Tiger cate, p.9
Tiger Cate, page 9
Cate stood and awkwardly took the plates from the woman.
“Go to work. I’ve got this, Bronnie. I want you to know I’m … I’m up to this. Really. We’ll get a missing person’s report filed and an investigation launched.”
A few moments later, as she stroked the kitten in her arms and watched Bronnie pull her Volvo out of the parking space, Cate wondered why Bronnie hadn’t filed a report herself, given her long history with the family and her own suspicions.
PART II – Consequences
“How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat,
“or you wouldn’t have come here.”
— L. Carroll, Adventures of Alice in Wonderland
Chapter 16
August 6, Cabeza Valley
Rae
Everybody was gone from the house, but Desi had said she would be back real soon. She said it with a worried look that told Rae they were going to call the foster agency if somebody didn’t shape up real fast.
Rae had been through it before. She had dark places in her that made people nervous.
In the past, she’d been okay with changing foster houses. It had happened so often that she was over it. But this time was different. This time she loved living here, on this lane, with a dog to pet and all the pretty horses to look at. Desi had said that she wasn’t foster, she was family and she wanted to believe that.
Standing in the backyard of Desi’s house and playing fetch with big Samson, she saw a man walking across the pasture.
He came from the ranch direction and headed straight toward the clump of trees — the “copse” was what Desi’s husband Jake called it, but she hadn’t known what he’d meant. The only cops she knew wore uniforms and pulled you back from freeway rails so you couldn’t see your dead mama and brother.
A memory flickered before she could stop it.
She is standing on the oven-hot bridge over the freeway. Mama and Davy sitting on the wall, calling to her. They’re drunk on tequila and smoking something Mama bought on the street in Phoenix. Before that cab driver picked them up and dumped them off on a stretch of nowhere. The wind blows like a roaring furnace as Rae peers up at their laughing faces. They are dead, dark angels, eyes blank and shiny, urging her up on their cloud.
Mama yanks hard on her wrist and shouts, “C‘mere!” But Rae pulls back, breaking her hold. Mama wobbles, her arms flapping. She screams and grabs at Davy. They both fall backward over the wall, feet disappearing last.
“Mama!” Rae reaches forward to grab them. Too late. Did she do this? Did she make them fall?
Then come the noises — a car screeching, then another, and then more cars. She doesn’t want to look but she does. Mama and Davy, lying on the hot freeway, dark wetness spreading out. After a while, the arms of strangers wrap around her. They pull her back.
Crouching on the patio, Rae rubbed her face to smear out the pictures. She focused hard on the figure in the pasture as it moved past the house. She could see it was the guy who worked at Margaret’s ranch — D.J. — looking so mad, just like her daddy had looked after her brother Jamie got shot dead by the hunter. Her daddy had been mad enough to do something and now he was in prison.
The guy was at the spot where Margaret had lain and he was walking around in circles, kicking at things in the grass like he was looking for something. She thought about the phone upstairs, stuffed between her mattresses.
Someone else was coming, walking the field from the other side—the lady she’d seen standing on the road and talking to Desi a few days ago. Rae had named her “Pinto Lady” because her hair started out brown and then changed to a silvery pink. She wore it loose today, flowing down her back like melted peppermint ice cream.
Pinto Lady walked fast, headed toward the stables. The man ducked behind one of the trees and watched her go by with the look of a dog that wants to bite something. Then he turned and looked back at where Rae had ducked down behind the patio fence. He lifted a finger to his lips, like saying “Hush up,” and then he drew it across his neck.
Chapter 17
August 6, Cabeza Valley
Cate
The contents of Cate’s backpack were calling to her. Her phone, wallet, and everything else she owned were in her old bedroom at the main house, all within the grasp of the Amazon.
Bypassing the stable, she followed the road up to the parking lot next to the house, which was empty of cars. After climbing the flagstone steps to the front patio, she tried each door, making her way around the rambling Santa Fe structure, but Estelle had locked everything up tight. She stood for a while, studying the fragile-looking trellis she’d climbed as a child, then turned and followed the footpath back down the hill to the stables. Rosa would have a key, and she still needed to get her take on the disaster of a dinner party.
From her view coming down the hill, she could already see that both Diego’s truck and Rosa’s ancient Corolla were missing from their parking spaces next to the stables. Where was everyone on a Tuesday morning? In the distance, someone chased a white horse around a circular pen. It had to be Leelee. She veered off in that direction.
The girl’s back was to her as she worked the horse against the far side of the pen. Cate recognized the technique of getting a horse to change directions using an upraised hand holding a lariat. Back and forth Leelee sent the horse, turning him against the fence and then asking for a few paces at a canter, then raising the opposite arm and sending him back the other way.
A memory flashed of being ten and helping to train the young mare named Bella. Doc would stand behind her as they faced the running horse, showing her just when to raise her arm and turn Bella’s massive body.
“She needs to see you out of the right eye to know when to turn to the left,” Doc had said, guiding her arm up and making the coiled rope swing at just the right time. “Eventually, she will see the pattern, find the rhythm, and that will give her confidence.”
Remembering now, Cate ached to feel her father’s gentle but firm touch on her arm again, guiding it to lift the lariat at just the right time.
Cate recognized the vanilla-colored horse as the one Leelee had ridden at the team penning. Now lathered and anxious, he was an apparent newcomer to round pen work. Once he’d managed a dozen turns, Leelee gave him a break from the pressure of the lariat. Instantly, he stopped and faced her, his sides heaving from stressful exertion. Leelee stepped back and crouched slightly — almost like performing a dance step — signaling him to come to her. He lowered his head and licked his lips as he stepped up to her. She noticed Cate standing at the rail and waved.
“Pretty exotic-looking horse, Leelee.”
“Mesteño — Spanish mustang,” she said with some pride. “And look at the fancy eyes. Not too many blue-eyed cremellos in the wild. We call him Destino.”
Destiny, Cate mentally translated, or destination. The horse was stocky, but with the smooth lines, thick neck, and flowing mane of the horses that Spanish explorers had brought to the Americas some four hundred years ago.
“Back in my day, Margaret would have scoffed at getting anything but a registered Quarter Horse.”
“Yes, still true. Estelle bought him for me to train.”
As she said it, Leelee looked down, uncomfortably. So, this had been a secret and it explained a lot about her relationship with Estelle — or, rather, the woman’s hold over the girl.
“Officially, I’m training him for Estelle to ride, but honestly, this horse will never be good for a beginner. He’s got too much brio, too lively. And he’s definitely not a fan of spurs or whips. He pitched my brother off twice before D.J. took the hint and kicked off his spurs.” She grinned at Destino affectionately. “I want to make him a show horse and compete in Western Dressage. Margaret would’ve loved that idea.”
Cate’s chest flickered at this use of past tense.
“Leelee, look at me.” The girl turned to face Cate. “Is Margaret on a horse-buying trip or not?” Leelee shot back an anguished look. “I mean, to your knowledge?”
“What did Estelle tell you? Because to be honest, I haven’t really” — she picked up the horse’s halter and lead rope from the ground and shook it out — “uh, been talking directly to Margaret lately. Estelle just comes down and, you know, gives me my weekly instructions for the horses. Mamá said Margaret was having dizzy spells or something. She came off a horse pretty hard a couple of months ago.”
Off another horse just months ago? That was news. Leelee had been putting on a brave front, but she clearly shared Bronnie’s anxiety and uncertainty over Margaret. Cate imagined what the stakes were for the Ruiz family, especially if her sister didn’t come back from wherever she was. This ranch was their whole life, and suddenly it was under the control of someone as ruthless as Estelle Parker. Cate needed to get into that house and maybe search the office for clues.
Since her recent return home as an adult, a thought had been nagging her. She wanted to take a look at her parents’ will, something she’d never laid eyes on. Maybe she could also find a copy of the ranch deed, especially after the other night’s presentation. These were things her lawyer friend Jimmy Lee could look into once she got copies. Plus, she wanted to check if the combo to the safe in Doc’s office still worked after all these years. Finally, there was a missing person’s report to file and a way overdue call to Levi.
“Leelee, do you have a key to the house? My backpack and phone are still in there.”
Again, the girl looked uncomfortable. “Estelle changed the locks last week and, um, we haven’t gotten new keys yet.”
“Really. Changed them last week, huh?” Cate tried to make her voice sound casual, but her internal alarm was clanging. Maybe climbing a trellis would be as easy as riding a horse again.
Chapter 18
After the struggle of the actual climb, getting inside the second floor was a snap. Most of the five doors off the second-story veranda were glass sliders. At the far end, the one leading to Margaret’s old bedroom had been closed, but not latched. Oops.
Growing up, Cate hadn’t been allowed to spend much time in Margaret’s room. The age gap between them meant that by the time Cate could hold an intelligent conversation, Margaret was already an adult. A very private one. Occasionally, they might play a board game together in the living room, but Cate couldn’t remember a time she’d been invited into Margaret’s room for a sisterly chat.
The room’s walls held more trophies and horse-themed posters. Margaret the star equestrian grinned back at her starting at age twelve or thirteen and into adulthood. Gazing at the walls now, it occurred to Cate that there were no photos of Margaret in grade school or as a toddler, let alone a baby.
Family lore was that Doc had inherited the ranch when his older brother died and had moved his family to Cabeza Valley from New Mexico a couple of years before Cate’s birth. There had to be photos of the Finley family’s life in Albuquerque, but she couldn’t remember ever having seen them.
Cate was surprised to see a computer in her tech-hating sister’s room. She sat in front of the PC and flipped it on. The monitor lit up, and a password prompt screen appeared. Without thinking, she typed in eight letters, which the screen accepted. Amazing that Margaret still used the “4Finley4” passcode from when all of them had shared a computer, two decades ago.
The desktop came up, loaded with a clutter of files. Mostly horse show and breeding information — photos, pedigrees, sales documents — all unsorted individual files. After a quick survey, she decided no ranch financials lived there. More likely they would be downstairs in their father’s old office.
She was about to power down the computer when a folder caught her eye … ”Starr.” That name with its double “r” rang a bell. A vague memory came, from nearly three decades earlier. Six-year-old Cate had found a thick envelope lying on the back stairs, addressed to a Starr somebody in Las Vegas.
As she’d stood holding the letter, Fiona had come down the stairs.
“Mama, did you drop this?” Cate had held the packet up and watched her mother’s smile fade when she read the writing.
Later that evening, Doc and Margaret had a heated argument in Doc’s study. Soon after, her sister had left the house in a fury — slamming the front door. Yes, it had been a rare moment of raw emotion in the family, one that had left everyone tiptoeing around Margaret for days. That’s why it had lodged so well in Cate’s memory.
The first file opened to a newspaper article dated 2002 with the headline, “Las Vegas Authorities Question Ex-Stripper Re Wealthy Husband’s Death.” Well, well, there she was — a younger and slimmer Estelle, posing seductively under stage lights, in a newspaper photo. The piece that accompanied it made Cate eager to read everything else in the file labeled “Starr.”
LAS VEGAS, NV — Authorities are looking into the poisoning death of wealthy financier Rudolph Parker, 89, who was discovered in his penthouse apartment in the Tangiers Hotel and Casino. It is the third mysterious death on the Vegas strip in six months, and officials are investigating possible links to tainted alcohol supplied to the hotel by Pritcher & Sons Distributing. Parker’s estranged wife of ten years, exotic dancer Starr Parker, was questioned and released.
Nearly an hour after she’d climbed the trellis, Cate finally descended the stairs and stepped into Doc Finley’s office off the front foyer. Surely any financial statements or tax returns would live there. She fought to ignore the inner voice that was urging her to go back upstairs, grab the backpack, and climb back down the trellis for a clean escape.
Exiting through any of the entry doors downstairs might trigger a silent alarm, the kind that alerts your phone. It was easy to imagine Estelle having installed such a device. Cate’s conversations with Bronnie had left her curious and itching to dig into the ranch records. Sleuthing like this wasn’t her strong suit, but who else was going to do it?
The same oak furniture, Persian rugs — even the light fixtures — that had been in the office when she left, now welcomed her like old friends. She moved to the large leather desk chair and idly spun it on its swivel.
It was here Doc had conducted serious discussions, about house rules, about her grades, and about Drew, including a cringy sex talk. Cate imagined Fiona had deferred to her husband’s expertise as a medical professional and her own Catholic modesty. Besides, Doc just had a way of making everything sound sensible and clear-cut. Regardless of the topic, he’d always ended his conversations with Cate the same way: He loved her, he wanted the best for her, and she was making him and her mother so proud with her artwork.
Cate tried opening the top drawer of the closest file cabinet. Locked. Batting zero. She recalled that a single key had simultaneously locked or unlocked all the drawers in her father’s file cabinet. After searching for a minute, she found a massive ring of keys in the bottom desk drawer.
The fifth key she tried unlocked the cabinet, but just as she pulled it open, she saw a shadow move past the office window and heard the front door unlocking. Estelle. What to do now — hide? Try to sneak out the front door?
Cate was headed for the office door when it flew open. Dressed in stiletto-heeled boots, skinny black jeans, and a fringed black bolero vest, Estelle stood in the doorway pointing a semi - automatic pistol straight at her. Both women screamed, and Cate instinctively jumped to one side. Estelle’s face went from startled to fearful to enraged and, finally, to a forced smile in rapid succession. In any other setting, the whole scene might have been comical.
Estelle lowered and deftly re-holstered her weapon.
“Good lord, I nearly shot you as an intruder! I never close that office door. Never.”
“Duly noted,” said Cate, recovering her breath.
“How did you get in? Upstairs? A ladder?” She went over to look out the window. “Ah, the trellis. You are quite the monkey, aren’t you?”
It really didn’t merit a response. Remembering Bronnie’s warning, Cate opted not to start her inquiry with, “What the hell, why’d you drug me, Estelle?” The woman was way too clever for straightforward questions. Instead, she mustered all her cheerfulness.
“Oh, hi, Estelle. I was hoping to find Margaret here when I got home from the hospital. You do remember my sister Margaret? You’ve been promising she was on her way home for two days now.”
Estelle took a stab at a good-natured shrug.
“She’s a grown woman with her own itinerary, Caitlyn. Something must have come up. I’m not worried. She’s with her client, Dory Banks. Dory’s been looking for a new — ”
“Horse, yes, so I gather.” Cate grabbed a pad of paper and picked up a pen from the desk. “Give me Dory’s number, because Margaret isn’t answering her own phone.”
“Why ever would I know — ”
“Because — correct me if I heard it wrong — you manage the ranch, which means you manage client information. Yes? Which also means you should know every damn thing about Margaret’s business. But tell me, did I get that wrong like I got wrong how many people were at your dinner party the other night — the one you said didn’t happen?”
Like the Cheshire cat, Estelle turned on The Smile. The shift in her demeanor was both chilling and fascinating. When she next spoke, it was again with the poise and haughtiness of a lady of the manor.
“Cate, you do seem to be working yourself into a state. Why don’t you go upstairs and relax? I know I could use a glass of wine. You?”
Cate just stared at Estelle as a grim truth unfolded. This woman was laying another trap for her.
“You’re a piece of work, aren’t you? I did some reading up on you just now in Margaret’s room.” She paused. “Starr.”
