Live and Let Growl (12 page)

“We do,” Aunt Peg affirmed.

“The farm is owned by two of my mother's cousins now, Sheldon and Billy Gates. In Kentucky we believe in keeping good land in the family. In due time, this farm will pass to my generation. Although not, of course, to me.”

Gates's tone was matter-of-fact, betraying none of the bitterness Miss Ellie had when she'd spoken about the forfeiture of her heritage. Perhaps because he'd never had ownership in the land himself, he didn't feel its loss as keenly as his mother had.

“An accident?” Aunt Peg prodded gently.

Abruptly Gates started walking again. “It was those damn dogs,” he said. “Or maybe it wasn't, and I'm just looking for something to blame. But they're the reason Mother was here yesterday morning. As usual I didn't see her. I didn't even know she was here until much later. Nobody did.”

“As usual?” Aunt Peg sounded surprised.

“It's a big farm,” said Gates. “And the horses we have here are worth a significant sum of money. So we do everything we can to keep them safe. But unfortunately you can't wrap them up in bubble wrap. The best way to keep horses happy and healthy is by letting them live outside as naturally as possible. But giving them that freedom also increases the chances that something can go wrong. An astute horseman once said that all Thoroughbreds get up every morning trying to figure out how to commit suicide. And that the more valuable they are, the more likely they are to succeed.”

Aunt Peg and I shared an amused look.

“We have to let horses be horses,” Gates continued, “and that means there's only so much we can do to protect them from themselves.”

“And horses and loose dogs are not a good combination,” Aunt Peg guessed.

Gates nodded. “The last thing anyone wants is a dog chasing the horses and making them run.”

“I thought racehorses liked to run,” I said.

“They do. But it's one thing for horses to race around their pasture for the sheer joy of it. And quite another for a perceived predator—or in this case a pack of noisy terriers—to panic them into a mad scramble for escape. That's how accidents and injuries happen.”

“So Miss Ellie confined her walks to the more remote areas of the farm because she didn't want to disturb anyone,” Aunt Peg said.

“That was one reason. But I also think that she enjoyed being on her own. Green Gates Farm has changed quite a bit over the last several decades. We've added new barns, an updated breeding shed, and the training track. I think Mother preferred visiting the outlying parts of the property that still look the same way she remembered from her childhood.”

The big white broodmare barn was right in front of us now. The dirt road ended at the foot of its wide center aisle.

“Mother had a fall,” Gates said quietly. “I'm sure she thought she knew every path, every hill, every hollow on this farm. And maybe she did. But somehow she must have stumbled or maybe lost her balance. We found her at the bottom of a ravine. She had broken her neck and was already gone before help arrived.”

“How awful.” Aunt Peg exhaled a soft breath. “I can only imagine what a shock that must have been for you.”

“It was the last thing I ever expected,” said Gates. “I always thought Mother would outlive us all. It seems crazy that something so trivial would take her from us.”

There was a minute of silence before anyone spoke again.

“One of the farm workers found her,” Gates said then. “Her dogs were howling and making an awful racket. Finally somebody went to investigate. He immediately called Sheldon who called for an ambulance.”

“The police must have responded, too,” I said.

“They did,” Gates confirmed. “Sheldon and Billy were both there by then. They walked around the scene with the deputies and together they figured out what must have happened.”

“Will they be investigating your mother's death?” Aunt Peg asked.

“No, ma'am. This is a working farm in an agricultural community and everybody is aware that accidents happen. Besides, this is Gates land. The Sheriff said he was satisfied, that there didn't appear to be anything that needed looking into.”

Aunt Peg pursed her lips. I could see that she wasn't happy.

“Were
you
satisfied?” she asked gently.

Gates didn't answer right away. “My mother was getting on in years,” he said finally. “So she could have taken a bad step. If the Sheriff was satisfied with what he saw, it's not my place to argue with that. It's not like I know anything different, and going against the family would cost me my job. And that's the
last
thing my mother would have wanted.”

I tipped my head around and glared at Aunt Peg.
Back off.

She still didn't look happy but she did change the subject. “I wasn't sure if we'd find you here today,” she said to Gates. “I thought you might be taking some time off.”

“The cousins offered. They told me to take as long as I needed. But I'd rather work. I feel better when I keep busy. Besides, it's foaling season.”

Aunt Peg looked every bit as baffled by that last remark as I was.

Gates managed a small smile. “You both have dogs, right? So I'm sure you understand what it's like to be a caretaker for animals. You can't just take a day off because you don't feel well or there's something you'd rather do. And spring is our busiest season. Mares are foaling and being bred back. There are matings to plan and new babies to take care of.”

Gates turned away. His gaze slowly scanned the land around us.

“This farm is the place my mother loved best,” he said softly. “And I'll tell you what. If there is a Heaven on earth, it's right here. And if I know Mother, she put her foot down when she met Saint Peter and said she wasn't leaving. So I'm just as happy to be here keeping her company.”

Chapter 12

I
was so caught up in the conversation that I didn't even notice the battered pickup truck that had come around the side of the barn until its driver changed course, headed our way, and tooted the horn softly. We stepped off the uneven road onto the grassy verge as the truck pulled up beside us.

The driver rolled down his window and stuck out his head. He was wearing a faded baseball cap with the Green Gates Farm logo embroidered above the brim. Then I saw the man's face and realized that he was Miss Ellie's cousin Billy.

“I been looking for you,” he said to Gates. “They told me in the barn they didn't know where you'd gone off to.”

“I'm on my way back there now,” Gates replied. “I was just talking to a couple of my mother's friends.”

Though he'd interrupted our conversation, Billy hadn't bothered to acknowledge Aunt Peg or me. Now he turned and had a look at us. His gaze narrowed at what he saw.

“I know you,” he said to Aunt Peg.

“I'm Margaret Turnbull,” she told him. “We met the other day at Six Oaks Farm. I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Gates.”

Billy dipped his head in a short, sharp nod. “What happened to Miss Ellie was a terrible thing. You say you were a friend of hers?”

“She and I showed Poodles together for many years.”

“That explains it.”

His tone was so dismissive that I didn't need to ask for clarification. Apparently Billy Gates recalled his prior meeting with Aunt Peg quite clearly.

“I was just about to tell them that the funeral is on Monday,” Gates said. He turned back to Aunt Peg and me. “I'll make sure you get the details before you leave. We'd be happy to have you join us if you're still here.”

“Oh?” Billy asked with interest. “Where are you going?”

“Aunt Peg and I live in Connecticut,” I told him. “We came to Kentucky for dog shows and so that Peg could visit her new broodmare at Six Oaks. Fortunately we were able to spend some time with Miss Ellie during the first two days of our visit.”

I shifted my gaze away from Billy's weathered face, looking past him at the picturesque all around us. “You have a beautiful farm. Miss Ellie told us how much she loved this place.”

“That she did,” Billy agreed. “And she never let anyone forget it. Miss Ellie could be like a bad rash, always itching away at you until she finally got what she wanted. At her age, maybe it wasn't so safe for her to be walking around these hills. But who could stop her? Miss Ellie never wanted to hear a damn thing that wasn't her own idea first.”

Billy fell silent. He wiped a hand across his face. All of us pretended not to notice that he'd brushed away a tear. “I'm supposed to be the guardian of this land. You take care of the land and it takes care of you; that's what I was always taught. But that's not what happened, is it?”

Gates reached in through the opening and placed a hand on Billy's shoulder. I saw him give a firm squeeze. “Nobody blames you for what happened. It was an accident, that's all.”

Billy didn't reply. I heard a grinding noise as he shoved the truck back into gear. “Ma'am.” He tipped the brim of his hat to Aunt Peg, then turned to Gates. “Y'all call me when you're done here.” He rolled his window back up and the truck rattled away down the drive.

“We've kept you long enough,” said Aunt Peg. “We had better be going, too.”

Gates walked us back to the office. Once there, he ducked inside the building to write down the information about Miss Ellie's funeral. When he reappeared, Aunt Peg drew him aside. They chatted only briefly. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I saw Gates shake his head twice. Then the two of them walked back to the minivan where I was waiting.

“Thank you for taking the time to come and see me,” he said. “It's gratifying to know that my mother had such wonderful friends. I expect there will be a big turnout on Monday. I hope you'll be able to come.”

“We will be there,” Aunt Peg said with certainty.

I waited until we'd reached the end of the driveway and were back out on the road before turning to Aunt Peg. “What was that about?” I asked.

“What?” She spared me a glance across the front seat of the van.

As if she didn't know. This was clearly payback for my interference in her earlier interrogation of Miss Ellie's son.

“That private chat with Gates?”

“Oh that.”

I turned in her direction so she couldn't miss the gesture and rolled my eyes with a bit of theatrical flair. Aunt Peg's lips twitched.

“I simply asked Gates quite casually whether his mother had ever said anything to him about trying to regain her inheritance.”

So much for backing off,
I thought. On the other hand, I wasn't about to complain. I was curious, too.

“And what did he say?”

“He told me that as far as he knew the thought had never crossed her mind. Indeed he seemed quite taken aback by the question.”

“So maybe the comment Miss Ellie made to you was about something else entirely.”

“That's one explanation,” Aunt Peg said, but she didn't sound convinced. “But it's also possible that since Gates is employed by her cousins, if Miss Ellie made such a plan she didn't let him in on it.”

At least Aunt Peg is consistent. You can always trust her to bypass the easy answer in favor of a difficult one.

* * *

I was delighted to be reunited with Faith when we got back to the hotel later that afternoon. Bertie met us there as she'd already finished up at the dog show. She would need to return to the Expo Center later to feed and exercise her string, but in the meantime the three of us could have an early dinner.

While I waited for the others to get ready, I took a few minutes to call Sam. I wanted to bring him up to date on recent events and also to make sure that he didn't mind if I stayed in Kentucky a bit longer than originally planned.

I started with the news about Miss Ellie. Not surprisingly, Sam was shocked to hear of her sudden demise. “What a terrible turn of events,” he said. “Peg must be crestfallen. I know she was hoping to spend more time with Miss Ellie today when she wasn't judging.”

“How do you know that?” I asked with a small frown.

“Peg and I talk. You guys have been away for five days. You've called me twice. She's called me three times.”

“Really?” I gulped.
He'd actually been keeping count?

“Sure. Mostly we just talk about her judging assignment and the dogs she's seen.”

“And Miss Ellie too, apparently.” I might have sounded a bit snippy. It turns out guilt can do that. I couldn't believe that Aunt Peg was calling home—to
my
home—more often than I was.

“And Miss Ellie,” Sam agreed easily. “Although I hadn't heard from Peg since early yesterday. I guess now I know why.”

“Aunt Peg wants to stay a few extra days to attend the funeral,” I said.

“Is that the only reason?”

“What do you mean?”

The question just slipped out. I was pretty sure I knew what Sam meant.

“Peg wants to know what happened, doesn't she? A random, accidental death with no witnesses? I'm not a suspicious kind of guy and even I have to wonder about that. Stay as long as you want. Kev and I are doing great.”

The mere mention of my son's name brought a smile to my face. “Put him on for a minute, will you?”

“Sure thing.”

“Mom-meee!” Kevin shrieked into the receiver a moment later.

I laughed and held the phone away from my ear. It was great to hear his voice.

“Hey, Kev,” I said. “I miss you.”

“Miss you, too,” he replied solemnly.

“Are you having a good time with Daddy?”

“Good time,” he said. “Tar ate Davey's ear buds.”

“
What?
”

“Tar—”

Abruptly Kevin's voice disappeared and Sam was back.

“It was just one,” he told me. “And I made him throw it right back up. And we've been to the vet. No harm done.”

Except to the ear bud presumably.

“You know Tar,” said Sam.

Well, yes, I surely did. I adored Tar but he was a leap-first kind of dog. The thought of consequences simply never crossed his mind.

Come to think of it, he and Aunt Peg had more than a little in common.

“Is everything else good at home?” I asked.

“Couldn't be better,” Sam replied. He put Kev back on the phone long enough to say good-bye and then we ended the call.

Faith watched me slide the phone back in my pocket regretfully. Sitting beside me, she had listened in while I'd chatted with Sam. When Kevin had shrieked into the phone she'd stood up and wagged her tail. Too late, it occurred to me that I probably should have held the phone to her ear and let her hear a few words from the rest of her family. Faith would have liked that.

“Next time,” I promised her.

Since Bertie still needed to return to the Expo Center to care for her dogs, we opted for an easy dinner in the hotel's café. Aunt Peg ordered salmon. I had a Caesar salad with chicken. Bertie ordered a Hot Brown.

“Oh my.” Aunt Peg peered at Bertie's dish when our entrées arrived. A hodgepodge of ingredients were layered on a large plate and the whole thing appeared to be smothered in white sauce. “What
is
that?”

“A Hot Brown is a traditional Kentucky dish,” Bertie told us. She had read the description on the menu. “It originated right here in Louisville. It's got bread, and turkey, and tomatoes, and cheese.”

“Bacon, too,” I said somewhat enviously. My Caesar salad suddenly looked Spartan by comparison.

“Not just bread,” the waiter informed us. “It's Texas toast. And Mornay sauce. You'll love it. Everybody does.”

Aunt Peg leaned in for a closer look. “It looks like a heart attack on a plate,” she decided. A weight gain over the winter had had no effect on her sweet tooth, but it had convinced her to start watching other elements of her diet.

Bertie just grinned. “You know you wish you'd ordered one, too.”

“I could make a substitution,” the waiter offered.

He started to reach for Aunt Peg's plate. She slapped his hand away.

“Don't you dare. My salmon looks delicious.”

“So does your broccoli,” I told her archly. “And that tiny little dab of couscous.” I slid my bread plate in Bertie's direction. “That thing is too big for one person. Cut me off a sliver so I can taste it.”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Aunt Peg chided me. “Bertie is eating for two.”

“The sad thing is, I could easily finish this whole dish,” Bertie said. “And possibly have seconds. When I'm not throwing up, I'm starving. I wasn't like this the first time around. Do you suppose that means I'm having a boy?”

“I thought you didn't want to know the sex ahead of time,” I said.

“I don't. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to spend the next six months guessing which it is.”

The waiter refilled our drinks, then left us to our meal. We all dug into our entrées, some of us with more enthusiasm than others. Surreptitiously watching Aunt Peg pick at her salmon and broccoli, I suspected that we'd be having something filled with sugar for dessert.

“So tell me about your trip to Lexington,” Bertie said as we ate. “Did you find out what happened to Miss Ellie?”

“She had a fall,” I said.

Aunt Peg snorted.

“Into a ravine,” I added. “She broke her neck.”

“Ouch,” said Bertie.

“If that's the way it happened,” Aunt Peg muttered.

As usual, Sam's guess had been right on the money.

“You were right there with me earlier,” I said to Aunt Peg. “You heard what Gates and Billy had to say. Neither one of them was suspicious about what happened.”

“Maybe they lack imagination,” Peg retorted.

Certainly no one had ever accused Aunt Peg of
that
.

“Ellie Gates Wanamaker was not a stupid woman,” she said.

“I don't believe anyone said that she was,” I replied.

“Gates told us that Miss Ellie had been walking that land since she was a child. That she knew every nook and cranny on the farm. So why did she fall in a hole?”

“Maybe she slipped,” I said.

“Maybe somebody pushed her,” Aunt Peg uttered darkly.

Bertie looked up from her plate. “Who?”

“If I knew that,” Aunt Peg said, “I wouldn't be sitting here.”

Bertie shook her head. “No, what I mean is . . . who would want to? What would anybody have to gain from Miss Ellie's death?”

Aunt Peg didn't reply. Despite the agile workings of her always devious mind, she had no more idea of the answer to that than I did.

“There is one thing,” I mentioned.

“Oh?” Aunt Peg beamed approvingly in my direction.

Interested in the conversation, she'd stopped eating. Bertie, on the other hand, was working her way through that gooey mass of carbohydrates as if she thought she might never see another meal.

“It was really interesting walking around the dog show with Miss Ellie on Thursday,” I said. “Tons of people recognized her. It was almost like escorting a celebrity.”

Aunt Peg flapped a hand impatiently, motioning me to get to the point.

“But not everyone's reaction was positive. In fact, I got the impression that some people weren't at all happy to see her.”