Fool's Puzzle (23 page)

Within three minutes we were a tiny bit closer to finding Suzanne Hart. Elvia’s hunch was right. She did work at Trigger’s about nine or ten months ago. Floyd sent her last paycheck to a post office box in Salinas. I grabbed the phone and dialed information in Salinas. No listing for a Suzanne Hart.

“Well, that’s that.” I couldn’t help but be disappointed.

“Now what?”

“Stake out the post office?” Elvia suggested.

“For a whole month? Who knows when she collects her mail?” I inspected my bandage. It was already looking a bit grungy. I picked at the graying edges of the tape. “I could go up there, I guess. If she’s a cocktail waitress, chances are she’s still doing that. How many bars can there be in Salinas?”

“You’re going to cruise the bars looking for her?” Elvia shook her head and rolled her napkin into a ball. “That sounds appealing.”

“What else can I do?”

“Dare I suggest you take this information to the police?”

“Forget it, Elvia. I told you, I’m going to find her first. Then the police can have her.” I pointed my finger at her. “And you better not rat on me.”

“I won’t,” she said. “But I don’t like it.”

“You never like anything I do.”

“And that’s never stopped you before.”

“I’ve got to go. I want to go see Sandra while Wade isn’t there. I’ll probably leave tomorrow morning for Salinas. Hopefully, I won’t have to spend the night there, but don’t get worried if I’m not back until the next day.”

“I always worry,
gringa
,” she said. “Drive careful. Be careful.”

“Yes, Mom,” I said, dodging the napkin ball she threw at me.

It had been a couple of months since I’d visited the Harper Ranch. Driving under the wrought-iron arch with the “Lazy J-Flying H” brand felt familiar but discomforting, like talking to someone you haven’t seen since high school. The oak trees lining the long driveway, planted by their dad, John, almost twenty years ago, dappled the truck as I drove past. A passel of young Hispanic kids played on a new swing-set in front of the ranch’s original house, where Jack and I had lived. A pretty young woman I assumed was their mother sat in a lounge chair under a tree, reading a newspaper. It surprised me until I remembered Sandra telling me that they’d rented the house to their new foreman. I wondered if the foreman’s wife had trouble with the pantry door sticking.

Sandra sat in a brown wicker chair on the long front porch of the new house, a six-bedroom two-story built by Jack’s dad when beef prices were high. Her face lit up when she looked up from her needlework, and I felt guilty that I hadn’t seen her since the craft festival. Though I never minded the isolation of the ranch, I knew it was lonely for Sandra.

“Hey, stranger,” she called and gestured at the matching chair next to her. “What brings you around here?”

“Just thought I’d drop by and see how you all were doing. Brought the money Mom Harper made for the baby quilts at the festival.”

“Good,” Sandra said, looking back down at her counted-cross-stitch sampler. “You missed her, though. She went to town with Mrs. Larson to see a movie. First time she’s been off the ranch in a month.”

“What are you working on?”

She held up the sampler. It was an elaborate pattern with hearts, houses and three types of alphabets—“Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life,” it said.

“I like it,” I said. “Looks hard, though.”

She shrugged and concentrated on the sampler, counting under her breath.

“It looks funny having all those kids playing around the old house,” I said. “You painted it, I see.”

“They’re a nice family,” Sandra said. “She’s teaching me Spanish. Arturo’s a big help to Wade.”

“How’re the herds looking so far?”

She shrugged again. The running of the ranch had never interested her like it had me. She was a town girl; she lived on the ranch for the love of her man, not the lifestyle.

“You need any help on the computer?” I asked. “Wade said you were having some trouble with the calf weights.”

“Not anymore,” she said sharply. Her face had an odd, strained look.

“Oh, you figured it out, then.”

“No. I’m just not doing it anymore. Wade’s doing the books the old way. We only use the computer for the kids’ Nintendo these days.”

“Wade’s managing the books? How’s the ranch doing?”

“Who knows? He never tells me anything. I’m just here to have babies and cook, didn’t you know that?” She stabbed her needle into the fabric and gave an ironic laugh. “Keep the Harper dynasty in heirs, so to speak.”

“You must have some idea about how things are going. What does Mom Harper say about Wade doing the books?”

“Benni, since Jack died, all she does is watch soap operas, call her sister in Abilene and talk about moving back there. As for the money, all I know is when I ask for it, Wade gives it to me. He was looking at new trucks last week and talking about paying cash, so we can’t be doing that bad, can we?” She set the sampler down on the table next to her. “I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I’m telling you, if it doesn’t stop soon, I’m taking the kids and moving back to town with my mom.” Her face flushed in anger.

“Where is he?”

“Out in the north pasture repairing some fencing.” She gave a sarcastic snort. “Or so he says.”

“Want me to try talking to him again?”

“Do what you want, but don’t hold your breath waiting for him to tell you anything.”

You’re crazy, I told myself as I bumped across the dirt roads. Stay out of it. But it wasn’t just Wade and Sandra’s marriage I was concerned about. The fact that he was doing the books and he was thinking about paying cash for a new truck made me suspicious. I knew better than anyone that there was no way the ranch could afford a new truck. As with most cattle ranches these days, the Harper Ranch was land-rich and cash-poor. I wanted to know what had changed.

Wade and Arturo, a wiry, bandy-legged man in ankle-skimming Wranglers, were repairing boards on an old corral. Wade raised his head when I drove up, took off his John Deere cap, and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He said something low to Arturo, who picked up a hammer and moved to the other side of the corral.

He walked over as I stepped down from the truck. “What do you want?” he asked.

“To talk.”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“Wade ...”

“I mean it, Benni. Unless you want to discuss the weather or the price of beef, you can just get back up in that truck and drive on out of here.”

“I will as soon as you tell me what’s going on with the ranch.”

A tense look flitted across his face. “Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. I just talked to Sandra. Why aren’t you using the computer anymore? I can’t believe you went back to the old way. It’s so inefficient. After all the money we spent on getting it set up.”

“That’s just it,” he said. “After all the money we spent, we still can’t make this place earn a plugged nickel.”

It was just the opening I wanted.

“Sandra says you have plenty of money coming in,” I said, looking at him intently. He avoided my eyes. “Wade, you know and I know that’s impossible. I did the books for ten years. Where are you getting the money to buy a new truck?”

“I was just looking at them. Doesn’t cost nothing to look.”

“Wade, don’t screw around with me. I know you were involved with Marla and I suspect she had some kind of blackmail scheme going on. Have you stepped into her shoes? Is that where you’re getting your money?”

His face twisted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“That napkin with Marla’s number on it. The nights you’re gone until two or three in the morning. Was it just an affair or were you working on this blackmail thing too?”

“I’m not blackmailing nobody. Marla and I had something going, but not for long. She knew I needed money, so she put me in touch with some guy who needed some delivery work done. Shit, then she got pissed because I wouldn’t give her a cut. Some people.” He spit a stream of tobacco juice.

“What are you delivering?” I asked, my stomach rolling. He couldn’t possibly be that stupid.

He wiped his forehead again. “I meet this guy in Trigger’s twice a week. He gives me a package. I deliver it to another guy in some bar up the coast. That’s it.”

“And how much are you paid to do this?”

He mumbled under his breath.

“What?”

“I said, a thousand.”

“Each time?”

He nodded.

“How long have you been doing this?” Without thinking, I hit the side of the truck with my bandaged hand. A sharp stab of pain made me regret it.

“Couple of months. Look, it’s not what you think.”

“You’re an idiot, Wade Harper. I’m not stupid and I thought you weren’t, either. Those have to be drugs you’re delivering. You could go to prison for years if you got caught. Why would you do such an idiotic thing?”

“We’re losing the ranch, that’s why,” he snapped. “You were right, okay? Jack was right. We should have made all those changes. We should have done it years ago. But it’s too late now. I can’t make it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it alone.” A sound something like a sob rumbled deep from within him.

“Oh, Wade,” I said, reaching over to touch his arm. He shoved it away.

“I even tried to sell some of the land. To a stinkin‘ bunch of lawyers from L.A. They wanted to grow wine grapes. But they bought over near Atascadero. Got a better deal. I couldn’t even do that right.” With the toe of his worn boot, he kicked at a gopher hole.

“I’m putting the whole place up for sale. Ma’s been wanting to move back to Texas and live with Uncle Bob on his place, be near her sister. Bob’s manager quit on him a while back and he’s getting too old to take care of it. Me and Sandra are going back with her. If no one will buy the ranch, then I’m letting the bank have it.”

“You’re leaving San Celina?” I asked, astonished.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“Does Sandra know?”

“Not yet. I was going to talk to her about it tonight. I just decided myself yesterday, when I told the guy at Trigger’s I wasn’t going to be delivering any more packages. Those two murders spooked me.”

“Do me a favor, okay? Tell her everything. About the drugs. About Marla. Set her mind at ease. Start fresh.”

“I don’t know,” he said, wiping his mouth. “She’s pretty pissed.”

“She’ll forgive you,” I said. “Turn on that Harper charm. Believe me, I remember how well it works.”

He looked at the ground, then back up. “I have one more thing to tell you.”

“What?” I asked, alarmed at the seriousness in his voice.

“It’s about the night Jack died.”

Though the sun was warm on the back of my neck, I shivered. “Oh, Wade, no.” By the tone of his voice I knew he was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. Like a child, I wanted to put my hands over my ears and block out his words.

“I’m sorry, Benni,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m real sorry.”

“Just tell me what it is, Wade.” I took a step forward, squeezing my hands into fists. My right hand throbbed, but it was as if the pain wasn’t in my hand, but floated around it.

“I lied about that night. I did make it to Trigger’s before he left. We argued again out in the parking lot. Then I left. If I’d stayed, I could have stopped him. I
should
have stayed.” He looked up at the sky and swallowed convulsively.

I didn’t know what to say. How could it be that no one had ever told me about this before? I guess the good ole boy network was alive and well in San Celina. I wanted to scream, cry, hit him, ram my truck into a tree.

I didn’t do any of those things. It didn’t really matter. It didn’t change anything. Dead was still dead.

“I’m glad you told me,” I said, not certain how I was going to feel about my reaction later. I only knew I didn’t want to end things with Wade in anger. Jack would have hated that. For all their fights, Jack loved his brother. “Is there anything else?”

“No.” He hesitated. “I don’t know what else to say. He was my little brother, Benni. I should have protected him.” He looked at me, eyes squinting against the sun. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” I said and climbed into the truck.

I watched Wade in the rearview mirror as I drove away. Arturo ambled over, pushed his hat back, said something to him. Wade answered, then bent over, picked up a hammer and started walking toward the corral. Through the pale brown dust kicked up by the truck, when I drove far enough away, he looked almost like Jack walking away. Then, when I got a little further, he looked just like anybody and then, all of a sudden, I couldn’t see him anymore.

I DROVE PAST the big house without stopping to say goodbye to Sandra. I knew I’d see her again before they left. Any questions she had right now were up to Wade to answer. If he would. I thought about what he said. Should he have stopped Jack? Was that his responsibility? Are we ever really responsible for anyone else? All I knew is that if he had, Jack would be alive right now.

Driving under the arches at the end of the driveway felt different this time. Inside, I ached, as if someone had pummeled my heart. The Harper Ranch had been my home for almost as long as I’d lived with Dove and Daddy. I couldn’t imagine someone else living there. I thought of all the fences I’d fixed, the vegetable garden Sandra and I spent so many hours working in, the live Christmas tree Jack and I planted in the backyard of the old house last January. The Harpers moving back to Texas made me think of the game I played as a kid—Big Step, Little Step—where the caller would sing out your name and what kind of step you were allowed to take. I felt like they all were taking one giant step forward while I was left standing behind.

It was dark by the time I got home. I didn’t notice the car sitting across the street from my house until the door slammed. If it had been a sniper, I’d be dead. When I saw who it was walking toward me, I thought, I don’t need this right now.