A Deadly Affair at Bobtail Ridge

by Terry Shames

  “I’m at Mamma’s house in the garage. I’m looking through all the stuff out here wondering what I’m going to do with it.” I hear the scrape of a box being shoved.

  “Do you have anybody there helping you to organize your mamma’s stuff?”

  “I don’t really feel like being around anybody right now, although . . . I know you’re busy, but do you have time to come over here later? You won’t poke at me the way most people do.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can get away. And I’ll bring food.”

  “Oh, Lord, no! I could open a soup kitchen with all the dishes people have brought over. Between the church ladies and the schoolteachers, I don’t have enough room in the refrigerator.”

  “I hate to be picky, but is there anything edible in the mix?” I’m thinking of the endless tuna casseroles that seem to show up anytime someone dies. “I have some beef stew I could bring.”

  “You save that. We can’t let this stuff go to waste. There’s bound to be something here you can eat. I know your eating habits aren’t as elegant as you pretend they are.”

  When I hang up I realize I’ve been worried, wondering how Jenny was going to go forward with her mother gone. Jenny talked to Vera every day and consulted her on every little thing. She sounded good just now, but I can’t shake the memory of Vera telling me she thought Jenny was in danger. She was upset the last time I saw her, and even though she claimed to have been unaware of what she was saying, I can’t help thinking she was hiding something. Maybe Jenny will be able to tell me more.

  CHAPTER 7

  I find Jenny out in the backyard at Vera’s place. She looks pale and drawn. Her red hair is wrestled back into a band low on her neck. Hands on her hips, she’s staring at her mamma’s beds of zinnias, lantana, lavender, and black-eyed Susans. There’s also a big Pride of Barbados and several rosebushes. “I don’t know what to do with all these plants. I’m not a gardener, but Mamma would’ve had a fit if she knew I’d let all them go.”

  “It will certainly help sell the place if the plants aren’t all dead,” I say.

  “That’s not funny.” She shoots me an exasperated look.

  “Can you hire somebody to take care of it?”

  She squints. “I guess I’ll have to. One more thing to add to the list.”

  “Maybe get Nate Holloway from next door.”

  She runs her hand across her forehead, smearing a streak of dirt. “That’s a perfect idea.”

  I brandish the bottle of red wine I brought. “Thought maybe you could use this.”

  “I hope you brought one for yourself, too. I could polish that off in ten minutes.” She looks down at her clothes. One shoulder of her T-shirt is matted with cobwebs. “I ought to get cleaned up.”

  “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll organize some food.”

  Jenny disappears while I attack the refrigerator. I pull out a roast chicken, bean salad, and potato salad, and set everything out on the little glass-top table on the patio outside the kitchen. I don’t find wineglasses, so I grab water glasses.

  “That looks downright civilized,” Jenny says, when she comes back looking and smelling fresher. “I think I scrubbed a pound of dirt off.”

  She sighs when she sips the wine. “I wish Mamma could be here to enjoy this.”

  “I didn’t find any wineglasses, so I wondered if she was a teetotaler.”

  Jenny laughs. “She didn’t drink wine, but she liked a gin and tonic now and again. That’s not something she’d want spread around her church friends, you understand.”

  “You figure out the funeral arrangements yet?”

  “Oh, Lord, I should have called you so you could let people know. My mind is a sieve. The funeral is going to be Thursday. Should have been tomorrow, but they already have two scheduled. It’s like an epidemic.”

  “You said you had an aunt and uncle in Lubbock. Are they coming out for the services?”

  There’s the barest moment of hesitation before Jenny shakes her head. “Mamma and Aunt Susie and her husband were friendly enough with each other, but I hardly knew them. They have two sons that I haven’t seen in years. I’ll call and let them know when the funeral is, but I don’t expect they’ll come all this way. I’ll be okay.”

  “Anybody you want me to call?”

  She tells me she’s already got a team of her mamma’s friends but asks me to call a couple of our neighbors.

  I tell Jenny about the vandalism at the art store and my suspicion that Ellen’s husband was involved. By the way she keeps staring off into the backyard, I can tell she’s struggling to focus on my chatter. When I finish the story, we fall quiet and drink our wine peaceably as the light goes soft and a little breeze cools the air.

  “There’s something I need to bring up with you,” I say. “There’ve been some things going on that I’ve kept from you because I know you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

  She jerks upright and turns to look at me. “Is everything okay with my horses?”

  “Yes, but that’s because Truly Bennett and I have been handling things. Something happened that has me worried.” I tell her about the horses getting out and the snake getting in. “It was a timber rattler.”

  She shudders and sinks back into her chair and puts her hands over her face. “Oh, my God. Where did a snake like that come from? I’ve never seen anything that big around here.”

  “That’s the point. They don’t live much farther south than east Texas. I think somebody might have brought it in.”

  “I don’t know why . . .” And then she nods abruptly. “I’ll look into it.”

  “What does that mean? You have some idea who did it?”

  “I’m not sure. I have to talk to some people.” Jenny can be hard to read and hardheaded.

  “Jenny, if you have some idea of who did it, you have to tell me.”

  She stops me with a look.

  I’ve known Jenny long enough to understand that she is fiercely independent. Her personal life is off-limits. I have no idea who her good friends are, just that she spends a lot of time at work. I don’t know if she has anybody special in her life—or ever had, for that matter. She has a personal line that isn’t to be crossed. But I’m going to have to put a toe over that line.

  “All right, I’ll let that go for now. But there’s another issue I need to bring up.”

  The light is dim now, but I can still see the wariness that narrows her eyes when she turns her head in my direction. “What is it?”

  “Something your mamma said to me at the hospital. Remember when I found you having words with your friend and you asked me to stay with her?”

  She relaxes a little. “Of course I do. When I got back to her room, she was all riled up and the nurse kicked you out.” She laughs.

  “Do you have any reason to believe you’d be in danger from anyone?”

  Jenny draws in a sharp breath. For a few seconds it’s like she’s turned to stone. Finally she picks up her glass but doesn’t bring it to her lips. “What did Mamma say exactly?”

  “She said she thought you were in danger and wanted me to look out for you. With all this stuff going on with your horses, I wondered if there was a connection. That’s why I want to know who you suspect of messing with your horses.”

  “I doubt there’s a connection. She didn’t say who she was worried about?”

  “No, and when she was feeling better, I asked her why she was worried about you. She said she must have been out of her head, but I had a feeling she was holding something back.”

  Jenny lifts the glass and sips, but when she puts it down she runs her hands back and forth across the tops of her thighs. “I don’t know what she was talking about. Is that it?”

  “You’re not making this easy.”

  “There’s no reason for you to be involved.”

  “It was a pretty specific warning.”

  “I don’t think you need to take it seriously.”

  “She seemed to.” The lo
nger we’ve been talking, the more I feel tension radiating off Jenny. We’ve always gotten along well, and I’m at a loss how to deal with this sharper, angrier version. “Why haven’t you ever told me you have a brother? Is there bad blood between you?”

  She gives a sharp, bitter bark of laughter and when she speaks, her voice is unlike anything I’ve heard come from her. “Sometimes you dance around a subject a little too delicately for my taste, Samuel.” Abruptly she gets up from the table. “Let’s go inside. I’m starting to get eaten up by mosquitoes.”

  I get up, too. “That doesn’t answer my question about your brother.”

  “How’s this for an answer—it’s none of your business. I won’t discuss my brother with anyone, not even you.”

  On the way home, I mull over Jenny’s harsh response and what she isn’t telling me. Maybe I’m making too much of the incidents with the horses. The snake could have hitched a ride on someone’s pickup, or may have been somebody’s escaped snake. But the cut lock was no accident. I don’t want to intrude on Jenny’s privacy, but somehow I’ve got to find out who she thinks has a reason for the attacks, before they graduate to attacking her as well.

  Back home, Truly Bennett’s truck is parked outside of Jenny’s place. He usually doesn’t come until after dark, but I asked him to put the horses away this evening since I’d be with Jenny, and he must have decided there was no sense in going home afterward. I check in by phone with Zeke Dibble, who was on duty today, but he says it was a slow day. He had to settle a problem between a couple of boys down at the Two Dog bar in the late afternoon, but that was the only ripple in his day.

  I’m settling down to watch the news on TV when I hear a cry from Jenny’s place. It sounds like somebody yelling, “Help me!” At first I think it’s probably Mrs. Summerville’s TV next door. She’s hard of hearing, and sometimes the TV gets loud. But it’s too late for Mrs. Summerville and her daughter to be up. And besides, my cat Zelda, who’s been keeping me company, is alert, staring in the direction the sound came from. I hold my breath, straining, and I hear it again.

  I jump to my feet and head for the door, but then I stop myself. This is no time to rush in without protection. I get my heavy flashlight and slip my shoulder holster on, checking first to make sure the gun is loaded.

  Instead of going out the front, I head into my back pasture. There’s a gate between my place and Jenny’s, and I can slip into Jenny’s property that way. As I approach the stable, I hear the sound again, this time with a moan. I shine the light around the outside of the barn but don’t see anything wrong.

  “Truly?” I call out.

  “Chief Craddock. I’m in here.” His voice sounds weak.

  I fumble around on the inside wall of the stable and turn on the lights. Truly is sitting, propped up against the wall that holds riding gear—halters and such. Blood is seeping from a head wound down the side of his face, and he’s holding his arm tight against his side. A length of pipe lies a few feet away next to his bedroll.

  “I’m glad to see you,” he says.

  “Hold on, Truly, let me check first and make sure nobody is lurking around here.”

  “I think he’s gone,” he says.

  Both horses are awake and have poked their heads over the stall gates, ears pricked forward like a couple of gossips, but they’re quiet, so I suspect Truly is right. Still I check the stalls and the tack room before I come back and crouch down next to him to look closer at the wound. His hair is short, so I see that he’s bleeding from two places. “What happened? Who did this?”

  He groans. “I didn’t see who it was. I got the horses put away and went to my truck to fetch my bedroll, and when I got back somebody jumped me.”

  “How many were there?”

  “I think it was only one. He hit me with something that felt like a lead pipe before I had a chance to fight back.”

  “The pipe’s right here. Not too clever of somebody to leave it lying around. Did you get in any licks?”

  “Naw, it happened too fast.”

  It’s possible whoever did this was wearing gloves, but I’ll have the pipe examined for fingerprints anyway. “Did your attacker say anything?”

  Truly gives a half-groan, half-laugh. “Yes, sir, he said, ‘That’ll teach you, nigger.’ I’m not sure what I was supposed to learn from getting beat up.”

  “Well, you’ve still got your sense of humor so I guess you’re not hurt too bad.”

  “Feels like it, though.” He shifts his position and groans. “I’m glad they picked on me and not those horses. They look okay, don’t they?”

  “They’re fine. Can you walk?”

  “I think he might have broken my shoulder, but at least I’ve still got my legs.”

  “Hold on, I’ve got to find something to carry this pipe in so I can have it examined for prints.” In the tack room I find a box of plastic bags in a drawer. I use a couple of them to wrap the pipe.

  On the way to the emergency room in Bobtail, I call Zeke Dibble and tell him what happened and ask him to go keep an eye on Jenny’s place until I get back there. I think about calling Jenny, but I hate to rile her up any more than she was tonight. She needs some rest.

  CHAPTER 8

  With Truly Bennett out of commission, I’ve got a problem. I can’t keep an eye on Jenny and her horses alone. And I can’t keep this latest incident from her. I’ll have to tell her so she’ll be careful, and she’ll need to decide whether she wants to hire someone to watch her horses or if she wants to board them somewhere else for a while.

  On the way out of town I stop by Art Visions to check in on Ellen Forester. She’s in the middle of a class but comes outside to talk. She has dark circles under her eyes. “Gabe’s crew did all the repairs yesterday,” she says. “That was really nice of them to get to it so fast.” She sounds overly cheerful. She’s worried.

  “Have you thought anymore about who might have done the damage?”

  She shrugs but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I was hoping you might have turned up something.”

  I talked with Bill Odum yesterday. He’s a young deputy and has a good way with our habitual troublemakers. He said he’ll poke around and see if he can get anybody to point him in the right direction. But I’m still putting my money on Ellen’s ex.

  “Ellen, if you think your ex-husband did this, I need to know. He doesn’t seem to be getting the message that you’re not going back. And he needs to stop harassing you.”

  She rubs at a spot of paint on one of her hands. “I called Seth and asked if he had anything to do with it. He said he didn’t, but . . .” She clasps her arms to herself and shakes her head.

  “But you didn’t believe him?”

  “He said it may be the lesson I need to get me off my high horse.”

  He has a different idea of her than I do. “You consider getting a restraining order against him?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want to do that. I’m still holding out that it was high school kids.”

  “Maybe so. I’ll keep my ears open and hope this is a one-time thing.”

  Without thinking, I reach out and touch her arm to reassure her. She jumps like she’s been burned.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She flushes deep red. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m just . . .”

  “You take care,” I say.

  When I go to Vera Sandstone’s house to tell Jenny what happened to Truly last night, I find her in the garage staring at a wall of rusted tools. “These tools belonged to my daddy and I don’t think anybody has touched them since he left,” she says. “I don’t know whether anybody would want them, or if I should pitch them out. I don’t think they’re old enough to be antiques, but they’re probably too old to be useful to anyone.” She’s not looking at me. I expect she’s still mad that I pressed her too hard yesterday asking about her brother.

  “Leave this until after the funeral, when you’ve had time to catch your breath,” I say to her.
I persuade her to go back into the house, where I make some coffee. We sit down in the living room, surrounded by empty packing boxes.

  I give her a short version of the attack on Truly. I don’t want her to feel guilty that something happened to him, but she has to know that there’s been another incident.

  “Why would somebody attack Truly?”

  “It seems obvious they were after your horses, and when they found Truly there, they attacked him instead. Now that’s the third incident involving your horses. It’s time we got to the bottom of it.”

  She draws a sharp breath. “With Mamma being gone, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to those horses. They’re okay? They weren’t hurt?”

  “They’re fine. I checked again this morning.”

  She gets up from her chair and walks around, agitated. “You’re right. Something’s got to be done. With my mind on Mamma, I haven’t paid enough attention.”

  “Settle down, now. That’s why Truly and I have been keeping watch over them, so nothing would happen. But with Truly being injured, we need to come up with another plan. If you want to hire somebody to look out for them, I can recommend Buzz Carter’s son Alvin, who helped me corral the horses when they got out last week.”

  “He sounds perfect. As soon as I get Mamma’s house cleared up, I’ll be spending more time at home.”

  “Jenny, until we figure out who’s behind these pranks, I don’t think you or the horses are safe. The last time I talked to you, you seemed to have an idea who’s behind it, and I don’t understand why you won’t tell me.”

  She stops her pacing and glares at me. “I told you I’d take care of it, and I’ll get right on it. Meanwhile, if you’ll hire Alvin for me, I’d appreciate it. Right now I need to get over to the funeral home to finish up arrangements.”

  “Okay, I’ll be on my way.”

  Apparently I don’t hide my frustration very well, because her expression softens. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be short with you, but I don’t want you to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She hesitates. “Do you mind running a couple of errands for me while I’m gone? When I get back I’ll bring us some lunch.” She’s asking for my help as a way to put aside our spat, and I’m glad to comply.