Death on the Diagonal - By Nero Blanc Page 0,75

years back. But I hadn’t met her then, and I never asked about her history. Call me blind, if you want. One thing I do know: Orlando may have been shagging my wife, but Jack was too loyal to pull a stunt like that. And too grateful that I’d brought him back into the big time. I guess you could say I rescued him. I sure as hell saved him from himself. He’d had money problems and so forth when he and Fee were first hitched, but from what I’d heard he’d finally gotten himself in debt big-time, and was starting to hit the sauce in earnest. But he cleaned himself up before he came back to Wenstarin Farms, and that was good enough for me.”

Again, Rosco nodded in thought. “I appreciate your talking to me so candidly, Mr. Collins. And I also realize that this isn’t an easy conversation for you to have.”

Collins allowed himself another wan smile. “I told you, Polycrates, I’m glad to unburden myself. It’s kind of odd, but I haven’t had a soul to talk to since Ryan died. Oh, my kids, sure, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “It hasn’t been easy knowing how, and why, that damn fire started. And what happened afterwards . . .” Tears choked his voice. He leaned back in his chair and seemed to visibly force himself into self-control again. Then he released a hollow laugh. “I guess this interview means that you’re going to help me find my wife’s killer. Now that your concerns about arson are resolved, I mean.”

Rosco hedged his response with a noncommittal, “If your son and daughters knew about the situation with your barn manager and your wife, did Kelly know as well?”

Collins thought. His frown deepened. “You’re not suggesting Kelly killed Ryan, are you?”

“Jealousy’s a powerful motive, Mr. Collins.” Knowing that the emotion worked both ways, Rosco closely watched Todd’s face, hoping the statement would bring on some reaction, but it didn’t.

“Little Kelly? Kill Ryan? Why, Ryan was a good three inches taller than Kelly . . .” He shook his head from side to side. “No . . . that’s just not possible. Kelly’s like a doll. Scurries around here like a tiny mouse. She wouldn’t have it in her. Besides, she was thankful as all get-out when my wife hired her. They were more like best buddies than employee and employer.”

“Which would only add to a sense of betrayal if she discovered her friend was moving in on her husband,” Rosco observed.

“I don’t buy that. No, you’re barking up the wrong tree with Kelly. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

Collins drained what was left of his drink, appeared to consider pouring himself another, then put the glass firmly on a nearby table. “I’ve got to lay off of this stuff,” he muttered, then added a reasoned, “Maybe I can imagine Kelly getting angry with her husband for cheating on her, but never Ryan. Not in a million years. Those women were really close. Of course, Kelly would have a tough time beating up on Orlando. She’s too petite, and he’s pure muscle. She’d move out if she knew, but I can’t see her trying to resort to physical violence.”

“But your daughter’s not a big woman, and yet she’s in custody for killing Jack Curry.”

Collins covered his face with his hands. “Oh, my poor Heather . . . I told you I’ve been wrestling with this . . . I simply can’t believe there’s any truth to that, either.”

Rosco gave him a moment to calm down. “Tell me about Michael Palamountain, Mr. Collins.”

He released a long sigh and looked up. “Not much to tell. He’s an investment guy. Quiet, reserved—at least, I believed he was until last night.” Collins thought for a moment. “But then, those were highly unusual circumstances, and no one was behaving well.” He paused again. “Michael handles the farm’s financial transactions.”

“And you trust him?” The statement was more question than comment.

“I’m a businessman, Polycrates. A fancier of good horseflesh, absolutely, but I couldn’t indulge this very, very expensive habit if I didn’t also run a lucrative corporation—and then try to make the farm into a moneymaker as well. Yes, I trust Michael not to cook the books, if that’s what you mean.” He let out a small chuckle. “But don’t think I’m not looking over his shoulder every minute.”

“Palamountain also sent your daughter—his own wife—to jail, sir. It was his word