Page 51 of Lie for a Million

“Hell, yes, I remember. I’m not senile. She was a good woman, and strong. It surprised me that her health deteriorated so fast. But that’s the way it goes sometimes.”

“According to the death certificate, she died of natural causes. A friend I spoke with mentioned a lot of bruising. Did you notice that?”

The doctor scowled, then nodded. “Understand, I hadn’t seen Ethel as a patient for almost a year before she died. When I filled out the certificate, it was after she’d passed. I did question the bruising. But without an autopsy, including blood work, there was no way to know the cause. I suggested to her grandson that he might want to have it done. But he declined.”

“Charlie Grishman declined the autopsy and blood work?”

“That’s right. Since she was already gone, he didn’t see much point in it. It wasn’t a police matter, and as her next of kin, he had the right to make that decision. So I signed off, and he buried her on the ranch the next day. No funeral. The poor woman deserved better.” The doctor’s frown deepened. “What are you thinking?”

“A few years ago I saw a case of warfarin poisoning in a child who’d ingested rat poison. I remembered the bruises.”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying that Ethel might have been poisoned?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out. Rat poison could have killed her—or it could have been an overdose of blood thinners. Was she on any of those?”

“Not that I’m aware of. And I would have known. She was my patient for years.”

“Charlie had a reason to do it. He wanted to start his game farm, and his grandmother wouldn’t allow it. Maybe he got tired of waiting. Did that occur to you after she died?”

“It might have, briefly. But I dismissed the idea. She was an elderly woman, and there are autoimmune conditions that can cause bruising. I grant you that Charlie might have been capable of it—he’s a cold chap. He didn’t shed a tear when Ethel died, and I know she raised that boy. But there’s no proof, not even if you were to exhume the body. Warfarin doesn’t last that long in the system.”

Sam sighed. “I’m just looking for a reason to put Charlie away and shut down that damned game farm.”

“You’d be doing a lot of people a favor. But I understood you had come back to the ranch to find out who murdered Frank Culhane. Word travels fast in this small town.”

“That’s right. I’m still working Frank’s murder. This is just something that needs to be done, and there’s no one else to do it.” Sam stood and extended his hand. “I won’t keep you any longer, Doctor. Thanks for your time.”

“As you see, I’ve plenty of time to spare. I’ll call if I think of anything else that might help you.” He accepted Sam’s handshake, his arthritic fingers knotted like the limbs of an ancient tree. “Oh—Ethel was a churchgoer. First Community, on Main Street. You might want to talk to her minister. Sorry, I can’t recall his name, but he lives in that house behind the church. Ethel might’ve said something to him about her health or her grandson.”

“Thanks, I’ll check that out.”

After leaving, Sam drove down Main Street. He found the small frame house behind the church. But there was no vehicle in the driveway, and no one answered when he rang the doorbell. He would check back later. For now, it was time for him to return to the ranch.

* * *

Lila had watched Sam drive away, headed for town. There was no telling what he planned to do or how soon he’d be back. For the past couple of hours, she’d kept herself busy, trying not to think about what he’d told her. But she couldn’t keep the worries from pushing into her mind.

Now, in her room, she sank onto the bed and forced herself to ask the dreaded question. What if Sam was right in suspecting that Roper had murdered Frank?

But how could that be? SheknewRoper, knew his gentleness, his wisdom, his integrity.

She loved him.

But had that love blinded her to who he was and what he was capable of doing?

Even with the window closed, the construction noise from the game ranch pounded in her head, echoing the pain of the headache that had awakened her that morning. Her hands splayed over her ears, failing to block the sound as she struggled to think.

Innocent or not, Roper would need to be told about Sam’s suspicions. But hadn’t that been Sam’s intent—to see that Roper was warned and then watch for his reaction? Would he run? Would he try to cover his tracks, or maybe do something else to hide his guilt? Sam would be counting on it.

But if Roper was innocent, as Lila believed him to be, what then? Even without solid evidence, the case against him was strong. If he were arrested, he wouldn’t be the first person to go down for something he hadn’t done. She had to make him aware of the danger and warn him that his every move was being watched.

As hers would be also. Sam had told her she was above suspicion. But she would be a fool to believe him.

Her first impulse was to find Roper in the arena, where he’d been working with the horses since dawn. But that could be risky. Sam had been gone for almost two hours. He could return at any time—or someone like Mariah could be watching. It wouldn’t do for them to be caught together right now. A phone call would be safer.

Strange, for as long as he’d been here, Lila had considered Sam an ally, almost a friend. Now suddenly, he’d become the enemy. Maybe he had been the enemy all along.

Lila called Roper’s cell phone. It rang several times and went to voice mail—not surprising, since Roper usually silenced his phone or left it in his office when he was training. Lila left a short message, asking him to call her. As she ended the call, she saw Sam’s SUV come in through the front gate.

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