Whispers of the Heart (18 page)

“Well, now you can get back up,” Jonathan said, and then moved to settle back behind his desk. He waited for Jethro to shuffle back to his previous seat before speaking again.

“There is just one more thing that we need to get straightened out before I let you two leave today. Of course, your answers determine whether you actually
get
to leave today; that, and the result of the voice analysis,” the sheriff stated, flipping the recorder back on. “Yesterday afternoon, the bartender in town paid me a visit.” The sheriff watched the pair carefully and saw by their widening gazes that they had an inkling as to where this conversation was headed. “He heard about the assault on Dalian and his guest, and informed me that you, Jethro, had been making threats against Dalian, and bragging up a storm over how you were going to get hold of his land – one way or another.”

“I didn’t attack Dalian. I swear by God Almighty. Didn’t you just say that I was innocent?” Canton squealed.

“You are, of assault, but not of making public threats.”

Marsha was shaking her lowered head. The sheriff could see tears falling and hear her soft sniffles. “Let me approach this from a different angle. Marsha, did your dad push you at Dalian
with the intent of producing an heir and/or ever mention plans for acquiring his land in a less-than-legal manner?”

Marsha covered her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as her tears turned to full-fledged blubbering.

“You let her be, sheriff! I’ll tell you what I done, but you let her be.”

“I’m all ears, and before you speak, know that I did a very thorough background check on you and discovered you are mentioned in over a dozen fraud, coercion, and blackmail cases. Had I checked more thoroughly two years ago when you were a suspect in Carolyn Rivers’s murder, I would have done what I could to dissuade you remaining in my town. Now, speak.”

Canton glared at the sheriff, but a quick glance at Dalian and he quickly changed his expression from open hostility to just above passive aggressive. “I get what you’re saying, and I admit that I pushed Marsha at Dalian, ok? Hoped she’d catch his eye because I’d taken a liking to his spread and thought that I could get to share it if he married my daughter. Felt like we’d be co-owners of the property, especially if Marsha was to give him a son.”

“And?” The sheriff prompted, when he fell silent.

“And, I may have made some stupid comments when inebriated, that I can’t quite recollect right now, but I ain’t ever carried out those threats. Wouldn’t have done so either. I’m all talk. Marsha can tell you that.”

“If you were all talk, how did you manage to get a rap sheet longer than my arm related to this very thing – swindling people out of their property?”

“My wife was the brains behind all of that,” Jethro said quietly, and Marsha’s head snapped up. She stared at her dad through tear-blurred gaze, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Dad?”

Jethro kept his gaze averted from his daughter and slumped further into his chair. “Your mom was the brains, okay? I said it.”

The sheriff stopped talking, content to allow Jethro to cleanse his conscious, as long as the voice analyzer continued relaying that he was speaking the truth, that is. As far as he figured it, it was time that his daughter heard the truth about her old man, straight from the horse’s mouth.

“She planned all of the blackmails. She enticed all those men to sleep with her and then blackmailed them out of their property; then she turned around and sold it back to them for a nice tidy profit. Your mom planned it all. I was just the cameraman. I set up the equipment at the motels, and then mailed it to the marks with instructions.”

“I don’t understand,” Marsha whispered, shaking her head in a confused daze.

“Well, your mom, you see, she had a knack for picking those who’d be too lily-livered to turn us in; too afraid of losing their wives or families; too proud to have their names slandered in the media. We’d quick deed the land into our names as payment – hush money – and then offer to sell it back to the mark quiet like. We didn’t want the land. Not really. But we sure knew that the men would want it back. Most times, the families of the marks didn’t even know their lands had been sold...”

“That doesn’t make any sense
. Why not just blackmail for cash? Why land?”

“A sell of property is legit. No questions about the legality. No waiting to cash out bonds or stocks, or for the bank to open.” Canton shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what my wife said anyhow.
“Ask a man for money,” she used to say, “ and they get all sorts of squeamish, complaining about how they can’t come up with a certain sum fast enough, but ask for a quick deed to their land, it’s a matter of acquiring their signature. No muss, no fuss.” And she was right too. When it came to the land, they could provide whatever sort of excuse they wanted to their wives and families about its loss, but we’d be in the clear. The next day, we’d offer to sell it back, and nine times out of ten, the mark suddenly found all sorts of ways to get their hands on the required money – anything to keep their families from knowing they’d sold it to begin with.”

“What about those who decided not to buy it back?” the sheriff asked, his curiosity over this scheme peaked.

“Well, if for whatever reason, they really didn’t have the money to buy it back, or decided it wasn’t worth parting with their money over, then we had something of value to sell to someone else. Had my wife been here with me today, Dalian wouldn’t have known what hit him. She’d have bamboozled him out of his land and he’d have thanked her for it.”

Dalian sucked in an offended breath over that final remark, “I ain’t a lily-livered coward, and that doesn’t change the facts.
You
were here, and you wanted my land, not my money, and Carolyn stood in the way of your getting it,” Dalian hissed, unable to stop from bringing the subject back around to the death of his wife. “I don’t give a damn what that judge said, you killed my wife. I was standing right there and saw you do it. So either you’re the worst shot in the world or you...”

“I am.” Canton interrupted. “I
am
the worst shot in the world,” he said, lifting his gaze to Dalian’s, and for the first time felt confident in his belief of innocence. “And the judge taking away my firearm license was the smartest thing he could’ve done. And I’ll tell you something else; her death is the reason why my best friend became Jim Beam. The alcohol didn’t judge me, condemn me, or laugh at my ineptness with a rifle. Yeah, I talk a big talk now – when I’m drunk – but I’m a coward and a lousy shot with a rifle. I should never have been firing after that cougar. Should never have let that cat anger me so that I couldn’t see straight; should never have been chasing after it in the first place when all I’d had to drink for dinner was bourbon – but as God is my witness, I didn’t see your wife. Didn’t know I’d killed her, until I was arrested for it. If I could, I’d turn back the clock and take it all back.” Canton stopped talking, his eyes filling with tears, and he shook his head at his own stupidity. “I’m just a coward that talks big,” he whispered after another minute, swiping at his eyes. “Hell, I’ve even threatened my own kid here, when drunk. Hinted that if she didn’t get you to marry her, then I’d have to resort to a plan B. Hell, I didn’t even have a plan B. I just figured that, as pretty as she is, you’d be interested. That she was capable of taking up where her mom left off, when her mom left me...” He stopped talking again, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his sleeves. No one moved or talked again for five more minutes, as if they each needed that time to absorb everything said. Marsha and Dalian sat staring at Canton with a mixture of pity and disgust, but each believed what he said, and the sheriff confirmed his sincerity.

“I’ve only had this voice analyzer installed on the system for about a year and a half,” the sheriff stated softly, “but its accuracy has never been off, and its results never disputed. He’s telling the truth.” Dalian closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands, and Jethro flopped back into his chair, relief nearly overwhelming him. Marsha, however, could not relax. She could not take her eyes of
f this man, whom she’d called dad for so long. No longer did she fear his wrath, rather felt empowered by the pitiable weakness he exuded.

After a few minutes more, Sheriff Masters reached up and switched off the recorder, took a deep breath, and began to speak, his tone official.

“You both have been officially cleared of any wrongdoing in the attack on Dalian Rivers and Kathryn McMurray, but I want you to take what I’m about to say to heart. I highly recommend you leave Wind River just as fast as you can sell your spread, or better still – before then. You aren’t welcome in my town any longer.”

Jethro’s face reddened in anger and Marsha’s in humiliation. Canton was about to argue, but one look at Dalian and he decided against it. He stood rapidly, swaying as blood rushed to his head. Marsha leapt up and clasped hold of his arm. Together they walked from the building and straight to their car. Marsha didn’t stop driving until they’d left Wind River more than a hundred miles in their rearview mirror.

“You could have warned me,” Dalian said, as soon as the Canton’s left the office.

“If I had you wouldn’t have come.” The sheriff stood and detached the cable from his computer and then set about storing the digital recorder away. When it was locked inside the cabinet, he returned to the computer and depressed the necessary key that would automatically transmit the recorded information to the county courthouse, where a clerk would officially enter it into the records and store it on their own system. After he did that, he converted the file to one he could store on his own laptop and then pulled the recordings into a file labeled “Cantons’ Interviews,” which was inside a primary folder with the latest case file number assigned to Dalian Rivers. The only other evidence inside that computer folder was toxicology reports on all parties involved, the interview with the bartender, and medical reports on Dalian and Kat. Nothing had been finalized with the arson investigators yet, and now that the Canton’s had been cleared, he didn’t have any viable suspects to include in the suspects subfolder.

As if just realizing that the suspect subfolder was empty, Jonathan stopped fiddling with his computer and turned to face Dalian, a look of concern etched on his face, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Dalian’s brow knitted, “At the house, why?”

“We don’t have any suspects in custody.”

Dalian’s eyes widened as realization dawned. Kat was alone and the assailant was still at large. Both men leapt from their chairs and dashed out the front door.

“Follow me. My siren will ensure no one stops us or gets in our way,” Jonathan shouted, as both men raced to their respective vehicles. The sheriff’s siren sounded even before his Jeep began moving. Without slowing to check for on-coming traffic, both men darted onto the main road and sped toward Dalian’s ranch near Wind River Canyon.

Dalian threw his Jeep into park seconds before the sheriff threw his own Jeep into park. Both men quickly exited their vehicles and dashed up the front steps and into the house.

“Kat,” Dalian called, taking the stairs two at a time. He pushed into Kat’s room and came to a quick halt, bending at the knees to catch his runaway breath; tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He stood after a minute and looked at the sheriff who entered behind him. “She’s safe,” he whispered, swiping the tears from his eyes. “Just sleeping.”

The sheriff nodded and motioned with his head for Dalian to follow him from the room. Both men entered the hallway and were immediately met by Harvey and Mrs. Guthrie.

“She’s sleeping soundly because I gave her something. She was too agitated to rest otherwise, with your being gone,” Mrs. Guthrie said immediately, addressing Dalian. “I was just telling Harvey what happened yesterday morning, when we heard you tear into the house.”

“So, now that you’re back from your meeting, mind telling me what’s been going on since I left?” Harvey demanded. Dalian placed a finger on his lips, pulling the door closed behind him.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and then seemed to realize suddenly that he was a ranch owner who had guests still to contend with, “Who do you have looking after the guests?” Dalian asked, making his way toward the study.

“I have Achak doing that,” Harvey said, “not that anybody seems eager to do much right now. Since breakfast, they’ve all just been puttering around like lost sheep. It might be best if you and the sheriff fill them in. And we might consider sending them all home early.”

“We won’t be doing that,” the sheriff interjected. “Has anybody attempted to pack up and leave?”

Harvey looked at both men and his brow knitted in concern and confusion, “Not that I’m aware of, but I just got back early this morning. Mrs. Guthrie?” The housekeeper shook her head. Harvey turned his attention back to Dalian and the sheriff, “Either of you planning on telling me what’s going on?”

“Yeah,” the sheriff replied, “we’ll fill you in, but let’s do it when we fill in the guests. Ok? That wa
y I’m not repeating myself.”

Harvey looked to Dalian who nodded in agreement with the sheriff, “Gather up the guests for me will you Harvey? Mrs. Guthrie, have the breakfast dishes been cleared away?” Mrs. Guthrie nodded. “Thank you. Harvey, have them meet in the dining room.”