Deadly Sanctuary (6 page)

“How did she get along with the rest of the family?”

“About the same. Ronda, that’s Tally’s sister, stayed out of her way most of the time, but, she told me Stephanie deviled the bejesus out of Ruth who’s just a tad flighty in the head, ya know.”

“What do you mean?”

Ginger made a face and twirled her finger beside her temple. “Kinda teched.”

I drew back in surprise. “You mean she’s mentally ill?”

“Well, she ain’t no candidate for the nut house or nothing. She was always jest a mite fragile. Ronda says it’s chronic depression.”

“I see. Go on.”

Between sips of lemonade, Ginger recounted Bradley’s dilemma. His father was leaning on him hard to stay, and Stephanie, claiming she couldn’t survive in such a primitive place, was threatening to leave him. He’d finally given in to her tantrums, and the two had returned to the east coast. Shortly afterward, Joseph Talverson had his first stroke. “Tally’s ma called and lectured him about duty, roots and all that. So he came back, dragging his reluctant bride with him.” Ginger rose to stir the bubbling chili and chop lettuce for the salad.

“What happened then?” I asked, finishing my drink.

“It wasn’t too long after that his pa had another stroke. Up and died, he did. Having Tally home made Ruth and Ronda happy as clams, but Stephanie went plum wild, drinking, staying out till all hours, making no secret of her runnin’ around on him. Flaunted it in his face, she did. Ronda said they had some hellacious fights.”

I gave her a sharp look. “Was John Dexter one of her lovers?”

Ginger wore a look of disdain. “That’s what he wanted everybody to believe, and she did come onto him pretty hot ’n’ heavy one night over at Buck’s Corral. Knowing John, he wouldn’t have turned it down.”

“So I’ve heard. But that aside, tell me why he thought Bradley was responsible for her death?”

Half the town, she replied, was gathered at the Starfire Ranch for the annual barbeque dinner. It was the end of the week-long Gold Dust Days celebration held each June. All evening, Stephanie had been drinking heavily and flirting outrageously with all the men, including John.

“Tally stood it as long as he could,” Ginger stated, bending to pull a pan of cornbread from the oven, “then he hauled her into the barn. Ronda said everyone could hear her screaming at him. Afterward, she stormed into the house and he went back to his guests. It was pert near dark when she up and rode off into the desert. Hell bent for leather. When Ronda told Tally, he took off after her, saying he was worried about her horse spooking ’cause of all the lightning that night. Anyhow, he found her an hour later face down in a cholla field holdin’ a handful of reins.”

“Jesus,” I whispered trying to absorb all the details. Something still didn’t add up. “Ginger, I must be dense, because I still don’t get why Dexter suspected Bradley. It sounds like a freak accident to me.”

“It was supposed to look like that, sugar, but there’s those who didn’t believe it then…and still don’t.”.

“And why is that?”

Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Word around town was them reins might’ve been cut.”

Her dramatic exposé sent a little ripple of shock zinging down my back. Ginger quickly added that even though the motive apparently existed, the inquest had cleared Bradley. I wondered. Was he innocent or had he cleverly covered his tracks? But then, she’d also said there’d been hundreds of people there that night. Who else in Castle Valley would have benefited from Stephanie Talverson’s death?

Ginger appeared pleased that her news had scored high on my astonishment scale. She shooed me from the kitchen with a request to fetch Brian while she finished preparing dinner. I went reluctantly, still bursting to ask more questions. Could this latest revelation mean Bradley had something to do with Dexter’s disappearance? But that didn’t add up. Two years was sufficient time for the feud between them to have cooled.

By the time I knocked on Brian’s door, I’d convinced myself the two incidents were unrelated. We chatted for a few minutes until we heard Ginger holler ‘chow’s on!’

Everything tasted delicious. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stuffed myself so much at one sitting. The strawberry shortcake crowned with a mound of whipped cream almost finished me off.

“Don’t let me eat another bite,” I said pushing away from the table.

“What’s that?” Nona inquired with interest. “You’ve been in a fight?”

Everyone giggled and then jumped when the big cat I’d seen earlier vaulted with a bang onto the front screen. “Let Churchill in will you, Brian?” Ginger asked. Brian got up, opened the door, and the cat sauntered in, tail waving, its mouth clamped onto something most definitely alive.

“Good Lord!” Ginger leaped to her feet. “He’s got a scorpion!” Startled by her scream, the cat dropped the creature which lay still for a few seconds, and then barreled across the carpet.

Brian moved swiftly and crunched the thing under his boot. The cat looked displeased.

Ginger sank into her chair, patting her chest. “Them things give me the apoplexy.”

Of course, that brought a rash of favorite insect stories. When my turn came, I told of the boy who’d put a spider down my back in the sixth grade. It brought howls of laughter from everyone.

Ginger held her stomach. “Y’all really took off your clothes?”

“Down to my skivvies,” I answered dryly. Ginger coaxed a reluctant Brian into helping her wash the dishes. In the meantime, Nona entertained me with photos and articles about her long theater career. Her scrapbooks made me feel a little sad. It was hard to believe that the young, vivacious person in the pictures was now this shriveled old woman.

Brian had rented a movie and we’d just reached the thrilling climax when the doorbell rang.

“Now who could that be?” Ginger’s expression was puzzled. “It’s past nine o’clock.”

“Bonnie,” she gasped, swinging the door wide. “What a nice surprise…” Her voice trailed off. “What’s the matter? Where’s Tom?” She pulled a heavy set woman with streaks of violet mascara staining her cheeks into the room. I remembered Bonnie was Ginger’s sister.

“Tom’s out of town,” the woman sobbed, “but I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell y’all.” Then to my amazement she laughed, blurting out: “Ginger, it’s finally happened!”

“What? What’s happened?”

“God has answered our prayers. We had a meeting with that lawyer y’all recommended, and guess what? We’re getting us a baby!”

Ginger clapped her hands. “Oh my Lord! You finally got in to see Eric Heisler.”

That grabbed my attention. I recognized the name as the Phoenix attorney who owned the tennis ranch.

“That’s right.” Bonnie dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “He is the most wonderful man…no, he’s more than that. He’s an absolute god.”

More shrieking. That was followed by the two of them jumping and hugging. I met Brian’s amused glance as he shrugged. Drama seemed commonplace in this household.

When things quieted, I told Ginger I had to go, not wanting to intrude on what was obviously private family business.

“Oh, don’t go on my account,” Bonnie said after Ginger introduced us. “I wish I could share this news with the whole world. Let’s have us a celebration party!”

Not wanting to spoil the festive atmosphere, I agreed. Anyway, I was curious to hear her story. We all filed into the kitchen where Brian pulled out a bottle of sparkling champagne he said had been in the refrigerator since the Carter administration.

Glasses clinked during the noisy toast. Then Bonnie launched into her tale, recounting fifteen years of miscarriages, fertility drugs, blind leads, anguish and waiting. They’d even, she admitted, placed ads in newspapers, hoping to appeal to interested teens.

“The turning point was Ginger talking about my problem to her boyfriend,” Bonnie said with a misty-eyed smile while squeezing Ginger’s hand. For my benefit she added, “You know, he works in the pro shop at the tennis ranch and, well, I must say, I almost fainted when Eric Heisler’s secretary called me.”

Ginger was ecstatic. “I just asked Doug if he’d put in a good word for me.”

Bonnie chimed in, “We didn’t know what to expect because we’d heard his fees were like astronomical, but he was so nice, and so easy to talk to. And even though he told us that he hasn’t handled too many adoption cases, he promised he’d do the best he could for us.”

Ginger good-naturedly bawled her out for keeping her meeting a secret and I noticed Nona nodding in her chair, the empty glass still clutched in one hand.

Bonnie looked contrite. “I was afraid to say anything. We’ve had so many failures. But when he called me today to say that he knew of a young woman expecting in June, I tell you I about busted a gut.”

Nona started to snore, so Ginger and Brian excused themselves to help her to bed. Bonnie went on to tell me some of her experiences with adoption agencies.

“I appreciate you sharing this with me,” I commented to her. “Being a reporter I always want to know everything about a subject and I honestly didn’t know adopting was such a ticklish business.”

“Please don’t take this wrong, because it isn’t meant to sound biased, but it isn’t as difficult if you don’t want a white baby.”

“Why is that?”

“Because there’s an unbelievable shortage of ’em.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, the abortion laws changed everything,” she confided, pouring herself another glass of champagne. “People don’t have kids they don’t want anymore. But the most important reason of all is that over eighty percent of pregnant, unmarried teens keep their babies.” She shrugged. “It used to be something to hide, to be ashamed of. Not anymore. The stigma is gone and so are all the adoptable babies.”

The wait, she added, through private and state agencies averaged five to seven years if you could pass the rigid restrictions which included income, education and religious affiliation.

“We’re great on all that stuff except I up an ruined everything by havin’ a nervous breakdown over this a few years ago,” she said in an anguished voice. “I miscarried the baby after five months and it just about sent me over the edge. It put a big black mark on my record.” Her voice trembled and her brown eyes misted again.

My heart went out to her. This was a woman who’d obviously been to hell and back.

When Ginger returned, she insisted Bonnie stay the night and not make the return drive to Prescott due to the late hour. She happily agreed and I said good-night after congratulating her again on her forthcoming adoption.

Ginger clicked on the porch light and followed me outside to my car. We stood for a moment chatting as a warm desert breeze fluffed our hair. Above us, stars blazed from the inky canopy of night sky.

The more I got to know her, the more my affection grew for this pixie-faced Texas girl. Ginger had welcomed me into the cozy bosom of her family and filled the emotional void I’d been suffering since leaving my own home and relatives so far behind.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said smiling. “I thoroughly enjoyed it and meeting your family.” I opened the car door. “That was a really nice thing you did, getting your friend Doug to put in a good word for Bonnie. I’m looking forward to meeting him, but then, I guess I’ll get that chance when I cover the big charity affair at the tennis ranch.”

“I’m going to be there myself.” She told me she and some other members of her church congregation had volunteered to help park cars and assist in the kitchen. Doug Sauers would be bartending.

A cunning look crept over her face. “Wear something real sleek and sexy if you want to catch his eye.”

“Whose eye?”

“Why Eric Heisler’s, of course! This guy is special. Dangerously rich and real…cosmopolitan like.” She raised an eyebrow suggestively. “You know, more your cup of tea.”

I laughed. “Oh, Ginger, will you stop with the matchmaking. I’m not ready to get involved with anyone.”

“Oh piffle. It cain’t hurt to have a look see. Tell you what. I’m a fixin’ to go into Phoenix on that Saturday morning to see a foot doctor about these pesky corns, so why don’t you and me go together? I can show you around town, we can shop, have lunch at one of them fancy restaurants and still be back in plenty of time to get ready for the big shindig at seven.”

She had such a pleading look in her eye I couldn’t refuse. Anyway, it would be a nice change and I did want to see Phoenix.

Random thoughts tumbled about in my head like clothes in a dryer as I drove home. The sky over Castle Rock glowed faintly, announcing the imminent moonrise.

Bonnie’s face, filled with eager desperation as she’d discussed her longing for a child, stuck in my mind. Funny, I’d never given it much thought before tonight. I guess I’d always figured if I ever got married again and decided to have children,
poof
, I’d just have them. Would I feel like Bonnie, if that didn’t happen?

I mentally laid out my plans for the following week as I swung the car onto Lost Canyon Road. It would be busy. Besides my regular work, I’d have to squeeze in my undercover assignment.

An extreme sensation of weariness washed over me as I pulled into the driveway. Sorely in need of a good night’s sleep, I hoped there would be no disturbance tonight.

Settled into bed, my thoughts involuntarily returned again and again to Bradley Talverson. Even though he’d been insufferably rude at our first meeting, since then, he’d been pleasant, attentive almost. Could Ginger be right? Was he attracted to me because I reminded him of his wife? Had he been so insanely jealous of her that he’d rather have her dead than with another man?

Jesus! Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? The last thing I needed right now was a man to complicate my life. Remember, I reminded myself, they’re all trouble.

Exasperated, I turned over, thumped the pillow and tried to make my mind blank. Given his scandalous background, and as illogical as it seemed, right before sleep clutched me, I reluctantly acknowledged what I’d been trying hard to ignore. I was far more attracted to him than I wanted to admit.