The Darcy & Flora Boxed Set

by Blanche Day Manos

  “I believe I’ll go with you,” Mom said to me as Sophie left. “I want to meet this Lee Davis person.”

  Long before we reached police headquarters, I began to wish that my appointment with Lee Davis had been scheduled for tomorrow. My mind had been in overdrive all night working over the things Steve Hopper told me and I had had very little sleep. Now, even with plenty of coffee, my eyes felt scratchy and I was as alert as a bear disturbed in the middle of hibernation. Which is to say, drowsy.

 

  As it turned out, we needn’t have hurried. The receptionist, whose name tag said Tiny Monroe, told us Lieutenant Davis had been called out on an emergency but another officer, Sergeant Maria Romero would meet with us. Ms. Monroe looked us over and nodded, apparently satisfied with what she saw.

  She shifted her wad of gum to the back of her mouth and talked around it. “About time somebody from Levi came to talk to us. Although I think it’s mighty strange that you’re coming after Andrea has been gone for two years. That first husband of hers, that Tom fellow, didn’t like being thrown over for another man. Those Motts hold long grudges, let me tell you.”

  “Thank you, Tiny.” A tall, slim woman came from an inner office. She frowned at Ms. Monroe and shook her head. Under her arm she carried a blue, legal-sized folder.

  “I’m Maria Romero,” she said, extending her hand.

  Her honey-colored skin, black hair, and dark eyes spoke clearly of her Hispanic background. She wore her hair pulled back into a bun and her makeup had been applied sparingly. I had the feeling that this woman was truly a professional.

  Maria escorted us to her office on the second floor and invited us to sit in the two chairs in front of her desk.

  “Actually, Lieutenant Davis did want to meet with you,” she said, “but he thought I’d be the next logical choice because I’ve lived here all my life, been a police officer for fifteen years, and know just about everybody in town. Although I wasn’t well acquainted with Andrea Worth, I do know quite a bit about her family background and I knew her first husband. In fact, I went to high school with Tom Mott.”

  Mom, never one to mince words, leaned toward her. “If you knew Tom, can you tell us what he was like? Was he outgoing, shy, or what? Did he have a temper? From what we’ve heard, sounds like he was pretty easily riled.”

  Maria raised her eyebrows and looked from her folder to Mom. “Pretty fiery, I’d say.” She rifled through some papers in her folder. “I understand that, according to Lieutenant Davis, you have already spoken with Steve Hopper? He gave you some of the background on Andrea and Tom Mott’s marriage?”

  “Yes, he said that Andrea and Tom had a rocky marriage that didn’t last long. But Lieutenant Davis told me on the phone last night that Tom was on his ranch at the time Andrea disappeared and couldn’t have made the trip to Levi and back without somebody being aware he was gone. His ranch hands and several town folk said they had seen him right here in Amarillo.”

  “That’s true. The investigating officer’s notes say the only time the police were called was during a restaurant brawl when Tom got a bit physical. But I happen to know there were at least two other times when a loud argument was overheard right here on a city street.”

  Sergeant Romero propped her chin in her hands. “You know, I was surprised when I first heard that Andrea had married Tom. He had the reputation of being a real womanizer and someone who did business with a bunch of mighty questionable cohorts. On the other hand, Andrea always seemed to be a hard worker and a smart businesswoman. I heard that she made several changes in her mother’s shop that increased sales considerably. I also heard that Andrea’s mother didn’t even know about the wedding until it was a done deal.”

  Sophie never told us that.

  Mom rubbed her upper lip and squinted at something in the distance, a sure sign she was deep in thought. “Of course, after they were divorced, Andrea re-married. Seems to me if Tom had been inclined to get rid of his wife, it would have been more profitable for him to have done that when he could have inherited a chunk of her money.”

  Maria nodded. “You would think so. However, I do know that in their divorce settlement, Tom kept the ranch he and Andrea had bought together. And it borders that great big Inglenook Ranch that she inherited from her grandmother.”

  “OK, I’ve got to know something. I didn’t mention it to Sophie because I didn’t want to sound rude—but Inglenook? What kind of name is that?” I asked.

  “It’s a very pretty name.” Mom smiled. “It means a fireside or a chimney corner. Your own Grandma Grace, Darcy, liked to curl up with a book in a corner by the fireplace. It was her favorite reading place, she said, when she was a girl.”

  Hmm. A person never grows too old to learn something new.

  “So, did Andrea inherit a lot of money plus the ranch from her Grandma Williams?” I asked.

  “I don’t know how much money, but I do know that Eudora Williams was considered a millionaire around town.” Again, Ms. Romero consulted the folder. “Of course, it’s no secret that the ranch went to Andrea at her grandmother’s death. The title to the ranch was transferred to Andrea on the county records. The section of land that Andrea and Tom bought later would be considered joint property, but nobody knows if he got his hands on some of her other money, and nobody has access to her banking records at present. If Andrea’s body is eventually discovered, then probate kicks in and that leaves a lot of things open to official scrutiny.”

  She continued. “I hesitate to even mention the other thing I’ve wondered about. This is probably only gossip, but it could be important to the case; I don’t know. There is a niece, Charlene Williams, who worked for Eudora Williams off and on for several years and she was convinced that her grandmother would divide the Inglenook ranch between her and Andrea. When she learned that Andrea got the whole ranch, several folks heard Charlene say she wouldn’t stand for it; she’d take care of Andrea. Of course, that was probably just empty threats from a jealous woman.”

  Charlene Williams was fast becoming a most interesting character in this tragedy. I would call her as soon as I could.

  “But surely, since there were only two grandchildren, Charlene was not left out in the cold by her grandmother; no inheritance at all?” I asked.

  Sergeant Romero shook her head. “Charlene got a rental property in town and, I think, some heirlooms. But she really wanted that ranch.”

  She paused. “I do know that Charlene was at work the day Andrea disappeared.”

  We thanked Sergeant Romero for her time and headed for the elevator.

  “Well,” my mother said, “it looks like everybody who might have had a hand in Andrea’s disappearance was conveniently occupied elsewhere; that’s strange in itself, but it could happen. So maybe she did just up and leave on her own.”

  Mom had spoken as we walked by the desk belonging to Tiny Monroe.

  “And then again, maybe not,” Tiny muttered.

  I turned around and looked at her. “What did you say?”

  Tiny shrugged and picked up a sheaf of papers. Turning her back to us, she stalked over to a file cabinet. I looked at Mom. She shook her head.

  “I think the interview is over,” Mom said.

  Chapter 8

  As it turned out, I did not call Charlene Williams that night. For supper, Mom and I took Sophie out to eat. It seemed little enough that we could do in return for her hospitality. I had never been a big meat eater; in fact, I thought I could happily eat only fruit, nuts, and vegetables the rest of my life, but the steak I had that night at one of Amarillo’s most popular restaurants was enough to make me change my mind.

  After supper, feeling comfortably full and sleepy, my only thoughts were of that inviting bed in Sophie’s upstairs guest room. I must have been asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.

  The next morning the aroma of fresh-ground coffee made me think for a moment that I was at home until I realized that Sophie must be an early riser, too. I
glanced at the other twin bed—empty. I was sure that my mother and Sophie, these two newfound friends, were downstairs talking.

  Quickly slipping into my blue robe and fuzzy slippers, I followed my nose down to the kitchen.

  Sure enough, Mom and Sophie were sitting in the small breakfast alcove, sharing cups of coffee and a morning chat. Tears shone in Sophie’s eyes and I guessed they had been talking about Andrea.

  Mom turned in my direction. “Sophie was just telling me about Andrea’s ranch, the Inglenook. She would like for us to see it today. How does that sound to you?”

  “Please help yourself to coffee, Darcy,” Sophie said. “I hope you like flapjacks. Bacon is there on the stove, too. Everything is still hot.”

  Pouring coffee into a waiting cup, and snagging some bacon, I followed my hostess’s directions. “That sounds great, Mom,” I said. “But will you have time to do that, Sophie? What about your shop?”

  “I’ve talked to Carol. She can handle things today. She’s very competent. Did you two bring jeans, something that can straddle a horse?”

  Mom’s eyes grew large. “You want us to ride horses?”

  Sophie smiled. “Can you?”

  “Well, sure,” Mom said. “I guess. Darcy?”

  “That sounds like fun. It has been a long time since I’ve been on the back of a horse.”

  “It’s the best way to see the Inglenook,” Sophie said. “Some ranchers have started using ATVs but we prefer the horse. He’s much quieter and, in a pinch, can maybe get a cowboy out of trouble. Besides the All-Terrain Vehicle is noisy and scares the cattle. The ranch is out beyond the Palo Duro Canyon. It’s a wonderful canyon about twenty-five miles southeast of town.”

  An hour later we were on the rim of the fabled canyon, the second largest in the United States. I could hardly believe my eyes. It was breathtaking and a complete departure from the flatness of the prairie.

  Sophie braked her Ford truck and we tumbled out to stare at this natural wonder.

  The only word I could think to say was, “Amazing.”

  “It’s 120 miles long and twenty miles wide in places,” Sophie said. “The deepest part is over 800 feet. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful” didn’t do the canyon justice. The moss greens, yellow ochre, rust, and mauve canyon walls spread out below me as far as I could see. Scudding clouds continually changed the colors.

  “What caused all this?” Mom asked. “Of course, I know that God did, but what did He use?”

  Sophie laughed. “He used the Prairie Dog Town Fork of the Red River. That and wind have gradually eroded these rocks.”

  Mom pointed into the distance. “I could swear that’s a lighthouse over there.”

  “In a way, it is,” Sophie said. “At least, that’s what the rock formation is called.”

  “Palo Duro. What a place. And what does its name mean?” I asked.

  “It’s Spanish for ‘hard wood,’” Sophie said. “Yes, it’s a remarkable area. The deer, wild turkey, coyotes, mountain lions, bobcats, rattlesnakes, and many other animals seem to enjoy it. Of course, it’s their natural home, and like us humans, there’s no place like home.”

  “Did you say ‘rattlesnakes’?” I climbed back into the truck. “Maybe the best way to view the canyon is from the safety of your truck, Sophie.”

  “It’s time we moved on anyway. The ranch is a few miles farther and I want us to have plenty of time to explore.”

  Thirty miles later, Sophie turned her truck from the main road onto a narrow graveled lane. A tall iron gate straddled the lane. A wood sign swung from the top of the gate. One word, “Inglenook,” had been burned into the sign.

  “What’s that beside the ranch name?” I asked, pointing at a symbol etched into the sign.

  “It’s a flame,” Sophie said. And of course the W under it is for Williams. The flaming W. It’s the ranch’s brand.”

  We bumped across a cattle guard and were within the Inglenook. A long driveway curved around a small pond, bordered by a few willows.

  “I’m glad there’s plenty of water in the tank,” Sophie said, as we bounced past.

  “Tank?” I asked.

  “The pond,” Sophie said, grinning.

  Three sorrel horses looked up as we passed. I couldn’t see any sign of human habitation until we topped a small rise; there, spread out in front of us were enough buildings to furnish a small town.

  “Are all these a part of the ranch?” Mom asked.

  “Yes,” Sophie said. “It takes a good many buildings to run a 30,000 acre cattle ranch. In addition to the main house, there’s the house for the overseer, the bunkhouse for the cowboys, cook shack, tack room, machinery shed, gasoline tanks, the barns; a lot of buildings but each one plays an important part on the ranch.”

  “My favorite is the big, red old-fashioned barn that looks like it belongs in the 19th century,” Mom said.

  “Actually, it does. That’s the original barn. It has been kept in good repair, re-roofed and painted when needed.”

  “Always painted red, I’ll bet,” I said.

  “Yes. Old-timers used materials they had on hand: ferrous oxide, milk, linseed oil, and lime. The paint had the added attraction of killing moss and stuff they didn’t want growing on the walls. The ferrous oxide caused the paint to be red and we’ve kept up that color ’cause it seems to fit. Now, let’s go over to the horse corral and see what Oscar has picked out for you to ride.”

  Oscar turned out to be one of the ranch hands. He was standing by a group of horses in the corral, a curry comb in his hand. He looked up as Sophie parked the truck and we three women tumbled out.

  He touched his wide-brimmed hat. “Miss Sophie,” he said. “These fellas ought to be just about right for you all.”

  Three horses; two pintos and a shiny black, were saddled and bridled, their reins looped loosely around a corral post.

  Sophie’s mount was the quarter horse. “Star” she called him because of the white spot in his forehead. The pintos were for Mom and me.

  The cook had prepared sack lunches for us and Sophie slipped these into Star’s saddlebags before putting her booted foot into the stirrup and swinging onto his tall back. Sophie had brought along two hats that, happily, fit us. She told us we needed them to protect our faces from the sun. I wasn’t sure whether the wind would let them stay on our heads, but Sophie was the expert here. Oscar helped Mom into the saddle. I determined to mount on my own so I grabbed the saddle horn, stuck the toe of my left boot into the left stirrup and swung up. Funny how tall I felt on the back of this little pinto. Sophie led the way and our horses, Mint and Julep, obediently trotted after Star as he left the corral.

  “How you doing, Mom?” I asked as I glanced over at her.

  My mother wore a grin that took about ten years off her face. “I haven’t had such a lot of fun in a long time,” she said. “I had forgotten how much I used to enjoy riding.”

  I had to admit, it was exhilarating. I could understand how my ancestors must have loved their horses and the feeling of being in control of all this bridled power. Hopefully, tomorrow my muscles wouldn’t be paying for the fun I was having today.

  The prairie stretched away from us on all sides. Wind blew the grass in waves reminiscent of the ocean. The denim jacket I wore felt welcome because, although the sun shone, the wind definitely was chilly.

  The rise and fall of the landscape was so gradual that I didn’t realize we weren’t riding through flat land until I looked behind me and could see no sign of the ranch buildings. In the distance, white-faced cattle grazed. The sky shone with a clean blue so bright that it hurt my eyes. There was no sound in all the world except the clop of our horses’ hooves, the creak of saddles, and the wind blowing through the sage.

  Sophie dropped back to ride between us. “This is where the Inglenook borders the Mott ranch,” she said. Drawing back on the reins, she looked down. “What’s this?”

  A roll of barbed wire with some fence
posts stacked beside it lay in our path. Mom and I stopped Mint and Julep beside Star. Sophie slid off her mount and kicked the posts. When Sophie looked up at us, her cheeks were flushed.

  “That Tom Mott! He is trying to fence off part of our land again. He did this once before and I had to go talk to a lawyer to prevent him from actually taking part of our land! He wants this ranch so bad that he will stop at nothing to get it. He doesn’t care whether it’s all in a parcel or little bits at a time, just so he gets the Inglenook!”

  Did Sophie realize what she said about Tom stopping at nothing? Maybe my tired brain wasn’t functioning full throttle but this was hard to puzzle out. The Inglenook Ranch belonged to Andrea. She had been Tom’s wife but divorced him and re-married. After her second marriage, she disappeared. Legally, the ranch was still hers because it was too soon to have Andrea declared dead. But how would it profit Tom for Andrea to be dead? The ranch was out of his reach anyway, wasn’t it?

  Sophie frowned as she swung back into the saddle. She pointed to a large, spreading cottonwood standing like a lonely sentinel atop a knoll in the vastness of the prairie. “Oh, let’s forget about it for now and not let that miserable Tom Mott spoil a perfectly nice day. There’s a spring over there by those trees and some flat rocks. It’s a good picnic place. That’s where we’ll stop for lunch,” she said.

  This was welcome news. Breakfast happened a long time ago and something about being in the open air gave me an appetite.

  I gingerly dismounted and clung to the saddle horn until I was sure I could walk.

  Mom laughed. “I think you could be called a tenderfoot, Darcy.”

  She was already standing with Sophie under the cottonwood, helping spread our lunch on the flat-topped gray rock.

  How had she dismounted so quickly and walked with no assistance after that ride? “It’s not my feet that are tender,” I said. “Aren’t you even just a little bit stiff?”

  “No more than usual. At my age, I get used to a few aches and pains; not like you youngsters who just haven’t been around as long!”