The Widows of Braxton County (18 page)

Doris grabbed Kate’s arm. “You told the sheriff, right?”

“No.”

Doris looked dumbstruck for a moment. “Why the hell not?”

“I don’t
know
,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t want to make false accusations. And,” Kate added, running a hand through her hair, “stupidity, I guess. My brain felt scrambled the whole time they were questioning me.”

“Hey,” Rose called out from the porch, “are you ready for round two? Your grandmother’s in the parlor.”

With a groan, Kate rolled her eyes and started toward the house. Doris followed behind.

They proceeded through the house into the parlor where a woman Kate didn’t recognize sat stiffly on the couch—her grandmother, ensconced in one of the high-backed arm chairs. She reminded Kate of a queen waiting impatiently to receive her subjects. Upon spotting Kate, she shot to her feet and scurried toward her.

“My little girl,” she cried out and threw her arms around her, sobbing, burying her face in Kate’s shoulder.

Kate stood with her arms hanging stiffly at her sides and let her cry. When she’d determined that her grandmother had put on enough of a show, she drew back, disengaging her grandmother’s arms.

Her grandmother backed away a few steps and, after withdrawing a handkerchief from her pocket, began to mop her eyes.

“Gran,” Kate said brusquely, “it wasn’t necessary for you to come all this way.”

Her grandmother sniffed sharply. “Yes, it is—when my little girl is in trouble.”

Part of Kate felt like applauding at her grandmother’s performance. She’d been her grandmother’s burden,
never
her little girl. The woman didn’t have an empathetic bone in her body. Kate eyed the number of suitcases stacked at the end of the couch.

“I see you have your luggage. Why didn’t you drop it off at the motel?”

Her grandmother’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Kate, darling, at a time like this you need your family.” Her attention shifted as she scanned the parlor. “I’m staying here.”

Chapter 28

Fall 1890, the Krause homestead

S
oft light from the house’s kerosene lamps cast shadows across the front porch. From where Joseph sat at the cabin’s rough-hewn table, he saw occasional indistinct forms pass by the windows. He’d been exiled from his own home by the bitch’s sister and her weak-kneed husband, and they’d turned him into nothing more than a hired man. Hell, even a hired man would be receiving better treatment than he was. Since they took over the house, he’d been forced to fix his own meals and do his own laundry. At least when Hannah was here, she waited on him.

Bitterness swamped him. Every day he sat in the courtroom, which seemed to be filled with women, and had to listen to Charles Walker yammer on about Hannah’s life with his pa. At first, the press had been against her, going so far as to brand her as unnatural, to comment on her sinister appearance and label her a troublemaker.

But Charles then made a tactical error. He allowed a witness to insinuate that Hannah had been connected to the Women’s Temperance Union and the National Women’s Suffrage Association. Suddenly the reports of the trial took on a subtle shift. Hannah became the victim instead of the attacker. The attitude was apparent in the courtroom, too. While Hannah’s fancy attorney twisted Reverend Green into knots over his lack of compassion toward Hannah and her marriage, several of the men on the jury shuffled uncomfortably in their seats. Their attention never once roamed toward Hannah, who sat ramrod straight with her chin up. Later, he’d overheard people in the lobby praising Hannah for her courage.

Joseph slammed his hand on the table and rose, then crossed to the window. If Hannah was found innocent, she’d be in a position to control the farm. He knew she’d figured out that he lied about the will. He snorted.
Pa acted like he intended on living forever
. Joseph doubted the thought of death ever crossed his mind. Now he would pay the price for his father’s thoughtlessness.

Not fair! he wanted to scream. The land belonged to him; his mother’s money and blood had paid for the place, not Hannah’s.
Pa had nothing until he married my mother.

Joseph’s mother was a lady, and not made for the harsh life with his father. She treasured her lovely things and even as a boy, Joseph hated seeing Hannah touch them. How many had Hannah destroyed with her careless and sloppy ways? He hated watching her neglect the home that had brought his mother such pride. All Hannah ever cared about was that squealing brat.

His nails bit into his palms. He had to do something and ran across the room, then climbed to the loft. The box he sought was in the corner, hidden under a blanket. He knelt and rummaged through it until he found what he sought.

Holding the battered case up to the light, he smiled. This would do the trick.

Chapter 29

Fall 2012, the Krause family farm

A
fter three and a half days with her grandmother, Kate was ready to move back to Rose’s. The pick, pick, pick was driving her insane, and she felt all the progress she’d made in counseling slowly eroding. She had installed her grandmother in the small bedroom on the west side of the house and taken the back bedroom for herself. Too many memories haunted the bedroom she’d shared with Joe.

Topaz also shared Kate’s room and had the run of the house, much to her grandmother’s disapproval. The kitten seemed to sense Gran’s attitude and took delight in tormenting her. Her favorite game was stalk, pounce, and run, preferably when Gran least expected it. Ankles, arms, feet, shoulders, Gran’s head—nothing was out of bounds as far as the kitten was concerned; and the more Gran protested, the more the kitten pursued her. Watching their daily battles was the only thing that made Kate laugh.

Kate functioned, but grief never left her—it was there buried beneath the daily tasks. A snatch of a special song or the discovery of something Joe had carelessly left lying about would bring it raging to the surface. She caught herself absentmindedly thinking of things she wanted to tell him, only to have the realization that she’d never talk to him again flood her with pain.

Thank God for Rose. Once the body was finally released, she’d accompanied Kate and Trudy to the funeral home to make Joe’s final arrangements. The funeral was set for Monday at ten o’clock, followed by burial in the Krause family plot.

Now they sat at the dining room table with Larry Wood, Joe’s accountant, ready to go over Joe’s financials. His bony fingers carefully spread the documents over the table, and one by one, he handed them to Kate.

First he gave her the lists of debts, and as she read through them, her hands began to tremble. No wonder Joe was concerned. He owed over two million dollars: loans for operating costs, equipment, his new pickup, livestock purchases, all adding up to the staggering amount. Kate’s eyes widened when she caught sight of what he’d spent on his new combine. Two hundred thousand dollars. The tractor had cost almost as much.

Mr. Wood saw her expression of dismay. “I cautioned him about overextending, but Joe never bought something unless it was the newest and the best.” He paused and handed her another document. “These figures show his losses over the past couple of years. Quite a sum was lost not only speculating on hog futures, but also investing in high-risk stocks.”

Kate returned her attention to the first document. “Many of these loans are coming due by the end of the year,” she said breathlessly.

“Right. Joe had fallen behind on some of the payments, but was able to catch them up shortly after your marriage.”

Now she knew where her savings had gone.

He continued. “It was reaching the point where he might have had to liquidate some of his assets, like acreage, in order to meet these obligations.” He glanced quickly at Rose, then returned his attention to Kate. “It was his hope that the deal with David Turner and Turner Farms would prevent taking that step.”

“But that’s on hold, correct?” Kate asked.

“Yes.”

“Some of the land will have to be sold, then?”

Mr. Wood thumbed through another set of papers. “Joe’s attorney will be going over this with you, but Joe did have a will. I helped him set it up right before your marriage. He left the farm and all its assets to you and any offspring.” He handed her another document. “Then there’s the life insurance policy. He had it for a number of years, but changed it to name you as the beneficiary.” He smiled condescendingly. “If you so choose, you may use it to pay off the debts and the farm can stay intact.”

Kate tapped her temple nervously as she studied the list of debts. “But he owes over two million,” she said in a subdued voice.

He flipped his hand toward the paper. “The policy is for four.”

Kate’s mouth dropped.
“Four million?”

“Yes, and there’s another policy for five hundred thousand with Trudy as the beneficiary. He wanted to ensure that you were both secure financially.”

Kate’s brain was reeling, and she gripped Rose’s hand from beneath the table. “I can pay off the loans, keep the farm, and still have two million left over?”

“Right. As far as the assets, we’d have to do an inventory using current prices and depreciation, but based on this year’s appraisals, the land alone is worth eight.”

“Eight?”

“Eight million. Of course if you do decide to sell there’s capital gains, taxes, etc., to consider, but you’d still be comfortable financially.”

Standing, he gathered up the papers, put them in a large envelope, and handed it to Kate. “I’ll leave these with you. Take your time, study them. You don’t have to make any decisions right away, and if you have any questions, please call.”

Rose escorted Mr. Wood out, and when she returned, Kate was still standing there, looking down at the envelope. With a shake of her head, she tossed it onto the buffet and sank into a chair.

“Are you okay?” she asked, sitting across from Kate.

“I’m shocked. I had no idea that farming took this kind of money.”

“It’s big business, sweetie,” Rose replied with a chuckle.

“And you’ve been handling this kind of stuff for sixty years?”

“Well, both first and second husbands were involved, but I always did the books.” She folded her hands on the table. “It’s always a gamble. Will it rain? Are grain and livestock prices headed up or down? Should I sell now or later? I’ve made a lot of money and I’ve lost a lot of money.”

Kate leaned back in her chair. “The life insurance policy came as a big shock, too.”

Rose lifted one shoulder. “It’s not unusual. Using a life insurance policy to pay off outstanding debts at the time of death is one way to ensure that farms stay in the family. The heirs aren’t forced to sell in order to meet expenses.”

“What do you think I should do, Rose?”

“I think you should sit tight. Get through the next few days, the next few months. You’ve got time before the bank’s going to be knocking at the door.”

“I’ve made one decision,” Kate said with determination. “One way or the other, I’m backing out of the deal with Turner Farms.”

Rose gave her a questioning look, and started to open her mouth, but Kate spoke first. “I would’ve wanted to pull the plug even if you weren’t my friend.”

Rose dropped her gaze for a moment, then looked back up at Kate.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you pleased that I want to stop the hog confinement operation?”

“Yes—yes, of course I am, but there’s something else.” She took a deep breath. “Kate, you didn’t know about the life insurance, right?”

“No. I just told you how shocked I was when Mr. Wood explained it to me.” Kate was puzzled. “Why?” She thought for a moment. “Wait a second, you don’t think—”

“That the sheriff might think it’s a good motive for murder?” She stretched her hand across the table and clasped Kate’s. “I believe in you completely, but I don’t count. The sheriff does. It’s a lot of money, Kate, and people have been killed for less.” She gave her hand a squeeze. “To be on the safe side—I want you to hire an attorney.”

It was ridiculous, Kate thought later, but Rose’s words were almost prophetic. Detective Shepherd called and asked to stop by the farm. Reluctantly, Kate agreed.

After she’d greeted the detective, she led him into the parlor. She tried to gauge by his manner if he suspected her in any way, but he seemed friendly and pleasant. Much more so than when he was drilling her with questions at the hospital.

“I won’t stay long,” he said amiably. “I wanted to stop by and let you know that the investigation is ongoing, and ask you to sign a few forms.”

He handed her a stack of papers.

“What kind of forms?”

“It’s routine. They’re for the release of information. You know—bank records, phone records—that type of thing. We need to get a good picture of what was going on in your husband’s life right before his death.”

Kate hesitated, staring at the papers in her hand, and the detective gave her a sharp look.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“I don’t know—I hate the idea of people, even your department, digging around in our personal lives.”

“You want your husband’s murderer brought to justice, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she replied, flipping through the papers, stopping at the last one. It was for Dr. Mike.

“Why do you want to know about our marriage counseling?”

“Joe might have indicated during one of the sessions that he was concerned for his safety. If he did, we need to know.”

Kate shook her head. “Any concerns that he might have had were never discussed.”

Detective Shepherd removed the notebook from his pocket and scanned through it. “Joe had an individual appointment last week. You weren’t there. You don’t know what he told the doctor.”

Staring down at the papers, Kate remembered how hard it had been for Joe to discuss his childhood. It had been intensely private and personal, and the last thing he’d want would be for strangers to learn of it.

Kate grabbed a pen and, placing the forms on an end table, signed all but the one for Dr. Mike.

“Here,” she said, handing them back. “I signed everything but the last one. I’m not giving permission for our therapist. Joe never once mentioned any danger to me, and I doubt that he said anything to Dr. Mike.”

Detective Shepherd took the forms. “We can get a warrant you know.”

With a wave of her hand, Kate pointed him toward the front door. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll do.”

After Detective Shepherd left, Kate felt as if the house was crowding in on her. Trudy was in her room, and who knew or cared where Gran was. She grabbed Topaz and headed to the apple orchard.

While sitting under one of the trees, she played with the kitten.

She’d made a mistake. She realized that now. She should’ve told them about the letter and the person she’d thought she’d seen in the orchard that day. It was too late now. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the victim’s family were the prime suspects. Why hadn’t she considered they would take a long, hard look at her?

“Guess I wasn’t thinking,” she muttered to the kitten.

If she spoke up now about Ed and the figure in the orchard, it would look like she was trying to cast suspicion on someone else.

She picked up the kitten and nuzzled it with her cheek. “If you could only talk, Topaz,” she whispered, “you’d tell them I was with you the whole time.”

“Why are you worried about an alibi?”

Startled, Kate looked up to see Will standing over her. She jumped to her feet.

“You frightened me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, with a glance toward the house. “I came around the side. I didn’t want to upset Trudy.” He did a slow turn. “So this is where Willie was born?”

“You’ve never seen the place?”

“No. No one from my side of the family has set foot on this land since Willie left after Jacob’s death.”

“What happened to him?”

“He grew up, became a doctor—practiced medicine over by Montgomery—married, had kids.” Will smiled. “And by all accounts, he had a very long, happy life. He’s buried out in the cemetery here.”

“In the Krause plot?”

“Ah no. Our family has a plot in a different part of the cemetery.”

“What happened to his mother?”

“Hannah?” Will picked up a dried leaf and crumbled it. “Not too much was ever said about her.” He dropped the shredded pieces. “Enough about ancient history. I’m sorry for your loss, Kate.”

“Thanks.”

“I won’t lie—I didn’t always agree with Joe, but I’ve always believed that underneath all that Krause bluster, he was a good man,” he said in a somber voice. “And I know he was proud of you.”

“Me?”

“You sound surprised, but I know he’d bragged about you around town. Always telling people about how pretty and smart you are.”

“He stopped saying those things to me after we were married,” Kate said with regret.

“It was the way he was raised, Kate. I doubt he heard many compliments growing up.”

“No, he didn’t.” Kate’s voice thickened. “You know we were separated, don’t you?” She gave a brittle laugh. “What am I saying? Sure you did—everyone in town’s been talking about it.”

“I also heard that Joe was determined to get you back.”

“We were trying to work things out.” She swallowed hard. “I thought we were making progress, but I’ll never know now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kate sniffed. “You don’t know a good criminal lawyer, do you?”

“Hey, what I said about an alibi was inappropriate and I apologize. You surely don’t need a lawyer,” he said vehemently.

“I might. They haven’t come out and accused me yet, but I think they consider me a ‘person of interest.’ And after today, I feel like I’m shooting up their list fast.”

Will scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot. “I had heard they’ve been asking questions about you and Joe. I know they’ve talked to Doc.”

“Great,” Kate declared. “Now I’m going to lose my job.”

“No, you won’t. Doc didn’t appreciate the questions and gave them an earful. He told them that you were the best thing that had ever happened to Joe.”