A Violent End at Blake Ranch (33 page)

“So happens I do,” I say. “I'll be back.”

I drive to my house and retrieve a plastic container from my freezer. Last time I had dinner at Ellen's she sent me home with a brown rice, broccoli, and cheese dish. I stick the leftovers in the microwave and head back to headquarters with it. If the dish doesn't suit Madame Nonie, then she'll have to starve. But she gobbles it up.

“We're going to be taking you to Bobtail to the county jail,” I tell her when she's done eating. “But I'd like to ask you to clear up a few things first.”

“Why are you taking me to the county jail? You have nothing to charge me with.”

“Threatening an officer of the law with a firearm is frowned on,” I say. “That can get you a fair amount of jail time on its own, let alone the matter of your hand in Susan Shelby's murder.”

“That's stupid,” she says. “I wasn't threatening you. I wanted you to come with me, and I didn't think you would unless I made you.”

It strikes me that Nonie lives in something of a fantasy world in which whatever she wants, she ought to be able to have—regardless of reality. Only somebody with a skewed idea of the way things work would think she could point a gun at somebody—especially a lawman—and get away without some kind of punishment.

I walk out into the outer office, grab a chair, and bring it back to sit down in front of the cell. “Let's talk,” I say.

“You can talk all you want to,” she says. “I don't intend to say anything.”

I was afraid she was going to say she wanted a lawyer, after which I'd have to forego questioning her. But for now, I can proceed. “Last night you said you were going to take me out to your folks' place to straighten out a few things. What was it you were planning to set me straight about?”

She told me she wasn't going to say anything, but by the way her eyes dart to me and away a couple of times, I can tell she's itching to show me how smart she is. If I bide my time, she'll talk. “You think you've got it all figured out,” she says, “but you don't.”

Not only does Nonie like to be the smart one in the room, but I suspect she likes nothing better than to tell people when they are in the wrong. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. “Why don't I tell you what I think, and you tell me where I'm wrong?”

“Aren't you forgetting something?”

“What's that?”

“You haven't read me my rights.”

“You know, it's true, I did forget that. I guess in my old age, I'm getting forgetful.” I pat my pockets. “Let me see, now where did I put that card?” I know the rights by heart, but I've got an act to put on. “Here it is, in my wallet.”

The door to the back opens, and Maria Trevino steps in, as we'd planned. “You mind if I sit in?”

“Not at all. I'm afraid I'll get something wrong and you can help me with it.”

“I'm sure you'll do fine,” she says . . . condescending, sounding like she's indulging an old man, part of our plan, although her act is maybe a little too convincing.

I read Nonie the card, and before she can take me up on the lawyer part of it, I say, “Now, I was going to give you my idea of what's been going on, and you were going to tell me where I went wrong.”

Nonie has leaned back on her bunk, like she's disinterested in the whole process.

“The short story is that you found out that your folks were living on money that your granddaddy stole.”

She snorts. “I don't know where you got an idea like that.”

I ignore her. “Here's how it happened. Your granddaddy was a bank robber who managed to steal a fair amount of money. He told his wife Lilah—that's your grandmother—where the money was hidden and after he was killed in a bank robbery, she waited a while and then retrieved the money and moved to Jarrett Creek. She didn't use much of it, or maybe none of it, because she was afraid somebody would notice and wonder where all that money came from. And she wanted to save most of it because she wanted her daughter, Adelaide, to have chances she never had.”

She's still not looking at me. “You think you have it all figured out, don't you?”

“Feel free to jump in and set me straight anytime.”

“No, I like hearing this story. It's entertaining.”

“Adelaide married John and they dipped into the money to buy the ranch. I'd love to have been a fly on the wall when Adelaide told John about the money.”

I pause, expecting her to protest, but she's got her eyes closed, leaning her head back. The only indication that she has heard anything I've said is bright-red spots on her cheeks.

“Then about twenty years ago they decided it was safe to invest the money. But they didn't realize how smart you are. You like to do a little snooping, and you found out the secret.” I pretend I'm not looking at her, and out of the corner of my eye I see her sit forward. “You found something that told you where the money came from—I'd like to know what it was you found. Did you overhear your folks discussing it, or did you find something in your mamma's possessions?”

“Which was it?” Trevino says. She does a good innocent act. “Did your granddaddy leave a note to his wife and she kept it and then gave it to your mamma? Or maybe you found a newspaper article?”

“You have no idea how far off-base you are,” Nonie says. “What is it that makes small-town cops so stupid?” But the fight has gone out of her voice. This is strictly bravado.

“Why don't you tell me the way it was then?” I say.

“Good try. What a pair of idiots!”

“Anyway, what led me to this line of thinking was wondering why you tried to kill your sister,” I say.

Nonie sits up on the edge of her bunk.

“She told me that you said the reason you had to kill her was to keep her quiet. I wondered what a little kid might know that you were afraid she'd talk about. After I found out that your granddaddy was a bank robber, it occurred to me that maybe Charlotte was with you when you discovered the source of your family's money. And maybe she threatened to tell—being a child and not understanding how important it was to keep quiet.”

Right on cue Trevino says, “Nonie, what size shoe do you wear?”

“Huh?” For a second Nonie looks dazed.

“Your shoes,” Trevino point at Nonie's feet. “What size are they?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It's all right if you don't want to tell me.”

“I don't mind telling you. I wear seven and a half. What do you care?”

Trevino and I look at each other and nod.

“What?” Nonie's voice is sharp.

“I feel sorry for you, Nonie,” I say. “I suspect you really love your family. You were trying to protect them. Weren't you worried after you got put away that Charlotte would talk after all?”

“This is bullshit,” she says, but her voice falters. She coughs to cover it up.

“You loved your mamma and daddy so much that you were willing to kill your sister, so of course when your friend Susan told you her fine scheme to come down here and blackmail them, you knew you had to stop her. You even tried to talk her out of it on the phone.”

“I don't know where you got an idea like that.”

“Skeeter overheard her talking to you. You don't know Skeeter. He's a funny kid. You'd like him.”

“Shut up.” She stands up, fists clenched at her side. “Why don't you just shut up and take me to Bobtail like you said you would. I don't want to hear anything else you have to say.”

“We found the tire iron you used to kill your friend Susan,” I say. “Her blood was on it. Unless you were wearing gloves, your prints will be on it, too.”

“Tire iron? You can't get prints off a tire iron.” She leans sideways against the bars of the cell, arms crossed.

“Maybe, but that's not all we have.”

She laughs. “Oh, right.”

“Tell her, Trevino.”

“Remember I asked about your shoe size? You stepped where you shouldn't have.”

“What are you talking about?” Nonie's eyes dart back and forth between Trevino and me.

“You stepped in a cow patty and left footprints when you got rid of the weapon,” I say. “Trevino, here, found the imprint.”

“That wasn't mine.”

I stand up, shaking my head. “What I wonder is, if you're so much smarter than everybody else, why didn't you take the tire iron with you? You could have thrown it anywhere on the way back home. That was stupid.”

I meet her eyes. Her face has gone white. “Yeah? That shows how much you know! Suppose I'd been stopped by a cop on the way home and he looked in the trunk?” She's so outraged that I said she had done something stupid that she doesn't even realize that she has admitted she had the tire iron.

“Why would a police officer do that?” I say.

“You don't know, do you? You don't know how the cops stop you in the middle of the night if you drive a crappy car. They always think you're up to something. Mexicans and blacks are always whining that the cops treat them like shit. But it's not just them; it's everybody. If the cops think you're poor, they'll stop you for nothing.”

“So instead of taking the tire iron with you, you walked a good ways out to the back of the property and threw it away, thinking nobody would ever find it. Too bad for you that Trevino is smarter than you.”

She looks daggers at Trevino. “Could we get on up to Bobtail? Maybe their cells are a little more comfortable and I don't have to listen to you two rattle on.”

CHAPTER 33

Later in the afternoon, after Trevino and I have taken Nonie to Bobtail and processed the paperwork, we go out to the Blake ranch. In the comfort of the sumptuous living room furnished with stolen money, Trevino and I break the news to Adelaide that not only have we arrested Nonie, but we've also figured out the source of the family's income. “Billy is the only one you ever told where the money came from, isn't he?” I say.

“Yes,” she says softly. “When he was twenty-one. I shouldn't have told him. That's why he dropped out of college and took up with the rodeo. He said he didn't want anything to do with tainted money. I decided then it would be better not to tell Charlotte or Skeeter.”

“Did you ever have any idea that Nonie knew?”

“No. All I can think is that she must have overheard John and me arguing about whether to take the money to someone to help us invest it. We were worried that an investment counselor would want to know where the money came from. It was a bad argument, and I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have noticed if Nonie eavesdropped.”

“Maybe it wasn't that. Maybe she found something incriminating. Everyone said she was a snoop. Did you keep something that mentioned the source of the money?”

She drops her head into her hands. “Oh, my Lord. That's how she found out. I kept a letter from my daddy to my mamma telling her where the money was.”

“Why did you keep it?”

“For sentimental reasons. When my daddy was killed, I was too young to remember him. In the letter he said I was the apple of his eye, and that if anything happened to him, he wanted me to be provided for. John told me to get rid of it, but I hid it away. I guess I didn't hide it well enough.” She gets up from her chair and looks around the room as if wondering how she got in this predicament. “I wish the money had never existed.”

Trevino and I get up. “Do you want to tell Charlotte and Skeeter about this, or do you want me to? They'll have to be told. Charlotte may have known at some point, but she doesn't remember it now. And the banks are going to be after the money.”

She stares at me. “That money never did us any good. A secret like that eats you up. It just eats you up. I'm glad you know about it now.”

She says she'll tell her family herself. “I don't know what we're going to do. We'll have to figure out something. I don't know what we're going to do about John . . .”

I'm ready to leave headquarters for the day when Ellen Forester pops in. I should be glad to see her, but I know she's here to pick up her dog.

Frazier goes nuts with delight. I thought he liked me a lot, but now I see how he acts when he really likes somebody. He leaps as high as my belt buckle again and again, giving out high-pitched yelps, and then dashes back and forth between Ellen and the door. He's ready to go home.

Ellen hears the story of Frazier's bravery and how scared I was that he'd get himself killed.

“I'm glad you're safe. And I appreciate your concern for Frazier.” She looks down at him. “How in the world did he know you were in danger?”

“Dogs know that kind of thing,” Trevino says in a lofty tone.

After she leaves, Trevino and I look at each other, and I know she's thinking like I am that we're feeling pretty sorry to see Frazier go. “Let me take you out for a meal,” I say.

“You don't have to do that,” she says.