Tony, who despised whiners, wanted to tell Judy to suck it up and move on, but he needed her cooperation. He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "There are many things I didn't tell you. For your own protection." If she didn't like the truth, he'd give her a good story. Winding her up would be payback for the cracks she'd made about his father, implying that he was a lousy husband, drunk and undependable. What kind of husband could anyone be to Geneviève? She'd drive a saint to drink.
"My protection? What are you talking about? I haven't seen Geneviève since before Jim died. I hardly knew her, and she never bothered saying hello to me."
"The land deal you told me about. That's why she was killed."
"Years and years later? Who still cares?"
"That deal was just one stepping stone in a trail of corruption that continues to this day." He kept his voice low as if he was afraid of being overheard. "Influential people are involved. Geneviève was going to testify against them. That's why she's dead."
Judy gasped. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wasn't sure there was a connection, but now I am." He paused for dramatic effect. "Don't worry, Judy, you'll be safe as long as you don't mention this conversation to anyone. I'll keep your identity secret."
"Oh my God."
He made another allusion to shadowy conspiracies involving ruthless and powerful interests, then said, "Have you remembered any details about that land deal, like when Geneviève sold the property or which highway was going through?"
After several minutes of hemming and hawing about this being really embarrassing, she told him. "It was after I got married. Your dad and I used to meet up now and then. You know, for old times." She sighed loudly. "Bill never found out. I still feel bad about it, but I just couldn't tell Jim no."
"So it would be 1967 or '68?"
"More like '69, not too long before Jim died."
"Nineteen sixty nine?" He repeated. Was this it?
"Jim's paintings had started selling, and he had some money. Like I told you, he usually blew it on good times, you know, celebrating a sale, but this time he wanted to invest it. He'd found out Geneviève was making a bundle because of the highway, and it drove him nuts that she wouldn't let him in on it. If she'd just told him where that road was going, he could have bought land in its path, too. I remember, after he died, thinking that it didn't matter anymore."
"You've been helpful, Judy. Thank you. If you think of anything else, call Claire and she'll contact me."
"Okay, but when are we going out? You said you'd take me out for dinner." She was back to whining, her voice grating like fingernails on a blackboard.
"For your own safety, we shouldn't be seen together until this is all over." Until hell freezes over.
* * * *
Claire was in the office, finishing up the bills and about to leave for the day when Tony called, jubilant because he'd gotten more information from Judy Boaz. What was she doing for dinner? They could compare notes over a good meal. She hesitated. She'd been looking forward to a light supper, a movie on the VCR, and an early bedtime.
"Why don't you come over to my house? I'll roast a chicken."
"I'll bring the wine. What time?"
"Seven or a little before."
At five of seven, the doorbell rang. Tony handed her a long white florist box.
"You didn't need to bring flowers," she said, "but thank you."
"I wanted to." He smiled at her. "Aren't you going to open it?"
"Yellow roses." She smiled at him. "They're beautiful. Thank you."
He followed her into the kitchen, set his tote bag on the counter and produced a second box from under his jacket. "Something to put them in."
Claire held the vase up to the light. It was made of cobalt glass and looked hand-blown. "It's lovely, Tony, but this is too much."
"Yellow and blue to match your living room. You like houses, so I got something to go with your house."
She arranged the roses in the vase and set them on the coffee table. "They're perfect."
"Now, where's the big guy?" He pulled a small stuffed animal, a mouse, from his pocket. "This is for him."
Claire called Dorian, and he sauntered out of the bedroom, maintaining his feline dignity by ignoring her. He wasn't coming when called; the timing was pure coincidence. He spotted Tony and his tail twitched into the upright position, disdain.
Tony sat on his heels and put the toy on the floor. He twisted the tail, wiggling the mouse a little closer to the cat. Dorian retained his aloof posture, but his amber eyes followed the movement. "Catnip, big guy. You know you want it." Tony twisted the tail again.
Dorian pounced. The toy skittered across the floor, cat in hot pursuit. He batted it into the kitchen and disappeared after it.
"I just seduced your cat." Tony stood up, looking pleased with himself.
"Yes you did." She chuckled at the sounds of Dorian careening around the kitchen.
"Have you talked to the police today?" he said, his smile gone.
She shook her head.
"Me neither, not that it makes much difference. They don't believe a word I say."
"It's hard to know what they're thinking," was the best she could offer. Yesterday afternoon, she'd watched Mike question Tony about Iris Burton. By the time he left, she was so angry that she never wanted to see him again. Tony read her mind.
"My alibi for Iris Burton's murder is only slightly better than that for my mother's. I was asleep, and I'm sleeping alone these days."
"They re-ran part of her interview on the news yesterday. She told the reporter that she saw the murderer lurking near your mother's apartment right before she was killed."
"No wonder he went after her. Did she describe him?"
"A well-dressed older man."
"Geneviève's old lover. Someday the cops will believe me." He let out a long breath. "I told you I talked to Judy Boaz again."
"And?"
"The land sale was in 1969, not long before Dad was killed. According to Judy, he found out about the deal and wanted to know more, but Geneviève wouldn't tell him. If he found out, that could be the motive."
"Are you going to tell the police?"
"Eventually, but not when all I have is one old woman's memory. The story will carry more weight if we can identify the land and get copies of the deeds."
"The key is the highway. Which highway was being built in 1969 or soon after?" The police had more resources. They could find out faster, but she understood Tony's reluctance. "Let's hope it's just one or two."
He opened the wine and poured two glasses while she put dinner on the table. "I can't remember the last time someone made me a home-cooked meal. Let's talk about more pleasant things while we eat. No business talk, and nothing involving the police."
They'd finished eating and were clearing the table when Tony said, "Okay, we can talk business now. I've come over to your way of thinking about the studio. Knock it down."
"How could I forget?" She hit her forehead with her palm. "I did talk to the police today. Bea called this afternoon to say they weren't through there yet. She apologized and said she'd do her best to hurry things along."
"No matter where the conversation starts, it ends up at the police. We might as well stop fighting it."
"I can't stop thinking about Iris. She was only nineteen, barely out of high school. Of course it's terrible when anyone is killed. But someone so young." She shuddered. "I think the killer lives at Sunny Gardens. He recognized her on TV. He knew when she came to work."
"You don't believe it was Geneviève's accomplice?" His tone was sharp.
"Her accomplice would be an old man by now and wealthy from his shady land deals. Old and wealthy, like the people who live at Sunny Gardens."
"If you're right, I set myself up." Tony waved her protest aside. "No, no, I think you're right. He either saw or heard about our argument. He figured out what it was about or she told him. It doesn't matter. Either way, he knew I'd be suspect
number one when Geneviève was strangled."
Claire put a plate in the dishwasher. This latest theory was better than thinking his mother had asked someone to kill him. "Not that many people live at Sunny Gardens. Most are women, and we're looking for a man. If we got a list of their names, we could run them by Judy and see if anything jogs her memory."
"They won't give me any information. I'm persona non grata. The management wants her apartment cleared out by the end of the month, and they suggested I hire someone to do it. They don't want me there for the two minutes it will take to throw her stuff into a garbage bag."
"I can do it, but not tomorrow. I'm going up to the farm to ride, and then staying to have a drink with Kyle."
"The horse thief? I don't think it's a good idea for you to go up there by yourself."
"I was there by myself before." She held his gaze. "I can take care of myself."
"I know you can, Claire, but do you want to?"
There were so many different levels, so many possible answers to his question, that she didn't know where to start, and so she circled back around to the beginning. "I can go over to Sunny Gardens any time Sunday. You probably need to set it up. Tell them I'm a friend of the family."
"Would you really do that for me?"
"Of course. What do you want me to do with her things? Box them up?"
"Throw them away."
She protested and after a brief discussion they agreed she would donate any usable clothes to charity and package up any jewelry or valuables for him to give to Geneviève's lawyer. The rest would go in the trash.
Before Tony left, he put his hands on her shoulders. His ocean colored eyes searched hers, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he thanked her for dinner and warned her to be careful with Kyle. "Tell him I know you're up there, and if you don't return safe and sound, I'll come after him."
CHAPTER 23
Claire and Kyle rode while a gangly teenager named Robby took care of the tack and walked the horses to cool them down. By five o'clock, only Tia Maria and Memphis were left. Robby had them saddled and waiting in front of the barn.
"Take care of these two." Kyle gestured to the horses he and Claire had just dismounted, "Then go on home." He turned to Claire. "No more ring. We'll ride over to the ridge. Let them run."
"Sounds good." Claire rubbed Tia Maria's velvety nose. "She's my favorite." The horse reached over and gently nibbled her shirt, pulling her closer, and then rested her muzzle on Claire's shoulder.
"Look at you, cheek to cheek." Kyle patted the horse's neck.
"I'm surprised she's not been sold."
"Someone's interested, but I wanted to give you first refusal."
"I'd love to, but I have nowhere to keep her and no time for a horse." Claire smiled at an old memory. "When I was little, I asked for my own horse every birthday and every Christmas."
"You don't have to make up your mind today." He swung into the saddle and waited for her to mount. "We'll walk to the pasture and then canter up the ridge."
The sun was almost down by the time they'd finished putting up the horses. Claire watched Kyle from the corner of her eye as they walked from the barn to his house, a log cabin nestled at the edge of the woods. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. He knew she expected an explanation for Fast Eddie's disappearance. What was funny about that?
"There's beer, soft drinks, and iced tea in the refrigerator," he said. "Glasses are in the cabinet to the left of the sink. Help yourself and take your drink on out to the porch. I want to get my supper going."
She fixed herself a glass of iced tea and curled up in a corner of the settee. Cooking noises, a knife chopping and a spoon scraping, came from the kitchen. A light wind rustled the trees, and a horse nickered in the barn.
"You can see better without the lights." Kyle flipped the switch and small birds became visible against the sky. They swooped and dove in graceful arcs, pursuing night insects. He placed a plate of cheese and crackers on the coffee table. "You're probably hungry after all that exercise. I'm almost finished in the kitchen. Meanwhile, how about some music?" He disappeared inside.
Moments later the twanging guitar sound of country music floated from somewhere behind her. The easy rhythm and lyrics about lonesome fit the time and place. Outside, long clouds caught the last rays of sun and laid gold streaks on the darkening sky. Such a beautiful place—what will happen to it now?
Kyle returned and pulled up a chair. "I hear you're planning a trip to Tennessee." He rarely cracked a smile, but now he was grinning ear to ear. "You should see the look on your face."
"You surprised me."
"You underestimated me. Just like I underestimated you."
"So you admit that Fast Eddie is missing?"
"Just because you don't know where he is doesn't mean he's missing."
"He's supposed to be here and he isn't," she countered. "As you apparently know, I'm going to look through the registry. I'll find him."
"You'll find the records, but you won't find the horse. Not without my help."
"The people in Tennessee will help me. Their business is keeping track of registered walking horses."
"Their business is helping the owners make money." He spoke as if to a child. "We're talking about an industry: owners, breeders, trainers, exhibitors, equipment makers, vets. It takes money to produce a champion. If the owner's lucky, the champion earns it back plus some. A champion stallion is a gold mine."
"I know that."
"Do you know that you're going up to meet with the people your friend Geneviève thought were in league with the devil?"
"And you're saying that they're not going to help me."
"They'll help you find information about the horse. It won't do you any good because he'll be long gone. If you persist, which seems to be in your character, you'll keep him from being shown, which will lower his value at stud, and that's where the money is." He cut several slices of cheese and put them on crackers. "Help yourself. Supper won't be ready for another hour. We have plenty of time to talk."
"I'm listening."
"The horse Geneviève called Fast Eddie is named Garland's Magic Man. His dam is Garland of Roses. Rose has a good pedigree and nice conformation, but not the spirit to be a champion. A trainer—we'll call him Hal—bought Rose for his daughters to ride. The girls talked their parents into breeding her, and Hal negotiated a good deal on the stud fee for a middling stallion named Midnight Magician. The colt turned out better than either parent, better than anyone dreamed. Magic won his first blue ribbon at two months."
"Geneviève told me he'd won more than one ribbon."
"He has, and you can find them listed in the association records. Would you like to hear the rest of the story?"
"Yes." He knew she would.
"Hal could have sold Magic for a pretty profit, but his girls loved that colt, and he let them talk him into keeping him. Hal is a decent man and a pretty good trainer. He thought he had a champion."
"But," she said. Taciturn Kyle had turned long-winded, and she was just going to have to endure it. Sooner or later, he'd get to the point.
"Magic won a few more small shows, and he placed in the big ones, but he wasn't living up to his early promise. Fact was, he'd grown fast and needed time to catch up to himself, but someone got impatient, and they sored him. Do you know what that means?"
"Putting irritants on their legs to make them step higher. Geneviève told me about it." She let her tone convey her revulsion. "I thought Hal was a decent man."
"No one said it was Hal. Magic doesn't like grown women. That tells me Hal's wife did it." Kyle's lips compressed in anger, and a moment passed before he continued. "She did a bad job, and Magic came up lame. By now, Hal's desperate. They've invested a lot of money in this horse, more than they could really afford, and it looks like they might have to put him down. Hal called a vet from over in Kentucky—no one local because the last thing he wants is for word to get out."
>
She nodded. Of course, he didn't.
"The vet, I guess he was disgusted with what he saw. He knew about Geneviève's crusade, he called her, and they hatched their plot."
"To rescue the horse. Good for them."
"To rescue the horse cheap. Geneviève and the vet agreed to tell Hal that odds were Magic would never go back in the show ring, never be good for anything but pleasure riding, like Rose, and it would cost a bundle to fix him up."
"Hal could have agreed to pay. Geneviève had her faults, but she cared about horses, and she put her money where her mouth was." Claire had to defend the woman who could no longer defend herself.
Kyle had been rotating his beer bottle on its coaster, staring at it while he talked, but now he looked straight at her. "Geneviève Burke was an evil and malicious woman. She knew Hal had no money, and that's why she made it about money." His bitter explanation echoed Tony's warning that his mother had an instinct for the jugular.
She returned Kyle's gaze and considered his position. Tony couldn't change the fact that Geneviève was his mother, but Kyle was an employee. "If that's how you feel, why'd you work for her? Why didn't you quit?"
"I was trying to undo the mess my idiot sister made and help my nieces get their horse back."
Claire took a sip of her iced tea while she gathered her thoughts. Kyle's story had the ring of truth. "Did Geneviève know who you were when she hired you?"
"She did and she used it. Hal had asked me to help. I tracked the horse down and tried to buy him back, offered Geneviève twice what she'd paid and told her I could guarantee he wouldn't ever be mistreated again. I knew she couldn't work with him. Remember, he hated women; she couldn't get near him. She said I could try to retrain him long as I did it here at her farm. If I failed, she'd keep him as a companion for her other horses. If I succeeded, she'd sell him to me. I believed her."
He sat knees apart, forearms resting on his thighs, staring down at his hands. Claire couldn't see his face but his voice mixed disgust with anger.
"It took me a while, but I figured out she was playing me for a fool. I did quit. I was inside packing my gear to go home when Geneviève decided to show me that she didn't need me anymore. She could train Magic herself. He threw her, and she ended up in the hospital." He shrugged. "I stayed on because someone had to take care of the horses. I can't stay forever. My fiancée and I have a horse farm west of Ocala. At least we're working on it. She's carrying the full load while I'm here."
Secrets, Lies & Homicide Page 15
