Death of a Rancher's Daughter Read online

  Sandra led her to the sofa and table in the alcove in front of the front window that overlooked the driveway and sat her down. The sun had about set, the sky a maroon and gray. After retrieving a box of tissues from the guest bathroom, she said, “You sit here. I'll bring you a glass of water.”

  BJ blew her nose long and hard and then sniffed and blew again. Sandra found a large glass and drew water from the dispenser in the refrigerator door. She sure would like a drink about now. And not water. She slurped from her coffee before setting the water glass in front of BJ, who swallowed most of it in one gulp.

  Sandra sat adjacent to BJ. The multi-paned window gave a perfect view of part of the circular approach to the house. Lights would come in if someone drove up. “Are you ready to tell me what's going on?”

  BJ made a little noise like a puppy's yelp. She blew her nose again. “I don't know how my life turned to shit.”

  Sandra pulled one leg up under her and turned toward BJ, waiting until BJ was ready to talk.

  “Something happened between Kathy Lynn and Rex, and I'm not privy to it. I've asked both of them outright, separately, and neither of them will say.”

  Sandra kept eye contact as much as possible. After BJ wiped her eyes with one of the fresh tissues, she continued, “Don't know if it has to do with Rufina or not. Rex comes around like a gunfighter looking for trouble, and Kathy Lynn makes herself scarce when he's here. I don't think they've been in the same room together since...since...” She broke down and sobbed some more.

  Sandra continued to be uncomfortable and fought to be patient. She wasn’t used to crying clients. Seldom when visiting them in jail did they break down. Of course, life had hardened many of them. When she'd been in the DA's office, victim advocates took care of most of the victims and witnesses.

  Sandra waited until BJ got ahold of herself before asking, “When did all this start?”

  BJ breathed deeply several times and wiped her nose. “I'm all right now. I think. “Since...since the night Katy Jo died. Everyone was here. We had dinner together.”

  “By everyone, you mean the kids and you?”

  She sat back. “Yeah, well, here's how it is at Christmastime. Roy started this tradition years ago when he got the ranch. Unless his family did it, I don't remember. Maybe they did.”

  Sandra breathed deeply and clenched her hands together to help herself be patient while BJ told her story.

  “Anyway, when it gets close to Christmas, we always have an early afternoon dinner for everyone who works on the ranch. A real spread. A buffet. They all come and bring their families, and I hand out the bonuses. Roy used to, of course, but now I do it. I've never been real crazy about it. To me, it seems kind of demeaning.”

  Sandra telegraphed her a discouraging look, so she wouldn't go off on a tangent.

  “So anyway, everyone was there.”

  “Everyone being...”

  “Rufina, her brother Carlos and his family—though Carlos was acting rude. I don't know what caused that. The other hands and families came. We had quite a crowd. Then afterward, we had the family dinner, me and the kids and Elgin and Katy Jo's boyfriend, Doug. It was a kind of pre-Christmas dinner for us.”

  “Katy Jo's boyfriend, Doug?” That was the first anyone said Katy Jo had a boyfriend. “Where does he live?”

  “Dallas. You've heard of bigger'n Dallas? Doug was being scouted to play pro football till a bad knee injury changed his life. He's a giant redhead, but gentle as they come.”

  “Kathy Lynn have a boyfriend?”

  “She's between boyfriends right now.”

  Sandra chewed on her upper lip for a moment. “Anything happen at that dinner that was out of the ordinary?”

  “No. I gave out the bonus checks to the employees who were there, in envelopes, of course. The newer hands don't receive as much, but everyone gets something. No one ever seems to be distressed about that.”

  “So the family pre-Christmas dinner was after that? Rex, how was he that night?”

  BJ's eyes rose to the ceiling. “He was Rex, though a little more obnoxious than normal because he'd had a few shots of mezcal.” She shook her head. “He hasn't been real manageable since his daddy died.”

  If ever, Sandra wanted to add. “Let's go back to Kathy Lynn and Rex not being in the same room since that night. What about at the funeral?”

  “Kathy Lynn sat on one side of me and Rex on the other. At the viewing, Kathy Lynn stayed as far away from Rex as possible. She wouldn't even look at him.” Her eyes welled up again.

  Sandra and Erma were going to have to figure that out, and fast, now that they were taking the March setting. A shiver ran down her neck. “You have no idea what's happened between them?”

  BJ shook her head. She sat straighter and rolled her shoulders back and glanced out the window into the pitch dark. “I guess you need to go to Rufina's before Rex gets here.”

  Sandra glanced at her phone. It was nigh onto dinnertime. “Who would Rufina be afraid of, BJ?”

  “I guess whoever really fired that shot. I can't think of anyone else. Do you think Rufina knows something she doesn't want to tell us? We've always confided in each other before this. It's crazy. If she's scared to come out now, when she's freed after the trial won't she still think she's in danger then?” BJ's face screwed up again. “I'm so confused.”

  “Don't—” Sandra said, holding up her hand. “No more tears. We've got to figure this out. We've got a million things to do, people to talk to—including Kathy Lynn.”

  BJ dried her cheeks. “What was Erma calling about? Is something wrong?”

  “We have a new trial setting.”

  BJ's face didn't give any indication that she already knew. “That's good, isn't it? When will it be?”

  “End of next month, March, which is too soon. We're wondering whether the district attorney obtained the setting, so we wouldn't have time to prepare. I wouldn't put it past him.”

  “Won't they give you another date?”

  “Nope. It’s either this one or the one so far in the future, calendars aren't even out yet.”

  Light came through the alcove window, headlights.

  “Rex,” BJ said. “Do you want to talk to him or head to Rufina's?”

  “If you'll show me a side door and point me toward Rufina's cottage, I'm outta here.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Why are you here?” Rufina had opened the door a crack. “Billie J send you?”

  “No one sent me, but I understand you're refusing to leave the house.”

  One eye appeared through the crack, the good one. “Sí, es verdad.”

  “Por qué?”

  “Safer inside. I would have stayed in jail, but they wouldn't let me.”

  Sandra nodded. “I would think you wouldn't want to stay in that depressing place. Didn't I hear someone committed suicide in there?”

  “It wasn't me.” Rufina stepped back to let Sandra inside. “I guess since you're my abogado I can trust you.” She waved Sandra into the cottage.

  “Ha. Ha. I'm glad you have a sense of humor.” Sandra glanced around the entry hall. The place was quite sweet with what looked like recently painted sheetrock and wood trim, several pieces of art, and good lighting. She kept walking into a dining room-living area combination. A rustic table, with a place-setting for one, and six chairs, stood to the side. A heavy smell of spice filled the air. Cumin, maybe? Sandra's stomach reminded her lunch in the bakery had been more than a few hours ago.

  “An inmate tried to hang himself a few days ago.” Rufina followed her. “That's what they say.”

  “You don't seem too distressed over that.” A dark-orange sofa sat in the center of the living area and faced a lit fireplace. Sandra stepped between the sofa and a yellow and orange print fabric-covered rocker and held her hands over the fire to warm them. The had been relatively warm, but the night had grown cold. She'd left her jacket lying on the bed in the guest room.

  “Sandra, I grew up h
ere. The news might not make the weekly paper, but inmates in our jail do die every once in a while, especially Mexicans.”

  “Yeah? Yet you would have preferred to stay in jail? May I sit down?”

  Rufina took a ball of yarn and a crochet hook from the sofa cushion and gestured for Sandra to have a seat.

  Rufina sat in the rocker, her toes scraping the floor as she scooched back. She held the yarn and hook in her lap and stared at Sandra.

  “I take it for some reason you think you're in danger and that you'd be safer in the jail than in your house?”

  “Your questions are like every other abogado's.” Rufina rocked back and forth.

  “That's because I am one.” She smiled at her own weak attempt at humor. “I could use your help in preparing for trial. We have a lot to do and not much time. Our court date is now the end of next month.”

  Rufina exhaled. “Mother of God. That's not much time.”

  “Yup. They gave us the date, and we didn't want to pass on it, though it’ll be a scramble.” She stared at the little woman for a moment. Would Rufina be open and honest with her or hold things back like so many defendants. “So why are you afraid to come out of your house?”

  Rufina rocked some more and stared into space as though deciding what to say.

  “Someone threaten you?”

  “Did you know someone is telling people BJ and I are lesbians?”

  “No shit?” Sandra mulled that over. Should she ask if it's true? If it was true, then so what? What did it mean to Rufina? She cocked an eyebrow. “That's why you're afraid to come out of your house?”

  Rufina rocked faster. “My brother, Carlos, he came to the jail and started yelling at me, his face all red, the veins sticking out of his neck. He said I brought shame on the family.”

  “Uh, yeah. I saw him like that late this morning.”

  “You did? Dónde?”

  “On Main. He said you want to fire me, and he would hire you a San Antonio lawyer, which is what you wanted.”

  “Nunca! No way. His lawyer would make me plead guilty so the family would not be embarrassed if it came out in trial that Billie J and I are lesbians.”

  “So you are lovers? You and BJ? Not that it matters.”

  “No, we're not.” She shook her head. “We are close like sisters, but ugh, no. She looked at Sandra. “I mean no offense if you are, but me? Us? No.”

  “I'm not either.”

  They both laughed.

  “Carlos hasn't threatened you, has he? Other than with another lawyer?”

  “Not exactly, but he was mad. His temper is bad sometimes. And he's prejudiced.”

  “Against gay people?”

  “Against gay people, black people, white people, almost everyone.”

  “So you wouldn't invite him in for coffee to discuss the matter?”

  “He wouldn't believe me when I told him it wasn't true.”

  “So you think he might hurt you? Like an honor killing?”

  Rufina's face screwed up. “No. Mexicans don't do honor killings, at least as far as I know, and never in our family. I can't explain why he thinks that of us. He's known Billie J and Roy since he was a niño.”

  “I must ask, would he hurt me? He got up in my face, plus someone keyed my car. Would he do that?”

  Rufina considered it and shook her head. “He's never been that way before. He just gets angry. I don't think he would hurt you.”

  “Do you think if he catches you outside, he would do something to you?”

  “Or someone else would.”

  Sandra tilted her head and closed one eye. “Like who?”

  “Sandra, I worked in the courts for many years. I have seen many things. I don't trust people. What if someone wanted me dead, so they could blame me for Katy Jo's murder and close the case?”

  Sandra's head pounded with the beginning of a headache. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her scalp. “Yeah, what if. These days, it could happen.” She couldn't very well tell Rufina not to worry, because something like that was always possible. She peeked through her fingers. “I'm thinking here.” She smiled out of one side of her mouth. “I really do need your help in preparing for trial. Particularly if you think you know who might have shot Katy Jo.”

  “I don't. And I don't know how I would be of help.”

  “For starters, I want to interview the ladies who work with you in the house, at least briefly. Am I correct when I assume they aren't fluent in English? You could interpret.”

  “Billie J's Spanish is like a native's.”

  “BJ's the boss. Would they answer honestly if she were interpreting?”

  Rufina shifted her eyes. “How are you going to feel when someone kills me?”

  “Rufina, be reasonable. We'll do whatever we can to protect you. BJ will do whatever she can.”

  “She can't do anything. People come and go on the ranch.”

  “What if we got her to give you a different cottage and changed the locks on it and put locks on all the windows and got you a dog—a big dog?”

  “A German shepherd?” Her eyes lit up.

  “Whatever you want. In fact, I'll do you one better. How about if we switch cottages with you when we're up here? BJ wants us to stay in the house, but we have news for her. Ain't gonna happen.” Sandra wanted to be more than one room away from Rex if he came for the trial. “Erma said BJ has a vacant cottage, a two bedroom. We're going to insist we stay there during the trial, rather than in the house. You can stay in that cottage, and we'll take yours.” She watched Rufina's face—the undamaged side of her face, which was the only readable side. Rufina was thinking hard, her forehead drawn together.

  “And in the meantime? What about over the next month? If I go to a different cottage in the next month, people will figure it out.” She leaned down to the same level as Sandra who still had her head lowered. “This is a two bedroom, too.” She jerked her head to the right, which plainly led to the bedroom side of the cottage. “When my husband was alive, it was ours to live in or use for whatever, like a casita down in Mexico. Often the patrón, the boss, will give the workers a place to live. After the fire, Billie J rebuilt it, only better. This is the best cottage on the ranch, but you can stay here during the trial. Está bien.”

  Sandra acknowledged that last bit with a nod. “Why do I get the impression you’re not telling me something?”

  Rufina took a deep breath. “I know something no one else knows.”

  “About the murder?” Pain persisted in Sandra’s head. “You have to tell me everything, Rufina. Everything whether you think it matters or not.”

  Rufina bit her lip. “You won’t tell anyone? You won’t tell Billie J?”

  “You’re the client. I won’t reveal anything you don’t want me to.” She rubbed her temples.

  Rufina blurted, “Katy Jo and Doug met in my second bedroom.”

  “You are kidding me. And no one knows?”

  Her eyes flared. “Just me. No one else did. They only met here after dark or if no one else would be around.”

  “Why? Why keep it a secret?”

  “For privacy. I spent a lot of time at the house in the evenings when just me and Billie J were home. They were going to be married someday but didn't want anyone rushing them. Plus Billie J, she can be old-fashioned sometimes.” She shrugged one shoulder. “She wanted Katy Jo to go to school for her PhD first. She said someday Doug would need to go back to school. You can't work construction forever. Your body gets worn out. Katy Jo would need a good job to support them. And Rex—”

  “I suppose he would have harassed them.”

  “Sí.” Her eyes rested on a spot over Sandra's head. “He hated her. He would do anything to make her unhappy.”

  “No one's told me why he hated Katy Jo. Had she done something to him?”

  Rufina shook her head and shrugged.

  Sandra sat up and rubbed her temples again. So much to figure out. Did it all fit together somehow to make a picture that
would save Rufina? “Were Doug and Katy Jo in your cottage the night of the murder?”

  “I think so. I heard voices.”

  “But you didn’t see them? And they didn’t see you?”

  “I didn’t see them. I don’t know if they knew I was there, I was in my bedroom. They probably thought I was there asleep.”

  “Boy, it would be so helpful if Doug could testify you were in your cottage at the time of the shooting. I’m going to have to talk to him.”

  Rufina said, “Sí lo haría.”

  Sandra wasn’t sure what that meant, but Rufina’s face had lit up, so it had to be good. “Back to getting you out of this house. You think my idea about switching cottages is workable?”

  “No sé. It will take time to set up the cottage. And the locks—and you still haven't told me, what do I do in the meantime?”

  “I've got an idea.”

  Rufina sat back. “What are you thinking?”

  “You can come to Galveston with me while BJ gets someone out here to do the lock thing—she'll put locks put on every window and door of where we're supposedly staying. Hell, on both places if she can do it unobtrusively, but for sure the one where we're supposed to be staying, making everyone aware of it—and she can get someone to switch the necessities from one cottage to the other, so no one will suspect. Someone trustworthy. You trust the other ladies who work for her?”

  Rufina gripped the rocker's arms. “Go to Galveston with you? Would the judge let me do that? Where would I stay? How would I be safer there if anyone knew where I was?”

  “With Erma. She's got a beautiful guest room. You'd be safe in her house. During the days you'd be at the office with us. I know there is more stuff for you to tell me—us—about what went on at the ranch. So much we aren't aware of. Remember, it's only a little over a month now instead of a year. There's no time to waste.”

  Rufina stared at Sandra for a long while.

  “Tomorrow we could talk to some of the ladies, and the rest over the phone. I'm sure BJ would provide a private part of her house for them to use the phone. Erma or I would pose the questions and you could interpret both ways. That is...”