Reining in Murder (11 page)

“I just remembered a gate I used to see out of our bedroom window, and always wondered where it went,” Marcus told her. “Let's see if we can explore what's beyond it, shall we, without arousing the suspicions of the police.”

Annie smiled and nodded her assent. Passing the hay room, she was overwhelmed with the smell of rich Timothy hay and fragrant alfalfa. The hay barn was fairly redolent with the aroma, and the bales stood neatly packed, from floor to ceiling, ready to be fed to a bevy of large performance horses. There was nothing like that smell, Annie thought to herself. That and the smell of horses. It was better than any perfume on the market.

They walked up the gravel road toward Hilda's house. Bright yellow crime-scene tape still draped the perimeter and across the door. A deputy, whom Annie didn't recognize, stood by the front door and nodded curtly at them as they walked by. Out of the corner of her eye, Annie saw him talk discreetly into his shoulder mike. She knew he was informing Dan of where they were going. A sense of annoyance swept through her. She didn't know whose intrusion she resented more—that of the police or the media. Didn't people have better things to do?

“Oh, the puppies!”

Annie started running toward the pen.

“Wait up, Annie! Wait up!”

Annie reached the pen, now empty, seconds before Marcus, who arrived, panting and catching his breath.

“What puppies?”

“Two little Belgians, that's what! They were here when I came by two days ago. Now where are they?”

Marcus squatted on his knees beside her. He spoke gently. “I don't know. I didn't know anything about any Belgians or any other dog on the premises. It's hard enough to wrap my head around being the executor for all these horses. But I'll find out, I promise you.”

Annie sniffed. Her throat felt scratchy. She was close to tears, and she didn't want Marcus to know it. She stood up.

“Okay.” Her voice was husky. She swallowed. “How about that walk?”

At the back of the Hilda's property, beyond the swimming pool and carefully manicured lawn, stood a lone stile gate, hanging forlornly by one hinge. Beyond lay an overgrown path that clearly had once been a back entrance to the property. Marcus gingerly prodded the top stile, and the gate silently swung open.

They walked through a volunteer forest of aspens, now shorn of leaves and giving light to the dull gray sky above. It was still winter, and Annie wished she'd worn her down parka rather than her corduroy blazer. As they crunched along the dead leaves, Marcus stuck his hands in his pocket and slowed his pace. It was a comfortable silence.

Then Marcus cleared his throat.

“Annie. I am touched by your instant loyalty to my cause, but I want you to know that I never would have harmed Hilda, as hard as she was to deal with at times.

“The truth is, we hadn't been getting along before her death. In fact, we had a big blowup just two weeks earlier. I'd given her an ultimatum: start coming home more often or the marriage was over. She demanded the same from me. The problem was, we were both talking about different homes.”

Marcus stopped, reached in his pocket for another Sherman. His first exhale sounded like a sigh of defeat.

“That might work for a lot of my employees, but it's impossible in my position. I simply have to be a hands-on kind of guy. I tried to explain that to Hilda, but she just couldn't see it. Of course, she'd retired from the company years before, when it was still in its infancy. She made a killing on the initial IPO and didn't understand why I wouldn't cash in my share as well. But my life's work is with my company, not with a herd of four-footed friends. I was happy to continue working. That was
my
life.”

It'll never work,
Annie thought to herself.
I'd demand the same thing.

“We last talked on Valentine's Day. The conversation did not go well, I can tell you that. Hilda hung up on me, and I didn't try to call her back. To tell you the truth, if Hilda were still alive, I'm not sure where we'd be right now. But whatever happened in our relationship, I always assumed that she would still be among the living.”

They'd reached the end of the path, which came out behind the sectioned horse pasture onto the local road leading to the highway. They stood together, looking at the elegantly blanketed horses, each quietly grazing in its allotted space.

“But I will tell you that I never, and I mean
never,
told Hilda that I'd kill her. I don't know what was in that message, or whose voice is on that recording, but they are not my thoughts, and it isn't my voice.”

“I'm sorry, Marcus,” Annie said. “I still believe you. But frankly, I can't see how this is going to help your case. The prosecutor is going to find out about your marital difficulties sooner or later.”

“I know. But I wasn't here, and surely the tests that are being run will prove that.”

“They'll say you hired a hit man.”

“They can ransack my home and office as much as they want. They won't find anything.”

“They're probably already at your front door.”

“Well, then, let me write you a check before they freeze my accounts.”

* * *

Driving home in the late-afternoon gloom, Annie felt her thoughts match the weather. There was a nip in the air. The forecast was for a few inches of snow. The horses would be hungry. And poor Wolf—he'd be wondering where his mistress had gone. She'd assured him she'd be back by noon. She popped a Patsy Cline recording into her CD player. It fit her mood.

Inside her jacket, her cell phone emitted its shrill, old-fashioned jangle. Annie fumbled to retrieve her earpiece while the phone continued to buzz away. She had never learned how to turn the thing on fast enough to intercept a call. In her rush, a piece of paper floated out of Annie's pocket. She managed to grab it before it fell and was lost in the detritus littering her truck's floor. Marcus had made sure that Annie had his cell phone number before she'd dropped him off at a Victorian B&B in Port Chester. She was heartened to know that he wasn't immediately leaving the area until he, as he'd put it, “sorted out Hilda's mess of a desk” and made arrangements for her body.

Finally, affixing the earpiece, she glanced down at her phone and instantly recognized the missed call on the screen as Dan's county number. She pulled over to the side of the road, adjusted the earpiece, and punched REDIAL.

“Stetson.” Dan's voice was abrupt, and not very friendly.

“Dan, it's Annie. You called?”

“I saw you in court.”

Annie said nothing.

“Well, I just want you to know that your precious Mr. Colbert is having an affair with one of his employees.”

She could not, would not speak.

“Yeah, he's been after the head of corporate relations for quite a while now. Common knowledge at the firm. I'm flying down to San Jose tonight to get her statement.”

“Well, bully for you, Dan. Is that all you have to tell me?”

“I also want to say that despite the performance that hotshot city attorney gave today, we've got our man. Doesn't surprise me. The institution of marriage has gone to crap these days, anyway. Worth less than the piece of paper a license is printed on.”

Now this was new. Annie had seen Dan in many guises, but bitterness was never part of his repertoire.

“Dan? Are you all right?”

“Oh, and Adolpho's alibi checked out. He picked up the hay and spent the night at the local HoJo. Left an empty six-pack in the room.”

Annie was silent.

“I know you, Annie. You think Marcus is just too damn good-looking to have killed his wife. But let me tell you something. He's a killer, an adulterer, and I'm going to nail his ass if it's the last thing I do.”

Annie drove the rest of the way home in silence.

S
ATURDAY
, F
EBRUARY
27
^TH

The next morning, Annie awoke to four inches of freshly fallen snow. It was lovely, coating the entire farm with a white blanket that hid the imperfections so noticeable by day—her rusted tractor, the mud in the paddock, and the heap of junk that Annie had yet to haul out to the local recycling center. Today, all was pristine and good. And Marcus was out of jail.

For a moment, Annie's spirits were buoyed. Then she recalled her conversation with Dan last night.

“He's grasping at straws,” she muttered to herself and hauled herself out of bed, made more difficult by a pile of down quilts, upon which placidly reposed one plump black-and-white kitten. Wolf sprawled on the rug below her feet.

“Come on. Let's get going,” Annie said to her brood. “It's six-fifteen for heaven's sake. Time to move.”

Max opened one eye and ignored her. Wolf leapt to his feet, trotted to the bedroom window, placed two large paws on the lower windowpane, and barked exuberantly.

“Yes, it's snow, get excited,” Annie said good-naturedly.

Yet she, too, succumbed to the snow's infectious spell, whooping and throwing snowballs after Wolf as he loped down to the barn. She heaved open one of the stable door panels and was engulfed by the smell of horses. The nickering and low-throated murmurs around her acted as an instant balm. She fleetingly wondered if she just stayed here with her horses long enough, perhaps Lavender would never show up and Marcus's criminal charge would go away. It was a pleasurable if not very realistic thought.

After serving seven hot mash breakfasts, she watched her herd gallop into the pasture, a cloud of snowflakes in their wake. Trooper was again spending the day in the paddock with Trotter, but seemed content. If she was going to take care of the bay indefinitely, she knew she would have to assimilate him with the other horses, but for now, everyone was safe and getting along, which was the point.

“Wow. You sure have beautiful horses.”

Annie whirled around and saw a man in an L.L. Bean jacket sitting on the rear bumper of a van, which, judging by the giant logo on each side, belonged to a local television station.

She stared at him without trying to hide her disgust.

“How'd you find me?”

“I saw you leaving the courthouse through the back way and got your license.”

“
You ran my license?
I thought only cops could do that.”

“Nope. You just have to know the right people.”

“What do you want?”

The reporter got up from the bumper, dusted his rear, and stretched.

“Do you get up this early every day?”

“Today I slept in. What do you want?”

“Well, first let me introduce myself. I'm Rick Courtier, from KXTV in Seattle. We got the news of the Colbert murder off the police radio.”

“You listen to police radios?”

Rick smiled. “Watch TV much?”

“Not at all. Does it show?”

“Afraid so. Anyway, we heard about the homicide, which is rare in your part of the world. We wanted to give our viewers the chance to hear about the discovery of the body from the person who found Mrs. Colbert herself.”

“Well, your viewers will just have to be disappointed. I told what I saw to the police, and that's where it stops.”

Rick did not seem at all affected by Annie's rejection.

“I understand that you also orchestrated the arrest of the man accused of murdering Mrs. Colbert.”

“I was present when he was arrested. That's all I have to say.”

“You know, it's cold out here. Why don't we go someplace where it's warm and we can talk better? I'd be happy to buy you a cup of coffee.”

These guys are slick,
Annie thought to herself, as Tony Elizalde's patrol car wheeled into her driveway. Rick wheeled around, then back to her.

“Now, Ms. Carson, was that really necessary? I'm just trying to get a story. I hope you understand that.”

In fact, Annie had no idea why Tony was in her driveway, but she saw no reason to tell that to this predatory animal.

“I don't. I only understand that you're trespassing on my property and keeping me from my job.” Annie spoke loudly, for Tony's benefit. Tony was now out of his car and coming toward them, his hand on his service weapon.

“What's the matter, Annie? Is this guy giving you trouble?”

“Only if he doesn't go away and never comes back.”

Tony turned to Rick. “ID, please.”

Rick sighed and reached for his wallet in the back of his pants.

“Stop, please, sir. I'll do that for you. Keep your arms at your sides.”

Tony was really laying it on thick, Annie thought with bemusement, but she didn't mind. The guy deserved it.

Tony gingerly extracted the wallet and flipped it open. He pulled out a driver's license and a business card.

“Rick Courtier?” Tony pronounced it without the French accent.

“Courtie-ay, but close enough,” Rick answered.

“Is there any reason for you to be on this property?”

“I just came to talk to Ms. Carson about what she knows about Hilda Colbert's murder.”

“Well, Ms. Carson doesn't want to talk to you about Hilda Colbert's murder, do you, Annie?”

Annie shook her head.

“So I guess it's time for you to pack up and be on your way, isn't it?”

Rick sighed again, took the license and card proffered to him, and handed the card to Annie.

“If you change your mind.”

Annie took the card but said, “I won't.”

Annie and Tony watched silently as Rick got into his van, made a slow circle around the driveway, and eased up onto the highway.

“Vultures.” Tony spit out the word, then on the ground.

This was new behavior. In fact, Annie was beginning to wonder whether she knew Tony or Dan well at all. Both were behaving in ways she had never experienced. It was as if Hilda's death had caused an imperceptible shift in the attitude of the local police force. It was making them cynical and mean. Yet these same men were her buddies. She counted them as not only working associates but as genuine friends. Now, the murder of an outsider—for that's what Hilda was, despite owning a large tract in the county—was causing all sorts of internal havoc, and Annie didn't like it. At all.

“Have you heard from Dan?”

Tony shook his head. “I've got my hands full today, and so does he. I've got to run down the evidence we pulled from Hilda's bedroom and home to the crime lab in Olympia,
and
I'm supposed to have a digital voice expert lined up by end of day. Which reminds me why I came by. Stop by the station the next time you're town so we can get a copy of your prints. We should have taken them the other day.”

Annie looked askance. “Whatever for, Tony? I thought you'd ruled me out as a suspect. Or should I bring Wolf along so you can get a set of his paw prints, too?”

“Simmer down. It's because you're
not
a suspect that we need them. We have to be able to make comparisons as the crime lab processes the prints we took at the scene. I don't suppose you have a concealed weapons permit on file? That would save you a trip.”

“I never conceal my shotgun. It's out in front of me at all times so everyone can see it.”

“That's what I figured. Well, sorry for the inconvenience, Annie, but we need you to help us do our job.”

This somewhat mollified her. “Have you heard from Dan?”

Tony groaned. “Dan's in San Jose, but he's not just interviewing the floozy Marcus was seeing. He's working with the San Jose cop shop, finding out as much as he can about the guy. And you have no idea what a hellish business that is. He was up half the night filling out sworn affidavits for search warrants on Marcus's home and business. Judge Casper was not amused to be awakened at 0500 hours to issue them over the phone.”

Tony shook his head as if he wanted to clear the memory from his brain.

“And that's only the half of it. Now Dan's got to get
all
the warrants reissued by a judge in Santa Clara County before the local boys can even serve them.” He sounded both indignant and incredulous over the lengthy process it apparently was going to take to delve into Marcus Colbert's personal and professional lives.

Annie wished she could feel sorry for Dan and Tony. But the truth was, she felt it only appropriate that after making Marcus's life a living hell over the past few days that Suwana County's own local boys had been forced to grow up and learn to play by the rules. She realized that Tony was still talking.

“And believe me, Dan won't come back until he's personally examined every scrap of paper and piece of evidence that comes in on the inventory lists. With any luck, the local deputies are executing the warrants as we speak.”

Tony studiously watched the vestiges of the overnight snow flurry settle on the trees and ground as he delivered this last bit of news. Annie knew Tony as an exceptionally calm person—it was one of the reasons she trusted him around any horse—but she could tell that he was close to seething.

“Well, thanks for coming to my rescue.” Annie didn't know what else to say. She hoped like hell nothing incriminating came from the searches.

“No problem. I'd better get going. But, Annie, remember, a good-looking horse doesn't always make the best ride. It might buck you off just as quickly as a rodeo nag.”

Annie looked quickly at her friend. “Whatever do you mean?” Her tone was neutral.

“I mean that Marcus may dress better than any of us, but we're building a strong case against him, and the fact is, he'll be wearing prison garb for the rest of his life
if
he's lucky. Don't spend your time on someone who's ultimately going to let you down.”

Annie felt a pang of fear, but said nothing. In the dark recesses of her brain, she reflected that it probably would behoove her to cash Marcus's check.

* * *

It also seemed like a good time to work with Geronimo.

The young colt had never seen the snow before, and it almost sent him over the edge with excitement. She led Geronimo into her sixty-foot-round pen, where he proceeded to lick, bite, and nuzzle the snowflakes still coming down while prancing around in the fluffy substance. He even made a horse angel.

Geronimo had come a long way in the last few days. He continued to follow Annie around like a dog, stopping when she did, and even backing up when she retraced her steps. And he had not reared again although Annie wasn't sure his boyish enthusiasm wouldn't get the best of him at some point. Now it was time to teach him to follow her direction. At the end of an hour, all Annie had to do was look hard at his rear quarters, and he scooted his butt around squarely to face her. She knew that the colt was trying hard to please and let him relax in a paddock adjacent to the one with Trotter and Trooper after he'd perfectly performed one last pirouette.

Annie had been aware that her landline had been ringing incessantly throughout the lesson. She could hear the shrill ring out in the crystalline air. Over a quick late breakfast, she punched the message button and was amazed to hear thirteen messages awaited her.

Most were from the media. Annie snorted as each articulate voice tried his or her best to make Annie grant an interview. She savagely punched ERASE after each one, and was just about to eliminate the rest on general principles when a familiar, well-modulated voice filled her kitchen. Annie sat back to listen.

“Annie, this is Marcus. I'm heading back down to California tomorrow but hoped to have a chance to talk to you before I go. Would you give me a call when you have a chance?”

Annie cleaned the stalls and fed the horses before giving in to the urge to return Marcus's call. Hard as it was to admit, she was still smarting from Dan's accusations of his infidelity the night before. True, no one would ever think that Annie and Marcus were in any way romantically involved, but then there was that telltale heart of hers, which beat like a rabbit's every time she happened to be around the man.

Mucking seven stalls was exhausting. It also infused an odor upon Annie that she did not wish to carry with her the remainder of the day. She took a quick shower, then trudged up the hill of her driveway to collect her mail.

Back in her farmhouse, she quickly sifted through the pile, looking for the florid violet handwriting and unmistakable odor of Lavender's scent. Nothing. Feeling slightly more hopeful, Annie finally picked up the phone and punched in Marcus's cell phone number.

“Colbert.” The voice was as abrupt and authoritative as it had been the first time Annie had heard it in Hilda's tack room. She was momentarily jarred.

“Marcus, it's Annie,” she finally said, quietly.

“Annie! How nice to hear your voice!” Marcus's tone instantly changed, now rich and warm.
Like night and day,
Annie thought, and wondered, for the hundredth time, if her instincts about Marcus's innocence were right.

“You asked me to call?” With an effort, Annie deliberately kept her tone of voice impersonal.

Marcus didn't seem to notice.

“Yes, I wanted to bring you up to date on those pups you'd said you'd found at the ranch. I tracked them down for you!” He sounded like a kid who'd finally won the big teddy bear for his girlfriend at the state fair.

Annie sat up, all pretense of being aloof forgotten.

“You did! Oh, Marcus, that's wonderful! Where are they? How did you do it?”