The Trap (14 page)

THE NEXT MORNING I ARRIVED AT THE POOL A FEW MINUTES
before six. Mrs. McBride, Mrs. Grady, and Mrs. Templeton were already waiting for the gate to be unlocked.

After they’d greeted me, they continued the conversation I’d interrupted.

“I have no idea when I misplaced it,” Mrs. Templeton said.

“Did you wear it last night to the club buffet?” Mrs. Grady asked.

“No,” Mrs. Templeton said. “I decided this morning to give the ring to my daughter the next time she comes to visit. It’s such a dressy ring. That’s why I rarely wear it. But when I looked in my jewelry box, it was gone.”

I thought about the location of the Templetons’ home on the ranch. It was east of the pool, and that was the direction Damien had taken last night while Mrs. Templeton was still at the clubhouse. But she had said she didn’t know when she’d misplaced the ring. It might have been missing for weeks … or a month. I had no right to suspect Damien of the theft simply because
he’d taken a side trip in that direction before leaving the ranch.

At that moment Damien drove up, climbed out of his car, nodded at us, and unlocked the gate.

I left the chattering water-aerobics exercisers and swam short laps at the deep end of the pool. I hoped the rhythmic strokes through the chill water would clear the jumble of thoughts in my mind and help me to think straight, but they didn’t. Had Damien stolen the ring? If he had, why had he returned to the pool office? To hide the ring? If Deputy Foster searched the office, would he find it?

Of course not. There was no legal reason for a search. Deputy Foster would laugh at me if I came to him with this story. I had no proof that Damien was a thief. To get proof, I would have to catch him with the ring in his possession.

I reminded myself that if Damien was the thief, he could also be the murderer. Robin had said that in mystery novels all the clues were tied together, and it was up to me to find out how these clues were connected.

On the other hand, I had to admit that Damien might be totally innocent. I was only guessing at what he might have done. Maybe Mrs. Templeton’s ring had been misplaced. Or someone else had stolen it.

I climbed out of the pool, toweled myself off, and drove back to the house.

During the morning I played gin rummy with Uncle Gabe, brought him glasses of iced tea, and read to him from one of the news magazines he subscribed to. Nothing I did helped his grumpy mood. His ankle hurt and the skin under the cast itched. He was like a cross child who couldn’t go out and play.

“You’re not going to the memorial service,” Glenda insisted. “You’ll be on your feet a lot, and you’ll feel miserable.”

“I already feel miserable,” Gabe complained.

“Then you’ll make everyone else miserable,” she said. “You’re going to stay home and nap while Julie and I are at the service.”

It suddenly occurred to me what Glenda had just said. “We can’t leave him alone,” I blurted out.

“Why not?” Glenda glanced at me in surprise. “He can get around on his crutches. He’ll be all right for a few hours.”

I can’t tell her that I’m protecting Gabe, I thought. I didn’t want to frighten either of them. Luis had cautioned me that someone should be with Gabe at all times, and maybe Luis had been right. Luis was still a mystery, too, but I did feel I shouldn’t leave Gabe alone.

“I don’t feel well myself,” I answered. “Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s something I ate. I think a nap might help me, too. Do you think the McBrides might pick you up and take you with them?”

“You should have said something earlier about feeling ill,” Glenda said. “I’ll call Mabel. There’s no reason they can’t take me. Why don’t you go to bed now and rest?”

I didn’t like fibbing to Glenda, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. “I’ll just stretch out on the sofa and read,” I said.

Glenda telephoned the McBrides. Then she heated some canned chicken noodle soup for lunch, and the three of us spooned it up as if we were all starving invalids.

After Glenda left, I helped Gabe into his bedroom,
where he collapsed on top of the tightly made bed and began snoring almost immediately.

I made sure both the front and back doors were locked. Then I curled up on the sofa in the living room, where I was so comfortable in my nest of pillows that after about half an hour I stopped being an alert protector and snuggled into a half-awake, totally cozy state on the verge of snoozing.

Until I heard the back door quietly open.

I stiffened, suddenly wide awake, and held my breath.

The lock gave a tiny click as the door closed.

No one but the Hollisters belonged in this house. Whoever had come into the kitchen had no right to be here.

As quietly as I could, I climbed off the sofa. I looked around frantically for something to help me defend myself, grateful when I saw the fireplace tools. I picked up the poker, held it high, and slowly walked toward the kitchen.

I had almost reached the doorway when Millie Lee Kemp stepped through.

She gasped, and I swallowed the scream that was rising in my throat.

“What are you doing here?” we asked each other at the same time.

Millie Lee recovered before I did, but she kept an eye on the poker as she said, “You’re supposed to be at the memorial service with Mrs. Hollister.”

“I decided to stay home,” I said, and laid the poker on a nearby table. “I didn’t know who was in the house, so I—” Interrupting myself, I asked, “Why aren’t you at the service?”

“There’ll be plenty of folks to mourn Mr. Barrow,” she answered. “There’s not much else they’ve got to do around here. As for me, I got a schedule to keep. Mondays and Thursdays with the McBrides and Hodgeses. Hodgeses are new. I gave them the Crouches’ time. Tuesdays and Fridays with the Hollisters and the Gradys, Wednesdays with the Barrows and Smiths, and every other Saturday morning with the Andersons and Templetons. I’m going to give Mrs. Nelson Mrs. Barrow’s time when Mrs. Barrow leaves the ranch.”

She was getting way off the track, and I had questions that needed answers. “This is Monday. Why are you here instead of at the Hodgeses’?”

“Oh, I’m goin’ there in a minute. I just brought by some silver polish I was tellin’ Mrs. Hollister about. Forgot it last week, and I was afraid I’d forget again if I waited till tomorrow to bring it.”

“How did you get in? The door was locked.”

“I have a key,” Millie Lee said. “Most of the folks I clean for have given me keys. They usually don’t bother to lock the doors, but in case they do I can get in without any trouble when they’re not at home.”

I still wasn’t satisfied, and I guess she could see it in my face, because she said, “I was bein’ extra quiet so I wouldn’t wake Mr. Hollister. Then I thought I heard him in the livin’ room, so I came in here. Only it was you, not him.”

She turned and went back to the kitchen. I followed her, embarrassed by my suspicions when I saw the big jar of silver polish on the counter.

“Thanks for bringing the polish,” I told her. “I’ll tell Aunt Glenda you were here.”

She picked up the jar and tucked it among the cleaning
supplies on the top shelf of the closet. “I’ll get this out of the way,” she said. She smoothed down her dress and said, “See you tomorrow. You want Ashley here, too?”

“Oh, yes. Please bring Ashley,” I said.

Millie Lee nodded and said, “Okay. If she wants to come.”

She left, and I went back to the sofa, picking up the book I’d been reading. But there was no way I could recapture the dreamy, comfortable state I’d been in. Something was bothering me, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was like an annoying little gnat, staying just out of swatting reach. Was it something to do with Millie Lee? I wasn’t sure.

Uncle Gabe was still napping, so I opened my laptop and went online. Robin wasn’t on, but she had written me an e-mail:

Robin really was a best friend forever. She didn’t think I was nuts. She was actually helping me. I leaned back in the chair, puzzled. I hadn’t asked where Glenda was when Gabe fell or who had found him lying at the foot of the stairs and called for help.

Mrs. Barrow was playing bridge at the clubhouse and had found her husband when she returned home. And Mrs. Crouch had been shopping in Kerrville when Mr. Crouch fell off their balcony into the ravine. She and her cousin had found him when they drove back to their house.

But what about Glenda?

It really wouldn’t mean anything, but I decided to ask her first thing.

I went into the second and last e-mail, which was from Mom.

“Oh, honestly!” I said aloud, totally annoyed. Mom went on.

I glared at the screen. I clicked on
Reply
and wrote:

I clicked
Send Now
and, after the
OK
, shut down my computer.

Uncle Gabe was even grouchier after his nap. Glenda arrived home and alternately fussed over him and lost her patience. Even a dinner of his favorite
foods—meat loaf and baked potatoes—didn’t seem to help his mood. I retreated to the observatory as soon as dinner was over and the kitchen was cleaned. I totally forgot to tell Glenda about the silver polish.

Even though clouds were beginning to drift in from the southwest, the air glowed in the golden light of the late-afternoon summer sun. Even two munching black-and-white cows at the edge of the clearing looked peacefully elegant, like cows in a children’s picture book.

I swung the telescope toward the Crouches’ house, which in my imagination was silently hunkered down with shade-covered eyes, setting itself apart from the active world around it.

Suddenly, a startling idea popped into my mind and I nearly dropped the telescope. Damien was my main suspect in the thefts for two reasons. One was his nighttime trip in the direction of the Templetons’ house. The other was his visit inside Gabe and Glenda’s house, which probably meant he had visited others on the ranch and had been able to see the layout of their houses.

I had hoped to find some way for Deputy Foster to find Damien in possession of something he had stolen. Well, maybe I
could
manage it—with the help of the Crouches’ empty house. I realized, though, that before I worked out a plan of action I’d have to give it careful thought. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

The observatory was not the place in which to organize a plan. I was too distracted. I locked the observatory and was turning to walk down the stairs when I suddenly stopped.

Startled, I looked down at Cal Grant, who was waiting for me in the shadow of the carport.

“I didn’t see you arrive,” I told him. “I didn’t hear you.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he asked, “Are you comin’ down or not?”

Slowly I walked down the stairs until I was standing before him.

“I came to apologize,” Cal said. “Friday I was rough on you about the way you was ridin’ Duffy. I had no call to be rude just because you was breakin’ the rules.”

“I didn’t mean to break any rules,” I said. “I was frightened and trying to get back to the stables.”

He nodded. “Next time you take out Duffy, don’t try to race him. He’s an old horse so you gotta treat him gentle.”

“There won’t be a next time,” I said. “I don’t like the trails up here. They’re too lonely.”

“Take a buddy,” he said.

His suggestion surprised me. “It would be okay?” I asked. “Do you mean I could take Ashley? Or Luis?”

“I had Ashley in mind.”

I looked straight into his eyes and repeated, “Or Luis?”

“Ashley,” he said.

A tall shadow separated itself from the darkness and moved toward me. It was Luis.

“Is this cowhand bothering you, Julie?” Luis asked.

I could almost feel the heat of Cal’s anger, and I was embarrassed by Luis’s condescending tone.

“Of course not, Luis,” I told him. “Cal and I were having a private conversation.”

“That must have been interesting,” Luis said. “All Cal knows how to talk about is cattle.”

Luis put a possessive hand on my shoulder, but I stepped away, shrugging it off.

Without another word, Cal turned and strode to the grove of mesquite that crowded the edge of the drive. For the first time, I saw Cal’s horse, which had been tethered there. With one smooth movement Cal was astride, and he and the horse disappeared down the drive.

Why had Cal been so stubborn about not including Luis? I wished Luis hadn’t interrupted us. I would have liked to ask Cal to explain.

Judging from Luis’s attitude, maybe I didn’t need any further explanation. “You’d better go too, Luis,” I told him.

He gave me a beseeching smile. “Don’t be angry with me, Julie.”

“You were rude to Cal.”

Luis gave a sniff. “He wouldn’t know what being rude is. He’s a cowpoke who’ll herd cattle until he’s too old to climb in the saddle. He’ll never amount to anything.”

“He chose his lifestyle. It’s what he likes and wants. Respect him for it.”

“Respect? He can come to me for respect when he’s got a ranch of his own and a portfolio of stocks and bonds.”

“Is money that important to you?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “I guess I shouldn’t expect you to understand. You’ve always had what you wanted. It’s very different for me.”

“Why are you here, Luis?” I asked. I was irritated at his answer and puzzled because he was so contemptuous of Cal.

“I came to see you, Julie. To make sure you and your uncle and aunt are safe and well.”