Tracie Peterson - [Desert Roses 01] (26 page)

The meal ran smoothly, without so much as a raised voice until a panic-stricken man in a wrinkled blue suit appeared at the door to the dining room. “I’m . . . sorry . . . to interrupt,” he said, gasping for breath. “I just got the news and knew the senator would want to know.”

“What is it?” the senator asked, while everyone grew silent to see what the trouble was. The scene mesmerized even Alex. She stood frozen, a pot of coffee suspended from her hand.

“It’s President Harding,” the man said, his breathing coming in a steadier pace. “He’s dead.”

“What!” several men called out in unison.

The murmuring between them started out low and built quickly into loudly expressed comments of disbelief. Only Joel sat in silence, a smile touching the corners of his mouth, and in that moment Alex knew that he’d somehow had something to do with the president’s death. His gaze met hers and refused to let her go. Alex felt the malice of his soul reach across the table as if to take hold of her.

“Do they say what killed him?” Winthrop asked, pushing back from the table.

“They aren’t certain. He grew ill several days ago. They thought food poisoning might be to blame. It was rumored he’d eaten cherries and milk on his journey down from Alaska.”

The senator nodded solemnly. “A deadly combination to be sure. Still, it seems unlikely that the president of the United States would have no one to warn him of such matters.” The senator looked to his comrades in the room. “I suggest we adjourn and see to this news. If this proves to be true, we will need to postpone our announcements and party until another night.”

Alex watched as the men filed out one by one, following after the senator as though they were sheep to a shepherd. Joel got up from the table at a leisurely pace, but instead of following the entourage, he moved toward Alex with a smug expression of satisfaction.

“You see, I told you I had ways of dealing with troublesome situations. You should have no doubt about the harm I could cause you, should you bring even the tiniest hint of trouble my way.”

A thought suddenly came to Alex. She put down the coffeepot and braved her question. “Did you murder my father?”

Joel laughed, then moved closer and lowered his voice. “I wish I could take credit for that. I had planned to push Jastrow over the edge of the canyon—but then, you probably overheard that mentioned when I spoke to your father that night. Keegan’s death ruined my plans, for you can hardly
have two people fall within days of each other—especially from the same gathering of politicians.

“Besides, what do you care? You hated the man. Even now I see the contempt you hold for him written in your expression. Why should you care who did the deed so long as it’s done? You could just as easily have pushed him over the edge as your mother.”

“My mother is innocent. She had nothing to do with Father’s death!” Alex protested loudly.

Joel put his finger to her mouth and pressed against her lips. “Shhh, darling, you don’t want to raise the suspicions of others. If they hear you speaking of death, those ink slingers will hardly care what the truth is. They’re after a story—the more sensational, the better.”

Alex stepped back and pushed his hand away. “They’re hardly going to care about my father’s death, now that they have the president to contend with.”

“But then, you hardly care about his death either,” Joel said snidely. “Funny thing, you hated the man, made clear your utter and complete distaste for him, yet the two of you were so much alike. Dealing with you was like dealing with a younger version of him. Ruthless. Cold. Calculating.”

Alex slapped Joel hard across the face, then backed away. “Don’t
ever
compare me to him again.” She started to leave, but Joel took hold of her and pulled her close.

“You’re really disgusted by such a comparison, aren’t you? Poor Alex. Didn’t you ever see the truth for yourself? You’re just like him. You’re strong, just like he was. You’re opinionated and bold, just like he was. You’re ruthless and care little for things that don’t concern you, and you rush to judgment about anything that doesn’t fit in your perfectly ordered little world.”

His words hit her hard. The truth of them scared Alex in a way that she’d never experienced.
I am like him
, she thought.
I am as horrible and awful a person as my father
.

“Let me go,” she said, not even bothering to fight back.

Joel seemed surprised by her reaction and released her. “You think that I’ve just insulted you, but frankly, it’s a compliment. I’d like to win you over to my side. There’s a great deal I could do with a woman like you. Let me move you to Washington once we’ve won the election, and I’ll show you just what I’m talking about.”

Alex shook her head. “You sicken me. You arrange the death of the president, then talk of making me your mistress? Have you no soul?”

“None that I’m aware of—thankfully,” Joel mused.

Alex felt a cold shiver rise up the back of her neck. “Leave me alone, Mr. Harper. I have no desire to even speak with you. Light has no communion with darkness.”

“But what of shadows and shade?” he questioned. “Might those two compliment each other? The contrast of such brings beauty and grandeur to the canyon—might it not do the same for a man and woman?”

Alex felt sickened. She picked up her tray and left the dining room without another word. Harper stayed where he was, not following her for once. But it didn’t matter. His words followed Alex, and they were enough to haunt her throughout the day.

The parties were canceled, and within an hour after breakfast, a storm moved in and poured monsoonal rains on the canyon park. Alex busied herself helping with lunch and then found other odd jobs that needed her attention. By the time the storm moved out in the late afternoon, leaving the canyon and El Tovar washed clean, Alex still struggled to find peace. Approaching the kitchen a few minutes before she was scheduled to work the evening shift, Alex heard Mrs. Godfrey call her name.

“Miss Keegan, would you please join me in the office?” Alex put down the tray, her hands trembling as she moved
to join her supervisor. Joel’s comments rang over and over in her head.
“You’re just like him.”

“Miss Keegan, this is Mr. Stokes, the investigator hired by Senator Winthrop, and Sheriff Bingham. They’ve come to ask you some questions about your father.”

If I were given to fainting, now would be the time
, she thought. The stern expressions of the men standing before her, coupled with Joel’s startling revelation and added to the events of the last few days, were enough to send anyone into a faint. But Alex stood firm, though she now found herself full of doubts.

“Whatever I can do to help,” Alex replied, “but my shift is about to start.”

“Don’t worry, Alexandria. I have someone taking your place. You’re to have the remainder of the day off. You may use my office as long as necessary, gentlemen,” Mrs. Godfrey said, moving to the still-open door. “I’ll be seeing to my girls. If you need anything, just ask Miss Keegan for help. She knows the place nearly as well as I do.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Mr. Stokes said.

His frame reminded Alex of one of the tall cactuses she’d seen near Phoenix. Slender of build and rather gangly of limb, the man maintained a gentle countenance that put her at ease. The sheriff, on the other hand, seemed so tense and observant that he made Alex feel as though she were under a magnifying glass. He frowned at her as if she’d just done something rather disgusting. The expression reminded her of a time when she’d been a young girl of twelve. She’d taken an interest in a boy at church. Her mother thought it amusing, but her father was put out by the entire matter. He’d looked at her just as the sheriff did now, declaring the boy and his family far beneath the Keegans. Worse still, he’d caused the boy’s father to lose his job and the family eventually had to move away.

“Please have a seat, Miss Keegan. We know you’re no doubt mourning your father’s loss, but if you would be so kind as
to help us for a few moments, I assure you it would be to your benefit.”

“I don’t mind helping you. I am anxious to clear my mother of any suspicions.”

“And you wouldn’t help us if it didn’t clear her name?” the sheriff asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Alex replied coolly. If they thought to catch her in lies, they might as well save their breath. With the shock of her father’s death still wearing on her and her mother’s unwillingness to cooperate, Alex felt she had no other choice but to be open and honest. At least to the best of her ability.

She took a seat in one of three chairs that had been arranged in front of Mrs. Godfrey’s desk. The sheriff surprised her by walking to the chair behind the desk rather than taking one of the other two chairs beside her.

“Miss Keegan, I understand you were working the night your father died,” Mr. Stokes began. He took the chair beside her, turning it so that they faced each other, more or less.

“Yes. I was serving in the capacity of hostess to the Winthrop lawn party and dance.”

“And your hours of service for this event?” “We were called to the kitchen by five-thirty and began arranging tables for the affair within the hour. The party was set to begin at eight o’clock and I was either on the grounds or in the kitchen the rest of the evening.”

“And of course there were witnesses to verify this?” Stokes asked.

“Yes.” “And at any time did you leave your post to meet in private with your father?” the sheriff questioned.

Alex turned to the man. “No. My father and I did not get along, and I had no desire to seek him out.”

“Why was it you didn’t get along?” Stokes interjected the question in his calm, soothing tone before the sheriff could react.

“My father was a womanizer. He was also a cheat and liar. He scoffed at the beliefs held by my mother and I—beliefs of faith and high morals. He had little use for either one of us or our ideals and, in turn, I had little to do with him.”

“Did you want him dead?” the sheriff asked, not to be outdone by Stokes.

Alex thought for a moment, searching her heart for the truth. She slowly shook her head. “No, not really. I wished him to be out of my life and out of my mother’s life. But in all honesty, I didn’t want him to die in order to accomplish that.”

Stokes picked up the interrogation again. “Did your mother feel the same way?”

“I don’t really know. My mother is a very private person. Whenever I tried to encourage her to leave him, she refused. She always held on to the hope that he would change. When she came here to El Tovar, I knew something was different. She was now telling me that she wanted a divorce.”

“I see. And what was your father’s response?” “He didn’t want one,” Alex replied, feeling that she had to tell them the entire truth of their encounter. “What he did want was a post in Washington. He supported Senator Winthrop’s nomination for the presidency and planned to ride along on his success. He didn’t want anything to hinder that, and a divorce would have cost him an unwelcome scandal. He threatened my mother and me and told us to let the matter drop.”

“Threatened you? How?” “He didn’t really say. I threw out a comment, asked what he would do to keep us silent, and he said that people were likely to die every day or something like that. It was the first time he’d threatened my life, and it stunned me.”

“You and your mother are very close, aren’t you?” Stokes asked gently.

“Yes, we are. I care a great deal about her welfare.” “Which is why you asked the rangers here to let you move her to an undisclosed location?”

“Yes.”

Stokes nodded. “I suppose the attention from the reporters and such was starting to be a problem.”

Alex had no idea what the man wanted from her. She didn’t appreciate his around-the-bush questions and said so. “Look, if you want to ask me questions, then please just ask them. If you want to know if I think my mother pushed my father into the canyon, then the answer is no. My mother weighs all of ninety pounds and my father must have weighed at least two hundred, maybe more. She’s frail and unhealthy and there is no way she could have caused him that kind of harm.”

“But she did have a motive,” the sheriff said flatly. “We all had a motive,” Alex answered angrily. “My mother had motive. I had a motive. Half the people here at El Tovar—forget that—half the people of Arizona had a motive for wanting my father dead. But someone is responsible and I cannot tell you who that person is. I’m not even convinced my mother can give you that name. She and I have talked, and she hasn’t divulged anything beyond the pain she’s enduring.”

“Is that because she can’t or because she won’t?” the sheriff asked, his eyes narrowing as if he might scrutinize the answer from her.

Alex shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.” She remembered Joel and her father conspiring and, although the Winthrops had paid for this investigation, she hoped the sheriff was impartial enough to want to hear the truth. “I do know, however, because I overheard the conversation myself, that Joel Harper and my father were plotting and planning against the senator’s competition. Mr. Harper talked of eliminating the competition in whatever manner necessary. My father agreed. Mr. Harper has since implied to me that he has caused problems for other candidates and will stop at nothing to get his man elected.”