The Payback Man (14 page)

Eleanor heard the indrawn breath. Mary Beth whispered, “My brother? Stephen?”

“Mary Beth, who is that on the telephone?” The voice in the background was gruff, older. The voice of command.

“Somebody about the symphony ball, Daddy.”

“Expensive foolishness. Don’t know why you bother.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

Eleanor thought Mary Beth must have a lifetime of lying to her father behind her to do it so glibly.

“Steve asked if I might call you.”

“What for?”

Oh, great. Because his kiss set me on fire and I’d rather not fall for a murderer?

Suddenly the answer came to her.

“He’s being considered for a work release program with which I’m associated. He gave you as a character reference.” Whew. “I wonder if you might join me for lunch tomorrow? For Steve’s sake.”

Eleanor heard the sudden intake of breath followed by silence. She had opened her mouth to ask again when she heard Mary Beth’s breathy whisper. “Someplace in Bartlett? Daddy never goes there and doesn’t know anybody who could see us.”

Why should Mary Beth care if her father knew they were meeting for lunch tomorrow? Eleanor named a chain restaurant and a time.

“Yes.” Mary Beth hung up without another word.

Next Eleanor called Leslie Vickers’s office and left another message on
his
answering machine, but this time included that Steve asked him to speak to her about the work release program. She hadn’t expected the lawyer to answer his phone at nine in the evening, but at least he could call her back during business hours.

She would make it clear that Steve Chadwick was re
sponsible for any bills. At least that way she wouldn’t have to admit to anyone that she’d spent money on him. She already knew what they’d say if they found out she’d kissed him.

E
LEANOR REALIZED
on her way to meet Mary Beth Chadwick on Wednesday that they had no way to identify each other. Eleanor hadn’t told Mary Beth she was a veterinarian rather than a medical doctor, so she wouldn’t recognize the Creature Comfort logo on her truck, and Eleanor didn’t know how to identify Steve’s sister.

When she pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, she noticed an attractive young woman climbing out of a Mercedes. The woman looked so much like Steve that Eleanor was certain this could be no one but Mary Beth.

Eleanor went to her with outstretched hand. “Mary Beth? Hi. I’m Eleanor Grayson.”

“You said
Dr.
Grayson. Is my brother sick?”

“No. I should have told you. I’m a veterinarian. We’re setting up a herd of prize show cattle. Steve is helping with the computer programming.”

Mary Beth let out a breath. “I’m glad he’s well. Let’s go inside.”

When they were seated in the darkest booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mary Beth asked, “Why are you in Memphis if you work with my brother?”

“You don’t know? He’s been moved from Big Mountain. He’s here at the new West Tennessee Prison Farm.”

Mary Beth grasped Eleanor’s wrist. “Here? How long has he been here? Why did they move him? Is he all right? How does he look? Is he terribly thin?”

“Whoa. One question at a time. Me first. Didn’t he notify you about the move? Didn’t somebody from the prison system?”

Mary Beth shook her head so hard that her hair swung around her face. “No. You have to register with the prison before they inform you about anything like a move, and
Daddy said having the Chadwick name on prison rolls was bad enough without letting the authorities know our address.” She dropped her gaze. “I sent him cards on his birthday and for Christmas, though.”

“I see.” Eleanor didn’t see at all, but then, she didn’t know these people. “He is doing well for somebody who has spent three years in prison.”

Mary Beth covered her mouth with her hand.

“I don’t know how he looked before, but at the moment he’s lean and muscular. There’s some gray in his hair, but it makes him look distinguished, although prison haircuts aren’t done for looks.”

“His hair is gray?”

“Only around the edges. Listen, Mary Beth, it’s none of my business, but why on earth have you let your father force you to abandon a brother you obviously care about?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Mary Beth drew herself up. “I don’t even know you. I have no intention of speaking of family business with a total stranger. I only met you because you said you wanted some information about Steve.”

“You’re right, it’s none of my business. I can see why you might not have the time to drive to Big Mountain to see him. But now that he’s here, why don’t you visit? There are visiting hours every Saturday afternoon.”

“The Colonel wouldn’t like it.”

“Steve is his son.”

“As far as the Colonel is concerned, Steve besmirched the family honor.” She wrinkled her nose. Her tone changed. Suddenly she sounded more friendly, even eager to impart information. “That’s a crock, of course, but the Colonel won’t let me mention his name in the house.”

“What about you? Do you think he betrayed the family honor?”

“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. He’s still my brother and I love him.”

“Does he deserve to be in prison? That’s what I’m asking you.”

Mary Beth’s reserve returned. “He was convicted.”

“So you do think he was guilty.” Eleanor’s heart sank.

“I think he’s the dearest, kindest, most completely honest man I’ve ever known.” Mary Beth’s voice had risen. “If he did kill Chelsea, he had a good reason.”

There was definitely something strange about Mary Beth. One moment she sounded in control, the next, her words spilled out as though she were an adolescent school girl. Eleanor couldn’t fathom the woman. “What reason could possibly be good enough to kill somebody over?”

“Maybe it was a stupid accident. Maybe she attacked him, and he hit her back and she hit her head or something.” Mary Beth began to shred her paper napkin. “He shouldn’t have married her. She resented anyone else in his life, even me. He could have gotten the money someplace else.”

“The money?”

“Chelsea inherited a bundle. Her father owned a string of hotels and sold out just before he died. She gave Steve the seed money to start his company.”

“What was his company, exactly?”

“Some kind of thing computers use to make games move faster or look better or something. I don’t understand all that stuff. They weren’t rich, but they were doing really well financially. Not many people worked for Steve’s company, but apparently you don’t need many. When Steve had to have money to pay for his defense, his partner bought him out. Now
he’s
in the process of selling out to some humongous company for a gazillion dollars.” Her eyes turned angry. “It’s not fair. He’s going to retire to Phoenix and play golf all day while Steve sits in jail. No matter what anyone says, I’ll always blame Chelsea.”

Eleanor felt lost in the conversation. Following Mary Beth’s arguments was extremely difficult. She saw no
sense in arguing, so she simply nodded and changed the subject.

She knew that Mary Beth and Margot Hazard, Rick’s wife, sat on several boards together, and kept the conversation light for the rest of the meal.

She made a mental note to ask Margot Hazard for a rundown on Mary Beth the next time she saw her. It wasn’t only that she led a sheltered life, although apparently it was one driver’s license short of a cloistered nunnery. There was something slightly off about Mary Beth, but Eleanor couldn’t put her finger on what.

Margot didn’t have a paying job, but she ran half the charities in West Tennessee with an iron hand and an alligator charm, and meddled in the clinic every chance Rick gave her. Mary Beth, on the other hand, didn’t seem capable of running a bath.

When the two women headed to the parking lot after lunch, Mary Beth opened her driver’s side door, then turned back. “You wouldn’t like to read the trial transcript, would you? I’ve got a copy in the trunk you could borrow.”

Eleanor felt a surge of adrenaline, but tried to keep her voice casual. “I’d be glad to, if you think that would help.”

“Great.” Mary Beth popped the trunk, rummaged among fancy gym bags, moved an elegant leather golf bag, and came up with a bedraggled package wrapped in brown paper. “There.”

“Thank you. I’ll return it.”

“No! At least not when the Colonel could find out. He doesn’t know I bought it. He’d have a conniption.”

“So you keep it in your car?”

“I couldn’t keep it in the house. Daddy might see it. He never looks in my trunk.” She laughed shortly. “He says it’s a rat’s nest. Most unmilitary.”

Suddenly Eleanor felt sorry for Mary Beth. There must
be some reason she didn’t simply rebel and move out of her father’s house.

At least Eleanor now had the trial transcript, which was much more than she’d expected. She’d read it tonight and call Leslie Vickers again in the morning. This time she’d demand an appointment whatever the cost.

Was Mary Beth right? Had Chelsea’s death been an accident? Or had Steve done it in self-defense?

Eleanor drove at once to the prison farm to check on the men’s progress with the buffalo-field fencing. Actually, she wanted to see Steve, if only for a moment and under Selma’s watchful eye.

Impossible. One of the hydraulic lines that lifted the front loader had broken. Rather than take it to the prison motor pool and wait while it took its turn after other vehicles in need of repair, Gil Jones had convinced Selma to requisition the parts over the lunch break. Now, Gil and Slow Rise were working on the tractor, while Sweet Daddy, Steve, Robert and Big finished the fencing.

Sweet Daddy kept up a litany of grumbles.

Robert moved in his usual trance, but kept pace with Steve and Big most of the time.

Big and Steve worked side by side in perfect harmony. The manual dexterity that Big had shown in weaving the pine straw showed here, too.

Eleanor greeted everyone and noticed that all the cows and calves in the pasture were lying down. That meant rain before too long. Old wives’ tale it might be, but she found it to be an excellent indicator. The cows always recognized a drop in barometric pressure even before instruments picked it up. They got as much rest, chewed as much cud as they could, before they were faced with standing tail on a cold wind.

Eleanor walked through the barn to check on Marcus Aurelius. He was also lying in his paddock, nose to tail, his short horns across his broad back.

She turned off the electric fence and opened the gate to
his paddock, then carefully closed it behind her. She’d stuck a cattle prod in the back pocket of her jeans, but she doubted she’d have to use it. Besides, she suspected that a jolt of electricity would only annoy Marcus Aurelius, not drive him away from her. She was used to bulls. They were unpredictable, but usually laid-back—as long as there wasn’t a cow in season or another bull on the horizon. Marcus had already showed himself to be good-natured.

With only a lone woman sharing his space—a creature he apparently did not consider a threat—he barely raised his head when she entered. She moved toward him, keeping her demeanor subservient and her pace slow. She also kept an eye on the gate in case she had to get out in a hurry. When she was ten feet away he heaved himself up with a groan, but didn’t approach. The last rays of the afternoon sun turned his coat to molten copper. He looked more like one of the cattle from an Egyptian tomb painting than a modern bull.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said as she stepped up to him. He looked at her with liquid eyes, lowered his head and swiped his huge tongue across the toe of her boot. She scratched the soft brown pelt between his eyes and was rewarded with a gentle sigh, and a moment later, her other boot was wiped clean. “Is this a hidden talent? Can we rent you out as a bootblack if you don’t make nice babies?”

He sighed and leaned his left shoulder against her. He nearly knocked her off her feet. It wasn’t a hostile gesture—more like a friendly dog asking to have its ears scratched—but Eleanor decided she’d gone far enough for one day. He was still young. There was plenty of time to accustom him to being groomed and handled. She scratched the hair at the base of his horns and began to step backward in retreat.

It took him a moment to realize he’d lost his masseuse. He followed her step for step. If she turned her back and he decided to give her a friendly head butt to get her at
tention, he could very well launch her into the next county. If she sprinted for the gate, he might decide they’d started a nice game of soccer in which she was the ball.

She reached the gate, felt behind her, unlatched it and squeezed through the opening, then latched it behind her. Marcus Aurelius looked at her reproachfully, so she gave him one more horn scratch before she turned the electric current back on, shooing him away before she did. She did not want him to think of her in the same terms he thought of Sweet Daddy.

“Are you crazy going in there by yourself?”

It was Steve.

“Not especially. I’ve got a cattle prod in my back pocket. I knew I could yell for help if I needed it.”

“One of the first things I learned about bulls was never to get close to them without backup handy.”

“Maybe on open range. He’s in a stall, and he’s already proved that he’s quiet and intelligent. I’m a professional, remember?” She was getting annoyed. “I do this all the time.”

“I do remember you’re a professional. You still shouldn’t take chances.”

“Chance is unavoidable in this job. I thought I’d be safe and I was right. What are you doing up here, anyway? You and Big were mending fence.”

“Selma said it’s quitting time. I volunteered to come tell you.”

“Marcus wants his dinner.”

“I got it right here, ma’am,” Big called. “Y’all go get drinks. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Eleanor started past Steve, but he stopped her.

“I wanted to see you.”

She turned and met his gaze. “I had lunch with your sister.”

“You did?” His eyes lit. “How is she?”

Eleanor opened her mouth to form a reply, then said,
“Come on, we’d better get my cooler or Selma will start looking for us.”