Death Rides Again (A Jocelyn Shore Mystery) (23 page)

I parked beside the Mercedes, and we got out.

Kyla looked around. “This is impressive.”

“And new. T.J. must have built all this himself. Those gates are just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Guess the exotic hunting business is better than we thought.”

Perhaps. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much all these improvements must have cost, but that didn’t mean they were paid for. Living beyond your means wasn’t something I usually associated with Sand Creek, but it was common enough in Austin. More than one of my students had left school in the middle of the year, family split by debt and foreclosure. I thought again of T.J.’s anxiety at the races and wondered if he was trying to pay for his lifestyle by gambling. Not a financial strategy I could endorse.

The carved wooden front door flew open as we approached, and T.J. stood bathed in the warm light. He wore jeans and a freshly pressed white shirt, cowboy boots, and a tooled belt that somehow on him looked just right. His eyes lit up at the sight of Kyla.

“You came! I didn’t think you would,” he said, his pleasure obvious.

She looked up at him through her long lashes. “Is the party still on?”

“Of course! I told you, rain or shine, win or lose. I’m so glad you’re here. Come in!” He followed her with his eyes as she passed him, then belatedly noticed me. “And Jocelyn.”

“Hi T.J. Thank you for inviting us,” I said, suppressing a grin. Give him credit, he made an effort to appear pleased to see me. I figured this must be what it felt like to be a celebrity’s assistant … or pet monkey.

“Come in and meet everyone,” he said, closing the door and leading the way down a short, tiled hall.

I had the brief impression of cool Saltillo tile, Spanish wrought iron, and weathered wood, and then we were in a magnificent living room. On the far wall was an enormous stone fireplace, fire crackling merrily behind an ornate fire screen. The room was furnished with oversize leather armchairs and sofas, heavy wooden tables, and bright Mexican rugs. A group of four men wearing camouflage hunting gear stood talking and sipping drinks beneath the glow of a huge chandelier made of antlers and branding irons. Two more lamps made of wagon wheels hung at each end of the room. However, everything else was overshadowed by the animals. I stopped and stared openmouthed at the soaring walls. At least six deer heads stared sightlessly back, each bearing a razor-tipped arrow in multipointed antlers. The long face of an oryx hung beside a bighorn sheep, its curling horns framing its delicate face like a 1950s hairstyle. In one corner, a recessed shelf hosted a grouping of unlikely companions that included a coyote with a mangy coat, a boar with beady eyes glinting above wicked looking tusks, a blackbuck, and a whitetail deer. In another corner, the head and forequarters of a mouflon sheep protruded from the wall as though it were just stepping through the paneling. I recognized longhorn and zebra, antelope and bison. At least forty sets of glass eyes glittered in the flickering glow of firelight and lamps.

Kyla also stopped. “It’s a dead zoo,” she said.

T.J. cast her one startled glance and then laughed. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Of course, some of them weren’t taken on this ranch—we’ve only been going three years after all—but I wanted a display that would show what was available.”

“I thought this was your house. Is it some kind of lodge?”

“Right now it’s both. The original ranch house is about half a mile away. I can stay there if I need some privacy, but this place is much more comfortable, and I can make sure my guests are having a good time. My rooms are in a separate wing than the guest quarters, so it works out pretty well. Eventually I might decide to update the older place.”

T.J. had not yet taken his eyes from Kyla, and he hovered well within what I would have considered the personal space circle. He wasn’t actually touching her, but he could not have marked his territory more thoroughly if he had wrapped both arms around her. She did not seem to mind.

“Do you have animal heads in your bedroom?” she asked, looking up into his face with a mischievous smile.

“I don’t,” he answered in a low tone. “Is that a problem?”

I rolled my eyes and wandered away, hoping that she would remember she was supposed to ask T.J. about Carl’s activities, illicit and otherwise. I joined the group of men near an elegant bar.

They parted amiably, including me in their circle, and the tallest asked, “Something to drink? They’ve got just about anything you could want, and I mix a mean Mexican martini.”

I smiled. “How about a beer?”

“You got it,” he said and pulled a Negra Modelo from the half-size refrigerator and obligingly peeled back the gold foil and popped the cap for me.

“So have you been hunting today?” I asked.

They laughed. “I was hunting,” said my new beer buddy. “The rest of ’em were shooting.”

“I still can’t believe you missed that blackbuck, Ken,” said a short man wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He turned to me and held out a hand. “Eric Palmer. This here’s Jim Stolzman, Rick Albrenner, and our crack shot, Ken Staukowsky.”

“Jocelyn Shore. I’m here visiting family on the next ranch over,” I said, thinking I might as well provide some context for my presence. “What were you hunting?”

Ken grinned. “I’m here for an axis deer, but I’d have taken a blackbuck. Maybe I’ll get lucky tomorrow.”

“Or maybe not,” said Eric. “Me on the other hand, I got my first mouflon. I’m gonna have it processed and taxidermied over at Sand Creek. Gorgeous critter.”

They all nodded.

“Processed? You can eat these animals?” I asked, glancing around the walls. I’m not sure why I was surprised, except that with their twisted horns and strange colors, they looked more like fairy-tale creatures than eating stock.

“Absolutely,” answered Ken. “It would be wasteful to kill them just for the trophy. Well, the deer-type species anyway. You’d have to be starving before you’d eat something like a coyote,” he said with a glance at the mangy mount in the corner.

“Or a snake,” grinned Eric.

“I’ve tried rattlesnake,” said Ken. “We killed a big monster—seven feet long if it was an inch—a couple of hunts back out at Big Spring and chicken-fried it in an iron skillet over a campfire.”

We all turned to him.

“And?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was as bad as it sounds. The meat had the consistency and color of a tough scallop, and the taste of…” He paused, groping for the word.

“Chicken?” offered Rick helpfully.

We laughed, but Ken shook his head. “I wish.”

“So are you all trying to shoot something specific or just whatever you come across?” I asked. “I haven’t been to an exotic ranch before.”

Ken answered, “Well, this isn’t like regular hunting. T.J. there breeds a load of different animals, and he can also bring in whatever a hunter wants from somewhere else. I’m sure you saw the high fences on the way in? Those mean that the animals on the ranch stay on the ranch so there’s a lot more game here than you’d find on an ordinary place.”

“Yeah, and you pay by the kill,” added Rick.

“Right. And that ain’t cheap, so you don’t want to go blasting just anything you see. Plus, if you’re after trophies, which we are, the goal isn’t finding any animal to kill, it’s finding a specific animal, which makes it a lot harder. Specially when you spook a herd of blackbucks and
they
spook the axis deer that you’re after,” said Ken.

“Oh, is that your excuse?” said Eric.

The man named Jim spoke for the first time. “Tonight will be special, though. Never hunted something that could hunt me back.”

The others turned, and I thought I saw Eric flash him a look of warning.

“What hunts you back?” I asked.

“Mountain lion,” said Eric promptly. “There’s a big one around here. In fact it’s been killing some of T.J.’s stock.”

“Mountain lion, yeah,” said Jim with a snort.

Ken said, “I’d love to bag that big cat. I’d definitely have the taxidermist make a full body mount for that one.”

“That’d cost a fortune,” said Rick doubtfully. “And where would you keep it? Bet Linda would have a cow.”

“Nope, she’d have a lion,” said Ken with a grin.

“There can’t be very many mountain lions,” I said. “How do you decide which one of you gets to shoot?”

“We’re separating. T.J.’s going to drop us at the far corners of the ranch and we’ll hunt alone. There’s no telling where the cat’ll be. It’s fair that way.”

“The fences don’t stop mountain lions?” Even as I asked the question, I already knew the answer. I’d seen one leaping through the undergrowth myself and although he hadn’t soared over a fence, I had little doubt he could have.

Ken confirmed my thoughts. “Regular fences don’t even slow them down, and they can leap the high fences flat-footed. Besides, they get up in the trees and from there they can get about anywhere they want.”

At this, Jim said, “Have to be a mighty big tree.”

Ken shot him a glare that should have singed the hair off his mustache.

Puzzled, I asked, “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Jimbo here doesn’t think a big cat needs to climb trees when it’s hunting, which is true. They stalk their prey. But they are climbers.”

The two men were still exchanging glances, but I decided to let it go. “So how do you know any are still here? Aren’t they just as likely to go to a neighboring ranch?”

T.J. and Kyla joined us in time to hear my question. Once again the men obligingly shifted to expand our little circle. Kyla rewarded them with a dazzling smile, and all of them immediately stood a little straighter. I noticed Eric visibly sucking in his gut, and I sighed inwardly.

“What are we talking about?” asked T.J. pleasantly.

“Lions,” said Jim promptly. “Jocelyn here wanted to know if they could escape to another ranch.”

T.J. just smiled. “I suppose they could, but the eating is pretty damn good here. At least one of ’em has been going through my whitetail like popcorn. Tonight’s the night to put a stop to that, and I think one of you boys is just the guy to do it.”

They all nodded, grinning and excited. Kyla frowned. “Tonight?” she asked. “But it’s already getting dark. There can’t be more than another hour of daylight left.”

“The darker the better,” said Jim with a wink at T.J.

“Mountain lions are nocturnal,” explained Ken quickly. “We’re far more likely to find one at night.”

“Ah,” said Kyla, shaking her head. “Well, just be sure you don’t shoot each other.” She smiled at me. “We probably better be getting back. It’ll be dinnertime soon.”

The men made a token protest, but it was obvious their minds were already on the hunt ahead. T.J. accompanied us to the front door.

I didn’t know what Kyla had asked or not, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to speak with T.J. “Did Kyla have a chance to tell you about Carl?”

He nodded, looking grim. “Terrible thing. I couldn’t believe it. He just didn’t seem the type to commit suicide. ’Course, I didn’t know him that well personally, but he did some work for me. Seemed like a nice guy.”

“Do you happen to know anyone else he was working for?”

T.J. frowned. “He worked for anyone who would hire him. He had a number of large trailers, and he was always hauling stock or arranging sales for folks around here. Why?”

“Jocelyn doesn’t think he killed himself,” said Kyla before I could answer. “She thinks his death has something to do with Eddy Cranny.”

T.J. turned to me. “That was a terrible thing, too. But I don’t see a connection, other than Eddy did some work for Carl.”

I wished Kyla knew how to keep her mouth shut. It wasn’t something I wanted to go into with T.J., but I supposed there was no harm in pooling our knowledge. “I saw Carl fighting with Eddy on the night he was killed, and I think the two of them might have been involved in something illegal.”

“Like what?”

I sighed. “That’s what I don’t know. I was hoping you might have heard Carl talking about something, or maybe know who else he was involved with.”

T.J. was already shaking his head before I finished talking. “Wish I could help you, but like I said, Carl and I weren’t close. I have no idea what he did when he wasn’t working for me.”

We walked to my car, and T.J. opened the passenger door for Kyla. I opened my own door, then stopped. “T.J., why did you let Ruby June stay here?”

He gave a wide grin. “Oh, you know about that already, do you? Hell, I don’t know. The girl needed a place to stay, I had plenty of room.” He gave a little bark of laughter and glance askance at the two of us. “Plus, I knew it’d piss your uncle off something fierce. Actually, I think that’s why Ruby came to me in the first place.”

Kyla smiled and laid a hand on his arm in either benediction or forgiveness. Apparently she was no longer worried about family loyalty. Funny what a good-looking guy could do to a sense of duty, I thought sourly.

I wasn’t all that worried about the pending feud, either, but I was puzzled by it. “But why? What has Kel done to you? Or vice versa?”

Still amused, T.J. shrugged and lifted his hands. “It’s just one of those things.” He looked down into Kyla’s eyes and then grew more thoughtful. “Nothing that can’t be mended at this point, though. Guess I might have to see if we can’t come to terms about a thing or two.”

She met his eyes squarely. “I think that would be really great.”

I sat down in the driver’s seat and closed my door. Kyla pushed the passenger door shut with one hip, and lowered her voice to continue her conversation with T.J. I turned on the radio at a low volume so I wouldn’t accidentally hear any of their drivel and stared out the side window into the gathering dusk. A small break in the clouds to the west admitted the last traces of the setting sun, casting an odd bronze glow across hills and trees. The leaves on the live oak to my left looked as though they were tipped with gold, and the shadows around the base deepened into a mysterious and impenetrable gloom. Something about November always seemed a little sad, a time of endings and reckoning, a time when the darkness came early. Around the corner was the merry warmth of Christmas, followed by the optimism of the New Year, and then spring. But right now, dusk had come to the day and to the year. And somewhere Eddy Cranny and Carl Cress lay cold and dead, and my uncle waited in a jail cell. I started the engine.