Whispers of the Heart

by Woster, Barbara

  When he felt steadier, he slowly righted himself, taking deep steadying breaths. If it were possible, the sheriff thought, he looked even more peaked than before, but his bout with sickness did not prevent his spewing anger in the sheriff’s direction, albeit in a near whisper.

  “My daughter filled me in in the car on the way over here, so if you don’t think we had anything to do with what happened to Rivers, what are we doing here? And why are we just sitting here with you staring at us like we’re some sort of reprehensible rodents.”

  “You sure you don’t need to pay a visit to the bathroom before we proceed. You’re looking mighty pasty.” The sheriff said, deliberately ignoring Canton’s questions. He wasn’t ready to start the interview, even though he’d determined Jethro was of sound mind to continue. He’d made that determination on the fact that Canton was sober enough to walk into the office this morning under his own impetus. So, despite his still slightly slurred speech and sickly visage, Jonathan judged him capable of giving a statement. An annoyed Canton was just about to reiterate his questions when the front door opened and the sheriff stood suddenly.

  “I’ll be right back,” the sheriff said, “and then we’ll begin.”

  Had Jethro the strength to turn to see who the new arrival was, he’d have sobered quickly and made a beeline for the back door. As it was, he slouched in his seat again and resumed rubbing his temples. Marsha, on the other hand, wasn’t ill – until she shifted in her seat and glanced over her shoulder. Immediately wishing she hadn’t. Dalian strolled in, his body stiffening when he spied the two people sitting in front of the sheriff’s desk. The sheriff made his way over, questioning the wisdom of putting these people in the same room together; however, the way he saw it, Dalian needed to hear the interview to believe Canton was innocent; needed to judge the man’s veracity for himself. He hadn’t told Dalian in his phone message the day before the purpose for coming into the office this morning because he’d wanted him to show up. Now he only hoped he’d stay.

  “Dalian, thanks for coming. I have a seat in the corner for you.”

  “I don’t get it, Jonathan,” Dalian hissed, his gaze pinned to the back of Canton’s head. “What am I doing here? What are they doing here? Did he confess?”

  “Easy, Dalian,” the sheriff said, leading Dalian to a chair next to his, behind the desk – away from Canton. When Dalian moved around the desk, into Jethro’s line of sight, the man visibly blanched. “I wanted you here during the interview so that there isn’t any doubt in your mind as to whether Jethro is innocent or guilty of what happened to you yesterday morning.”

  “I am innocent,” Jethro exclaimed, looking anything but, “but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him and you railroad me because you think I killed his wife.”

  “You did kill my wife, you son of a bitch,” Dalian hissed. “And if that judge had seen the truth of the matter, you’d be rotting in prison now instead of trying to kill me too.”

  “I didn’t mean to, I tell ya,” Canton screeched. “I swear I didn’t see her.”

  “Sheriff, you can’t have him in here. He’s just likely to kill my dad before you get around to interviewing us,” Marsha interjected.

  “He’s here,” the sheriff said, addressing all three, “because I believe you both to be innocent of these current charges, and he needs to be certain of it too.”

  Dalian sat down heavily in the chair when the sheriff made his announcement, his own tanned skin pale. “No,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry, Dalian,” the sheriff said, settling into his own chair, “but the evidence attesting to his innocence is too overwhelming to ignore. And to Marsha’s innocence.”

  Dalian shook his head, as the sheriff started the video camera sitting on top of the tripod next to his desk. He turned on his laptop, and attached the USB cable from the camera to the side of the laptop, so that the recording would be automatically filed, and, with the press of a key, submitted into evidence at the county courthouse.

  “We are here to question two individuals in the assault of Dalian Rivers and of a guest at his ranch, Kathryn McMurray, on April 22nd, 2061 at approximately 0430.” He began formally. “Here with me today are Jethro Canton, and his daughter, Marsha Canton, as well as one of the victims of the assault, Dalian Rivers. This interview is a formality in which the intent is to establish the whereabouts of Jethro Canton and Marsha Canton at the time of the incident. Mr. Canton, could you please tell us where you were in the early morning hours of April 22nd? And please remember that my computer is enhanced with the latest voice stress analyzer, which will automatically review your responses as being either truthful or suspect. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, but hell, I can barely remember where I am now,” Canton muttered, wiping a hand across his unshaven face, “but I can definitely tell you where I wasn’t. I wasn’t at River’s house, or anywhere near his barn. I may not know specifically if I was in my house or not, but I had been visiting with a bottle of Jim Beam for two days straight and when Marsha woke me up late yesterday, I was in my bedroom.”

  The sheriff looked at his laptop to read the voice analysis, and then over at Dalian, who was watching Canton carefully, murder in his gaze. When Jethro finished, the sheriff saw Dalian’s shoulders slump and knew he believed Canton’s story, though brief, although he hadn’t yet revealed the results of the stress analysis. He sighed heavily, sorry for having to put Dalian through yet another letdown. However, now was not the time to issue condolences or apologies, since he also needed to confirm Marsha’s whereabouts for the record.

  “I know that you and I have already spoken, Miss Canton, but I need your testimony for the record also, or it won’t be official, and I won’t be able to mark you off as a person of interest. So, if you would, please repeat to me where you were at 4:30 a.m., on April 22nd.”

  Marsha blanched and shook her head, her gaze widening in fear. The sheriff realized his mistake immediately. He’d callously asked the question without regard to how her father might react to his daughter whoring with one of Dalian’s ranch hands; especially, when it had been made apparent that she was supposed to be chasing after Dalian. He called to his deputy who quickly appeared from a side office, “Could you escort Mr. Canton into the waiting room, Harold?”

  Canton stiffened in his seat, “I ain’t leaving here so that you can harass my daughter into confessing something she ain’t done.”

  “Your daughter is eighteen, so I can legally question her without a parent present. And since I prefer to do so, you’ll wait outside.” The deputy tugged on Jethro’s arm until the man stood, albeit unsteadily. When he had a secure footing, the deputy guided him from the room, shutting the door behind them.

  “Again, Marsha, I know we already went over this, but I need it for the record.”

  “I was sleeping with Kenny Mitchell in my room. He was with me from about midnight until you started pounding on my door early in the morning.” She lifted her chin proudly and tried to prevent the embarrassment seeping into her cheeks, but one look at Dalian and the facade cracked. She lowered her head in shame.

  “Thank you, Marsha,” the sheriff whispered, sympathetic to her humiliation. He reached up and switched off the recorder, and then stood from behind his desk and went to retrieve Jethro.

  “Damn it all to hell,” Canton snapped when the sheriff asked him to return to the office, “I just sat down.”

  “Well, now you can get back up,” Jonathan said, and then moved to settle back behind his desk. He waited for Jethro to shuffle back to his previous seat before speaking again.

  “There is just one more thing that we need to get straightened out before I let you two leave today. Of course, your answers determine whether you actually get to leave today; that, and the result of the voice analysis,” the sheriff stated, flipping the recorder back on. “Yesterday afternoon, the bartender in town paid me a visit.” The sheriff watched the pair carefully and saw by their widening gazes that they had an
inkling as to where this conversation was headed. “He heard about the assault on Dalian and his guest, and informed me that you, Jethro, had been making threats against Dalian, and bragging up a storm over how you were going to get hold of his land – one way or another.”

  “I didn’t attack Dalian. I swear by God Almighty. Didn’t you just say that I was innocent?” Canton squealed.

  “You are, of assault, but not of making public threats.”

  Marsha was shaking her lowered head. The sheriff could see tears falling and hear her soft sniffles. “Let me approach this from a different angle. Marsha, did your dad push you at Dalian with the intent of producing an heir and/or ever mention plans for acquiring his land in a less-than-legal manner?”

  Marsha covered her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as her tears turned to full-fledged blubbering.

  “You let her be, sheriff! I’ll tell you what I done, but you let her be.”

  “I’m all ears, and before you speak, know that I did a very thorough background check on you and discovered you are mentioned in over a dozen fraud, coercion, and blackmail cases. Had I checked more thoroughly two years ago when you were a suspect in Carolyn Rivers’s murder, I would have done what I could to dissuade you remaining in my town. Now, speak.”

  Canton glared at the sheriff, but a quick glance at Dalian and he quickly changed his expression from open hostility to just above passive aggressive. “I get what you’re saying, and I admit that I pushed Marsha at Dalian, ok? Hoped she’d catch his eye because I’d taken a liking to his spread and thought that I could get to share it if he married my daughter. Felt like we’d be co-owners of the property, especially if Marsha was to give him a son.”

  “And?” The sheriff prompted, when he fell silent.

  “And, I may have made some stupid comments when inebriated, that I can’t quite recollect right now, but I ain’t ever carried out those threats. Wouldn’t have done so either. I’m all talk. Marsha can tell you that.”

  “If you were all talk, how did you manage to get a rap sheet longer than my arm related to this very thing – swindling people out of their property?”

  “My wife was the brains behind all of that,” Jethro said quietly, and Marsha’s head snapped up. She stared at her dad through tear-blurred gaze, as if seeing him for the first time.

  “Dad?”

  Jethro kept his gaze averted from his daughter and slumped further into his chair. “Your mom was the brains, okay? I said it.”

  The sheriff stopped talking, content to allow Jethro to cleanse his conscious, as long as the voice analyzer continued relaying that he was speaking the truth, that is. As far as he figured it, it was time that his daughter heard the truth about her old man, straight from the horse’s mouth.

  “She planned all of the blackmails. She enticed all those men to sleep with her and then blackmailed them out of their property; then she turned around and sold it back to them for a nice tidy profit. Your mom planned it all. I was just the cameraman. I set up the equipment at the motels, and then mailed it to the marks with instructions.”

  “I don’t understand,” Marsha whispered, shaking her head in a confused daze.

  “Well, your mom, you see, she had a knack for picking those who’d be too lily-livered to turn us in; too afraid of losing their wives or families; too proud to have their names slandered in the media. We’d quick deed the land into our names as payment – hush money – and then offer to sell it back to the mark quiet like. We didn’t want the land. Not really. But we sure knew that the men would want it back. Most times, the families of the marks didn’t even know their lands had been sold...”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Why not just blackmail for cash? Why land?”

  “A sell of property is legit. No questions about the legality. No waiting to cash out bonds or stocks, or for the bank to open.” Canton shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what my wife said anyhow. “Ask a man for money,” she used to say, “ and they get all sorts of squeamish, complaining about how they can’t come up with a certain sum fast enough, but ask for a quick deed to their land, it’s a matter of acquiring their signature. No muss, no fuss.” And she was right too. When it came to the land, they could provide whatever sort of excuse they wanted to their wives and families about its loss, but we’d be in the clear. The next day, we’d offer to sell it back, and nine times out of ten, the mark suddenly found all sorts of ways to get their hands on the required money – anything to keep their families from knowing they’d sold it to begin with.”

  “What about those who decided not to buy it back?” the sheriff asked, his curiosity over this scheme peaked.

  “Well, if for whatever reason, they really didn’t have the money to buy it back, or decided it wasn’t worth parting with their money over, then we had something of value to sell to someone else. Had my wife been here with me today, Dalian wouldn’t have known what hit him. She’d have bamboozled him out of his land and he’d have thanked her for it.”

  Dalian sucked in an offended breath over that final remark, “I ain’t a lily-livered coward, and that doesn’t change the facts. You were here, and you wanted my land, not my money, and Carolyn stood in the way of your getting it,” Dalian hissed, unable to stop from bringing the subject back around to the death of his wife. “I don’t give a damn what that judge said, you killed my wife. I was standing right there and saw you do it. So either you’re the worst shot in the world or you...”

  “I am.” Canton interrupted. “I am the worst shot in the world,” he said, lifting his gaze to Dalian’s, and for the first time felt confident in his belief of innocence. “And the judge taking away my firearm license was the smartest thing he could’ve done. And I’ll tell you something else; her death is the reason why my best friend became Jim Beam. The alcohol didn’t judge me, condemn me, or laugh at my ineptness with a rifle. Yeah, I talk a big talk now – when I’m drunk – but I’m a coward and a lousy shot with a rifle. I should never have been firing after that cougar. Should never have let that cat anger me so that I couldn’t see straight; should never have been chasing after it in the first place when all I’d had to drink for dinner was bourbon – but as God is my witness, I didn’t see your wife. Didn’t know I’d killed her, until I was arrested for it. If I could, I’d turn back the clock and take it all back.” Canton stopped talking, his eyes filling with tears, and he shook his head at his own stupidity. “I’m just a coward that talks big,” he whispered after another minute, swiping at his eyes. “Hell, I’ve even threatened my own kid here, when drunk. Hinted that if she didn’t get you to marry her, then I’d have to resort to a plan B. Hell, I didn’t even have a plan B. I just figured that, as pretty as she is, you’d be interested. That she was capable of taking up where her mom left off, when her mom left me...” He stopped talking again, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his sleeves. No one moved or talked again for five more minutes, as if they each needed that time to absorb everything said. Marsha and Dalian sat staring at Canton with a mixture of pity and disgust, but each believed what he said, and the sheriff confirmed his sincerity.

  “I’ve only had this voice analyzer installed on the system for about a year and a half,” the sheriff stated softly, “but its accuracy has never been off, and its results never disputed. He’s telling the truth.” Dalian closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands, and Jethro flopped back into his chair, relief nearly overwhelming him. Marsha, however, could not relax. She could not take her eyes off this man, whom she’d called dad for so long. No longer did she fear his wrath, rather felt empowered by the pitiable weakness he exuded.

  After a few minutes more, Sheriff Masters reached up and switched off the recorder, took a deep breath, and began to speak, his tone official.

  “You both have been officially cleared of any wrongdoing in the attack on Dalian Rivers and Kathryn McMurray, but I want you to take what I’m about to say to heart. I highly recommend you leave Wind River just as fast as you can sell
your spread, or better still – before then. You aren’t welcome in my town any longer.”

  Jethro’s face reddened in anger and Marsha’s in humiliation. Canton was about to argue, but one look at Dalian and he decided against it. He stood rapidly, swaying as blood rushed to his head. Marsha leapt up and clasped hold of his arm. Together they walked from the building and straight to their car. Marsha didn’t stop driving until they’d left Wind River more than a hundred miles in their rearview mirror.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “You could have warned me,” Dalian said, as soon as the Canton’s left the office.

  “If I had you wouldn’t have come.” The sheriff stood and detached the cable from his computer and then set about storing the digital recorder away. When it was locked inside the cabinet, he returned to the computer and depressed the necessary key that would automatically transmit the recorded information to the county courthouse, where a clerk would officially enter it into the records and store it on their own system. After he did that, he converted the file to one he could store on his own laptop and then pulled the recordings into a file labeled “Cantons’ Interviews,” which was inside a primary folder with the latest case file number assigned to Dalian Rivers. The only other evidence inside that computer folder was toxicology reports on all parties involved, the interview with the bartender, and medical reports on Dalian and Kat. Nothing had been finalized with the arson investigators yet, and now that the Canton’s had been cleared, he didn’t have any viable suspects to include in the suspects subfolder.

  As if just realizing that the suspect subfolder was empty, Jonathan stopped fiddling with his computer and turned to face Dalian, a look of concern etched on his face, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

  Dalian’s brow knitted, “At the house, why?”

  “We don’t have any suspects in custody.”