Ten-Gallon Tensions in Texas: A Kate on Vacation Mystery (The Kate on Vacation Mysteries Book 3) (14 page)

Skip nodded. “He was talkin’ about the hunting accident, just before Pete interrupted us. Walt said something that implied Sam might have shot Petey on purpose.”

Kate was shocked, but not particularly surprised. That would fit with the Sam Beauford she was getting to know posthumously. As Walt said, he stomped out the competition, and Petey was competition for his mother’s attention.

How could a boy intentionally kill his own brother? She’d already pegged Sam as a narcissist, but fratricide was far more pathological than mere narcissism.

She tried Walt Beauford on for size as a murder suspect. He fit disturbingly well. Sam had killed his brother, stolen what little bit of affection was available in the Beauford household, and had raped his then fiancée, now his wife.

But all those things happened decades ago. Why kill now over them?

Kate wondered again if she should tell Skip about the rape.

Not yet. But I definitely want to talk to Carolyn again.

She contemplated the significance of Willy Carlton depending on Sam for financial support. Had Sam gotten pissed at him for some reason and threatened to fire him?

But then again, the crime was too thought out to be Willy’s doing, if he was as dumb as everyone seemed to think he was. And a dead benefactor can’t change his mind and rehire you.

“I wish we’d gone back to your mother’s for the car,” she said. “This is a longer walk than I thought it would be.” Rumblings from her empty stomach punctuated her statement.

Skip chuckled and pointed down the road. “There’s the town up ahead. I think we can get you there before you starve to death.”

As they neared the diner, Skip slowed his steps. “I’m not all that hungry yet. I think I’m gonna try to catch up with Jimmy, before he has time to get too drunk. And then I might go talk to Joellen Bradley.”

“Why Joellen?” Kate asked.

“Maybe she knows the contents of Sam’s will, and she might know where he gets his cocaine, if he was using it back when they were married.”

“Hmm, could have been a factor in their divorce.”

Skip shook his head. “I think Sam’s personality would be sufficient explanation for that.”

“But she must have seen something in him, or she wouldn’t have married him in the first place.”

“Oh, he could be quite charming when he wanted to be.”

“And women sometimes fool themselves into believing their love can change a man. Hey, are you sure  José’s okay with us poking around in this?”

Skip laughed. “When has it ever stopped you before if the law enforcement officers involved in a case didn’t like your meddling?”

“My meddling? You seem to be just as determined to figure this out as I am. And this time, the police officer is a friend of yours.”

“I doubt he’ll care who solves this case, as long as it gets solved. Are you going back to Mom’s after breakfast?”

“No. I want to talk to Carolyn Beauford again.”

Skip glanced down the block to her shop. “Ya know, she sells boots too. Why don’t you buy a pair while you’re there?”

She blew out air in an exasperated sigh. “Women don’t wear cowboy boots back home. I’ve already got an expensive hat I’ll hardly ever wear.”

“Hey, we’re on vacation, remember? We’re supposed to waste money on semi-useless souvenirs.” He leaned down and pecked her on the cheek, then sauntered off.

As she opened the diner door, her stomach growled loudly. It was nine-thirty and she’d had no food and very little liquid all morning. Her stomach was vehemently protesting this maltreatment as she walked to one of the available booths. Several people looked up from their breakfasts. She ducked her head, pretending those rumbling noises weren’t coming from her.

Fortunately, her food came quickly. She inhaled the pancakes and sausage in less than ten minutes. Sipping her coffee, she contemplated what impact this trip would end up having on her husband.

It no doubt had stirred up a lot of crap in his psyche. But it wasn’t always a bad thing to rip the scabs off of old wounds. Sometimes it allowed them to heal.

She drained her coffee and went to the register to pay her bill.

Once out on the street, she took a deep breath and headed for Carolyn Beauford’s shop.

~~~~~~~~

Skip walked back across the small park toward Joellen Bradley’s house. His conversation with his brother-in-law had been brief. Jimmy had told him to butt out.

“If it was just your sorry hide involved, I would,” Skip had said. “But my sister loves you and your kids need you.”

They’d gone back and forth a few times, with Jimmy making excuses for his drinking or pretending it wasn’t that big a deal.

“Look,” Skip had interrupted him, “the cause of those problems that started you drinking is dead. But you’re spiralin’ out of control now. And if you go down, then Sam Beauford has won.”

He’d stomped out of his sister’s house and walked around the block to cool off before heading for Joellen’s.

Finally he felt his blood pressure returning to normal. Something nagged at the edge of his brain, but he couldn’t seem to grab the thought and drag it out into daylight.

He mentally shrugged and turned his thoughts to Joellen as he climbed her porch steps. Probably best to start with the will, then look for an opening to bring up Sammy. He still found the boy’s behavior disturbing.

The thirteen year old answered the door.

“Hello, Sammy.”

The boy ducked his head and mumbled a greeting.

“Is your mom home?”

“Yeah, she’s takin’ a shower. She’s gotta go to work soon.” Sammy turned and walked away from the open door.

Skip took that as an invitation to come in. He stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him.

Sammy walked toward the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

“Hey, lemme ask you a question, Sammy.”

The boy froze, his hand already pushing one of the doors halfway open. After a beat, he turned around. “Yes, sir?”

He doesn’t want to talk to me but his mother’s raised him to be polite.

Skip took a step and gestured for the boy to come closer. He wanted to be within grabbing distance should the kid decide to bolt.

Sammy inched forward.

Skip took another step and decided that was probably close enough. He didn’t want to scare the kid before they even got started.

“You were in the woods the other day, when my wife and I were down by the creek.”

Sammy shook his head. “No, I told the sheriff I wasn’t.”

“I know that’s what you told the sheriff but that’s not true, is it?”

Sammy looked away, his mouth set in a tight line, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Why are you mad at me, son?”

No answer.

After a long minute, Skip said, “Look, it’s understandable that you’re mad about your daddy’s death, but you can’t be takin’ it out on everybody around you.”

“Not everybody,” Sammy muttered.

“Okay, then I’ll ask again. Why me?”

Sammy narrowed his eyes at him. “Dad used to talk about you. Said you were a scrawny, little wuss he went to school with. He had no respect for you.” The boy’s lip trembled. “Then he’d ask me why I was a little wuss like you?”

Skip tried to hide his surprise, but he was pretty sure he failed. Why in the world would Sam Beauford still be talking about him all these years later? And what kind of sicko compares his own son to someone he hated? Probably some twisted effort to inspire the boy to be more manly.

Skip risked taking another step closer and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Sammy stiffened and started to pull away.

Skip tightened his grip, just enough to keep the boy there. “Sammy, you can see I turned out okay, can’t you?”

The boy nodded begrudgingly.

Skip bent his knees to get closer to the boy’s eye level. “I was scrawny when I was a kid, but your daddy just assumed I was a wuss. I couldn’t help my size, and I was too small to stand up to… the bigger guys. But I was never a wuss inside, and I don’t think you are either. I think maybe your dad misread you, just like he misread me.”

The boy’s face tensed. “My dad wasn’t stupid.”

“I never said he was. But readin’ what’s inside people’s hearts, that’s not easy to do. Do you know what I’m feelin’ right now?”

Sammy was quiet for a moment. His eyes darted back and forth. “No,” he finally admitted.

“Of course you don’t. Heck, son, half the time folks don’t know themselves what they’re feelin’. So how can somebody else know for sure?”

 Sammy tilted his head and gave Skip a thoughtful look, but said nothing.

“Can you go tell your mom I’m here, please?”

The boy nodded and headed for the stairs to the second floor. With one foot on the bottom step, he turned halfway around. “I’m sorry I tried to drop that branch on you, Mr. Canfield.”

“Apology accepted, Sammy.”

~~~~~~~~

When Kate entered the shop, Carolyn Beauford was finishing up a sale. She handed the customer a receipt. “Thanks, Jack.”

The man tucked a large box under his arm and lifted his baseball cap from the counter. “Take care, Carolyn.”

“Good morning,” Kate said as he passed her on his way out.

“Mornin’, ma’am,” he replied with a slight nod.

“Hey, Kate,“ Carolyn greeted her. “How you doin’ this mornin’?”

“I’m fine. How about yourself?”

“Good, now that I made that sale. I can pay the bills for another day. Hey, that hat looks cute kicked back like that, but it’s not really the proper way to wear it. You need to put it straight on your head to protect your face from the sun.”

Kate laughed. “I had it on the right way earlier, when we were out walking around. But I can’t quite get used to it. I don’t usually wear hats. And what exactly is the etiquette for women? I see the men taking their hats off inside. Are we expected to?”

Carolyn shook her head. “No, but a lot of times gals do, so they don’t end up with hat hair.”

Kate leaned her elbows on the counter. “Do you sell more hats or more boots?”

“These days, boots. More and more men are wearing baseball caps for everyday. They only wear their cowboy hats when they wanna dress up some.”

“That’s what I was noticing. There were lots of them at the reunion events, but I’ve mostly seen baseball caps around town.”

“So what can I do for you, Kate?”

“Oh, I just wanted to say hi. But Skip was bugging me to buy some boots. If you’re not busy, maybe I’ll try some on.”

“Sure. What size do you wear?”

“Eight. But I don’t want to be a bother,” Kate said, now feeling guilty. “I probably won’t buy any. As I told Skip, there’s not many places I could wear them back home.”

“It’s no bother. I’ve got a pair that are about the same color as your hat.” Carolyn didn’t give her time to answer. She slipped behind the curtain into her back room.

She returned in a couple of minutes, a stack of four boxes in her arms. “Here’s two pair you might like, and I brought eight and a half too. This brand tends to run snug.”

Kate dutifully sat down in one of the chairs.

Carolyn put the stack of boxes on the chair next to her. She lifted the lid of the top box, pulled out a boot and handed it to Kate. “Feel this leather, smooth as silk.” Her smile said loud and clear,
Bet you can’t resist that.

Kate rubbed her hand along the boot. She breathed in the rich smell of new leather and knew she would end up buying it and its mate. She kicked off her sneaker and leaned over to put it on her foot. “You’re a very good salesperson.”

Carolyn laughed. “Here, let me help you.” She produced a long shoehorn from her back pocket. “It takes some practice getting these on, especially when they’re new.”

With effort, she levered one of Kate’s feet into the boot, then reached for the box.

“We ended up out by your house this morning, when we were walking. So we stopped in and said hi to Walt.”

“That’s nice,” Carolyn murmured as she concentrated on trying to get the second boot on. “Hmm, I think the larger size might be better.” She pulled that boot back off and started working the other one loose.

“We met your oldest boy. He looks a lot like his uncle.”

Carolyn stiffened where she was bent over Kate’s foot. “So. Sam was Walt’s brother.” She yanked the boot the rest of the way off, then began to lever Kate’s foot into one of the larger-sized boots.

“Of course. It’s all the same gene pool,” Kate said. “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I guess in small towns you get crazy talk sometimes.”

Carolyn rammed Kate’s foot down into the second boot, then sat back on her heels. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone was cold. She stood up. “Walk around some. See how those feel.”

Kate obliged. They were the most comfortable boots she’d ever worn.

“There’s a mirror over there,” Carolyn said in a slightly less icy voice.

Kate walked over to the full-length mirror. The boots came halfway up her calf. They looked a little silly with the capri pants she was wearing but she could imagine them with a full skirt in the wintertime. They would be both attractive and warm.

The western pattern etched into the tan leather was subtle. They didn’t scream cowboy boots. She leaned down and stroked the leather again. Her hat fell off onto the floor. She’d forgotten she was wearing it.

She scooped it up and turned around.

Carolyn had retreated to the counter. She was watching Kate with a small smile on her face.

“Amendment. You are a great salesperson.” Kate walked to the counter. “How much are they?”

Carolyn gave her a slight shake of her head. “Do you like them?”

“I love them.”

The woman’s face broke into a full grin, as if the discussion of her son’s lineage had never happened. “Then here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna put them aside. You hint to Skip that you saw some boots in here that you really liked but they’re just too much money and where would you wear them anyway.” She let out a dramatic sigh.

Kate chuckled. “And he comes in and buys them for me.”

“I ship ’em to Maryland and they’re under the Christmas tree for ya come December.” Carolyn’s smile was downright smug.