Read A Violent End at Blake Ranch Online
Authors: Terry Shames
A Violent End at Blake Ranch (14 page)
She exhibits narcissistic thinking, in which she is the hero of her own story. I believe she is enjoying the attention that her actions brought her and seems to have little understanding of the consequences of what she did to her sister. She exhibits no interest in her sister's well-being and still blames her brother for stopping her from doing “what she needed to do.” When I suggested to her that she may have to spend some time in a juvenile detention facility, she was quite surprised. She seems not to understand that her actions could seem abhorrent to others.
She is dismissive of her family and describes them as “fools.” In one conversation she indicated that there were things about the family that she could tell me that they wouldn't want known, but she refused to elaborate. She insisted, however, that she did not endure any sexual or physical abuse from her family or anyone else.
She also described her teachers and the townspeople as fools, saying she should not have been “forced” to live in a small town, that her parents had the means to live in a more cosmopolitan environment, which would have suited her better. She describes her classmates and their parents as “simpletons.” In particular she said several times that she could “put one over on any of them.” When I asked what she meant, she indicated that she had “found out things” that people wouldn't want aired in public. Again, she refused to elaborate, saying that she had ways of “finding out things.”
I hesitate to attach the label “sociopath” to a fourteen-year-old, but I admit that this girl has attributes that tend in that direction. But I also wonder from what she described if there is a toxic family situation that has pushed her into a state of disequilibrium. Therefore, I recommend that she be evaluated more thoroughly in a mental facility where she can be observed over time.
It's a frustrating document with its hints of things that Nonie knew. At the time, it must have seemed no more than “tall talk” from a troubled girl. I have to see it differentlyâas a hint that she knew things that might have gotten her killed. And I'm no closer to finding out what those things are.
And there's another thing about the report that interests me. Adelaide said that the doctor indicated that Nonie was bipolar. There's nothing in his report like that. I wonder if he told Adelaide that because he didn't want to suggest the more chilling possibility that Nonie was truly disturbed; possibly a sociopath.
The last thing I do before I head home is phone Luke Schoppe, the Texas Ranger who theoretically is in charge of investigating the murder. I ask him to arrange to have the Blakes' pond drained.
“That's expensive,” he says.
“It's got to be done. I haven't had any luck finding the murder weapon.”
“All right. I'll let you know.”
“The sooner the better.”
“It'll be Monday at least.”
CHAPTER 12
Back home, Loretta is sitting outside on my porch waiting for me.
“It must have been some funeral for it to take all day,” she grumbles. “What took you so long?”
I settle into the rocking chair next to her. “I hate to disappoint you, but it was pretty tame as funerals go.”
“Who all was at the funeral home?”
I fill her in as best I can, but I'm restless and I don't feel much like indulging her curiosity. I keep thinking about John Blake and his focus on not telling secrets. I don't know if that's some manifestation of his dementia or if there's something he really has in his mind that pertains to Nonie's death. Coupled with Nonie's claims that the family had some kind of secret they wouldn't want known, I can't help thinking there's something to his ravings.
“Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth,” Loretta says. “I can tell your mind is somewhere else. I'll be better off talking to my ladies. It beats me how you think you can figure out who killed Nonie Blake when you don't pay attention to the details.”
“Different details,” I say. But maybe not. Maybe I'm missing a detail that's staring me right in the face. Again I have that uncanny feeling of being past my prime. I'm not used to the feeling and I don't like it.
I'm saved from having to pursue those thoughts any further by my cell phone ringing.
Loretta jumps and puts a hand to her heart. “I'll never get used to having people's phones ring in their pockets.”
I see that the call is from Nelda Havranek, and I hold up a finger to tell Loretta to wait. Nelda says that Kimberley has gone back to Houston and I can come over anytime.
“I'm sorry,” I say to Loretta. “I have to go. You're probably right. One of your ladies can describe the finer points of the funeral to you.”
Nelda Havranek lives only a few blocks away from me. If it weren't so hot, I'd probably walk over there. But it is, and I don't.
When she opens the door, cool air drifts out. I don't normally care much for air-conditioning, but in late August, I'm glad for it. It's still over a hundred degrees outside.
“Let me bring you some iced tea,” she says. “You want sugar in it?”
Time was, nobody asked that. All tea was sweetened to a saturation point, but times have changed. I tell her I'll take a little sugar.
She's back in a few minutes and sets the tea down with a plate of cookies that don't stand up to Lottie Raines's cookies, at least visually.
“Now what can I do for you?” She smiles pleasantly. Even her smile seems efficient.
“I've been trying to get in touch with your ex-husband.”
The smile shuts off like a faucet. “You've come to the wrong place if you want to know how to get in touch with Bruce. I don't know a thing about him. Don't want to know.”
Both mother and daughter have cut off the man of the household, and I wonder what it might have to do with Nonie Blake, if anything. “I hate to press on this. I don't want to open up old wounds, but can you tell me what turned you so completely against your ex-husband?”
“Since you're chief of police, I don't mind telling you, but I have to have your word that you won't tell a soul. It's a secret I've kept for many years, and I don't want to hear it all over town at this late date.”
“If it's something illegal, I don't know that I can give you my word. But if you're referring to some way he wronged you, nobody will hear it from me.”
“It's both, but no charges were filed and it's all taken care of, so I suppose it won't hurt to tell you in confidence. Bruce was stealing from the people he worked for here in Jarrett Creek. He's a CPA who worked for Gabe LoPresto. You know Gabe?”
I nod. “We're good friends.”
“Gabe came here one day and said he needed to talk to Bruce and me. He sat right here in this living room and said he had found out that Bruce had been stealing from him for a long time. He said if Bruce would confess right then and agree to pay back the money, it would go no further. But if he didn't agree to that, Gabe said he'd call the law and then it would be spread all over town.”
“Since I never heard anything about it, I assume Bruce agreed.”
She looks down at her hands. “He didn't want to at first. But I had known for a while that something was going on. Bruce had been funny. Kind of jumpy. Our marriage wasn't all it could be, and I thought he was trying to work up the courage to leave me. But as soon as Gabe started talking, I knew that's what had been bothering Bruce. So after Gabe laid out what he'd found in the books, I worked on Bruce and eventually he confessed.”
She drops her head with a big sigh that sounds like a half-laugh. “Bruce didn't make a good thief. The amount he took wasn't worth the trouble. He only embezzled a couple thousand dollars a year. I've often wondered if it was the thrill of being a thief that made him do it. I've always worked and we had enough money for our needs plus a little extra to put away, so it wasn't like we needed the money. We paid Gabe back out of our savings account.”
“It was good of Gabe to let your husband have a chance to make amends without going to the law.”
“I've been forever grateful to the man, although I can still hardly look him in the face. And there's no way I could stay married to Bruce after that. It might have been wrong of me to turn our daughter away from him, but eventually when she got old enough to understand and I could trust her to keep it to herself, I told her what he had done. So now you know why I don't have anything to do with Bruce.”
“I do understand. And I have a question to ask you. When did the embezzling start?”
She thinks. “Has to have been over twenty years ago now.”
“I understand that Nonie Blake babysat a few times for you.”
She looks puzzled. “Yes, she did. But we didn't go out much, so she was only here two or three times. Thank goodness. I was fit to be tied when I found out what she had done, thinking it could have been my daughter she got mad at and tried to kill. But what does this have to do with Bruce?”
“Is there any way Nonie could have found out that Bruce was embezzling money from Gabe's company?”
“I don't see how that's possible.”
“That's why I need to talk to your husband.”
Understanding dawns. “You mean you think Nonie was blackmailing him and when she came back here he killed her?” She starts to laugh, but it's not a laugh of delight. There's a hard, bitter tinge to it.
“You're laughing. Why is that funny?”
“It never ends, does it? I mean, he was a thief and a cheat, and after all these years I find out he may have done even worse. I keep waiting for the day everybody in town finds out that he embezzled that money. I'm always afraid that Kimberley will let it slip or that Gabe will think enough time has gone by. I keep thinking I ought to move out of here so I can let go of it. And now this.”
“Nelda, don't borrow trouble. It's likely that Nonie's death has nothing to do with Bruce. I just have to follow up on it. And I'm going to suggest something else to you, even though you didn't ask for my advice. You ought to tell people what happened. It's a long time ago, and people aren't going to judge you. It's Bruce who was the thief, not you.”
She shrugs. “You might be right. But I don't trust people as much as you do, and I'm not ready to test it out.”
When I stop in at headquarters, the faxed autopsy report is sitting on my desk. Thankfully it isn't nearly as long or involved as the psychiatric report I had to wade through. Autopsy reports always make me a little queasy. They're intimate and cold at the same time. After death, no one knows the dead person's body more intimately than the doctor who has to cut and poke and weigh and examine. And yet, the doctor may be completely ignorant about the person who lived and breathed in that body.
I read the general information about the head wound that killed Nonie, and the fact that there wasn't water in her lungs, which indicates that she was dead before she was thrown into the water. Then I glance over the physical details. A 5'4'' woman who weighed 135 pounds, brown hair and eyes, et cetera. I find one interesting thing. At some point, Nonie had a broken leg. In the psychiatrist's report, it was noted that she had no broken bones, which means she has to have broken her leg sometime in the last twenty years. I wonder how that happened in a mental facility. That will be a good question to start off with when I phone Rollingwood on Monday morning.
CHAPTER 13
Saturday afternoon is the time Jenny and I have fixed for her first lesson in domesticationâher words, not mine. She insists on taking her car, so I walk over to her place. On the way to the Quick Mart, the only real grocery store in town, I tell her that a female Hispanic cop has been assigned to Jarrett Creek.
“That ought to shake things up.”
“How so?” I don't mean to sound defensive, but I'm pretty sure I do.
“In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a woman. I've had more than a few people tell me they don't think a woman ought to be a lawyer. I can imagine what they'll think of a woman cop. Not to mention that there's a pretty strong thread of prejudice in our neck of the woods.”
