Everything inside Alex went still. She worked hard at keeping
her expression impassive. "Did she stay long?"
"Who, Stacey? No. Said she had to go home and unpack."
"What about Gooney Bud? Was he around?"
"He meandered everywhere. I don't remember seeing him,
but that doesn't mean he wasn't there."
"If you didn't see him, weren't you surprised when he
turned up with the scalpel covered with Celina's blood?"
"Not really. Daddy hadn't noticed it was missing until
they found it on Gooney Bud. We believed what they said
--that it had fallen out of Daddy's bag, that Gooney Bud
had seen it, picked it up, and killed your mother with it."
"But it's conceivable that someone, in the midst of all the
confusion and concern for the mare and her foal, sneaked it
out of your father's bag."
"Conceivable, sure."
He admitted it with reluctance because it implicated the
men he worked for. Alex remembered how concerned he'd
been the night before, over Reede's racehorse. Ely Collins
was a friend to all three suspects. Alex had forced him to
divide his loyalties between his own integrity and the men
who made hand-tooled Lucchese boots affordable. The task
was unpalatable, but necessary.
She stood up to leave and extended the doctor her hand.
He shook it, and she said good-bye. "Oh, one more thing,
Dr. Collins. Would you mind if I looked at the scalpel?"
He was taken aback. "I wouldn't mind at all, if I had it."
"You don't?"
"No." ,
"Your mother?"
"She never got it back."
"Even after Gooney Bud was incarcerated?"
"She and Daddy didn't press too hard to get it back because
of what had happened with it."
"You mean, it's still floating around somewhere?"
"I don't know what happened to it."
The Minton ranch was a beehive of activity. Cleanup crews
4pae sorting through debris and hauling it away. Fire in-were
picking through the charred lumber and insulation,
searching for clues into the origin of the fire.
3 Around the house, a sandblasting crew was erasing the
apocalyptic messages spray-painted on the stone walls. The
window openings were being measured for replacement glass.
Reede was in the thick of it, serving in several capacities at
once. He was unshaven and unclean; he looked like he'd personally
sifted through soot and ash searching for clues. His
shirttail was out and unbuttoned; the sleeves had been rolled
up. He was hatless, but was wearing leather work gloves.
He spotted Alex as she alighted from her car, but before
he could speak, he was summoned by a fire inspector. "You
might want to take a look at this, Sheriff."
Reede made an about-face and walked toward barn number
two. Alex followed him. "A rock? What the hell does a rock
; have to do with the fire?" Reede was asking when she approached.
% The fireman scratched his head through his Houston Astros
baseball cap. "Looks to me like the fire was an accident.
What I mean is, whoever done all this was using something
, like a slingshot to knock out the windows and such."
"Like David going up against Goliath," Alex murmured.
Reede's lips narrowed as he nodded in agreement.
The fireman said, "My guess is that this-here rock went
flying, landed in one of the vents on the roof of the stable, and
shorted out some of the wiring. That's what caused your fire.''
"You don't think it was deliberately set?"
The investigator frowned. "Naw, I can't rightly say it looks
- that way. If I was gonna start a fire, I'd've pitched a Molotov
; cocktail or shot a flaming arrow." His frown reversed itself
into a silly grin. "I wouldn't've throwed no rock."
Reede bounced the heavy rock in his palm. "Thanks.''
I After the fireman ambled away, Reede said to Alex, "So
much for holding Plummet on an arson charge."
Because the day was unseasonably warm, Reede smelted
salty and sweaty, but it wasn't an offensive odor. In fact,
she liked it. His dense chest hair fanned out over the upper
part of his torso and funneled to a narrow line that disappeared
into his belt. Up close she could see that perspiration had
made it damp and curly. It whorled over the muscles and
around his nipples, which the cooling breeze had drawn erect.
Noticing that made her warm inside. She raised her eyes
to his face. A bead of sweat trickled from beneath his loose,
windblown hair and ran into his eyebrow. She curbed the
temptation to catch it on her fingertip. His day-old beard went
well with the grime and sweat on his face.
It was an effort for her to keep her mind on business.
"Have you arrested Plummet?"
"We tried," he said. "He's vanished."
"His family?"
"They're all at home, looking guilty as hell, but playing
dumb about the preacher's whereabouts. I'm not worried
about it. He won't go far. We'll run down the roster of his
congregation. Somebody's hiding him. He'll surface sooner
or later."
"When he does, I'd like to be mere when you question
him."
He tossed the rock to the ground. "What are you doing
here?"
"I came to have tea with Sarah Jo." In response to his
incredulous expression, she said, "Her idea, not mine."
"Well, have fun," he said sardonically. He turned his back
on her and sauntered toward the barn.
Angus was standing on the porch of the house, feet widespread,
overseeing the activity. As she approached, she tried
not to let her apprehension show. She wasn't certain how she
would be received.
"You're right on time," he said.
So, he knew she was expected. "Hello, Angus."
"Punctuality is a virtue. So's having guts. You've got 'em,
little lady." He nodded his approval. "It took guts for you
show your face around here today." He appraised her
squinted eyes. "In that respect, you're a lot like your
'mama. She was no shrinking violet."
? "No?"
He chuckled. "I saw her hold her own with those two
hellions--Reede and Junior--many a time."
His chuckles faded into silent smiles of fond remembrance
as he contemplated the horizon. "If she'd lived, she'd've
become quite a woman." His eyes came back to Alex.
; "She'd've been like you, I guess. If I'd ever had a daughter,
I'd have wanted her to be like you."
Discomfited by the unexpected statement, she said, "I
apologize for being even remotely connected to this, Angus."
She made a sweeping gesture that encompassed all the damage.
"I hope Reede finds whoever did it. I hope they're
prosecuted and convicted."
"Yeah, so do I. Most of it I can overlook." He glanced
down at the broken window glass on the porch.' 'But that was
a terrible waste of good horseflesh. I hate like hell that Reede
I lost him. He took pride in saving up enough to buy him.''
"He seemed extremely upset," Alex said, turning to watch
as Reede went to his truck and spoke into the radio transmitter.
"More like enraged. He's as jealous as a mama bear when
it comes to anything that belongs to him. It's understandable,
I guess, considering how he grew up. Didn't have a pot to
piss in, not even anybody to look out for him. Lived on hand
;
me-downs and handouts. Once you've been a scavenger in
aider to survive, I reckon it's a tough habit to break. He's
mean and testy 'cause at times his life depended on it."
Junior breezed through the front door then, beaming his famous
smile. He was in an inappropriately jovial mood. Unlike
~ Reede and Angus, his clothes were spotless. If he'd ever broken a sweat, one couldn't tell it by looking at him now.
After greeting Alex warmly, he said, "Y'all wouldn't be?
lieve the telephone conversation I just had. One of the owners
called to check on her mare mat's in foal. Bad news travels
fast in racehorse circles," he informed Alex.
"Anyway, she had this high, falsetto voice and was saying,
'My poor baby must have been scared out of her wits.' I
reassured her that the mare was in another barn, but she kept
me on the phone for half an hour, making me swear that her
baby and her baby's baby were okay."
He had imitated the woman's warbling, soprano voice.
Angus and Alex were laughing. Suddenly, from the corner
of her eye, Alex caught Reede watching them. He was standing
perfectly still, and, though it was too far away to tell,
she was certain he didn't like what he saw. His resentment
seemed to ride the airwaves until they struck her with near-palpable
force.
"I'd better go inside or I'll be late for tea," she told the
men.
Junior laid a hand on her shoulder. "Mother wants to make
amends for her outburst last night. She was tickled pink when
you accepted her invitation. She's looking forward to seeing
you."
1
Twenty-five
Lupe took her coat and led her upstairs. The maid paused
outside a door and gave it a soft tap.
"Come in."
Lupe swung the door open, but didn't go in. Taking that
as her cue, Alex stepped across the threshold into a room
that could have been a movie set. Her remark was spontaneous
and genuine. "What a beautiful room!"
"Thank you. I like it." Sarah Jo looked beyond Alex's
shoulder. "Close the door, please, Lupe. You know I can't
that draft, and the racket those workers are making is
deplorable. Bring up the tea tray right away."
"Yes, ma'am." The housekeeper withdrew, leaving them
Alex stood near the door, feeling self-conscious in her low-suede
boots and long wool skirt. There was nothing
; wrong with her totally black ensemble, but it seemed glaringly
modern and out of place in this ultrafeminine Victorian room,
which smelled like a perfumery.
Her hostess looked as right in the setting as a whirling
ballerina in a musical jewelry box. The ruffles along the
neckline of her white blouse were duplicated around her slender
wrists. She was wearing a soft beige skirt that fanned out
around her where she sat on a robin's egg-blue damask divan
near the window. The afternoon sunlight created a halo
around her hair.
"Come in and sit down." She motioned toward a dainty
chair near her.
Usually poised, Alex felt gauche as she crossed the carpeted
floor. "Thank you for inviting me. This was a very
good idea."
"It was mandatory that I apologize as soon as possible for
what I said to you last night."
"Never mind. It's forgotten." Junior and Angus seemed
to have forgiven her for the unwitting role she had played in
the act of vandalism. In return, she could be forgiving toward
Sarah Jo.
Curious, she took in her surroundings. "This truly is a
lovely room. Did you decorate it yourself?"
Sarah Jo offered a laugh as frail as the hand she raised to
her throat to fiddle with the ruffles. "My, yes. I wouldn't let
one of those dreadful decorators inside my house. Actually,
I copied my room back home item by item, as closely as I
could. Angus says it's too fussy."
Alex searched discreetly for something masculine, a shred
of evidence that a man had been inside the room. There was
none. As though reading her mind, Sarah Jo said, "He keeps
his things in another room, through there." Alex followed
the direction of her gaze to a closed door.
"Come in, Lupe," Sarah Jo said at the housekeeper's soft
knock. "Here's our tea."
While Lupe was arranging the silver service on the tea
table, Alex asked conversationally, "You mentioned home,
Mrs. Minton. Kentucky, right?"
"Yes, horse country. Hunt country. I loved it so."
Her wistful gaze drifted toward the window. The panorama
didn't offer much to please the eyes, just miles of dun-colored
earth, until it blurred into the horizon. They watched a tumbleweed
roll across the stone patio and land in the swimming
pool. The landscaping around it was as dead and brown as
a cotton field after harvest.
"It's so barren here. I miss the green. Of course, we have
acres of irrigated pasture for the horses, but somehow, it's
not the same." Her head came back around slowly and she
thanked the maid with a nod. Lupe withdrew. "How do you
take your tea?"
"Lemon and sugar, please. One lump."
Sarah Jo practiced the ritual that Alex thought had died
two generations ago. She did it meticulously. Her pale, translucent
hands moved fluidly. Alex realized then why the custom
had died in contemporary America. No one would have
the time.
"Sandwich? Cucumber and cream cheese."
"Then, by all means," Alex replied with a smile.
Sarah Jo also added two tea cakes to the small plate before
passing it to Alex, who had spread a lacy napkin over her
lap. "Thank you."
She sipped her tea and pronounced it perfect. The sandwich
was only a sliver of crust-trimmed bread, but the filling was
cool and creamy. She hoped her stomach wouldn't make a
rude noise when it greedily devoured the inadequate portion.
She had slept through breakfast; it had seemed superfluous
to eat lunch so soon before teatime.
Starting on one of the tea cakes, she asked, "Have you
returned to Kentucky often for visits?"
hostess prepared her own tea and stirred it idly.' 'Only
for my parents' funerals."
"I didn't mean to bring up a sad topic."
"I have no family left, except for Angus and Junior. Anyone with character learns to live with losses." She replaced
cup and saucer on the table so carefully that the china
didn't even clink. Keeping her head lowered, she looked up
Alex from beneath her brows. "Only you haven't, have
you?"
Alex returned the uneaten half of the sugar cookie to her
plate, knowing intuitively that they had reached the reason
behind this invitation to tea. "Haven't what?"
'You haven't learned that it's best to let the dead remain
dead."
The lines of battle had been drawn. Alex returned all the
tea implements to the silver tray, even the spider-webby napkin
from her lap. "Are you referring to my mother?"
' 'Precisely. This investigation of yours has upset my entire
household, Miss Gaither."
"I apologize for the inconvenience. The circumstances
make it unavoidable."
"Thugs vandalized my property, threatening the health
and life of every horse we own or board, thereby our livelihood."
"That was an unfortunate incident. I can't tell you how
truly sorry I am for it," Alex said, appealing to the woman
to understand.' `I had nothing to do with it. You must believe
that."
Sarah Jo drew a deep breath. The ruffles around her neck
quivered with suppressed indignation and dislike. Her hostility
was so palpable that Alex wondered again what possible
reason she had had for inviting her here. The need to apologize
had been a ruse. Apparently, Sarah Jo wanted to vent a long-harbored
grudge.
"How much do you know about your mother and her
relationships with Junior and Reede Lambert?"
"Only what my grandmother told me, coupled with what
I've gathered since talking to people here in Purcell."