I felt my face warming. The stallion’s antics gave me time to think before replying, “I love your boots, Miz Chatham. Bass Pro might be just the place to find an outfit that’s not quite so stiff and gaudy.”
It was the worst I could manage. I couldn’t risk an insult so rash it would cause the woman to order me off the property or go charging up to the cabin.
Kermit mistook my remark for a compliment, or timidity. His face began to color, and his tone changed. “Mrs. Chatham, please. You can speak to me any way you like, but this young lady’s my guest. She’s in the citrus business. That’s the only reason she’s here, and Reggie was kind enough to arrange a meeting. She’s interested in the new techniques I’ve developed to-”
The woman, still focusing on me, ignored him. “Bass Pro, huh?” she said. “I’ll make a mental note if I ever have cause to stop at Walmart. Did you happen to notice how well Kermit’s ‘new techniques’ are working on this year’s orange crop? Or were you too dazzled by his cowboy looks and aw-shucks manner? My husband was certainly taken in fast enough.”
I ignored her tone. “Citrus greening disease is complicated,” I replied as if the term was familiar. “From what I’ve heard, a lot of people are impressed by Mr. Bigalow’s new ideas.”
Kermit gave me a sideways glance and managed not to smile.
Axel, the stallion, did another spin. The woman grabbed his ear and twisted it to calm the animal-a rancher’s trick I’d seen before, so was mildly impressed-yet her eyes never left me. “What’s the name of your company? I don’t remember seeing you at the party the governor hosted for the Grove Owners Association. Were you there? His annual party at the mansion in Tallahassee?”
I sensed a trap. For the first time in a while, I chose the truth as a haven. “If there was a party, I didn’t get an invitation.”
Beside me, Kermit released a slow breath.
The woman glared at us both, but her mind was on me. I sensed it: a look of assessment that gauged my beauty-the lack of it, more likely-my gawky tallness, the proportions of my hips and breasts, although she would have to guess at both. I wore a baggy, collared turquoise shirt-draped, unbuttoned, over a white camisole-and pleated fishing shorts. My legs, at least, might give her pause.
No… her eyes dismissed me as no threat.
That’s when Reggie, thank god, made his presence known. Dwarfed by oaks, he stumbled toward us in a hobbled-old-man way, yelling, “Oh lord, oh lord, you folks come quick. I believe something bad’s happened to the governor!”
FOUR
A short while later, Kermit exited the cabin, shaken by the brief hysterics of the newly widowed Lonnie Chatham, then her ensuing rage. Because I was outside, standing at a respectful distance, I had heard the peaks and valleys of both emotions but could seldom decipher the actual words.
“He was a good man,” Kermit said, joining me in a patch of sunlight. It was late afternoon, and the wind had turned. He studied the cabin while we listened. “Do you think she was acting when she first realized he was dead? Her crying seemed real. Guess I didn’t expect that.”
“They were man and wife,” I said. “No one knows what goes on in another person’s heart.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t been here long, but long enough to know they avoided each other. But you’re right-I’m a poor choice to judge who a man marries. There was more than thirty years’ difference in their age, but that wasn’t the problem, from what I saw.”
I was thrown by his odd admission about marriage, but asked, “Then why did he?”
“Marry her?”
“Or her him? She’s an attractive woman.”
“If you like beauty queen types, I suppose.”
“A lot of men do. It’s not uncommon for younger women to find older men attractive.”
The look Kermit gave me inquired Are you serious? meaning money, not love, had been her objective. “You’d have to ask Reggie. He’d know-if he’s willing to talk, which I doubt. Loyalty is a rare quality. Lonnie is finding that out right now.”
This was punctuated by the woman’s muffled profanities coming from inside.
The grove manager winced. “God knows what’ll happen now that he’s dead. It’s Reggie I worry about. She’s giving him hell with both barrels, blaming him for leaving Mr. Chatham alone for so long. Can’t blame her, in a way. A man in his eighties, with a history of heart trouble? It’s not like Reggie. Never seen a more devoted man in my life, yet he allows something like this to happen.”
The guilt that welled within me was deserved. I knew it, felt sick about my role in the matter, but it was too late to go to the chauffeur’s defense, nor could I confide the truth to anyone. So I had to stand there and say nothing while more yelling reached us from inside the cabin, “Stupid, worthless bastard” loud enough to hear.
This was too much. I started back toward the river, saying, “Hope you don’t mind, but her horse was getting spooky, so I walked him a ways and found those empty stalls by the maintenance barn.”
“Just now?”
“While you were inside. He’s bolted in, good and tight-don’t worry about that-and I gave him a bucket of water. I should probably check on him.”
“You’ve got more nerve than me. Axel is a biter.”
“Not once we got going,” I said, relieved to be putting some distance between us and the cabin. “It was either that or he’d have busted his tether. She’s upset enough as it is.”
Kermit looked back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “The EMTs are on their way, so I should probably have those gates open. Want to come along? There’s no reason you should have to stay here and witness the rest.”
“Can’t,” I said. “Not and leave Reggie alone when she’s so mad. I’ll hang around and keep an eye on the horse. I’ll be fine.”
“Loyal, too,” he mused in a pleasant way. “But Reggie might be embarrassed when he comes out and realizes you heard the way she spoke to him. A man his age, with his job, pride’s about all he has left. If that.”
“What do you mean?”
“My guess is, he’s lost his job already. Lonnie has always been jealous of how close he was to Mr. Chatham. She knows they’ve shared a lot of secrets over the years, so that makes Reggie a threat. She might try to fire me, too, but I’ve got a year’s contract-depending on how things go.”
I shook my head, unsure of what to do.
“Hannah, can I ask you something? I won’t repeat a word. Could you smell liquor on Reggie’s breath? That’s what she’s accusing him of. Being drunk on duty.”
The whiskey Reggie had spilled on his dead employer.
“Absolutely not,” I said. “The only thing I can think of is that when he found Mr. Chatham’s body, he took a drink. Who could blame him?”
“That’s the confusing part. I was the first one through the door, Lonnie behind me. There was a glass laying in Chatham’s lap, which made sense. It explained the alcohol smell, but there were two extra glasses next to him. Both had some scotch left in the bottom. That’s what she’s trying to make Reggie admit-that he and her husband were in there, having a private party with a third person, when he died. Now he’s trying to cover up what really happened.”
I stopped, faced the grove manager. “A party with me, I suppose.”
“She’s a jealous one. I believe I mentioned that.”
“I wasn’t asking about her. What do you think?”
“I’m paid to grow citrus, not think, but I took your side. Or tried to. That’s when she told me to get the hell out.” After a pause, he added, “Hope I’m right.”
I pulled the tail of my shirt up just enough to expose my jeans. “Does a woman who wears fishing pliers on her belt strike you as the party girl type?”
“I’ll be darned,” he said. “Are those stainless?”