by Rayna Morgan
“What was Tom saying to you at the car? He looked upset.”
“He accused me of withholding knowledge of the argument between Scott and the victim.”
Lea peered over her sunglasses. “Did you?”
“Not intentionally. I was caught up in the emotion of the moment. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“You weren’t reluctant to give Tom information that might paint Scott in an unfavorable light?”
Maddy paused, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. “I’m afraid that brush stroke has already been swiped. Considering Tom’s feelings about Scott, it’s not painting a pretty picture.”
“You could be right.”
Maddy sat back, tapping her fingernail on a tooth. “We’ve got to help Scott. You’ve had firsthand experience with what Tom’s like once he gets a target in his sights; he can be downright mule-headed. If he thinks Scott’s his man, he’ll go after him as doggedly as Spirit chasing a rabbit.”
“That’s not true, and you know it. Tom goes where the facts lead him. You’re worried his personal feelings will blind him to the facts in this case. You and I both know Tom well enough to know he won’t let that happen. He’ll only make a move based on the merits of the case.”
Maddy chewed her lip. “Are you talking about motive, means, and opportunity?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“There’s the rub,” Maddy said.
Lea arched her eyebrows. “You aren’t saying—”
“Scott may have had all three; at least, from Tom’s perspective he did. That’s why we need to help.”
“You’re going to have to trust Tom to be fair.” Lea crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m sorry for Scott, but I can’t get involved. You know how Paul hates our sleuthing. He only got over our last venture because we solved the murder, so Tom forgave us for butting into his case.”
“C’mon, Lea. If you won’t do this for Scott, do it for us. This wasn’t a three-minute spot we watched on the nightly news; we were there. A man’s body was lying lifeless less than two feet in front of us. We saw Lucy’s tears. We felt Katie’s horror. Don’t you want to learn the truth of what happened at the fairgrounds today?”
“I’m sorry, Mad.” Lea’s voice held a note of finality. She walked toward the kitchen.
Maddy stood up and planted her hands on her hips. “I find it ironic and more than a little maddening that when your friend Angelo was in Tom’s cross-hairs, you had no qualms about getting me involved,” she said, blowing a wisp of hair from her eyes, “without my knowledge or consent I might add. When my friend’s in trouble, you throw up ridiculous excuses.”
Lea turned swiftly, her eyes throwing daggers. “Are you trying to guilt me into getting involved in this case? Keeping peace with my husband is hardly a ridiculous excuse. Paul’s made it clear how he feels about our adventures, or misadventures, as he calls them.”
Maddy’s pitch dropped a notch. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bad-mouth your concern over Paul’s feelings, but this is important to me.”
“I understand,” Lea said. “But—”
“Besides,” Maddy continued, in an effort to ward off further objections, “what kind of karma will I attract if I don’t try to protect the man who saved my life? Would you expose me to a future plagued by demons?”
Lea’s shoulders relaxed. A small smile played on her lips. “Your acting skills were short-lived in the theatre, but they’re not wasted on me. What do you have in mind?”
• • •
Paul walked in the back door. Grabbing a bottled water from the refrigerator, he joined Lea and Maddy on the patio.
“How did you like the rodeo?” he asked, leaning to kiss the top of his wife’s head. “I missed your call earlier, but you didn’t leave a message. I thought you were spending the whole day there.”
“Our plans were interrupted.”
“Mine, too,” Paul said, petting the dogs. “Tom and I were supposed to get a brew after our game. He left a message that he couldn’t make the game, something about a new case.”
“A case that ruined our day,” Lea said.
“I thought Tom was still on vacation.”
“I wish he would have stayed on vacation,” Maddy said under her breath.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Paul asked, looking toward Lea for an answer.
“Let Maddy explain.” Lea shrugged. “It involves her friend.”
Paul and Lea turned in unison toward Maddy who threw her hands in the air. “All right, Paul. I’ll tell you what happened, but don’t jump all over me. I swear it’s just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Did you ever consider it could be your willingness to put yourself, and my wife I might add, in precarious situations?”
“You mean I attract trouble?”
“Something like that,” Paul said.
“Oh, c’mon, Paul,” Lea said. “Give Maddy a chance to tell the story. Neither of us could have prevented what happened.”
Paul sat down and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m all ears.”
• • •
Maddy re-created the morning’s events, finishing by saying, “So you see, Lea and I could hardly have avoided being involved.”
“Except by the company you were keeping.”
“Are you referring to Scott?” Maddy asked, anger creeping into her voice.
“You’re upset because Tom has reason to cast a suspicious eye in his direction. But ask yourself how often Tom’s been wrong. He didn’t get to be where he is in the department by making mistakes in judgment.”
Lea intervened to calm the tension in the air. “And Tom is your best friend, Paul. Don’t take sides against each other in defense of your own friends.”
“You’re right. I may be overreacting because I’m waiting for the other shoe to fall.” There was no response, so Paul continued. “Tell us the reason you’re here, Maddy. Aren’t you trying to talk Lea into helping you get your friend off the hook by finding the real killer?”
The sisters looked at each other. Neither dared take a breath.
“I told her I couldn’t help,” Lea said, running the back of her hand over Paul’s clenched jaw.
“Has it occurred to either of you that you don’t know who you’re involved with?”
Maddy scowled at Paul. “You don’t have to include Lea in your insinuation. You’ve always felt I used bad judgment marrying Eric. But I knew the man I was marrying. I knew he’d left his wife for me so there was a chance he’d leave me the same way. My marriage ended in divorce. It doesn’t mean I’m a bad judge of character. It means I make my own decisions, and I’m willing to live with any consequences of the decisions I make.”
“I think what Paul meant to say,” Lea said, frowning at her husband, “is that you’ve only known Scott a few months. You don’t know much about him.”
“I know he’s incapable of murder.”
“Don’t waste your breath, sweetheart,” Paul told his wife, casting a despairing glance in Maddy’s direction. He added under his breath, “And she calls Tom stubborn.”
Maddy pinched her lower lip. “I met Scott when he saved me from a life-threatening situation. Are you suggesting the same person who saved my life could snuff out another person’s life, especially the father of his daughter’s close friend?”
“From what you related,” Paul said, “there was bad blood between Scott’s family and the victim. You can’t ignore that. Neither will Tom.”
“If Tom’s trying to build a case, he may be inclined to take that information at face value,” Lea said. “It couldn’t hurt to determine how much truth there is to the allegation.”
Resignation showed on Paul’s face. “Since the object of those rumors is no longer available to shed light on the allegation, who do you propose as a source to determine the truth?”
“Someone known for his honesty and integrity,” Maddy replied. “A man we can all trust.”
Maddy called Katie’s cell phone later that evening. When she answered, the girl’s voice sounded tired but chipper.
“How are you doing, sweetie?” Maddy asked.
“I’m okay. Dad invited Dalton and Lucy to stay with us for a few days. They’re sleeping in the guest house while Dad helps them sort out the funeral. We all had a sit-down dinner with Gram and Great-Granddad tonight.”
Maddy made a mental note to inform her sister of Scott’s gestures, hardly those of a murderer. “I’ve got a favor to ask of you. Could you get your great-granddad on the phone for me without letting your Dad know?”
“Sure,” Katie said. “I’m walking over to his house now. Why do you want to talk to him?”
“I can’t get into it right now, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll only take a minute of his time.”
Maddy could hear the girl explaining the call to Ralph Miller. In a moment, his deep voice came over the line.
“Surprised to hear from you, Maddy, but it’s a pleasure,” he said, always the gentleman.
“I know it’s a difficult time,” she said, “but what I’m calling about is kind of urgent.”
“What do you need? I’m happy to help if I can.”
“My sister and I want to find out more about the feud between Albert Benson and your family. Can we come talk to you about it?”
“I guess. But why do you need to know?” Ralph asked. “Is my grandson in trouble over the argument he and Albert had at the rodeo?”
Maddy knew better than to soft-pedal the facts to the older man. “You know the police. They view everyone as suspects until they prove otherwise.
“The problem is, the homicide detective in charge appears to be mounting a case against Scott. The detective is a friend of mine, so I know how he operates. I don’t want him to latch onto your grandson as a suspect. He’ll be like a bulldog with a piece of mailman between his teeth.”
There was no response. Maddy feared she had offended the man by being frank.
After a moment, he responded with a trace of amusement in his voice. “I agree, we don’t want that to happen, but I have a better idea. I’ll arrange for you and your sister to talk with someone who will be less biased than I might be. My version of things could seem too weighted in my grandson’s favor to be of much help.”
Maddy admired the man’s willingness to expose the facts in the face of what could be perilous revelations. “I appreciate your candor. Who are you setting us up with?”
“A man who knows everything about our family history and someone who is known to speak the truth. He’ll tell you the whole story. You can draw your own conclusions.”
CHAPTER THREE
The next day, Tom was on the road early enough to see silhouettes of surfers catching the first waves of the morning.
Much of the acreage to the south of town, originally citrus groves and strawberry fields, had been replaced by housing and retail centers. Tom’s destination was an agricultural area northeast of Buena Viaje where all the large ranches and smaller farms were located. He turned off the freeway and headed inland.
The first item on his agenda was to interview the victim’s immediate family: his nineteen-year-old son, Dalton, and Lucy, the twelve-year-old daughter he met at the scene of the murder.
He’d placed a call earlier to the victim’s only known sibling, a brother in Kansas who had seemed unperturbed by the news of the sudden death. The man’s only comment before hanging up was “With Albert’s foul mouth and bad temper, it’s surprising someone didn’t pop him years ago.”
Passing the Miller Ranch, the largest and most well-known spread in the county, Tom drove through the gates of the adjacent property, the farm where Albert Benson had lived.
Weeds were overrunning the fields. The orchards were old, rotting, and unattended; only a few trees bore fruit. The ranch house and barn were in a run-down state, which required more extensive repair than a few cans of paint would provide. The vegetables in the garden were dry and shriveled as though under siege by insects.
The door was answered by a lanky kid of average height with wavy brown hair and blue eyes.
“You must be Dalton. I’m Detective Elliot. I met your sister yesterday at the rodeo.”
“Lucy told me the cops would be coming to see us. She’s not here. We stayed with the Millers last night. She’s still over there. I had chores to tend to.” His manner was serious, like someone who’d had a lot of responsibility from a young age.
“Mind if I come in?”
“Okay.” He motioned for Tom to enter, swinging the door open awkwardly, and then rushed to clear empty soda cans from the couch, making room for Tom to sit.
“I’m sorry about your father, son. That’s rough.”
“We’ll get by. I’ve been through hard stuff before.”
“Like losing your mother?”
Dalton didn’t reply. His head dropped, and he stared down at his folded hands.
Tom glanced around the room, noting the framed photographs above the fireplace. He stood to get a closer look.
There were several photos of the entire family. They were all of average stature and slight build. It was obvious Lucy had inherited her father’s sunken eyes and pallid complexion. Dalton, on the other hand, was clearly the beneficiary of his mother’s good looks.
Tom picked up a picture. “Is this you with your mother?”
Not surprisingly, the dazzling smile and dimples the boy displayed in the picture were now missing, but there was no denying the resemblance between Dalton and the striking woman. The young man could pass for a model except for the calloused hands and broken nails indicative of hard work.
“Yeah, that was my mom,” the boy said, his voice flat.
“Do you remember much about her?”
“I remember everything,” Dalton said, staring at the picture Tom replaced on the mantel. “I was the only child for seven years. The three of us did everything together: camping, fishing, hiking, mountain biking. We spent most of our time outdoors.
“My mother was an artist. She painted landscapes. Some Sundays, we’d visit the local galleries and Mom’s pictures would be hanging there. Dad was really proud of her.”
His face became more animated, and his eyes lit up. “Dad called me a mamma’s boy, but in a loving way. I had the same eye for nature, but instead of painting, I captured it with my camera. I wanted to be a photographer when I grew up.
“Dad would laugh when I’d take my camera with me to feed the chickens or milk the cows. He’d tell me, ‘You need to be chasing those rabbits away from our crops, Son, instead of trying to take their picture nibbling the lettuce.’ But he was never really mad.” His smile faded. “Back then.”
“Did your father change after your mother died?”
“In a big way. I was hoping the baby Mom left us would help ease the pain. But the price he paid for my little sister was too much for him. He and I stopped doing fun stuff together. All we had time for was taking care of the newborn and the farm.
“The last picture I took was at my mother’s funeral. I came home and stored my camera in a shoe box in the closet. I haven’t snapped a shot since. The father I had my first seven years disappeared along with my mother and my dreams of being a photographer.”
Tom felt for the boy. The young man was not as fragile as he appeared. Through his experience, he’d developed a maturity beyond his years.
“Did your father get over your mom’s passing?”
“His grief faded if that’s what you’re asking. But another side of him came out, a side I’d never seen.”
“How so?”
“He got mean—not to the baby and me, but to other people. He seemed to resent their sympathy. When friends came to visit, he’d get touchy, like seeing them with their families reminded him of the kind of happiness he’d never have again.”
“Did he get into any physical altercations?”
“He was know
n to throw a punch when he got drunk.”
“How often did he get drunk?”
“He tried to stay away from the house when he was drinking for Lucy’s sake, so I don’t rightly know. But there were nights he didn’t come home at all.”
Tom didn’t want to hurt the kid, but he needed to know what had been going on in the dead man’s life. “Maybe your father found a woman friend.”
Dalton’s eyes blazed. “The day after my mother passed, he told me there would never be another woman in his life. It’s the only promise he kept.”
It was time to change the drift of the conversation. “I missed seeing you at the rodeo, but I’m glad you were able to avoid the scene.”
“I should have been there for Lucy.” He punched a pillow.
“Where were you?”
“I only go to competitions to help Dad and Lucy get ready. The rodeo’s not my thing. I came back here to feed the cows.”
“What will you and Lucy do now that your father’s gone? Are there family members on your mother’s side you can go live with?”
“Naw. I have an uncle back east, but he and Dad had a blowout. We haven’t heard from him for years.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of Lucy. We’ll sell this place. It’s probably not worth much, but with some work, someone can make a decent living from it. Lucy and I will get an apartment in town. She’ll be closer to her friends at school, and I can attend junior college. I finished one semester by taking night classes. I need to get my degree.”
“So you’re not interested in being a rancher like your father?”
“Not hardly. As far as I’m concerned, the only good thing about working on a ranch is being outdoors. I’m planning to be a forest ranger.”
“That’s an admirable goal. They can use all the help they can get taking care of natural resources.”
Tom was reluctant to discourage the young man’s plans, but from the condition of the property, selling could prove difficult. “The real estate market’s in a slump, son. You may have a hard time finding a buyer.”
“There’s been interest recently. I think we’ll do all right.”
Tom sat back a moment before proceeding to the difficult part of the interview. “I’m anxious to find out who’s responsible for your father’s death, Dalton. I know this is painful to talk about, but do you have any idea who might have shot him? Did he have disputes with the other ranchers? Did he get in any arguments recently? Was he having money problems with the ranch?”
