Best Kept Secrets

"The fire's completely put out, Mr. Minton," the fire chief

 

reported. "We checked all the wiring, insulation, everything

 

in the roof. All the damage was superficial." He clicked his

 

lips against his gums. "Damn shame about Reede Lambert's

 

Thoroughbred, though."

 

"Thank you for all you've done. I've always said our fire

 

department is the finest in West Texas."

 

Some of Angus's heartiness had been restored, though his

 

features were heavy with fatigue. He was putting up a good

 

front, as though he was determined not to let this be a setback.

 

Alex could only admire his stamina and optimism.

 

He was sitting at the kitchen table with Junior, looking like

 

he might have been wrapping up an all-night poker game.

 

 

 

instead of holding a wake for a destroyed racehorse and his

 

vandalized property.

 

"Guess we'll be taking off, then." The fireman picked up

 

his hard hat and moved toward the back door. "Someone

 

will be out tomorrow to look for clues. It's a definite arson.''

 

"We'll cooperate any way we can. I'm just glad you responded

 

so quickly and kept the fire from spreading."

 

"So long." As the fireman went through the back door,

 

he met Reede coming in. Reede ignored Alex, who was

 

standing self-consciously against the wall, and poured himself

 

a cup of coffee from the pot Lupe had brewed.

 

"The troughs are pure again. The horses won't be poisoned

 

by their own excrement," he said emotionlessly. "We got

 

all the windows boarded up so you won't freeze tonight.

 

There's still a lot of cleanup to do."

 

"Well," Angus sighed, coming to his feet, "we can't start

 

on that till daylight, so I'm going up to bed. Thanks, Reede.

 

You went above and beyond your duties as sheriff."

 

Reede bobbed his head in quick acknowledgment. "How's

 

Sarah Jo?"

 

"Junior made her take a tranquilizer."

 

"She's sleeping now." Junior stood up also. "Would you

 

like me to drive you back to town now, Alex? You've got

 

no business being out here at this time of night."

 

"I wanted her to see her handiwork," Reede said.

 

"I had nothing to do with it!" she cried.

 

"Maybe not directly," Angus said sternly, "but this damn

 

fool investigation of yours put things in motion. We've been

 

fighting that loud-mouthed hellfire-and-damnation preacher

 

for years. He was just looking for an excuse to pull a malicious

 

stunt like this. You handed him a golden opportunity."

 

"I'm sorry if you see it that way, Angus."

 

The air was thick with tension. No one moved. Even the

 

housekeeper stopped washing empty coffee cups. Finally,

 

Junior stepped forward and took her arm. "Come on. It's

 

getting late."

 

"I'll take her back," Reede said curtly.

 

 

 

"I don't mind."

 

"I'm going anyway."

 

"You'll just harp on what happened here."

 

"What the hell do you care what I say to her?"

 

"All right then, you take her home," Junior said testily.

 

"You're the one who brought her, aren't you?" With that,

 

he turned and left the room.

 

"'Night, Reede, Alex." An unsmiling Angus followed his

 

son out.

 

Reede tossed the dregs of his coffee into the sink. "Come

 

on," he ordered her.

 

Retrieving her coat, she went outside with him and dejectedly

 

climbed into his truck. She wanted to say something

 

to break the dreadful silence, but couldn't bring herself to

 

utter a single word. Reede seemed disinclined to converse.

 

His eyes remained resolutely on the center stripe of the highway.

 

Finally, the growing knot of anxiety in her chest got to be

 

too much and she blurted out, "I had nothing to do with what

 

happened tonight."

 

He merely turned his head and looked at her, his expression

 

one of patent disbelief.

 

"I think Junior believes me," she cried defensively.

 

"What the hell does he know? You've dazzled him. He

 

took one look into those baby blues of yours and sank like

 

a rock. He's up to his ass in sentimental bullshit about you

 

being Celina's daughter. He remembers how he used to dote

 

on you and wants to do it again--only in an entirely different

 

way. The toy he wants to give you to play with now doesn't

 

rattle."

 

"You're disgusting."

 

"It must have given you a thrill to see us coming close to

 

blows over you."

 

She ground her teeth. "Think what you want to about my

 

designs on Junior and his on me, but I won't have you thinking

 

I was responsible for the damage done to his ranch tonight."

 

"You were responsible. You incited Plummet."

 

 

 

"Not intentionally. Plummet got it into his head that I was

 

an answer to his prayers--that God sent me to purge Purcell

 

of sinners, the Mintons, anyone connected to or a proponent

 

of pari-mutuel gambling."

 

"He's crazier than I thought."

 

She rubbed her upper arms as though recollections of Plummet

 

gave her chills. "You don't know the half of it. He says

 

God is angry because I haven't locked all of you away. He

 

accused me of fraternizing with the devil, meaning you."

 

She refrained from telling him the sexual parallels Plummet

 

had drawn.

 

Reede parked in front of her motel room. The door was

 

still in shambles and standing ajar. "I thought you said you'd

 

take care of that."

 

"Prop a chair under the doorknob till morning. You'll be

 

all right."

 

He didn't turn off the Blazer's engine, but let it idle. The

 

police radio crackled with its monotonous static, but there were no transmissions now. The noise was grating on her

 

nerves.

 

"I'm sorry about Double Time, Reede. I know how attached

 

to him you were."

 

His leather jacket made a squeaking sound against the

 

upholstery when he shrugged indifferently. "He was insured."

 

Alex uttered a small cry of anguish and anger. He wouldn't

 

let her apologize. He wouldn't let her feel sad or sorry because

 

he wouldn't allow himself those emotions. She had witnessed

 

the heartache he had suffered seconds before he put a bullet

 

through the horse's brain. She had heard it when he talked

 

about his father's pathetic funeral.

 

And that's what Reede couldn't forgive. More than once

 

he had let down his guard and revealed to her that he was a

 

feeling human being after all.

 

She balled her fists, pressed her wrists together, and thrust

 

them across the console toward him. He looked at her with

 

a dark, questioning frown. "What does that signify?"

 

 

 

"Handcuff me," she said. "Haul me in. Arrest me. Charge

 

me with the crime. You said I was responsible."

 

"You are," he ground out, his previous rage returning.

 

"Angus was right. If you hadn't come here and started snooping

 

around, none of this would have happened."

 

"I refuse to take the blame for what happened tonight,

 

Reede. It was the act of an unbalanced man and his misled

 

followers. If my investigation hadn't been their catalyst,

 

something else would have been. I've apologized for the

 

horse. What more do you want from me?"

 

He gave her a sharp look. She withdrew her hands, snatching

 

them back as though they'd been placed too close to the

 

maws of some terrible beast, and she had realized it in the

 

nick of time.

 

Inside her mouth was the taste of his kiss--whiskey-and tobacco-flavored. As though it were happening again, she felt

 

the swirling search of his tongue, the possessive pressure of

 

his fingers on her scalp, the solid presence of his thighs against

 

hers.

 

"You'd better go inside, Counselor." His voice was quiet

 

and husky.

 

He dropped the truck's transmission into reverse. Alex took

 

his advice and got out.

 

 

 

Twenty-four

 

 

 

Alex groped for the ringing telephone. She answered it on

 

the fifth ring and said groggily, "Hello?"

 

"Miss Gaither? I didn't wake you, did I? If so, I'm terribly

 

sorry."

 

 

 

Alex shoved hair out of her eyes, licked her dry lips,

 

blinked puffy eyes into focus, and struggled into a sitting

 

position. "No, I was just, uh, doing some, uh, stuff." The

 

nightstand clock said ten o'clock. She'd had no idea she was

 

sleeping that late, but then, it had been almost dawn before

 

she'd gone to bed. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure--"

 

; "Sarah Jo Minton."

 

She couldn't hold back her exclamation of surprise. She could name at least a hundred people who might call her

 

before Sarah Jo Minton would. "Are you ... is everything

 

all right?"

 

"I'm feeling well, but terribly ashamed for the horrible

 

things I said to you last night."

 

The confession, spoken so contritely, shocked Alex. "You

 

were understandably upset."

 

"Would you care to have tea with me this afternoon?"

 

Maybe she was still asleep, after all, and this was a dream.

 

Nowadays, people said, "Let's do lunch," or "How 'bout

 

a beer?" or "Let's get together for a drink." No one ever

 

said, "Would you care to have tea?"

 

"That . . . that sounds nice."

 

"Good. Three o'clock."

 

"Where?"

 

"Why, here at the ranch, of course. I'll look forward to

 

seeing you then, Miss Gaither. Goodbye."

 

Alex stared at the receiver for several seconds before slowly

 

hanging it up. What in the world had prompted Sarah Jo

 

Minton to invite her to tea?

 

 

 

Dr. Ely Collins's office was probably the most cluttered

 

room Alex had ever been in. It was clean but disorganized,

 

and as unpretentious as the veterinarian.

 

"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Dr. Collins.' I "No trouble. I was free this afternoon. Come on in. Sit

 

down." He removed a stack of trade journals from the seat

 

of the straight, wooden chair, making it available for Alex.

 

He sat behind a desk cluttered with mountains of paperwork.

 

 

 

"I wasn't all that surprised to hear from you," he remarked

 

candidly.

 

"Why?"

 

"Pat Chastain called and said you'd probably get around

 

to asking me some questions."

 

"I thought he was out of town."

 

' 'This was a couple of weeks ago, right after you got here.''

 

"I see."

 

Alex had decided to utilize the hours before her appointment

 

with Sarah Jo by questioning the veterinarian. When

 

she'd phoned, he had readily agreed to see her.

 

"Are you familiar with the murder of Celina Gaither?"

 

she began, intentionally playing down her personal involvement.

 

"Sure am. She was a sweet girl. Everybody was sick about

 

it."

 

"Thank you. It was your father who attended the foaling

 

at the Minton ranch earlier that day, wasn't it?"

 

"That's right. I took over his practice after he died."

 

"I'd like some background information. Do you work exclusively

 

for the Mintons?"

 

"No, I'm not a resident vet. I have a practice. However,

 

I must be honest and tell you that the Mintons give me so

 

much business I could almost work for them exclusively. I'm

 

out there nearly every day."

 

"It was the same with your father?"

 

"Yes, but if you're suggesting that I wouldn't rat on the

 

Mintons at the risk of cutting off my meal ticket, you're

 

wrong."

 

"I didn't mean to imply that."

 

"This is horse and cattle country. I have to turn down more

 

business than I can accept. I'm an honest man. So was my

 

daddy."

 

Alex apologized to him a second time, although it had

 

crossed her mind that he might be reluctant to divulge information

 

that would tend to incriminate his well-paying clients.

 

"Did your father talk to you about Celina's murder?"

 

 

 

"He cried like a baby when he heard that she'd been killed with one of his instruments."

 

"Dr. Collins positively identified the murder weapon as his scalpel?"

 

"There was never any question. Mama had given him that

 

set of sterling silver instruments for their twenty-fifth wedding

 

anniversary. They had his initials engraved on the handles.

 

That scalpel was his, all right. What he couldn't get over is that he'd been careless enough to lose it."

 

Alex scooted to the edge of her chair. "It would be unlike

 

Him to be careless with that scalpel if it was an engraved gift

 

from his wife, wouldn't it?"

 

He scratched his cheek. "Daddy treasured those things--

 

kept them in a velvet-lined box. I never could figure out how

 

that scalpel fell out of his bag, except that the mare had

 

everyone's attention that day. In all the commotion, I guess

 

it just got jostled out."

 

"You were there?"

 

"I figured you already knew that. I'd gone along to observe

 

and assist if Daddy needed me. 'Course, Reede was there,

 

too. He had helped in other births."

 

"Reede was there?"

 

"All day."

 

' 'Did your father ever leave him alone with his black bag?''

 

Ely Collins gnawed the inside of his cheek. She could tell

 

he didn't want to answer. "Daddy could have and wouldn't

 

have given it a second thought," he said finally, "but don't

 

get the notion I'm accusing Reede."

 

"No, of course not. Who else was in the stable that day?"

 

"Well, now, let's see." He tugged on his lower lip while

 

he thought back. "Just about everybody, at one time or

 

another--Angus, Junior, Reede, all the stable hands and gal

 

lop boys."

 

"Pasty Hickam."

 

"Sure. Everybody at the ranch was pulling for that mare

 

Even Stacey Wallace stopped by. As I recall, she'd just gotten

 

back from a trip to the coast."