Page 29 of Best Kept Secrets

Stubbornly, Angus shook his head. “Several years ago, this town was booming.”

“Oil?”

“Yessiree. There were ten banks. Ten. More than in any other town this size. Per capita, we were the richest city in the country. Merchants had more business than they could handle. The real e

state market was hot. Everybody prospered.” He paused to take a breath. “You want something to drink? A beer? A Coke?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

Angus took a beer from the refrigerator, twisted off the cap, and took a long drink. “Then, the bottom fell out of the oil market,” he resumed. “We told ourselves that it was temporary.”

“To what extent did the oil market affect you?”

“I hold a hefty percentage in several wells and one natural gas company. But thank God, I’d never invested more than I could afford to lose. I’d never liquidated my other businesses to support an oil well.”

“Still, that drop in the price of oil must have caused you a substantial financial setback. Weren’t you upset?”

He shook his head. “I’ve won and lost more fortunes than you are years old, young lady. Hell, I really don’t mind being broke. Being rich is more fun, but being broke is more exciting. It’s got built-in challenges.

“Sarah Jo,” he said, sighing thoughtfully, “doesn’t agree with me, of course. She likes the security of having money collecting dust in a vault. I’ve never touched her money or Junior’s inheritance. I promised her I never would.”

Talking about inheritances was foreign to Alex. She couldn’t even conceive of it. Merle Graham had supported them on her salary from the telephone company, and then on her pension after her retirement. Alex’s grades had been high enough to earn her a scholarship at the University of Texas, but she’d worked after classes to keep herself dressed and fed so her grandmother wouldn’t have those expenses to complain about.

She had received financial assistance for law school, too, because her grades were so impressive. Working in public service didn’t provide her with luxuries. She’d struggled with her conscience for weeks before rewarding herself with the fur coat for passing the bar. It was one of the few extravagances she had ever allowed herself.

“Do you have enough capital to finance the racetrack?” she asked, bringing her mind back around.

“Not personally.”

“Minton Enterprises?”

“Not by itself. We’ve formed a group of investors, individuals, and businesses that would profit from having the track built here.”

He sat down in his red leather recliner and pointed her into a chair. “During the oil boom, everybody got a taste of wealth. They’re greedy for it again.”

“That’s hardly a flattering assessment of the population of Purcell—a group of avaricious carnivores waiting to gobble up horse-racing money.”

“Not avaricious,” he said. “Everybody would get his fair share, starting with the major investors, and working down to the guy who owns the self-serve filling station on the nearest corner. It wouldn’t mean just individual gain, either. Think of the schools and hospitals and public facilities the town could build with that increased revenue.”

He leaned forward and curled his hand into a fist, as though grasping at something. “That’s why this racetrack is so damned important. It would set Purcell back on its feet and then some.” His blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm for his argument. “Well, what do you think?”

“I’m not a moron, Mr. Minton, uh, Angus,” she corrected. “I realize what the track could mean to the county’s economy.”

“Then, why don’t you drop this ridiculous investigation?”

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” she retaliated sharply.

Studying her, he absently scratched his cheek. “How could you think that I killed your mama? She was one of Junior’s best friends. She was in and out of this house on a daily basis. Not so much after she got married, but certainly before then. I couldn’t have lifted a finger to hurt that girl.”

Alex wanted to believe him. Despite the fact that he was a suspect in a criminal case, she admired him very much. From what she had read and gathered through conversation, he had started with nothing and built an empire.

His brusqueness was almost endearing. He had a persuasive personality. But she couldn’t let his colorful persona influence her. Her admiration for Angus wasn’t as strong as her need to know how she, an innocent baby, had prompted someone to murder her mother.

“I can’t drop the investigation,” she said. “Even if I wanted to, Pat Chastain—”

“Listen,” he said, scooting forward. “You bat those big baby blues of yours at him, tell him you made a mistake, and by this time tomorrow, I guarantee that he won’t even remember what you came here for.”

“I wouldn’t do—”