The Barefoot Summer(14)

“You drove all the way from Dallas just to tell me that?” she asked.

“No, I have a small ranch in Mabelle, so I was close by. But if you’d like to confess, I brought my recorder.” He patted his shirt pocket.

“I have nothing to confess, and just so you know, I did not know those other two were coming up here. If there’s nothing else, I’ve got unpacking to do,” she said.

“When this all comes out in court, you’ll wish that you’d come clean. We could probably make a deal to take the death penalty off the table if you didn’t make us use up man-hours and resources. The jury might even have mercy on you when they hear what a scoundrel Conrad Steele was.”

“Good-bye, Detective Kramer. You have a nice day, now. Do drive safe—I wouldn’t want folks saying that you ran off the road and blaming me for your death.” Kate shut the door in his face and slid down the back side. Her skirt hiked all the way up to her panty line when she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them flow. She would not cry, not one single tear, no matter how crazy things got.

She wasn’t aware anyone was in the room with her until Jamie’s daughter laid a hand on her arm.

“I’m Gracie. You are Kate, right? Daddy showed me a picture of you and said you was his sister. Does that make you my aunt?” Her big brown eyes bored into Kate’s. “You have blue eyes. How can you be my aunt?”

“I’m not your aunt, Gracie. I was married to your father before he married your mama,” Kate explained.

“And that other one, the fat one, was she married to Daddy, too?” Gracie asked.

Kate held the giggle inside. “Yes, she was.”

“Like Sister Wives on television?”

“Your mama lets you watch that?” Kate asked.

“No, but my babysitter watches it and I know that there’s one daddy and lots of wives, like now, huh?” Gracie asked. “Only y’all didn’t even know you were sister wives, did you?”

“Gracie, where . . .” Jamie stopped both walking and talking.

“I’m right here talking to Kate.” Gracie grinned.

“Who was at the door?” Jamie glared at Kate.

“That big man who was at Daddy’s funeral,” Gracie answered.

“What did he want?” Jamie frowned.

Amanda pushed her way past Jamie. “I heard a truck and looked out the window, hoping both of you were leaving. What did he want?”

“He thinks we have conspired together and paid someone to . . .” Kate looked down at Gracie. “You know.”

“Is he insane? I told him I would never . . .” Amanda puckered up again. “I loved him too much . . .” She threw up her hands and hurried to her room.

“You better believe I told him I would have,” Jamie said bluntly. “In a split second, if I’d known for sure.”

“For sure?” Kate asked.

“Oh, yeah, I had my suspicions this last year when he started arriving late and leaving a day or two early. Import, export, my behind,” Jamie said.

“Mama, can I take my toys out on the deck and play?” Gracie asked.

“Yes, but you can’t go to the lake or even down the steps without me. Stay on the deck.” Jamie nodded. She turned to Kate. “So exactly what is import, export? I never got a straight answer.”

“He was a jobber. Do you know what that is?” Kate asked.

Jamie shook her head.

“He was an independent buyer of clothing and jewelry from stores after they had finished their seasonal sales. He would give the store ten cents on the dollar for all that was left and then sell it for twice that to discount clothing stores. He exported stuff out of those stores and imported it into other stores,” Kate said.

“He made it sound like a fancy job.” Jamie melted into a chair. “God, I feel stupid.”

Kate rocked up onto her knees and used the door handle to help her go from there to standing. “You mentioned doubts?”

“A wife knows when a man is having sex outside of his home. Surely you did.”

“I didn’t give a damn after the first year,” Kate said.

“Then why didn’t you divorce him?”

“That’s none of your business.” Kate’s hands were shaking when she went to her room, closed the door, and kicked off her high heels. She sat down on the edge of the bed. What if one of those other two did kill him? If so, then she might be next in line. They both sure seemed to be in a hurry to lay claim to the cabin, and she was the only one standing in their way.

“Stop it!” she scolded herself. “They want this place, but they did not kill Conrad. Not even a Hollywood actor can put on an act like they did at the funeral.”

Still, a shiver ran down her back as she opened her suitcases and filled the empty dresser drawers, hung up shorts and shirts, and neatly placed her sandals on the floor of the closet. She’d brought two sundresses in case she decided to go to church and two bathing suits for swimming. Other than that, it was strictly casual summer clothing.

She unzipped her straight business skirt and removed the matching short-sleeved jacket, hung them on a hanger together, and then pushed the straps down from a full-length slip, letting it slide off her slim body and puddle up around her feet. No panty hose, no slips, no enclosed shoes—not until she went back to Fort Worth.