Page 24 of Lie for a Million

Charlie’s self-satisfied grin widened. “What you heard is going to make me big money,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show it to you.”

Sam followed Charlie across the equipment lot to the high-walled animal compound. With every step, he fought the impulse to grab the man by the scruff of the neck and punch him black, blue, and bloody—not only for the way he made his living but because of the way he’d treated Jasmine.

Before inheriting the land he owned, he’d been her high school algebra teacher. He’d been obsessed with her ever since that time, calling her and even sending her flowers. For now, he seemed satisfied with possessing her car. But for how long would that be enough?

Had he wanted her enough to get her protective father out of the way? Sam couldn’t rule out that question.

The gate to the compound was ajar. At this hour, Charlie’s hired workers would be feeding and watering the captives—hay and chopped weeds for the grazers and a goat or feral pig carcass, and maybe some roadkill, for the big carnivores. Charlie wasn’t particular about their diets. The only aim of feeding them was to keep them alive until they could be hunted and killed.

The elephant was standing inside a small enclosure fashioned of heavy timbers—a tired old female with the saddest eyes Sam had ever seen. She was making low whimpering sounds as she swayed, shifting her weight from side to side in a rocking motion, as if to comfort herself. Sam was horror-struck even before he noticed the chains around her ankles, wound so tightly that the metal links were biting into her flesh.

“I paid five thousand dollars for her, and the bids are up past twenty thousand,” Charlie said. “Not a bad profit margin, eh?”

Sam fought the urge to grab the evil little man and shake the life out of him. “Charlie, I can’t believe anybody would pay to shoot that pathetic creature,” he said.

“Maybe not the creature you see,” Charlie said. “But give us a little more time to toughen her up. Once she’s mad enough to charge, shooting her will give any hunter his money’s worth.”

“So you’re tormenting her to make her mean?”

As if in answer to his question, one of Charlie’s hired men strolled in through the gate carrying what looked like a long-handled spear with a hook. The burly fellow was moving toward the elephant pen.

Sam could guess what was about to happen. He would have stopped it if he could have, but stepping in would only make matters worse for the poor creature. Jasmine had tried to shut Charlie down. But her near arrest, when she’d joined that animal rights demonstration, hadn’t worked either. It had only created chaos.

“Seen enough?” Charlie asked.

“More than enough.” Sam turned back toward the gate.

“In case you’re wondering, I run a legal business.” Charlie joined him, walking at his side. “I pay my taxes like a good citizen, and I have a notarized bill of sale for the elephant. She’s my property, to do with as I please.”

They passed through the gate. From behind them, the sound of anguished trumpeting filled Sam’s ears.

There had to be something he could do—at least he had to try. He would make some calls when he left here.

“Does the elephant have a name?” he asked.

“My animals don’t have names. They’re just property, like those fancy Angus steers on the Culhane spread. And their deaths won’t be any more cruel than getting herded down the chute of a slaughterhouse.”

They had reached the foot of the porch. Charlie climbed up to the second step, putting his face on a level with Sam’s. “Some bleeding hearts, like Jasmine and maybe you, look down on me because of what I do. But I’m a successful businessman. Nine years ago, I took this worthless piece of scrub land and built it into an enterprise that brings in five times as much as I made teaching those miserable teenage brats. I’ve got money in the bank and more in stocks and real estate. I’ve earned the right to be treated with respect. So now I’m inviting you, man-to-man, to come up on the porch and have a drink with me.”

Sam almost declined. After seeing the conditions behind that wall, he didn’t feel inclined to share a drink with the man. And he knew for a fact that Charlie hated him because of Jasmine. Far-fetched as it seemed, he could be walking into some kind of trap.

But as a lawman, he had a job to do. That job included interviewing any and all suspects in a murder investigation. With a reluctant nod, he followed Charlie up the steps.

“What’s your pleasure?” Charlie asked, motioning him to a safari-style canvas chair. “I’ve got some good Scotch.”

“It’s too early in my day for alcohol,” Sam said, sitting. “But if you’ve got a cold Coke, I’ll take that.”

“Suit yourself.” Charlie disappeared through the front door and came back with a chilled red-and-white can. For himself, he’d poured a few fingers of Scotch in a glass. “So Madeleine didn’t have Frank killed after all.” He settled in a nearby chair, sipping his drink. “If you’re wondering how I know, Willow Bend is a small town. I have my sources. And just to save you time, I’ll tell you straight out. No, Istilldid not kill Frank Culhane.”

“Noted.” Sam popped the tab on his Coke can. “So let’s start with this. How would you describe your relationship with Frank?”

Charlie shrugged. “Live and let live. We weren’t friends, but neither of us wanted trouble—especially if it interfered with business. I would never have killed him. He wasn’t worth killing.”

“And Jasmine? I know you wanted her attention.” Charlie’s pale eyes flashed pure hatred. Was it for Frank, who’d protected his daughter? Was it for Sam, who’d claimed the woman Charlie desired? Or was it for Jasmine, who’d rejected and humiliated him for years?

“That wasn’t a killing matter,” Charlie said. “Jasmine thought she was too good for me. Killing her father wouldn’t have changed that. Neither would killing you. At least I got the Corvette—and you can have the woman. Her little caper with those animal rights jackasses cured me of my lovesickness once and for all.”

Charlie emptied his glass and set it down. “Here’s a little secret,” he said. “I told you my animals didn’t have names. But that elephant’s become an exception. I’ve given her a new name. Do you want to know what it is?” He leaned toward Sam, his breath reeking of bad hygiene and whiskey. “I call her Jasmine,” he said.

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