Best Kept Secrets Page 8

  “Not by itself. We’ve formed a group of investors, individuals, and businesses that would profit from having the track built here.”

  He sat down in his red leather recliner and pointed her into a chair. “During the oil boom, everybody got a taste of wealth. They’re greedy for it again.”

  “That’s hardly a flattering assessment of the population of Purcell—a group of avaricious carnivores waiting to gobble up horse-racing money.”

  “Not avaricious,” he said. “Everybody would get his fair share, starting with the major investors, and working down to the guy who owns the self-serve filling station on the nearest corner. It wouldn’t mean just individual gain, either. Think of the schools and hospitals and public facilities the town could build with that increased revenue.”

  He leaned forward and curled his hand into a fist, as though grasping at something. “That’s why this racetrack is so damned important. It would set Purcell back on its feet and then some.” His blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm for his argument. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I’m not a moron, Mr. Minton, uh, Angus,” she corrected. “I realize what the track could mean to the county’s economy.”

  “Then, why don’t you drop this ridiculous investigation?”

  “I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” she retaliated sharply.

  Studying her, he absently scratched his cheek. “How could you think that I killed your mama? She was one of Junior’s best friends. She was in and out of this house on a daily basis. Not so much after she got married, but certainly before then. I couldn’t have lifted a finger to hurt that girl.”

  Alex wanted to believe him. Despite the fact that he was a suspect in a criminal case, she admired him very much. From what she had read and gathered through conversation, he had started with nothing and built an empire.

  His brusqueness was almost endearing. He had a persuasive personality. But she couldn’t let his colorful persona influence her. Her admiration for Angus wasn’t as strong as her need to know how she, an innocent baby, had prompted someone to murder her mother.

  “I can’t drop the investigation,” she said. “Even if I wanted to, Pat Chastain—”

  “Listen,” he said, scooting forward. “You bat those big baby blues of yours at him, tell him you made a mistake, and by this time tomorrow, I guarantee that he won’t even remember what you came here for.”

  “I wouldn’t do—”

  “Okay, then leave Pat to me.”

  “Angus,” she said loudly, “you’re missing my point.” When she was assured she had his attention, she said, “As strongly as you believe in your racetrack, I believe that my mother’s murder case was mishandled. I intend to see that rectified.”

  “Even though the future of a whole town is at stake?”

  “Come on,” she cried in protest. “You make it sound like I’m taking bread from starving children.”

  “Not as bad as that, but still—”

  “My future is at stake, too. I can’t go on with the rest of it until the case is resolved to my satisfaction.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Hey, time out.” Junior opened the door suddenly and poked his head inside. “I’ve had a great idea, Alex. Why don’t you stay for supper?”

  “Damn you, Junior,” Angus thundered, pounding the arm of his chair with his fist. “You wouldn’t recognize a business discussion if it bit you in the ass. We’re talking seriously here. Don’t ever interrupt me when I’m in a private conference again. You know better than that.”

  Junior swallowed visibly. “I didn’t know your conversation was so private or so serious.”

  “Well, you damned well should have, shouldn’t you? For crissake, we were—”

  “Angus, please, it’s all right,” Alex said quickly. “Actually, I’m glad Junior interrupted. I just now noticed how late it is. I need to be going.”

  She couldn’t stand to watch a grown man get a dressing down from his father, especially in front of a female guest. She was embarrassed for both of them.

  Most of the time, Angus was a good ole boy. But not always. He had an explosive temper when crossed. Alex had just witnessed how short his fuse was and just how slight a transgression it took to ignite it.

  “I’ll see you out,” Junior offered woodenly.

  She shook hands with Angus. “Thank you for showing me the model. Nothing you’ve said has diverted me, but you’ve clarified some things. I’ll keep them in mind as I pursue the case.”

  “You can trust us, you know. We’re not killers.”

  Junior walked her to the front door. After he had held her coat for her, she turned to face him. “I’ll be in touch, Junior.”

  “I certainly hope so.” He bent over her hand and kissed it, then turned her palm up and kissed it, too.

  She took it back quickly. “Do you flirt like this with every woman you meet?”

  “Just about.” He flashed her an unrepentant grin. “Are you susceptible?”

  “Not in the least.”

  His grin widened, indicating to her that he wasn’t convinced and knew that she wasn’t either. After saying another quick good night, she left.

  Her car was cold. She shivered inside her coat. As she drove down the private road toward the highway, she noticed the outbuildings on either side of it. Most were stables. There was a faint light burning inside one of them. Reede’s Blazer was parked at the door. On impulse, Alex pulled up beside it and got out.

  Sarah Jo’s bedroom in Kentucky had been duplicated at her Texas home, down to the silk cord tiebacks on the drapes. When the house had been built, she had agreed to let Angus have his heavy, dark furniture, his red leather upholstery, and his hunting trophies in other rooms, but she had flatly refused to let his revolting frontier motif defile their bedroom.

  Cheerfully, he had agreed. He liked her fussy, feminine, frilly things around him at night. He’d often told her that if he’d wanted to marry a cowgirl, he wouldn’t have had to go all the way to Kentucky to find one.

  “Mother, may I come in?” Junior opened the bedroom door after a tentative knock.

  “Darling, please do.” Sarah Jo smiled, evidently quite pleased over her son’s visit.

  Junior found her propped up on a mountain of satin pillows, wearing a lace night jacket, smelling of expensive face cream, and reading the biography of some foreign statesman of whom he’d never heard. He’d never even heard of the country from which the man hailed. Probably no one except his mother had.

  She took off her reading glasses, laid the book aside, and patted the quilted satin comforter. With a brisk shake of his head, Junior declined to sit down. Instead he remained standing at the foot of the bed, hands in pockets, jingling change, resenting this nightly ritual that was a carryover from his childhood.

  Long ago, he’d outgrown the need or desire to kiss his mother good night, but Sarah Jo continued to expect it. Her feelings would be hurt if he didn’t. He and Angus went out of their way to spare Sarah Jo’s feelings, which were always tenuous.

  “It always smells good in here,” he commented for lack of anything else to say. The dressing down he’d received in front of Alex still smarted. He was impatient to leave the house and go to one of the local nightspots where he wouldn’t have to concentrate on his problems.

  “Sachets. I keep them in all my drawers and closets. When I was a girl, we had a maid who made them from crushed dried flowers and herbs. They smelled wonderful,” she said reminiscently. “Now I have to order them. They use artificial scents in them these days, but I still think they’re pretty.”

  “How’s the book?” Junior was already bored with the subject of sachets.

  “Quite interesting.”

  He seriously doubted it, but he smiled down at her. “Good. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  Sarah Jo sensed his melancholy mood. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I can tell when something’s wrong.”

  �
��Nothing out of the ordinary. I got on Dad’s bad side by interrupting his discussion with Alex.”

  Sarah Jo made a moue of displeasure. “Your father still hasn’t learned how to conduct himself when there’s company in the house. If he can be rude enough to cart a guest out of the living room during the cocktail hour, you can be rude enough to interrupt a discussion.”

  She bobbed her head as though she had said her piece and that settled the matter. “What were they discussing so privately, anyway?”

  “Something about her mother’s death,” he said nonchalantly. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you sure? Everybody seemed so tense tonight.”

  “If there’s any cause for alarm, Dad’ll take care of it, the way he always does. It’s certainly nothing for you to worry about.”

  He had no intention of telling his mother about Alex’s investigation. The men in Sarah Jo’s life knew she hated being exposed to anything upsetting or unpleasant, and protected her from it.

  Angus never discussed business with her, especially when it was bad. She was disappointed when their horses didn’t perform well at the track and celebrated when they did, but beyond that, neither the ranch, nor any of the subsidiary companies comprising Minton Enterprises, held much interest for her.

  Indeed, nothing held much interest for Sarah Jo, with the possible exception of Junior. She was like a beautiful doll, sealed inside a sterile room, never exposed to light or any other corrupting element—especially life itself.

  Junior loved his mother, but recognized that she wasn’t well liked. By contrast, everybody liked Angus. A few of his friends’ wives, out of loyalty and obligation, were friendly to Sarah Jo. If not for them, she wouldn’t have any acquaintances in Purcell at all.

  She’d certainly never gone out of her way to cultivate a friendship. She thought most of the locals were vulgar and coarse, and she made no attempt to conceal her low opinion of them. She seemed perfectly content to reside in this room, surrounded by the soft, pretty, uncomplicated things she liked and understood best.

  Junior knew she was the object of derision and gossip. It was said that she drank. She didn’t, except for two glasses of wine before dinner. Some, who didn’t understand her delicate sensibilities, thought she was odd. Others thought she was just plain “off.”

  Admittedly, she was distracted a good deal of the time, as though mentally reliving the privileged childhood she treasured. She had never quite recovered from the premature death of a beloved brother, and had still been mourning it when she had met Angus.

  Junior wondered if she had married his father to escape unpleasant memories. He could find no other grounds for two such mismatched people to base a marriage on.

  Junior was eager to get on his way to having a good time, but he lengthened tonight’s visit, curious to know his mother’s opinion of their guest that evening. “What did you think of her?”

  “Who, Celina’s daughter?” Sarah Jo asked absently. Her brows drew together into a slight frown. “She’s very attractive physically, though I don’t find such flamboyant coloring flattering to a woman.”

  Thoughtfully, she fingered the fine lace on the bodice of her bed jacket. “She’s certainly intense, isn’t she? Much more serious-minded than her mother. Celina was a silly little thing, God knows. As I recall, she was always laughing.” She paused and cocked her head to one side, as though listening to distant laughter. “I don’t remember ever seeing that girl when she wasn’t laughing.”

  “There were plenty of times. You just didn’t know her that well.”

  “Poor darling. I know you were crushed when she died. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. It’s sheer misery.”

  Her voice, so soft, changed suddenly, as did her expression. No longer a shrinking violet, her features hardened with resolve. “Junior, you must stop letting Angus embarrass you, especially in front of other people.”

  He gave a careless shrug. This was familiar territory. “He doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just a habit of his.”

  “Then, it’s up to you to break him of it. Darling, don’t you see,” she said, “that’s what he wants you to do. He wants you to stand up to him. Angus only understands one tone of voice—harsh.

  “He doesn’t know how to be soft-spoken and genteel, like us. You have to talk to him in a way he understands, like Reede does. Angus wouldn’t dare speak to Reede in the condescending way he does to you because he respects Reede. And he respects him because Reede doesn’t kowtow to him.”

  “Dad thinks Reede can do no wrong. To this day, it sticks in his craw that Reede left ME. He’d much rather have Reede than me around to manage things. I never do anything to his liking.”

  “That’s simply not true!” Sarah Jo objected, showing more spirit than she had in weeks. “Angus is very proud of you. He just doesn’t know how to show it. He’s such a hard man. He’s had to be tough to accomplish everything he’s done. He wants you to be tough, too.”

  Junior grinned, doubling up his fists. “Okay, Mother, tomorrow morning I’ll come out slugging.”

  She giggled. His resilience and sense of humor had always delighted her. “Not literally, I hope, but that’s the spirit Angus wants to see in you.”

  Laughter was a good note to leave on. Junior seized the opportunity, said his good night, gave her his promise to drive safely, and left. On the stairs, he met Angus, who was carrying his boots and limping. “When are you going to see a doctor about that toe?”

  “What good’s a goddamn doctor, except to take your money? I ought to shoot off the sonofabitch and be done with it.”

  Junior smiled. “Okay, but don’t get blood on the carpet. Mother would have a fit.”

  Angus laughed, all traces of anger gone. It was as if the episode in his den had never happened. He placed his arm across Junior’s shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze. “I knew I could depend on you to get that girl out here. It worked out just like I hoped it would. We’ve put her on the defensive and planted seeds of doubt. If she’s smart, and I believe she is, she’ll call this thing off before too much damage has been done.”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  “If she doesn’t, we’ll cross that bridge, too,” Angus said darkly. Then he smiled and affectionately slapped Junior on the cheek. “Good night, boy.”

  Junior watched his father hobble across the landing. Feeling much better, he whistled softly beneath his breath on his way downstairs. Angus wouldn’t be disappointed in him this time. The job he had been assigned suited him to a tee.

  His experience in handling women was legendary. The challenges that Alex presented would just make the chase that much more exciting and fun. She was a damned attractive woman. Even if Angus hadn’t told him, he would have wooed her anyway.

  Doing it just right, however, would take some time and thought. He would give himself a few days to come up with a sure-fire strategy. In the meantime, there were lesser worlds to conquer. He saluted his handsome image in the hallway mirror on his way out the front door.

  Chapter 9

  Like the house, the stable was built of stone. The interior was like any other that Alex had seen, except that it was spotlessly clean. Two rows of stalls were divided by a wide center aisle. It smelled, not unpleasantly, of hay and leather and horseflesh.

  Low wattage night-lights placed between the stalls made it easy for her to see where she was going—toward a brighter light that was burning in a stall about midway down. Quietly she made her way toward it, passing an open tack room and a door that was labeled PHYSICAL THERAPY. Through a wide opening she also saw a round pen with a walker that would exercise several horses at one time.

  Before she saw him, she heard Reede, speaking in a low murmur to the occupant of the stall. Drawing even with it, she looked inside. He was hunkered down, sitting on the heels of his boots, rubbing his large hands up and down the animal’s back leg.

  His head was bent to one side as he concentrated on his task. His
fingers pressed a spot which was obviously sensitive. The horse sniffed and tried to withdraw.

  “Easy, easy.”

  “What’s the matter with him?”

  He didn’t turn around or show the slightest surprise at the sound of her voice. Apparently, he had known all along that she was standing there and was just being obtuse. He gently lowered the injured leg and, standing, patted the animal’s rump. “It’s a her.” He shot her a suggestive smile. “Or aren’t you old enough to tell the difference?”

  “Not from this angle.”

  “Her name is Fancy Pants.”

  “Cute.”

  “It fits her. She thinks she’s smarter than me, smarter than anybody. Fact is, she’s too smart for her own good. She goes too far, too fast, and as a result, she ends up getting hurt.” He scooped up a handful of grain and let the horse eat it from his hand.

  “Oh, I get it. That’s a veiled reference to me.” He admitted it with a shrug. “Should I take it as a threat?”

  “You can take it any way you want it.”

  Again, he was playing word games, implying double meanings. Alex didn’t rise to the bait this time. “What kind of horse is she?”

  “A pregnant one. This is the mares’ barn.”

  “They’re all kept here?”

  “Away from the others, yeah.” The mare nuzzled his chest and he smiled as he scratched behind her ears. “Mamas and babies cause a ruckus in a stable.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged his shoulders, indicating there was no clear-cut explanation. “I guess it’s like the nursery floor at the hospital. Everybody goes a little nuts over a newborn.”

  He ran his hand over the mare’s smooth belly. “This is her first time, and she’s nervous about being a mother. She got a little skittish the other day when they were walking her and injured her metatarsal.”

  “When will she foal?”

  “In the spring. She’s got a while yet. Give me your hand.”

  “What?”

  “Your hand.” Sensing her reservation, he impatiently drew her into the stall with him until she was standing as close to the mare as he. “Feel.”