Page 15 of Lie for a Million

Restless, Sam set his coffee cup on the porch and wandered down toward the paddocks. The first light of dawn cast the eastern hills into soft silhouette. In the grassy pastures, awakening birds trilled their calls on the morning air. The windmill creaked faintly in the breeze. Soon the ranch hands would be arriving to start their day. For now, except for the line of stock trailers, the employee lot was empty. Even the house was quiet.

But not everyone was asleep. Distant lights, barely visible, were moving on Charlie Grishman’s game ranch. Looking beyond the fields, Sam could make out what appeared to be a huge truck pulling up to the animal compound. Was it some kind of delivery, made at an hour when it might not be noticed?

Charlie, a former math teacher, had turned a patch of worthless scrub land into a moneymaking operation. It was a deplorable business—unwanted animals kept under wretched conditions, then turned loose to be shot by would-be game hunters. Sam detested the little man. But Charlie was legally licensed. Policing him was not Sam’s job.

Still, Charlie was on Sam’s list of murder suspects. He lived alone and had no supporting alibi. It would have been easy enough for him to ambush Frank in the stable and plunge the deadly syringe into his neck. The only thing missing was a motive. Charlie was sitting pretty, piling money in the bank. Why should he risk it all by murdering his neighbor?

Sam planned to visit him in the next few days. But his first interview would be with the person who’d moved closer to the top of his list—Frank’s glamorous widow.

* * *

Charlie paid the driver and watched the large enclosed delivery truck roll out of the gate. As the red taillights faded, he turned around to admire his prize.

Molly, a fifty-year-old Asian elephant, stood in the special enclosure Charlie had built with thick timbers and chain-link fencing. Her trunk was moving, exploring her new surroundings, maybe looking for food. Her massive weight shifted from side to side. A rumbling sound rose from her throat.

Owned by the proprietor of a bankrupt kiddy zoo, she’d spent most of her long life giving rides to children and their parents. Destined for a sanctuary, she’d ended up here when Charlie had offered the owner $5,000. Offers to hunt her were already coming in from Charlie’s clients.

But Molly was far from an ideal game animal. Like most females of the Asian species, she had no tusks. The taxidermist had promised to add fakes for a more impressive trophy. But nothing could be done while Molly was alive.

Worse, Molly was as docile as a milk cow. She could be ridden, petted, and led without any resistance. Over the next couple of weeks, that would have to change, along with her name. It would be up to Charlie and his helpers to destroy her trust and turn her into a beast that would be a challenge and a thrill for any hunter to shoot.

He would start after breakfast. For now, he would give her some water and hay and post a guard to keep an eye on her. Then he would go back inside, check the offers in his email, and celebrate with a glass of Scotch.

* * *

When Sam saw Lila having her morning coffee on the patio, he took it as an invitation to join her. She looked up as he came through the wrought iron gate. The outdoor table was set with a linen cloth and an extra place. A single pink rose in a glass vase stood next to a carafe of coffee and a plate of buttered toast.

“Good morning, Agent Rafferty.” She was flushed and rumpled, her eyes in shadow, as if she’d had a sleepless night. “I was expecting you,” she said, forcing politeness. “Please have a seat. Would you like some coffee? As I recall, you drink it black.”

“Thank you.” He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. The coffee would be his second cup, but that was all right. “And thank you for your hospitality,” he said. “I know you aren’t overjoyed to have me back.”

“True. But if this is what it takes to find Frank’s killer, I wish you a productive stay.” She filled his cup from the carafe. “How is Madeleine? Have you heard?”

“I assume she’s the same.” His reply skirted the edge of truth.

“Would it shock you if I were to say that I wish she’d been guilty—especially since she actually meant to kill Frank?”

“Nothing shocks me anymore,” Sam said. “All I want to do is find the truth.”

She poured more coffee into her cup. “”Speaking of the truth, there’s been a new development. And if this doesn’t shock you, nothing will.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I know the identity of Frank’s secret girlfriend—the woman in the photos. I’ve even met her. Her name is Crystal Carter. She’s pregnant—and she claims the baby is Frank’s.”

Sam listened as Lila told him the whole story. How Crystal had called her pleading for help, how they’d met at the restaurant, and how Lila had insisted on a paternity test before talking with the young woman again.

“I arranged payment for the test, and I’ll be waiting to hear from the doctor,” she said. “He’ll take Crystal’s blood sample. Frank’s DNA was collected at the crime scene. The doctor can get a copy of the results. When he has both, he’ll send them to the lab. The analysis shouldn’t take long.”

“They can do that?” Sam asked. “Don’t they have to get a sample from the baby’s amniotic fluid?”

“No, this new way is safer. As I understand it, they can separate the baby’s DNA from the mother’s blood and match it against the alleged father’s. It can’t give legal proof that a man is the father, but if there’s no match, itcanprove that he isn’t. That’s the way I understand it.”

“I’ll take your word for that.” Sam’s coffee had cooled. He put the cup aside. “Did Frank know about the baby?”

“She planned to tell him before he was killed. At least that’s what she claimed. But she could be lying. I’ve been thinking, what if she’d told him about the baby and demanded that he marry her, or at least give her money? He could have refused. That would have given her motive to kill him and take her story to me.”

Lila’s hands crumpled her linen napkin. “When I couldn’t get pregnant, I began to suspect that Frank had had a secret vasectomy. I’ll never know if that was true, but if it was, he’d have known at once that the baby wasn’t his.”

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