Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery (9 page)

Susie laughs. “There’s a Coke in the
refrigerator.”

I’m out of there and in the kitchen before I give
into this sudden sadness. Tears I never shed rush forward. With a
Coke in one hand and a paper napkin to erase the evidence in the
other, I step onto the back porch in search of relief.

After a few minutes listening to the whispering wind
and cattle lowing in the distance, I can breathe again.

I tell myself to get a grip. It’s been seven years
since the... I shudder at the word. Abortion.

This time I’ll make sure the pain is buried a little
deeper in my heart before I put away the past for safekeeping.

A LONE POLICE CAR IS PARKED just inside the Darden
gate beneath the shade of a large oak. The sheriff leans against
the fender, binoculars around his neck, fly-boy sunglasses shoved
into the dark curls above his forehead.

He motions me to pull over, then saunters to my side
of the car, opens my door, and offers his hand.

I notice the long fingers, feel their strength, and
try to keep my voice steady. “Is this official?”

I stand facing him, keenly aware of his good looks.
Tall, taut, and lean, and those damned blue eyes that capture
mine.

“
It wasn’t until now.” He motions
me toward his car. “Want a cold drink? I keep a cooler in the
trunk.”

The afternoon sun glares through the thick cover of
the oaks and there’s no breeze, a far cry from Susie’s cool perch
on the hill. I nod. “Sure. Whatever.”

After he opens a Big Red for each of us, we lean
against his fender. He keeps a respectable distance, but I still
shiver despite the heat. What is it about this man?

We take a few welcome gulps before he begins.
“Where’d you get the car?”

“
Paul loaned it to me.”

“
You know it’s Reena’s.” I
nod.

“
Paul told me Reena left in her
car.” “Yes. I wondered about that, myself.”

“
So you just got in and pulled
away without asking any questions?”

“
Hold on a minute here. I thought
you were the one conducting this investigation.”

“
Cool it. You’re not under
suspicion—yet, but I’d be grateful if you let me take the car.
Could give us some clues...”

He has no right to the car and he knows it. I’ve
committed no crime. Besides, the car isn’t even mine.

He must see my hesitation, because he gives me a
knowing grin. “Okay, okay, I know I don’t have the authority, but
you would sure be helping me out.”

“
Paul should make that
decision.”

“
Yeah. I get you. If it’s all
right with you, I’ll follow you back to his spread and get his
okay.” He thinks a minute, then adds, “Mind if I roll your
fingerprints? They’re probably all over the steering wheel, but if
I have yours to compare to any others we might find, it’ll save us
some time.”

I give him an indifferent shrug. “Fine by me, I’ve
had dirty fingers before.”

He returns to his car, gives a few instructions over
the radio, then opens the trunk. Portable print kit in hand, he
ambles back.

He places the kit on the fender, then moves behind
me. His signature scent, magnified by the heat, a redolent
perfume.

His hand guides mine and we lean forward together as
he slowly rolls each of my fingers in the ink, then onto the paper.
It’s almost a ballet. The two of us bending and swaying in the warm
afternoon. Neither of us seems to breathe, or is it that we’re in
unison? I give in and lose myself in the moment. Delicious.
Delicious.

After that, we draw apart to sip in silence.

He leans close. “Are you representing Paul?” “I told
you I wasn’t. I don’t lie.”

“
I didn’t say you were, it’s just
that what I’m about to tell you is confidential. Something you need
to know for your own protection.”

“
Protection?”

“
Not in the physical sense, but
I’d hate to see you take Paul’s case on without having all the
facts.”

“
I have no intention of defending
Paul. I’m not that experienced in trial work, much less a
homicide.”

“
I’m glad to hear it.” He raises a
cautionary finger. “But, this is for your ears only.
Okay?”

He waits until I nod. “Paul is about to lose the oil
property. Seems the Carpenters never had any legal claim and there
were never any overlapping boundaries. If anything, it was an
oversight on the Dardens’ part. No taxes were paid for thirty or so
years. Paul’s father must have found out, planted a few rusty
stakes, made the claim, then paid up. Slick as a whistle.”

My first thought is for Susie and those five
children. If this is the truth, she and Del will never have another
care. But, then I can’t help but feel sorry for Paul. His silver
spoon is about to be yanked for good. “How do you know?”

“
Reena was snooping around the
courthouse last summer. Said she was doing some historical research
on the ranch. I think she found out about the bogus claim, then
probably told Del because he’s been down there on a regular basis
since then.”

“
Del knows about this?”

“
It’s public record. All you have
to do is spend a little time tracing back through liens and deeds.
Guess his dad didn’t have the interest or the know-how.”

It’s then that the harsh words Paul and Del
exchanged during my visit to Anacacho in January flash through my
mind.

Del’s loaded, Give me the income from one well and
I’ll tell my lawyer to drop the suit. And Paul’s angry retort, You
keep that lawyer talk up and you’ll see what trouble is.

I remember Reena’s desperation over the pending
divorce. She would have used anything, done anything, to preserve
her lifestyle. Was that why she went after Del?

“
So you think Reena confronted
Paul with the news and he killed her to keep it quiet?”

“
People have killed for less.” A
hint of a smile plays on his face. “Now, I have a few questions for
you.”

I freeze and wait, mind speeding through the mazes
of my past. What could I possibly know that would help the
sheriff?

“
I’ll start with the easy one. Why
are you here?” “Susie and Paul asked me to come.”

“
I can see why Susie might want
you here, since you were so close, but why Paul?”

“
We go back a long way. We dated
some in college.” “How ‘some’? A fun fling? Or more serious stuff?”
“Pretty serious.”

“
And?”

“
You must have heard how Reena
dumped Del for Paul? How Del and I ended up on the outside looking
in?”

His hands open in supplication and I can’t help but
see the hint of amusement. “Don’t shoot. I’m a friend.”

“
Sorry, but you’re the second
person this afternoon who’s opened old wounds.”

His regret seems genuine. “I wasn’t in town back
then. I was in the east; prep, then college and finally the
military.”

Eastern education? Why would he come to this small
Texas town and run for sheriff?

“
So what’s with Paul
now?”

Earth to Allie. The sheriff isn’t asking these
questions for the record. It’s purely personal and I’m surprised to
discover I want him to be personal.

“
He was kind enough to send his
jet for me. In case you don’t know, I’m staying at the motel over
on Highway Ninety.” He smiles. “Oh, I know.”

I look away from those startling blues, then attack.
“Paul didn’t kill Reena and you know it.”

“
And just how did you come to that
conclusion, Counselor?” He’s mocking me, but I ignore it. “I can
assure you Paul wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill his wife at his
favorite hideaway.”

He doesn’t miss a trick. “You were up there before
this morning?”

“
Yes, when I visited Reena in
January.”

“
But, I understood you to say she
didn’t ride.”

I swallow and nod. “That’s right. I went with
Paul.”

Cotton studies me hard for a minute. To my surprise,
I’m the one who breaks eye contact. Damn those eyes. I feel them on
me as he drains the rest of his soda and crunches the can in his
hand.

We stand in silence while I strain, hoping to hear a
motor, hoping for a passing car to distract him from the bare
implication. But there’s no other sound except insect whine and an
occasional cow low in the distance.

I check my watch. “If that’s all, I better be
going.”

His voice cuts to authority-mode. “Fine. I’ll
follow. I’m sure Paul will want to cooperate.”

I remember my curiosity about the trough. “I guess
your men searched the trough?”

He studies me for a few seconds before he drawls,
“Yeah. Sure. Why do you ask?”

“
Wouldn’t that be a good place to
stash a weapon or for that matter almost anything else a person
could carry?”

He throws back his head and laughs. “You know better
than that. No one in his right mind would stash the murder weapon
that close to the crime scene. Besides, we’re not looking for a
gun.”

I start at that. How did I get the idea Reena was
shot? I feel his stare and give an innocent shrug. “Guess they must
not have found anything.”

“
Guess not.” He puts me in Reena’s
car, then leans in the window. “Don’t drive too fast; I’d hate to
give you a ticket.”

It’s all I can do not to reach out and touch him
once more, needing to feel that electricity flow between us.
There’s something in his face that draws me to him, makes me want
to know everything about him.

I START TO PULL ONTO the long circular drive leading
to the house, when I notice Paul’s black Mercedes 600 parked at the
stables.

I motion for the sheriff to pull alongside. “Paul
must be at the barns. His ranch office is there.”

He nods and follows me down the road toward the
compound of ranch service buildings.

Together we search the office, then the stalls to
find one empty. Paul’s horse is missing.

“
I guess he’s gone for a ride.”
“In this heat?”

I have to agree. What would draw Paul away from the
ranch on horseback during the hottest part of the afternoon? The
scene that morning at the watering trough replays and I remember
Paul’s reaction to my arm immersed in the cloudy water. There was
something definitely strange about that. And then there was the
sheriff ’s look when I asked if his men had searched the trough.
Maybe he was covering a mistake. Is he thinking the same thing?

He gives me a courteous nod. “Well, no point in
wasting time here, is there? I’ll come back for the car later.” His
words hang in the air a bit too long.

Deciding to let the matter drop—on my end at least,
I smile. “I’ll tell Paul to expect you.”

He gives me a long, probing look, then a
half-salute. “Catch you later?”

I wait until the patrol car disappears, then return
to the stables and wander past the padlocked tack room filled with
elegant hand-tooled saddles Paul collected through the years.

During my last visit Reena had dragged me to the
stables to show off the horses and Paul’s “loot,” as she put
it.

Though Reena bragged she had access to most of the
ranch, I can’t forget how curious she was about what Paul kept in
the tall safe behind his desk. The new addition, she said, appeared
out of the blue in the back of a canvas-covered truck a few days
before Christmas. She then showed me a notebook filled with every
combination she had already tried.

The ranch office is empty. The drone of the air
conditioner lures me inside and to the pillow-strewn leather couch
shoved beneath a window at the far end of the room. The
refrigerated air and the darkness offer a welcome respite from the
mid-afternoon heat.

Lulled by the hum of the compressor, I replay the
afternoon. Susie, so sad and despairing over Del. Sheriff Cotton,
so full of questions, but who also delivered some interesting
information about Paul. And Reena’s car, no longer at my disposal.
And still, the unanswered question: How did that car get back to
Anacacho?

The sound of hooves on cement brings me to in time
to see Paul dismount and pull a large package from in front of the
pommel. It must be heavy because he strains to carry it with one
arm while jockeying his lathered horse with the other. After a
brief struggle, he drops the package at the tack room door and
tethers his horse nearby. He looks both ways before working on the
combination lock. When it springs free, he hauls the bag into the
darkness, shuts the door, and locks it.

Miguel appears and hands Paul an envelope, which he
rips, hurriedly reads, then jams in his pocket. Whatever is in that
letter is causing a lot of hand-waving by Paul and solemn
head-shaking by a silent Miguel.

I wait until Miguel disappears before sticking my
head into the suffocating afternoon sauna. “Hi.”

Paul whirls toward me. The look on his face is not a
pleasant one, nor is the tone of his voice. “What are you doing in
my office?”

My antennae engage. No point in revealing what I
know. “Waiting for you. It was cool in here, so I took a short
snooze. I can’t believe you took your horse out in this heat.”

Before Paul can answer, a phone rings, then Miguel
sticks his head out of a door at the far end of the stable.
“Señor?”

“
Later.” Paul nods to Miguel, who
nods back then vanishes. When Paul turns back, his face bears that
old familiar smile. “I’ll take the call after I’ve washed up. It’s
much too hot down here.” He searches my face, then says, “You’ll
join me in the tower for dinner?”