Ten-Gallon Tensions in Texas: A Kate on Vacation Mystery (The Kate on Vacation Mysteries Book 3) (13 page)

She was ignoring him, watching Bobby Joe’s face.

The man leaned back in his chair, which once again protested loudly, and put his boots up on the desk. He linked his hands behind his neck.

Skip was starting to wonder if he was going to answer the question when he finally said, “Last fall, Sammy started buggin’ his father to teach him to hunt. And all of a sudden that bastard was interested in his son, but only because the boy was a fresh audience for all his tall tales. Sammy was constantly repeatin’ Sam’s stories about how he’d brought down all kinds of game, including a couple of bears. Which is pure BS. That man would wet himself if he ever encountered a bear. Back when he did hunt, ’fore he got so fat and lazy, he’d always make Willy or Sid go first on the trails, so they’d flush out any rattlers or bears.”

Bobby Joe shook his head. “He never did take the boy huntin’. Kept puttin’ him off, then changin’ the subject by tellin’ him another story. But Sammy was lappin’ up the attention.” He sighed. “Guess I’ll be teachin’ the lad how to handle a gun now.”

“Considering what happened to Sam’s brother,” Skip said, “it’s probably better that you’re gonna be the boy’s teacher.”

Bobby Joe dropped his feet back to the floor with a thud. “Yeah, but I think I’ll give Sammy a little while to get over his daddy’s death. Not sure I could abide hearin’ him go on and on about Sam, the great white hunter.”

Skip took the hint and stood up. He offered his hand again to the other man. “Sorry I got the sheriff suspicious of you. It sure looked like you in that men’s room. But I told José I couldn’t be sure who it was from the back.”

Bobby Joe stood and shook the proffered hand. “No problem, man. Weird that it turned out to be Willy. Can’t imagine why he’d hurt Sam. The man was his source of income, since Willy can’t hold down a job to save his life.”

Skip opted not to tell him that it was far from certain that Willy was the killer.

Kate had also risen from her chair. “Oh, Sam supported Willy?”

“More or less. Willy did odd jobs for him, around his business and his house.”

“Where does Sid Collins work these days?” Skip asked.

“He’s at the plant. Works on an assembly line.”

~~~~

As they walked back through the service area, Kate detoured again to pet the dog. She felt sorry for the poor thing and hoped her sister-in-law would either return her to the breeder, or make her a family pet. As a guard dog, she was an epic fail.

They headed across the car lot to the open gate. “What was all that about him telling Joellen about the sugar?” Skip asked.

“When I talked to her yesterday, she knew about it. I was just curious how she found out.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter now. The fact that Sam was sabotagin’ Bolton Cars is becomin’ common knowledge around town.”

“Hopefully business will keep getting better,” Kate said. “Hey, you do need to talk to your brother-in-law about his drinking.”

Skip sighed. “Yeah. I promised Suze I would. Sure not looking forward to that conversation.”

“Carolyn told me about the hunting accident when the other Beauford boy was killed.” That certainly wasn’t confidential. “Do you remember any details about it?”

“Not really. I’d already left for college by then.”

They reached the road and turned in the direction of her mother-in-law’s house.

“Petey Beauford was always a little strange.” Skip said. “He didn’t really have friends. Trying to have a conversation with him was weird. He’d talk back but he would look over your shoulder, and the things he said, they didn’t always relate to what you’d just said.”

“You think he could have had Asperger’s syndrome?” Kate asked.

“You know, that’s a distinct possibility. Mrs. Beauford always kept him close to home. She was very protective of him. Sam was obviously her favorite, but Petey was her chick with a broken wing.”

“Carolyn said she never really got over losing him. She became a recluse.”

Skip shrugged. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember ever seeing her around town, when I’ve come to visit.”

Kate wasn’t real sure how to feel about the Beauford matriarch. On the one hand, she’d endured more than her share of tragedy, but on the other hand, she’d produced a child like Sam Beauford, and had taken his side even when he did despicable things.

“Maybe we should talk to Walt,” she said. “He might know more about his brother’s enemies.”

“I’m sure José has already interviewed him.”

“I’m sure he has.” She smiled sweetly at her husband. “But you’re always saying that a good investigator goes back again, to see if the person has thought of something else.”

“Or hoping they let slip something they shouldn’t. Okay, if you’re determined to play detective.” He turned around and headed back downtown.

She followed. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a pay phone in the diner. Used to have a phone book. If it’s still there, we can find out where Walt lives.”

“You mean one of those old-fashioned phone books that hangs from a wire?”

“Yup, and suddenly I feel old.”

Kate laughed. “It’s amazing how many things that were new inventions in our grandparents’ day are now antiquated.”

They walked to the diner in companionable silence. The pay phone and the phone book were both still there.

Skip looked up Walter Beauford while Kate rummaged in her purse for a piece of paper and pencil.

“Do you want to walk or go back to the house for the rental?”

Kate checked her watch. “The kids will be up by now. If we go back to the house, we may have trouble getting away again quickly. How far is it?”

“About a third of a mile, on the opposite side of town from my mother’s.”

“Let’s walk, and then we can stop back here for some breakfast when we’re done.”

They left the diner. Skip gestured down the street. “This way.”

As they passed the window of Carolyn’s store, Kate spotted her behind the counter, helping a customer. She looked up, saw them, and sketched a small wave.

Kate waved back while letting out a soft sigh of relief that the woman’s store was also open on Saturdays. It might have gotten awkward if she were home.

Skip rang the doorbell.

Kate snagged the front of her damp blouse and pulled it away from her sweaty skin. Maybe walking hadn’t been such a great idea. Even this early in the day, the heat was oppressive.

The man who answered the door was an inch or two shorter than Sam Beauford, and a good bit slimmer, but Kate could see the family resemblance in his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi, Walt. I’m Skip Canfield, in town for the reunion. This is my wife Kate. We just wanted to stop by and offer our condolences.”

For a second, the man’s face was blank, then he said, “Oh, you mean for Sam. Come on in outta the heat.”

He stuck out his hand as they stepped into the slate-floored foyer. “How are ya, Skip?”

“Good, Walt. How ’bout yourself?”

“I’m fine.”

Kate was staring at the space in front of her. The slate floor of the foyer continued into a great room. A good part of that floor was covered by a geometrically patterned rug in shades of cream, tan and brown. Several prints of desert landscapes adorned walls painted a rich beige tone. The room spoke of class and at the same time was warm and inviting.

“What a beautiful house,” Kate said.

“Thanks. It’s mostly my wife’s doing. She comes up with the ideas and I wield the paintbrush.”

Kate did a slow turn in the center of the floor. “This is a great room.” She laughed. “No pun intended.”

Walt Beauford’s rather ordinary face lit up as he smiled. “I told Carolyn she should’ve been an interior decorator, but she loves her little shop.” He gestured toward a brown leather sofa and took the matching armchair himself.

As Kate sat down, she remembered the hat on her head. She reached up, then wondered if she was supposed to remove it. What was the etiquette? Skip had taken his off. But with his straight brown locks, he didn’t have to worry about hat hair.

She opted to remove the hat, then ran fingers through her curls to fluff them up and hoped she looked okay. Pointing to the Stetson now in her lap, she said, “We got this at your wife’s shop. She’s a very good salesperson.”

Walt smiled again. “She’s good at pretty much anything she tries her hand at.”

Skip sat forward. “We’re real sorry about your brother.”

Walt took a deep breath, then blew it out. “Wish I could say the same. I’m surprised nobody took him out before this.” He looked at their faces and seemed surprised that they were not surprised. “Of course, you’d know that as well as me, Skip, after the way he treated you in school.”

Skip shrugged one shoulder in the air. “Yeah, he was a bastard. But we wanted your family to know we’re thinkin’ of you.”

“I appreciate that. So is this the first time you’ve been back?”

“No. I’ve come to visit every few years. But I stuck close to the house, wanted to spend as much time as possible with my family.”

“In other words, you were tryin’ to avoid my brother.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Walt sat back and draped an arm over the back of his chair. “Man, I wanted to start a Skip Canfield fan club when you turned the tables on old Sammy. That time you pounded him into the ground, I was hidin’ nearby. Was all I could do to keep myself from hootin’ out loud.”

Skip flashed him a quick smile. “Well, you and Carolyn sure have done well for yourselves from the looks of things.”

Walt nodded. “I’ve had a good career at the plastics plant, and Carolyn cleans up during the Cowboy Festival.”

“We’re hoping to come back for that this fall,” Kate said.

“It’s a grand time, and it’ll be even better this year, without Sam and his misfits swaggering around like they own the town.”

“It doesn’t sound like there’s any love lost there,” Kate said in her most empathetic therapist voice.

Walt snorted. “Not since I was about five, and watched Sam set Petey up to look stupid in a room full of relatives. I learned early on to stay out of Sam’s way. The less he thought about his younger brothers, the better off we were.”

“Some firstborns never do get over having to share the limelight,” Kate said, again keeping her voice gentle.

Walt snorted, louder this time. “Sam Beauford never shared anything in his life, especially the limelight.”

“He was pretty competitive,” Skip said.

“No, he wasn’t,” Walt said, anger in his voice. “Competitive implies some degree of acceptance that others exist and have some competence. If he deemed someone to be his competition, he stomped them out.”

“True,” Skip said. “I never quite figured out why he focused so much on me. I was a nobody in this town.”

Walt looked at him for a long moment, his eyes slightly narrowed. “He hated your guts from the moment y’all moved here. You were smart and confident and it was obvious to anybody with two eyes in their head that your father adored you.”

Skip jerked his head up. “He was jealous of my relationship with my father?”

“Oh yeah. The day you moved in, we went over to your house on our bikes to check out the new kid. Sam stopped us down the street a bit and we watched. Your dad was talkin’ to the movin’ men and he had his arm draped ’round your shoulders. Sam sneered and said something like, ‘Looks like a little sissy to me. I’m gonna have some fun with him.’”

Kate was trying to imagine the level of dysfunction in the Beauford household that would leave their eldest and most favored son that insecure.

Walt leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and stared at the brown triangles and cream swirls in the rug beneath his feet. As if he had read her mind, he said, “Our father was a hard man. No affection, just demands. Had to get good grades, do all our chores, help out at the car lot after school, and nothin’ we did was ever good enough. We three boys each reacted in our own way. Petey got more nervous and clammed up. Sam puffed out his chest and pretended he was as perfect as the old man expected him to be, and I tried to melt into the woodwork as much as possible.”

Kate wondered why Walt was being so open with them. Then it dawned on her that he was grieving, in his own way. Her heart ached for the man.

Skip glanced her way, his head tilted slightly to the side.

She took the hint. “Uh, Walt, could I use your bathroom?”

“It’s down that hall, on the left.” He pointed without raising his head completely. She wondered if there were tears in his eyes that he was trying to hide.

She found the powder room with no problem. Even this small room had benefitted from Carolyn’s attentions. The walls were a rich burgundy. The hand towel hanging from a wooden hoop by the sink was the same color, with gold and light brown triangles in the trim along the bottom. Two sepia prints of a cattle drive hung on the walls in gilt frames.

She examined the details in the prints, imagining herself on one of those horses, hot and dusty. She realized how dry her mouth was, and used her hand as a cup to sip some water from the tap.

When she figured she couldn’t justify dawdling any longer, she flushed the toilet and opened the door.

At the spot where the hallway opened up into the great room, she stopped. A young man was standing beside Walt’s chair, talking to him and Skip.

He was the spitting image of Sam Beauford.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As they walked along the shoulder of the road back to town, Kate digested what they had learned from the visit with Walt Beauford. Nothing new really, just confirmation of what she’d already suspected.

Anger had radiated from the man when he’d talked about his brother, and yet he was definitely grieving. Maybe more for the finality of Sam’s death, and the remnants of the dream of a decent relationship with his family, that was now dashed forever.

And then there was the young man whom Walt had proudly introduced as his eldest son, Pete.

“Gotta be weird,” Skip said, breaking into her reverie with his mind-reading act, “to see his despised brother in his son’s face every day.”

“I don’t know. Carolyn said the other day that they hadn’t had much contact with Sam in a long time. Perhaps by now Walt thinks of it as his brother resembles his son.”