Mary Beth grasped Eleanor’s wrist. “Here? How long has he been here? Why did they move him? Is he all right? How does he look? Is he terribly thin?”
“Whoa. One question at a time. Me first. Didn’t he notify you about the move? Didn’t somebody from the prison system?”
Mary Beth shook her head so hard that her hair swung around her face. “No. You have to register with the prison before they inform you about anything like a move, and Daddy said having the Chadwick name on prison rolls was bad enough without letting the authorities know our address.” She dropped her gaze. “I sent him cards on his birthday and for Christmas, though.”
“I see.” Eleanor didn’t see at all, but then, she didn’t know these people. “He is doing well for somebody who has spent three years in prison.”
Mary Beth covered her mouth with her hand.
“I don’t know how he looked before, but at the moment he’s lean and muscular. There’s some gray in his hair, but it makes him look distinguished, although prison haircuts aren’t done for looks.”
“His hair is gray?”
“Only around the edges. Listen, Mary Beth, it’s none of my business, but why on earth have you let your father force you to abandon a brother you obviously care about?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Mary Beth drew herself up. “I don’t even know you. I have no intention of speaking of family business with a total stranger. I only met you because you said you wanted some information about Steve.”
“You’re right, it’s none of my business. I can see why you might not have the time to drive to Big Mountain to see him. But now that he’s here, why don’t you visit? There are visiting hours every Saturday afternoon.”
“The Colonel wouldn’t like it.”
“Steve is his son.”
“As far as the Colonel is concerned, Steve besmirched the family honor.” She wrinkled her nose. Her tone changed. Suddenly she sounded more friendly, even eager to impart information. “That’s a crock, of course, but the Colonel won’t let me mention his name in the house.”
“What about you? Do you think he betrayed the family honor?”
“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. He’s still my brother and I love him.”
“Does he deserve to be in prison? That’s what I’m asking you.”
Mary Beth’s reserve returned. “He was convicted.”
“So you do think he was guilty.” Eleanor’s heart sank.
“I think he’s the dearest, kindest, most completely honest man I’ve ever known.” Mary Beth’s voice had risen. “If he did kill Chelsea, he had a good reason.”
There was definitely something strange about Mary Beth. One moment she sounded in control, the next, her words spilled out as though she were an adolescent school girl. Eleanor couldn’t fathom the woman. “What reason could possibly be good enough to kill somebody over?”
“Maybe it was a stupid accident. Maybe she attacked him, and he hit her back and she hit her head or something.” Mary Beth began to shred her paper napkin. “He shouldn’t have married her. She resented anyone else in his life, even me. He could have gotten the money someplace else.”
“The money?”
“Chelsea inherited a bundle. Her father owned a string of hotels and sold out just before he died. She gave Steve the seed money to start his company.”
“What was his company, exactly?”
“Some kind of thing computers use to make games move faster or look better or something. I don’t understand all that stuff. They weren’t rich, but they were doing really well financially. Not many people worked for Steve’s company, but apparently you don’t need many. When Steve had to have money to pay for his defense, his partner bought him out. Now he’s in the process of selling out to some humongous company for a gazillion dollars.” Her eyes turned angry. “It’s not fair. He’s going to retire to Phoenix and play golf all day while Steve sits in jail. No matter what anyone says, I’ll always blame Chelsea.”
Eleanor felt lost in the conversation. Following Mary Beth’s arguments was extremely difficult. She saw no sense in arguing, so she simply nodded and changed the subject.
She knew that Mary Beth and Margot Hazard, Rick’s wife, sat on several boards together, and kept the conversation light for the rest of the meal.
She made a mental note to ask Margot Hazard for a rundown on Mary Beth the next time she saw her. It wasn’t only that she led a sheltered life, although apparently it was one driver’s license short of a cloistered nunnery. There was something slightly off about Mary Beth, but Eleanor couldn’t put her finger on what.
Margot didn’t have a paying job, but she ran half the charities in West Tennessee with an iron hand and an alligator charm, and meddled in the clinic every chance Rick gave her. Mary Beth, on the other hand, didn’t seem capable of running a bath.
When the two women headed to the parking lot after lunch, Mary Beth opened her driver’s side door, then turned back. “You wouldn’t like to read the trial transcript, would you? I’ve got a copy in the trunk you could borrow.”
Eleanor felt a surge of adrenaline, but tried to keep her voice casual. “I’d be glad to, if you think that would help.”
“Great.” Mary Beth popped the trunk, rummaged among fancy gym bags, moved an elegant leather golf bag, and came up with a bedraggled package wrapped in brown paper. “There.”
“Thank you. I’ll return it.”
“No! At least not when the Colonel could find out. He doesn’t know I bought it. He’d have a conniption.”
“So you keep it in your car?”
“I couldn’t keep it in the house. Daddy might see it. He never looks in my trunk.” She laughed shortly. “He says it’s a rat’s nest. Most unmilitary.”
Suddenly Eleanor felt sorry for Mary Beth. There must be some reason she didn’t simply rebel and move out of her father’s house.
At least Eleanor now had the trial transcript, which was much more than she’d expected. She’d read it tonight and call Leslie Vickers again in the morning. This time she’d demand an appointment whatever the cost.
Was Mary Beth right? Had Chelsea’s death been an accident? Or had Steve done it in self-defense?
Eleanor drove at once to the prison farm to check on the men’s progress with the buffalo-field fencing. Actually, she wanted to see Steve, if only for a moment and under Selma’s watchful eye.
Impossible. One of the hydraulic lines that lifted the front loader had broken. Rather than take it to the prison motor pool and wait while it took its turn after other vehicles in need of repair, Gil Jones had convinced Selma to requisition the parts over the lunch break. Now, Gil and Slow Rise were working on the tractor, while Sweet Daddy, Steve, Robert and Big finished the fencing.
Sweet Daddy kept up a litany of grumbles.
Robert moved in his usual trance, but kept pace with Steve and Big most of the time.
Big and Steve worked side by side in perfect harmony. The manual dexterity that Big had shown in weaving the pine straw showed here, too.
Eleanor greeted everyone and noticed that all the cows and calves in the pasture were lying down. That meant rain before too long. Old wives’ tale it might be, but she found it to be an excellent indicator. The cows always recognized a drop in barometric pressure even before instruments picked it up. They got as much rest, chewed as much cud as they could, before they were faced with standing tail on a cold wind.
Eleanor walked through the barn to check on Marcus Aurelius. He was also lying in his paddock, nose to tail, his short horns across his broad back.
She turned off the electric fence and opened the gate to his paddock, then carefully closed it behind her. She’d stuck a cattle prod in the back pocket of her jeans, but she doubted she’d have to use it. Besides, she suspected that a jolt of electricity would only annoy Marcus Aurelius, not drive him away from her. She was used to bulls. They were unpredictable, but usually laid-b
ack—as long as there wasn’t a cow in season or another bull on the horizon. Marcus had already showed himself to be good-natured.
With only a lone woman sharing his space—a creature he apparently did not consider a threat—he barely raised his head when she entered. She moved toward him, keeping her demeanor subservient and her pace slow. She also kept an eye on the gate in case she had to get out in a hurry. When she was ten feet away he heaved himself up with a groan, but didn’t approach. The last rays of the afternoon sun turned his coat to molten copper. He looked more like one of the cattle from an Egyptian tomb painting than a modern bull.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said as she stepped up to him. He looked at her with liquid eyes, lowered his head and swiped his huge tongue across the toe of her boot. She scratched the soft brown pelt between his eyes and was rewarded with a gentle sigh, and a moment later, her other boot was wiped clean. “Is this a hidden talent? Can we rent you out as a bootblack if you don’t make nice babies?”
He sighed and leaned his left shoulder against her. He nearly knocked her off her feet. It wasn’t a hostile gesture—more like a friendly dog asking to have its ears scratched—but Eleanor decided she’d gone far enough for one day. He was still young. There was plenty of time to accustom him to being groomed and handled. She scratched the hair at the base of his horns and began to step backward in retreat.
It took him a moment to realize he’d lost his masseuse. He followed her step for step. If she turned her back and he decided to give her a friendly head butt to get her attention, he could very well launch her into the next county. If she sprinted for the gate, he might decide they’d started a nice game of soccer in which she was the ball.
She reached the gate, felt behind her, unlatched it and squeezed through the opening, then latched it behind her. Marcus Aurelius looked at her reproachfully, so she gave him one more horn scratch before she turned the electric current back on, shooing him away before she did. She did not want him to think of her in the same terms he thought of Sweet Daddy.
“Are you crazy going in there by yourself?”
It was Steve.
“Not especially. I’ve got a cattle prod in my back pocket. I knew I could yell for help if I needed it.”
“One of the first things I learned about bulls was never to get close to them without backup handy.”
“Maybe on open range. He’s in a stall, and he’s already proved that he’s quiet and intelligent. I’m a professional, remember?” She was getting annoyed. “I do this all the time.”
“I do remember you’re a professional. You still shouldn’t take chances.”
“Chance is unavoidable in this job. I thought I’d be safe and I was right. What are you doing up here, anyway? You and Big were mending fence.”
“Selma said it’s quitting time. I volunteered to come tell you.”
“Marcus wants his dinner.”
“I got it right here, ma’am,” Big called. “Y’all go get drinks. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Eleanor started past Steve, but he stopped her.
“I wanted to see you.”
She turned and met his gaze. “I had lunch with your sister.”
“You did?” His eyes lit. “How is she?”
Eleanor opened her mouth to form a reply, then said, “Come on, we’d better get my cooler or Selma will start looking for us.”
He followed her.
She spoke over her shoulder and just above a whisper. “She jumps around from one subject to the next. She’s very much on edge. Why on earth doesn’t she tell your dad to take a short leap off a tall building? Or at least move out of his house?”
Steve stopped with his hands on the cooler, then picked it up without a word and carried it to the shelter of the barn where the men pounced on it.
He took a soda and moved over closer to the pine trees. They were in full view of Selma, so the CO had to be content with giving them a sour look.
“She didn’t even know you’d been moved from Big Mountain,” Eleanor continued.
“I guess she wouldn’t.”
“She wants to come to see you, but she’s afraid to upset your father.”
“Did she tell you how the Colonel is doing? He’s not young.”
“Other than that he won’t allow your name to be spoken in his house or his presence, I have no idea.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. As far as he’s concerned, I let down the whole family.”
“Not if you’re innocent.”
“He doesn’t believe that.”
“Did you try to tell him?”
“Again and again before the trial. I haven’t spoken to him since.”
“You’re his son, Steve. Nothing you did can change that.”
“Drop it, please.”
“As you wish. It might help if I knew what areas of your life are taboo and which you want me to dig into.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll tell you about Mary Beth when we have more time.”
“Mary Beth also told me that your business partner is selling out to some big company and retiring to Phoenix.”
Steve spun around to stare at her. “What? When?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Damn right it matters.”
Eleanor glanced over his shoulder to where Selma stood looking at them. “Keep your voice down.”
“Okay, boys. Time for dinner,” Selma said. “Come on, let’s go, let’s go.” She approached Steve and unnecessarily prodded him with the barrel of her shotgun. He winced, and Eleanor realized that his bruises were not yet completely healed. She started to say something, then caught the slight shake of his head.
She watched them march off toward the inner compound as she sat in her truck. Darkness was beginning to fall. The cattle were all clustered around the feed troughs close to the fence.
No calves were expected to be born for at least two weeks, but if the size of the mamas was any indication, they might come sooner. She made a mental note to have Jack Renfro check the calf emergency equipment she carried in case she had to pull a breach calf.
A band of sullen gray clouds blotted out the last remaining rays of autumn sunshine on the horizon. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees in as many minutes, and a chill wind from the northwest had risen just as quickly. If there should be a bad storm in the next few of days, one of those cows would probably calve right in the middle of it.
“Please, Lord,” Eleanor said, “let her not need my help to do it.”
ELEANOR CHECKED for Mike Newman’s car before she got out of her truck in her driveway. She didn’t see his car or Precious’s. She microwaved a frozen dinner, pledged to have a decent meal in a decent restaurant this weekend, even if she had to go alone, and settled down in front of the fireplace with the transcript of Steve’s trial.
She woke up at nine-thirty with a crick in her neck from the chair she’d fallen asleep in. She’d felt she had to read every word, but she’d found most of the legal preliminaries both confusing and mind-numbingly dull. Maybe she ought to skip straight to opening arguments and witnesses. She fixed herself a cup of tea with caffeine, and moved to the dining-room table, where the chairs were less comfortable.
The opening arguments simply stated that Steve had stabbed his wife to death because he was angry at her, tired of being beholden to her for money and wanted her million-dollar life-insurance policy of which he was the beneficiary. He was also sole beneficiary of her estate, which was large. And the life-insurance policy paid double indemnity because she had been murdered.
He thus had motive.
The knife came from a matched set of carving knives that were kept in a drawer in his own kitchen—not in plain sight. There were, however, other sharp knives that had been in plain sight and would have been closer at hand for a stranger.
He had means.
He and his wife had returned home together from a dinner party with his business partner and his wife. The business partner, Neil Waters, wa
s married to Steve’s wife’s sister, so was not only his partner, but his brother-in-law. No forensic evidence was found to suggest the presence of a third party at the Chadwick house either before, during or after the murder.
Steve had opportunity.
Eleanor tried to think of “the defendant” as a nameless, faceless person, but she kept seeing Steve. The longer she read, the more damning the evidence seemed.
The defense stated in its opening argument that Steve Chadwick had loved his wife, that they had been happily married, that he was making plenty of money from his company and did not need hers, and that if he had needed money she would have given it to him without strings.
They had come home together, but Steve had been tired, so had gone right to sleep upstairs, while his wife stayed downstairs to watch television. He said when he woke up in the morning and found she had still not come to bed, he thought she had fallen asleep in front of the television set and had stayed downstairs so as not to disturb him.
He had gone through his usual morning routine of shaving, bathing and dressing, and had even called downstairs to see whether she was making coffee. When he received no answer, he assumed she was in the kitchen and couldn’t hear him.
He had called police immediately upon finding her body, had been completely distraught at her death. He swore an intruder must have entered the house during the night to rob it, discovered Chelsea, killed her to keep her from being able to identify him, stolen the jewelry she was wearing and run away. The missing jewelry—necklace, bracelet and ring—had never been found. The knife could have been out on the drain board or the kitchen counter— Steve didn’t remember. He had heard nothing and slept deeply all night long.
Then came the evidence. The first witness was the medical examiner.
Chelsea Chadwick had been sitting upright in her recliner in the den, possibly dozing in front of the television set, when her killer had crept up behind her and stabbed downward with such force that the sternum was split and the heart punctured. There was been little blood because the knife had been left in the wound and death had been instantaneous. The killer probably did not have bloodstains on his person or his clothing.
The Payback Man Page 15
