underbelly. He was a chestnut and his coat gleamed in bright sunlight.

  “And, yet again, no markings,” she murmured, “It’s almost as if…”

  “As if it were intentional? I don’t think it’s an accident. Every bit of this seems to have been well thought out.”

  “In most cases, no markings make it harder to identify a horse,” Liz said, “but this combination of pale chestnut and lighter mane and tail isn’t all that common.”

  “But would he stand out in a database such as Jana is combing through?”

  Liz frowned. “It depends on how his color is described but…I think not. His color could be entered as sorrel or chestnut. The mane and tail could be pointed out as lighter in contrast to the body but may not be mentioned at all.”

  Will picked up his phone and selected a name from his contacts. A woman answered and Liz could almost hear the smile in her voice as she said Will’s name.

  “Stella, you saw Jonas’s entry.”

  “I did. Sad, that. And the photograph of the victim. He looks like a dear man.”

  “Check to see if that dear man had any reason to want to steal his own horse.”

  “Do you think he conspired with the thieves?” She sounded doubtful. “I was more inclined to think he happened upon the robbery and paid for that mistake with his life.”

  “Could be you’re right,” Will acknowledged, “and we’ll find dead body number four but let’s chase any possibility of collusion just in case.”

  “I’m curious…why didn’t you call Jonas with this since he’s lead on this case.”

  “Because I have him hunting for dead body number four,” Will said dryly.

  Stella laughed and said her goodbyes.

  Liz studied Will who looked at her with one lifted brow. “What?”

  “What is your gut telling you?”

  “That jolly Uncle Billy had need of a massive inflow of cash, whether from a pay-off or insurance or both.”

  “That’s what I thought you were going to say.”

  “But…?”

  “I don’t know. He looks like such a sweet gentleman.”

  Will chuckled. “The most successful serial killers were all considered to be very charming. The Bikini Killer, the Night Stalker, Bundy, Dahmer.”

  Trouble rumbled an agreement and Liz rolled her eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After dinner, my humans settle to their discussion of the missing horses. Will tells Tucker and Jana that the co-owner of the Pentro had been found dead.

  “Pentro.” Jana looks thoughtful. I wouldn’t be surprised if her mind was on the database she searches so diligently. I’ve helped her a time or two but we’ve found nothing. “That’s one of few breeds that are all Italy’s own, completely indigenous.”

  “You’ve been digging again.” Tucker’s accusation is good-natured.

  “I know I’m spending more time than I should on the search but this whole thing bothers me. And I’ve fallen in love with the horses of Italy.”

  “Perhaps we should have a change of plans and go to Italy for our honeymoon. See some of these horses.”

  “I wouldn’t mind that a bit.”

  Jana smiles and I suspect she would be happy with Tucker anywhere. Which may be a good thing. As I think back on our adventures in the so-called country of romance, it certainly didn’t live up to its name whilst we were there. They would have to bring their own amore.

  “Unfortunately for us, if I remember the right photograph, the Pentro is another of the stolen horses with no real marking to use to find it. A sorrel, right?”

  “Yes, but the color is called chestnut abroad,” Will comments.

  “Here, too, I suppose. At least in some areas.”

  “But, you’re right, he’s a sorrel,” Will concedes the point as any good gentleman would. “In the lighter category, closer to a palomino, with his mane and tail even lighter.”

  Tucker seems struck by a thought as he looks at Will. “How much did you know about horses before you started working this case.”

  Will looks like a kid with his hand in the candy jar. “Next to nothing,” he admits.

  “You’ve done your homework. I’d never have known by listening to you.”

  Tucker turns to Jana. “This guy probably looks a little like the rescue twins, then.”

  “Rescue twins?”

  Ha! I can see the confusion in her eyes. Does she agree or dare she admit she hasn’t a clue? Humans are so much fun.

  “Babe, the ones you drove to Kentucky to pick up.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. They do a little, I guess. Speaking of which, their coats still aren’t as healthy looking as I’d like. Maybe another de-worm?”

  Tucker gives her a nod as his cell phone rings. He answers cordially but then gives Jana an odd look.

  “Mr. Vincente.” Ah, yes, the gentleman with the very young amore. “Yes, I remember you. A return visit?” And Jana is shaking her head vehemently. I, as well as Tucker, recall her dislike of the older gentleman. But when Tucker glances at Will, I see he has a different concern. This is not the time for idle visitors. “No, I’m sorry but this wouldn’t be a good time for that.”

  Tucker listens, then frowns. I can sense as well as see his displeasure. “I do understand this is important to you and, no, it isn’t a matter of money. At a more convenient time for the ranch, you’re welcome to revisit and bring your architect. I’m sure if Avery and Dirks have any architectural renderings, they’d be happy to share.”

  Whoa-ho, so Tucker was insulted with a bribe. Too many humans believe that money is the answer to every obstacle. While that may be true with the unethical, our Tucker is anything but that. A bribe would not suffice to draw him into a spider’s web. I, however, could be tempted by a nice filet. Hehe.

  * * *

  Liz and Trouble took a morning stroll. It was another clear, crisp day with zero humidity, the kind that Liz liked best. Tiny puffs of dust rose from her boots as they passed the barn area and Liz realized she hadn’t seen rain since they’d landed in Switzerland. Her heart felt a pang as she wondered if Milo had settled in at home. Some of the horses she worked with left a lasting impression for various reasons. His willingness to work with her despite his fears and feelings of vulnerability guaranteed him a place in her thoughts for a long time to come.

  She worried for the remaining horses that had been stolen. It was inevitable that they would be as traumatized as Milo had been. And it didn’t feel as if they were any closer to finding the four still missing and preventing a sixth from being taken. She pondered the things they’d learned over the past several days, none of it good, none of it enough.

  Some of the frustration she was feeling must have shown in her expression as Jana stepped out of one of the barns. “Good morning. Is something wrong?”

  Liz shook her head. “Not really. Not if you don’t count stolen horses and dead bodies.”

  Jana’s expression turned to pure sympathy. “I understand. I still have nightmares.” She took a deep breath. “Keeping busy helps. I’m walking out to some of the pastures to check the watering troughs if you and Trouble want to tag along. Might take your mind off things.”

  Jana sounded more than a little hopeful, so Liz nodded. “I do want to. I’ll let Trouble speak for himself.” Trouble fell in step with them and, that, Liz thought, answered that.

  As small as Jana was, Tucker’s fiancée carried herself with confidence. Liz liked that in a woman and liked that it seemed to come so naturally to Jana. It hadn’t always with Liz.

  “You have an accent,” Jana said unexpectedly.

  Surprised, Liz nodded. “A bit. Most people don’t pick up on it, though. I’ve lived in America longer than not.”

  “It’s a game I play with myself,” Jana admitted. “Most of the time I’m right that there is one but I’m not often right on what country or language.” She laughed at herself.

  Liz was intrigued. “So…I’ll play. What’s
mine?”

  “I’ve listened carefully since you and Will got back. I thought at first England but it’s softer than that. I’ll go with Wales.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty close. It’s Celtic but Irish rather than Welsh.”

  Jana looked pleased with herself. “Sometimes I’m way off.”

  “Do you have much opportunity to practice?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Jana said. “Our students, especially the veterans, are an eclectic group. Avery has made a real name for Summer Valley Ranch and we’ve had students from just about every country at one time or another. Hang around the paddock areas when lessons are in progress and listen in.”

  “Oh, would that be alright to do? I’ve watched what little I could see from the front of my cabin but haven’t wanted to intrude. Lessons can be such a personal thing.”

  “It’s fine to hang about and observe. I already know you well enough to know you won’t stop and stare or try to interact. Some of the students are sensitive about their disabilities. Some are painfully shy. If you’re even noticed, Leanne or the other instructors will tell the class you’re a horse whisperer. Then you’ll get the stares.” Jana chuckled.

  “Which I’m very good at ignoring,” Liz said dryly then admitted, “Most often because I never notice. My focus is always on the horse so…”

  “I envy you. I’m fascinated by what you do and I admire that you know where you belong in life. Oh, I know I belong with Tucker but I don’t know where I fit or what I should be doing. I feel like I still haven’t ‘found myself’ as the saying goes.”

  “It sounds to me as if you fit right in with Avery Hanna’s passion to rescue horses. That’s what this ranch is all about, isn’t it? Giving throwaways—people as well as horses—a place to come home and rebuild themselves? Like the two Tucker mentioned last night? The sorrel twins?”