Saddled With Trouble (20 page)

“
Honey, I think they have me listed as a suspect.”

She squirmed in her chair. “Why?”

He held up his hand. “I went to see Lou the morning he was killed. My fingerprints . . . are on the pitchfork.”

“
What?”

He nodded.

“
Dad, what are you saying?”

He sighed. “That morning, early, I went to Lou and Cynthia’s place. I hadn’t slept the night before because we’d talked and it didn’t go well. I’d told him what was going on with me and the gambling, and he said that he’d think about helping me out. He said that I needed to talk with your mother, and I told him that I couldn’t do that. He hung up on me.” He took a sip of seltzer. “I couldn’t sleep that night and I knew he’d be up by six, so I headed over to see him. I found him in Loco’s stall. We . . . had words. He said that he wasn’t going to bail me out. That he had his own problems to deal with and that I needed to come clean with you and your mother. He was right. But I reacted badly and I grabbed the pitchfork and threw it, then punched the wall. That’s how I hurt my hand. Stupid, I know.”

“
Yes it was, Dad. What were you thinking? Don’t you see how this addiction eats you up? You could have hurt Uncle Lou, and you did hurt yourself! Now, the police think you could have done this?” She paused and choked back emotion. “Your addiction turns you into someone you’re not. Someone I don’t know and don’t want to know.”

Where was the dad she grew up with? The one who’d take her on trail rides and play cowboys and cowgirls with her and her friends? Sometimes they’d pretend to be the posse after the bad guys, or sometimes they were the horse thieves trying to outrun the posse. Those were great days and good fun.
That
was the father she remembered. Not this man, reduced to heated arguments with a brother he adored— someone who hid from the world through an addiction that caused nothing but pain.

“
You’re right. I don’t want to be this man any longer. I don’t. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll tell your mom everything. I’ll be honest and we’ll get through it. But you should know that I think the police might arrest me. I think they’re already looking into the gambling and they know I was at Lou’s place the morning he died. You know, that was the last time I saw him. That morning.” He choked on a sob and broke down.

She scooted her chair up and put an arm around him. She let her father cry for several minutes. She noticed a few people glancing over at them, but it didn’t matter. He needed her and she would be there for him. “It’s going to be all right, Daddy. It is. And, I know Uncle Lou is watching us, and he loves you. You have to forgive yourself. You
have
to. He would have. I’m sure he did. Do this for him. And, as far as the police go, I know you didn’t kill him. I know it.

“
And, Dad, I’m going to find out who did.”

TWENTY-TWO

MICHAELA SAW HER DAD TO HIS CAR AND FOLLOWED him home. They walked into the house together. Her mom was in the kitchen. “Hi, you two. Oh, Michaela, I didn’t know you were coming by. Good, good. I’m making a lasagna for tomorrow’s service. You want to help?’

That was Mom, always doing, always one step ahead.“I would, Mom, but there’s some things I need to take care of. I ran into Dad and thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

“
Oh, nice. Ben? Are you okay?” Her mom looked from Michaela to her dad and back again.

Michaela cut in before her dad could answer. “I think he’s tired, right, Dad?” She knew he needed time to think about what he would say to her mother.

He nodded. “I’m going to lie down for a bit.” He kissed her on the cheek and walked into the kitchen, where he gave his wife a hug.

Janie frowned. “Benjamin Bancroft, do you feel okay?” It wasn’t often that he was outwardly affectionate.

“
I’m fine. I love you.” He headed back toward their bedroom.

Michaela’s mom looked at her. “What was that all about?”

“
I think you should let him rest right now. He’s got quite a bit on his mind, but don’t worry, Mom. Everything is going to be fine.”

“
Michaela?”

“
Mom, please. It’s not my place. Daddy will talk to you when he’s ready. Trust me.”

“
I don’t like the sound of this, but fine. It appears I don’t have a choice.”

Wanting to change the subject and needing to find out about Uncle Lou’s funeral, Michaela asked, “Mom, when did Cynthia inform you about the services?”

“
Last night.”

“
She didn’t tell me. I was out for a bit anyway.”

“
I’m sure she’s tried to call you. It’s at one. Why don’t you meet us here and we can all go together.”

“
Sure.” She kissed her mom on the cheek. “See you tomorrow. I love you. Oh, what should I bring?”

“
How about that pear tart you do so well?”

“
You got it.” She knew that she left her mother feeling a bit confused. For now, she had to not only see what she could find out in order to seek justice for her uncle, she also had to keep her dad from going to jail. Once her mom found out about the gambling it would be heartbreaking, but her father going to jail would be devastating.

On the drive to Cynthia’s she recapped in her mind everything she’d learned over the past few days. First: Ethan had fought with her uncle and never explained why. She would get to the bottom of that, because she hated suspecting that he had anything at all to do with this. Then there was Camden and her boyfriend. Their phone conversation still had Michaela reeling. Not to mention that Kevin now owned the dairy farm and had a mare housed there that he claimed to know nothing about. There was the issue with the contracts and the breeding and her suspicions around that. She had a feeling Brad was responsible for that mess. But a killer? She wasn’t sure.

Bean had been acting strangely toward her, but she didn’t think he had the ability to pull off a breeding scam and she certainly didn’t think he could become angry enough to kill. Anything was possible, though. Plus, what was his continuing friendship with Brad all about? Sam and Dwayne had been off to Vegas with the horses. Summer had worked for Uncle Lou and handled a lot of the paperwork in the past. Could she have killed Lou for some reason?

She’d pretty much ruled out the mob, but there were still those lawsuits against Lou that she had to get to the bottom of, which led her to ponder Cynthia. She was pregnant, and she was hiding something— like a lover, or possibly something more sinister.

After getting out of her truck at Uncle Lou’s ranch, she walked through the breezeway and over to Loco’s stall. He came to her, his hot breath pouring through his nostrils onto her hand as she rubbed his face. Neither Dwayne nor Sam looked to be around either. Dwayne’s truck was gone and she wondered where they might have gone. “Too bad you can’t talk,” she said to Loco, who pulled his head away and shoved it in his feeder.

She called out for Bean. He should at least be around. Deciding to see if anyone was up at the house, she knocked on the back door. No one answered. She turned the knob; it turned easily. “Cynthia? You here?”

She walked in through the laundry room. Cynthia wouldn’t get upset if Michaela waited for her in the house. She headed into the kitchen. From down the hall, she thought she heard someone crying. No, it was more than crying and as she got closer, she realized it was Cynthia and she was sobbing.

“
Cynthia?”

Michaela saw her as she rounded the corner of the hall, slumped down against the wall, her face in her hands. “Cynthia? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Cynthia didn’t say anything. She didn’t lift her head as she held out a note. It was stained. With what? Oh God, it looked like droplets of blood. Michaela took it from Cynthia’s shaking hand. It read, I AM SORY I KILL MR. LOU.

“
What? What is this?”

Cynthia looked up at Michaela. She uttered, “Kitchen.”

Michaela stomach tightened as she entered the kitchen. Bean lay on the floor next to the table, a gun in his right hand, blood seeping from his temple.

TWENTY-THREE

SOMETHING WAS WRONG HERE. SO VERY wrong. Bean had killed Uncle Lou? Then, he’d committed suicide? Michaela’s head filled with confusion as she struggled to wrap her brain around this.

The police showed up within minutes. Cynthia had called 911 immediately after finding Bean, and it was apparent that Michaela had come in right after that.

Detective Davis was there along with a team of other cops. He’d asked Michaela and Cynthia to wait for him in Uncle Lou’s office, where they now sat on the couch. Michaela held Cynthia’s ice-cold hand. “I don’t understand why,” Cynthia said.

“
I don’t know either.”

“
Bean loved Lou. He loved me. We helped take care of him. He was here because we had been meeting at this time of day for a few weeks now. I was teaching him to read.” She choked back a sob. “He’s come every day at the same time even the last few days, since Lou . . .” She shook her head. “I told him that he would have to wait a bit before I felt like teaching him again.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “But, Bean didn’t understand that. Obviously. That’s why he’s been showing up in the kitchen every day, waiting for me to teach him. Today I went out for a walk knowing he would show up here; I didn’t want to face him. I didn’t want to tell him to leave me alone. I knew it hurt his feelings, but I haven’t been able to do anything like I used to.” Cynthia couldn’t speak anymore. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

Michaela rubbed her back, shoving down her own sorrow and disillusionment the best that she could. “I’m sorry, Cyn. I really am.”

Davis entered the room, then stopped. He looked at both women with sympathy. Cynthia wiped her face. “Why did he do this?”

“
Mrs. Bancroft, we don’t know.”

“
Did he really kill himself?” Michaela asked.

“
From what we can assess so far from the scene, I would have to say that he did.”

Michaela nodded. “Do you think he killed my uncle?”

Davis sat down in the chair across from the women. “I don’t know of any other reason for him to write that note and do what he did.”

“
I don’t believe it.” Michaela shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. You met Bean. The man was like a six-year-old child. He couldn’t have done this. He didn’t have the wherewithal.”

“
Ms. Bancroft, I hear you, and we will investigate this situation completely. I did meet Bean and yes, he was very childlike. However, I have heard of some children gone very wrong who have done horrendous things to siblings, friends, even parents. There is not a lot of sense to be made out of a situation like this.”

Michaela had had a similar reaction to Bean and his behavior just the other day. She’d even wondered if he somehow feigned much of who and what he really was. Had his behavior all been an act? But why? And for all those years? Or, was he like a child who had become angry at something Uncle Lou did and reacted in the heat of the moment before he’d realized what he’d done? If that were the case, then the morning that she’d discovered Lou’s body, Bean likely would have reacted differently than he had. She couldn’t help wondering if he would have even shown up. That is, if he truly had the mentality of a six-year-old, wouldn’t it have been more likely that, after doing something so terrible, he’d run and hide? He’d seemed genuinely shocked over her uncle’s death. She brought this up to Davis.

“
Because of Bean’s emotional immaturity and low IQ, it is possible that after killing your uncle, he blocked the memory due to the trauma it caused him. Then something might have sparked his memory, which upset him, causing him guilt, and he couldn’t take it. I don’t think he murdered Mr. Bancroft intentionally if he in fact did. I’m not a psychiatrist, so I can’t say for certain. But believe me, we will continue to try and find out exactly what happened.”

Michaela sighed. None of it sat well with her.

“
I am going to need to take statements from both of you. Separately, of course. It’s procedure.”

“
I need to use the bathroom,” Cynthia said. “Is that okay, Michaela? Do you mind going first?”

“
No. Go ahead.”

Cynthia tried to smile, but it was forced and came out looking more like a frown.

After she left the room, Davis said, “I realize that this seems incomprehensible to you, but from everything I’ve seen so far, it appears that Bean committed your uncle’s murder and killed himself.”

“
Yes, it’s difficult to believe, but I guess so. I don’t know what else to think. If the police are sure that’s what happened . . .” She shrugged.

“
The evidence points in that direction.”

She nodded and looked down.

“
I don’t want to sound crass. You and your family have been through a rough time, but at least now you can bury your uncle with some sense of peace.”

Her head jerked up. “Sense of
peace
? I’m not sure about that, Detective. I don’t know how much peace can be found when you learn that a man with the mentality of a child has murdered someone you love dearly, then kills himself. There’s no peace in that.”

“
I’m sorry.”