borrowed the money.
Just for a while.”
“ ‘Borrowed.’ ” My tone was judicious.
He flushed. “I was paying everything back. I swear to God. Pretty soon I was going to make up a contract with Mrs. Hamilton buying back the mineral rights and then she would receive the royalty reports directly from Monarch. I was within twenty thousand of making up what I’d borrowed.” His voice shook with intensity. “I told Daryl. He didn’t care. Damn him to hell.”
“All right. Let’s not call it stealing. Certainly it was fraud.
Why?”
He stared down at the tips of his shoes, his face weary. “The stock market went to hell—” “The Beer Barrel Polka” interrupted. He
Ca ro ly n H a rt
yanked a cell phone from his pocket, frowned. His glance at me was apologetic. “It’s my wife. She’ll worry if I don’t answer.”
“Answer by all means.” I glanced down at the rug. He stood within a foot of where the confession was hidden.
“Yeah? . . . Catching up on some work . . . Father Bill’s wife?” He sounded puzzled.
I was suddenly attentive.
“No, she’s mistaken. I wasn’t near the church last night. It must have been somebody else’s car . . .”
Oh dear. Kathleen had ignored my warning and set out to investigate on her own. I was delighted at her initiative and concerned for her safety. If I had any idea where she was or what she was likely to do next, I’d go there. But for now, I must discover what I could from Walter.
“. . . I doubt it means anything. She’s probably just curious. Like everybody else in Adelaide.” His tone was bitter. “Don’t worry, honey.
No. I can’t come home yet.” His look at me was pensive. “I’ll call if . . .” A deep breath. “If anything delays me. Yeah. Love you.” He clicked off the phone, slid it in his pocket.
“The stock market,” I prompted. I understood stock-market drops. Apparently the twenty-first century was no different from the twentieth. What goes up must come down, which many investors learn to their sorrow. He assumed I was aware of some recent financial debacle.
“I’d put the money into too many tech stocks.” He didn’t explain, apparently assuming I would understand. “I fudged things, made them look better. I guess I didn’t want to admit I’d made some big mistakes. But I made good on everything. I was paying Mrs. Hamilton back and I’d even added money for interest.”
“So you stole for pride, not gain.” Men won’t ask for directions and they never want to admit to mistakes. “How did Daryl find out?” He almost managed a sardonic smile. “Mrs. Hamilton may be
G h o s t at Wo r k
in her nineties, but she’s a sharp old dame. A couple of weeks ago, Daryl dropped by to see her and she told him how pleased she was about the oil development on the ranch and how smart he’d been to set it up and how much she’d enjoyed having a chat with me when I brought her the papers to sign. He didn’t ante to her, but he knew damn well he hadn’t handled any leases. He found the recorded deed to Horizon Development at the courthouse and figured out what had happened. That’s when he kicked me out of the office, all high-and-mighty even though I know he’s cut corners. He was holier than a prayer book when he called me into his office, but not too holy to stop from blackmailing me.”
“Blackmail?”
“He had me over a barrel. He kept my share of the partnership. As long as he had that confession, I had to agree to anything he wanted.” He shoved the file drawer shut, faced me. There was no fight in him.
His shoulders slumped, his hands hung loosely at his side.
“You had to make sure he didn’t turn you in.” The confession resting beneath the Oriental rug was surely reason enough for murder.
“How did you lure him—” I broke off. I’d almost said
Walter’s head jerked up. “Wait a minute. I didn’t take him to the cemetery. You think I shot him? That’s crazy. I hated him, that’s for sure, but I knew he wouldn’t use the confession. He wouldn’t want Georgia Hamilton to know she’d been cheated.” I folded my arms, looked at him skeptically. “If you knew he wouldn’t use it, why did you let him have money that belonged to you?”
“I couldn’t take the chance.” He looked at me earnestly. “But I swear I didn’t shoot him. You’ve got to believe me.” I didn’t have to believe him. But I did. I saw a man who had gambled and lost, but there wasn’t an iota of threat in him. And he’d said
“take him to the
Ca ro ly n H a rt
How could I know? But whatever the truth in regard to Daryl’s murder, surely I wasn’t going to gloss over Walter’s chicanery. The thought didn’t catch up with my swift impulse to reassure him. “If you didn’t shoot him, there’s no reason for the financial problems to be aired.”
His stare was incredulous. “You mean nobody will ever know?”
“If you didn’t shoot him,” I spoke firmly, “the matter is closed.
When Chief Cobb contacts you, say that you and Daryl disagreed over the future of the business. As for what you’ve lost, you might consider it a penalty for dishonesty.”
“What about the confession? As long as it exists, I can never feel safe.” He still looked hopeless.
