by Rayna Morgan
“After dinner drink?” Maddy asked, entering the room.
“Sorry, no, I’ve got to go. The dinner was delicious. I can’t reciprocate with the cooking, but I’d like you to come up to see the Ranch sometime. I’ll call you, and we’ll set something up.”
Standing in the middle of the room watching the screen door close behind him, Maddy wondered exactly where she stood.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Maddy was pruning her rose bushes when Lea pulled into her driveway and called out. “How was dinner last night?”
“It was fine. But I’ll admit, I can’t quite figure out where I am with that man.”
“Where do you want to be with him?”
“Haven’t figured that out either. Why are you here anyway?”
“Checking to see what you’re doing today.”
Maddy approached the car with mild curiosity. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. What do you have in mind?”
"Paul talked to Tom at their softball game last night. Tom has checked the Councilwoman off his list of suspects."
"Why?"
"Apparently, she has a rock solid alibi for the time of the murder."
"Too bad. I know you liked her as a suspect because she turned down your bid," Maddy responded snidely.
"That's not the reason." Lea sounded hurt, although she had to admit there was probably some truth to what her sister said. "I don't care what Tom thinks; Gracie's never wrong. She had some reason to be so agitated by the Councilwoman and her bodyguard. We need to look into it. You need to talk to her husband and see what you can find out.
Maddy pointed at herself. "Me, why me?"
"Because Mrs. Patton and her bodyguard both know me. If I was caught at her house, I could get in real trouble."
"So I should be willing to get in trouble to keep you out of trouble?" Maddy complained.
"Come on, Mad. You're always good at creating plausible reasons for your snooping."
Maddy took exception to Lea's choice of words. "When you do it, it's called detecting. When I do it, it's called snooping."
Lea paid little attention to her sister's protests. She knew what she suggested was exactly the kind of challenge her sister relished.
Maddy's eyes drifted to the sky. "I suppose I could ask Mr. Patton for pictures of his famous rose garden for our home furnishings publication."
Lea gave a thumbs up. "Great idea. While you're at the house, you might get an opportunity to find out more about Max."
Maddy puckered her nose and lips. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Because he's one of Gracie's prime suspects."
• • •
Arriving at the Patton's hillside country home, Maddy smelled the sweet fragrance of lilacs as she drove through the iron gates and parked in the circular driveway. The door was answered by an older Hispanic woman, drying her hands on a towel as she dusted flour from her apron.
She smiled broadly. "Mr. Patton told me to expect you. He's in his rose garden. I'll show you the way."
Maddy gasped as they walked through the main house. It had an open floor plan with walls of sliding glass doors on three sides providing unobstructed views of the surrounding mountains and valleys, all the way to the ocean. Her head rotated taking in the colorful wall paintings and sculptures showcased in niches and alcoves throughout the rooms.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the housekeeper asked over her shoulder. "The view always takes people's breath away on their first visit."
Maddy clasped her hands to her throat. "I think it would take my breath away every day I lived here."
Moving outside, they passed a lap pool overlooking acres of fruit and avocado trees. The pungent smell of chlorine mixed with the intoxicating smell of orange blossoms. They continued along a path bordered by rosemary, iris, and oleander, the plants brushing against Maddy's skin.
Walking under an archway, they entered a garden overflowing with roses of all colors; whites, yellows, reds, pinks, and purples. Maddy's senses were engulfed in the fragrances of jasmine and rosemary, and the sweet sound of songbirds.
"Mr. Patton. Your guest has arrived."
The man who turned to greet her was as handsome as she remembered from seeing one of his live performances at the local theatre. His almost wrinkle-free skin and erect posture belied his age. The gray streaking his hair only served to augment his good looks.
"Please come in. Did you have any trouble finding us?"
"None at all. It's all so beautiful. Your house and this garden."
"Yes, we feel blessed to be surrounded by so much beauty. And now, more beauty has come into my day."
Maddy blushed, finding herself somewhat tongue-tied in the presence of his charisma.
"Please, make yourself comfortable," he invited, indicating a glass-topped wood table surrounded by driftwood wicker chairs. The cushions of vibrant yellow lent a splash of color accented by an overhead umbrella.
"I appreciate your letting us use this lovely garden as a backdrop for the displays in our furniture publication."
"My wife and I are more than happy to open our garden to you. I’m glad of the opportunity to share the beauty of these flowers with your readers."
The housekeeper returned with a pitcher of iced tea and thick slices of pound cake which she set in front of them. They talked about furniture, artwork, and gardening. Maddy waited for an opportunity to broach the other topic she had come to discuss.
Placing her empty plate aside, she sat back. "You've certainly been blessed with a green thumb. Does your wife share your enthusiasm for gardening?"
The moment he placed the linen napkin across his plate, the housekeeper magically reappeared to remove their plates and refill their glasses. He smiled at her. "Thank you, Rosa. Your cake was delicious, as always."
He turned back to answer the question. "Margaret? No. My wife appreciates the beauty of the flowers, but her only interest beyond how they look lies in arranging them as centerpieces for our dinner parties."
He smiled impishly. "It's a good thing because I confess to being a little selfish in that regard. I insist on doing all my own planting and tending. I let the gardener take care of the grounds, but the garden is off limits to everyone but me. I've even concocted my own home remedies for the pests that attack my roses. Quite effective, I might add."
"I'll have to get your recipe sometime. I take pride in my own gardening skills. I certainly outshine my sister in that regard, but that's not hard to do. My problem is I lack the space to keep much gardening equipment on hand. I have one small shed stacked to the roof with pots and small tools."
"I'm fortunate to have all the room I need for my gardening paraphernalia. Margaret complains I've got my own mini version of a garden store in our back yard."
"Your wife must be busy with her community involvement."
"Yes. Margaret and I live rather separate lives now that I've retired. She's taken over all the charitable and community activities. I'm content showing my dogs and growing my roses. Of course, I'm very proud of her service on the City Council. She may even seek further office on the state level someday."
The man looked off toward the ocean and for the first time, Maddy could see the wrinkles around his eyes. But he displayed no signs of regret or longing. He does, indeed, seem to be a contented man, at peace with himself and his surroundings.
"Is it only the two of you living here?"
"We're fortunate our children are close. They bring the grandchildren for frequent visits. And, of course, I have Max."
Bingo.
"Another grandchild?" she inquired innocently.
He laughed. "Hardly. Max is our driver and bodyguard. He's been with me since the beginning of my acting career, through all the ups and downs. I can't imagine life without him. When I had this house built, I made sure the architect included a small house for Max right here on the property. Same style as the main house. Complete with his own TV room, workout area, and kitchen. We call it Max's Place."
"How did you and Max find each other?"
"A director recommended him to me. Max was an unemployed Vet with no family who was doing odd jobs at the studio. The skills he learned in the military carried over into his service for me. There's nothing he can't or won't do for me, and his loyalty is impeccable. Of course, I'm not so much in need of his services now that I'm retired. Much of his time is devoted to driving my wife around town."
The housekeeper announced the arrival of another visitor. Maddy stood to leave, extending her hand. "Thank you again for opening up your beautiful garden to us."
Rather than shaking her hand, the older gentleman turned it downward, gracing it with a kiss. "It's been my pleasure, Maddy. We'll see you soon with your photographer in tow."
• • •
Maddy followed the walkway from the garden through an archway leading to the veranda. Walking toward the circular drive where her car was parked, she noticed a small courtyard adjacent to the main house. Stopping to admire the fountain, she saw a guest house, the exterior closely matching the design of the main building.
Looks like the cottage Art described where Max lives. Can't hurt to take a look.
She was squinting her eyes to peer into the windows when a hand on her shoulder made her jump. "May I help you with something, Ma'am?"
Spinning around, she gave the man a quick once-over. From the muscular torso and the bulging cords in his neck, she didn't have to guess who was asking.
Her breath quickened. Smiling innocently, she offered an explanation close enough to the truth if he tried to confirm it with his boss. "Mr. Patton told me to look around for other locations we can use for our photography shoot."
The bodyguard began to move closer when a man's voice behind him interceded.
"It's alright, Max. She's with me."
Taking her by the hand, Tom steered Maddy out of the courtyard before she had a chance to object. Max turned abruptly and returned to the guest house.
"Not very sociable is he?" Maddy observed haughtily.
Moving briskly, Tom pulled her to her car. "I'm here on official police business. Would you care to tell me why you're here?" He peered over his sunglasses, waiting for an explanation.
"I'm here on official furniture store business," she replied defiantly, chin jutting in the air. She removed his hand from her elbow. "Anyway, how do you know Max?"
Tom opened the car door and leaned against it, motioning for her to sit down. "He's had a couple of run-ins with the law. Nothing serious. Mostly incidents of his keeping autograph enthusiasts away from his boss."
He massaged the back of his neck and looked at her sternly. "Let's get back to you. Why do I find your being here on furniture store business a coincidence more than a little hard to swallow?"
"Believe what you will, Tom." She toyed with a lock of hair. "But why are you here on police business? I thought you told Paul the Councilwoman was no longer a suspect."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm interviewing Mr. Patton as an investor in Don Carson's luxury housing project. Thought he may have had occasion to deal with Neal and could give me his impression of the deceased."
Maddy clapped her hands. "Oh, I get it. That's the cover you're using to find out if he knew of his wife's affair."
Tom didn't know whether to admire Maddy's cleverness or worry about Art Patton reading him as easily as she had. He pulled his notepad from his pocket.
"At least I learned one thing from your incorrigible meddling."
She raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"
"When Max put his hand on your shoulder, he reached with his left hand." He scribbled on the pad. "He's left-handed."
Maddy's voice took on a hint of intrigue. "I can give you another bit of useful information."
"What would that be?"
"Mr. Patton's got enough gardening equipment to open a mini nursery." She looked pleased with her revelation.
"Are you suggesting he was the one at Neal's condo disguised as an exterminator?"
"I'm saying there are plenty of bug sprayers here. I admit; he hardly looks the part, but Max does. And remember, Mr. Patton's an actor. He's an expert at adopting disguises and playing roles."
Maddy hesitated, caught up in her theory. "Except the guard at Neal's condo said the intruder was wearing something with a bug emblem on it. I'm sure they don't keep uniforms like that here."
"People see what they want to see, Maddy," Tom suggested. "What the guard described as a bug may have been a Karate badge."
Maddy's eyes widened. "Does that mean you're looking into Max, too? Is he a suspect?"
"I'm looking into everyone who has even a remote connection to this case."
"Why, Tom," she asked playfully, "am I on your list?"
He scoffed. "Oh, you're always on my list, Maddy. Which list you're on varies from one week to the next."
Tom jotted another note on his pad and returned it to his shirt pocket. Slamming her car door, he straightened. "You need to go before Max wonders what we're standing out here jawing about, but thanks for sharing."
"You can thank me later," she added suggestively, "at a more suitable time and place."
He walked toward the main house scratching his head.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Art Patton greeted Tom with an outstretched hand, a smile playing on his lips.
"Come in, Detective. Welcome. You're my second visitor already today. Quite a busy day I'm having."
He spread his arms, indicating a chair where Tom could sit across from him. Tom sensed the older man was fishing for something. Had he seen me talking with Maddy?
"Yes, I saw Maddy on my way in."
"You two know each other?"
He recognized the need to be honest and direct with this man. "We're friends. She told me about doing a layout in your garden for her furniture store. She's quite excited."
"I'm looking forward to it as well."
He's charming, alright.
"May I offer you refreshment, Detective?” he asked as the housekeeper entered. “A bite to eat?"
Tom rejected the ploy to turn the interview into a social situation. "No, thanks. I'll try to keep this as brief as possible so I don't take too much of your time."
The older man smiled but sat erect in his chair, alert and wary. He crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. "Fire away, then. How may I be of assistance?"
"I spoke with your wife at City Hall yesterday. Are you aware of our conversation?"
"As a matter of fact, she came to me shortly after you interviewed her. She was quite upset. Admitted she had done something stupid; something she wasn't proud of. She didn't want to keep it bottled inside any longer because she was afraid it would come between us."
"What had I asked that had her so worried?"
"Oh, it wasn't anything you said that frightened her. Your conversation simply made her come to her senses. She realized if you had found out about her indiscretion, other people probably knew or would find out as well. Eventually, it would get back to me. Buena Viaje is a small town, Detective, especially when it comes to gossip. Once the word got out, it would have spread like wildfire."
"And she didn't want it ruining her reputation."
"It wasn't her reputation she was worried about. She didn't want it ruining our marriage."
Tom's face displayed skepticism, but Art continued anyway. "There was more to it than that. I found something out about my wife last night I hadn't known. She told me how much she has come to hate politics. The longer she's been in office, the more she sees government as petty game-playing for power at the expense of the public whose money and freedoms are being exchanged for services they would prefer to do without.”
"That's a fairly stringent condemnation of politics."
"I thought so, too," he chuckled, "but one with which I concur. In fact, she had decided not to run again. She was afraid to tell me for fear I'd be disappointed in her."
"And would you?"
"Be disappointed in her? To the contrary. What Margaret has never fully accepted in all the years we've been married is that I'm happy with whatever makes her happy. If it's politics, fine. If it's climbing Mt. Everest, fine. If it's having her own business, that's fine, too. In fact, that's what we've decided she should do. She's going back to her roots in catering and starting her own catering business right here in Buena Viaje."
Interesting, Tom thought, but not what I've come for. It's time to tackle the more sensitive issue. This man moves through life like an actor on a stage. Let's see what a dose of reality does.
"During that enlightening conversation, what did your wife tell you about her affair, the one she had with Neal Henderson?"
The older man's body stiffened. His lips grew thinner, but he didn't avert his eyes.
"No need for a sarcastic tone, Detective." He uncrossed his legs and sat even straighter. "She related the whole sordid story in a torrent of tears and self-recrimination. It wasn't necessary."
"You didn't care?" Tom sounded incredulous.
"It wasn't because I didn't care, but I'd known about the affair for some time. I decided to let it run its course. I never doubted my wife would end it. He was an unprincipled money grubber. No one she could seriously care for.
To be truthful, I could never understand why my friend, Don Carson, turned his business over to the young man the way he did. I guess it had something to do with the boys growing up together, but Henderson never held a candle to Don's son."
"I've heard the same opinion expressed by others."
"Because it's true."
"Let's go back to your knowledge of your wife's affair." Tom knew the answers to his next questions were key to his investigation. "How did you find out and when?"
Art Patton sighed deeply. The man's acting skills served him well, but he couldn't hide the pain in his voice. "Max told me. It was one of the most difficult things he's ever done, but he felt I should know. He knew, of course, because he drove her to several rendezvous during their little dalliance."
Tom noted the man's choice of words in describing his wife's affair tended to depict it as something of small concern. Was his wife's affair of so little import to his pride? If he still loved this woman deeply as he proclaimed, how much pain had Henderson brought into his life? Enough to give him cause for murder?
