Death Rides Again (A Jocelyn Shore Mystery) (24 page)

As we drove away, Kyla pulled down the sunshade to watch T.J. in the rearview mirror. He stood there until we rounded the first curve and vanished from sight.

“I like that guy,” Kyla announced.

“I noticed,” I said. “But why?”

“What do you mean? Have you looked at him? He’s gorgeous. And I like the way he looks at me,” she said.

I tried not to classify the small smile tugging at her lips as smug. “Everyone looks at you that way. Well, every man looks at you that way. But it’s not like you have anything in common with him.”

“We have more in common than you’d think.”

“Like what? You’re not exactly what I’d call an outdoor girl. I can’t exactly see you going out and bagging a trophy for the living room.”

She laughed and didn’t bother to deny it. “I don’t think that’s what T.J. is looking for. He’s got plenty of other people to do his bagging for him.”

“Then what?”

“Money for one thing,” she said, grinning. “We both love it.”

“And that’s a basis for a solid relationship?”

“You might be surprised. The thing is, he’s making money the best way he knows. He’s not planning on spending his whole life on the ranch. He’s actually done quite a bit of traveling, and he’s looking to start investing.”

“Investing in what?”

She shrugged. “Real estate, I think. Having property—a paying property—out here is a start. He’s already got a downtown condo in Austin, and he’s living there half time. He comes out here when he’s got a big hunt on to make sure his guests are happy. I guess those guys in there are spending a small fortune—you’d never know it to look at them, would you?”

“You would if you looked at their cars,” I said, thinking of the yellow Hummer. “You can’t honestly be interested in him because of his money, Kyla. That’s so…” I struggled for the word.

“Cheap? Gold-diggery?” She laughed. “I’m doing all right on my own, if you haven’t noticed. And I’m not after him for his money, but a guy with ambition like that? Yeah, that interests me, and I’m not ashamed of it. Anyway, what’s your problem with him? You’ve never cared about the other guys I’ve dated, and a few of them have made Mr. T. J. Knoller look like a migrant farmworker.”

“One, it’s hard to keep up with all the guys you date. I’m not even sure I knew about the rich ones. But two…” And here I paused. What exactly was my problem with T.J. after all? Was it because he was a thorn in my uncle’s side and because he’d been so quick to accuse Kel of shooting someone? Maybe. Probably. But honestly, wasn’t that enough? “Two, what about Sherman?”

“What about him? We’re still just dating. He wasn’t interested in coming out here, and I wasn’t interested in going home with him. Not that he invited me,” she said under her breath.

“Ah, so that’s it,” I said. “Did you ever think that maybe he has reasons that don’t have anything to do with you? I mean, maybe his family embarrasses him or they don’t welcome outsiders. I don’t think you should hold that against him.”

“Why not? Anyway, you’re a fine one to talk. What about all your boyfriends following you around like puppies on a leash?”

“I’ve solved that problem. Besides, Alan and Colin aren’t suing our family.”

“I think that problem is solved as well. Besides, maybe you’re just jealous because T.J.’s not flirting with you,” she said in that special arrogant tone I hated so much.

This conversation had suddenly taken a nosedive back to those unpleasant high school days that I would just as soon forget. Not a good time in our relationship. I ground my teeth and said nothing.

A couple of moments later, I turned onto a rough caliche road with a crunch of tires on gravel and stopped at the very small and unadorned gates of the Smoke Quartz ranch. We both stared straight ahead for a moment, then Kyla opened the door.

“I’ll drop it if you will,” she offered.

“Deal,” I said.

She got out to open the gates. I knew I should feel relieved that we’d managed to avoid one of our frequent spats, but I didn’t. I should feel pleased for her to have found an interesting man to date, but I didn’t. The thought of her dating T. J. Knoller made me anxious, but I couldn’t figure out why.

Chapter 8

BREAK-INS AND BREAKDOWNS

Dinner preparations and family drama were both well underway when Kyla and I walked through the front door. A fire crackled merrily in the big stone fireplace, which looked almost like a child’s toy in comparison to the one in T.J.’s enormous house. Uncle Herman sat in a recliner drawn close to its glow. He’d popped out the footrest and sat ensconced in a fluffy throw, tumbler of amber whiskey reflecting the firelight like a jewel on the table beside him, telephone clutched between one furry ear and shoulder. With his oversize glasses and bald head, he looked more like Mr. Toad of Toad Hall than ever. He was shouting into the receiver, his volume a reflection on neither his own deafness nor any incipient anger but rather the distance of the party on the other end. The farther away someone was, the louder Uncle Herman felt he was required to speak. I wished I could blame it on his age, but it appeared to be an unfortunate Shore family trait. Conversations with my brothers in California could leave both parties hoarse for days.

“Goddamn it to hell, Johnson, are you the justice of the peace for this county or not? My nephew is in jail, and I want you to get over there and put a boot in the ass of that sumbitch Bob Matthews.”

I hung my coat on a hook near the door and slipped into the kitchen, leaving Kyla to deal with Aunt Gladys, who was bearing in from the left like a juggernaut.

In the kitchen, the horde of children was gathered around the table, some sitting, some kneeling on chairs to better reach the bounty in the center. Someone had set up a make-your-own dinner spread by tossing down a couple of loaves of white bread, two jars of peanut butter, three squeeze bottles of jam, and half a dozen sacks of chips, and the kids were up to their elbows in junk food. My brother Will was standing beside the stove watching the chaos with a bemused expression.

“It’s like feeding time at the zoo,” he remarked by way of greeting. “We could film this and use it for birth control commercials.”

“You don’t want to cause the human race to become extinct,” I told him. “We’re not eating this crap, too, are we?”

He gestured to the stove where a big pot bubbled gently, putting out a heavenly steam. “Nah, Elaine’s making gumbo, and the rolls should be done any minute. She left me to make sure they don’t burn.”

“And to keep the vermin from killing each other?”

“I have no orders regarding that, nor any incentive to prevent it from happening. Hey, how’s what’s-his-name doing?”

“What’s-his-name?”

“Yeah, what’s-his-name.”

I could never understand why members of my family were unable to remember names. “His name is Colin. And he’s okay, considering. They’re keeping him for one more night just to be safe. Where’s Sam?”

“He and Christy went for a walk, the cowards. I can’t believe they left me alone to deal with this.” His gesture seemingly encompassed not only the kitchen but the entire world.

“You’re hardly alone,” I pointed out. “The house is packed.”

“I’m alone if you count sane adults. Or I was until you showed up,” he added gallantly. “Have you noticed that everyone we’re related to is completely batshit crazy?”

“It had dawned on me,” I admitted. “What have they done now?”

“Uncle Herman hasn’t been off the phone since he got home from jail. Do you know what his very first call was?”

“To a lawyer to see about getting Kel free?” I suggested, although I knew that anything sensible was a long shot.

Will gave me a pitying glance. “Ha. No. To the racing commission. He wants his winnings.”

“What?”

“Yup. His point is that his horse crossed the finish line first. He wants the prize money, and he wants it now.”

“But someone shot his competition!” I protested.

“He doesn’t care.”

I pondered this in silence for a minute. At the table, the kids had gnawed through the sandwiches and had moved onto drawing faces in the peanut butter smears on their plates. I opened the cookies and stepped back just in time.

“How did Uncle Herman get that horse?” I asked. “Has he said anything?”

“Lips sealed tighter than an oil drum. I asked him outright, and he just looked smug.” Will suddenly lifted his head and sprinted to the oven. As he opened the door, the smell of baking bread expanded through the room like a puff of steam on a cold day and blended perfectly with the aroma of hot gumbo. My stomach rumbled appreciatively, and Will just looked relieved. “Elaine would kill me if these burned,” he said as he pulled them out.

“Why didn’t she just set the timer?” I asked.

“It’s broken.”

I frowned. “See? This is what I mean. Things are really tight around here. I’ve never seen Kel and Elaine looking so worried, yet Uncle Herman somehow is able to buy a first-class racehorse from Carl Cress of all people. And Carl’s the type who would have cheated his own mother out of her dentures if he could have sold them for a profit. So how does that happen?”

“Wow, I thought you weren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead,” said Will with a grin.

“That’s not speaking ill, that’s just telling the truth. Carl probably would have been proud if he’d overheard. Anyway, I’m serious. Where did Herman get that kind of money?”

“Who said he did?” asked Will. He turned off the oven, and leaned against the counter. “There are other transactions besides the cash kind.”

I looked at my brother with surprised respect. Sometimes I forgot that the snotty-nosed little pest of my childhood was now a financially savvy if somewhat cynical little pest. “Like what for example?”

“There’s always bartering. My goats for your horse. But I was actually thinking something a little less direct. Blackmail springs to mind.”

“Blackmail? What kind of blackmail?”

“Well if I knew that, Carl would hardly have gotten his money, or rather his horse’s, worth, now would he?”

“So for example, Carl did something dodgy, and Herman found out about it? Then traded his silence for Big Bender?” My voice squeaked a little in combined disbelief and consternation.

“That’s my best guess,” grinned Will. “Do you have a better one?”

“I don’t have any problem believing Carl did something blackmail worthy,” I admitted, “but…”

“But what? You have a problem believing our beloved relative would stoop to blackmail?”

“No, not exactly that either. But what could Herman possibly have found out that would have embarrassed someone like Carl, who I overheard bragging about cheating someone on a lumber sale not two days ago. And how would Uncle Herman have found out anyway? It’s not like he gets out of the house a lot.”

Will shrugged. “You’re wrong there. I know when we’re not here he drives into town every morning and has coffee and breakfast with his cronies.”

“He still drives himself? He’s ninety-five.”

Snagging a crusty roll from the pan, Will gave a small yelp and began tossing it from hand to hand to cool it off.

I grinned at him, thinking that some things never changed. He had never been able to wait for anything. He might be taller, a little more sophisticated, but he would always be my kid brother.

“I’m glad you were able to make it.”

“Yeah, me, too. Especially since I won’t be coming to Texas for Christmas.”

“Mom and Dad will be disappointed. Where are you going?” I asked, picturing some exotic vacation and trying to quell a small pang of jealousy. I was currently saving my pennies for another vacation to an as yet undecided destination, but I certainly wouldn’t be doing anything over the Christmas break.

“Paris,” he said. “It’s a promotion. I’ll be moving over permanently. Or at least for a couple of years.”

“Seriously? Well, I take it back. Mom and Dad will be thrilled.”

“Maybe I won’t tell them.”

I laughed. “They’re cool. They won’t be interfering with your international jet-setting life. They’ll probably just take you out to dinner once in a while.”

“Maybe they’ll take me to the Au Pied de Cochon,” he said thoughtfully.

“Tourist.”

“I can’t help it. I love that place.”

“Maybe I’ll come visit you all next summer,” I said wistfully.

I wondered if Colin would have any interest in accompanying me, and realized with a little jolt that I had no idea. The unworthy thought that Alan would have jumped at the chance to go skittered across my mind like a dark cockroach, and I firmly stamped on it.

*   *   *

After dinner, I pulled a chair beside Uncle Herman’s by the fire. The old man was dozing gently, the glow from the flames reflecting in his thick glasses and off the top of his balding head. Outside, the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped, making the warmth and crackling of the flames especially welcome. The house was finally quiet. The kids had returned to their trailer for the night and by now were probably asleep or at least slowing down. Kyla and Kris had withdrawn to the bunkroom upstairs and if I listened hard enough I thought I could hear the sound of giggling. Always unpredictable, Kyla had once again surprised me by her unexpected affinity with this acerbic intelligent young cousin. The other adults had withdrawn as well, everyone tired from what had been a very long day. I drew my feet up onto the seat, wrapped a crocheted throw around my shoulders, and waited.

A pecan dropping onto the tin roof with a sharp little ping finally made Herman stir and open his eyes.

“Aren’t you ever going to go away?” he asked. “I been faking I’m dead for the last half hour, thinking you’d eventually give up.”

I looked at him suspiciously, but his eyes behind the thick glasses were bright and alert as a squirrel’s. It was entirely possible he had been pretending to be asleep.

“I have questions, you have answers,” I said.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s my birthday. How about a little peace and quiet as a present?”

“Your birthday was yesterday, and I already gave you a present.”

“Sweaters don’t count as presents.”