to get past that.”
Gunther was confused by the reference to her family tree, also remembering that moments ago Marie had referred to Bobby as her son and the destroyed cows as Cal’s herd. “How were you betraying her family tree? Wasn’t Bobby both of yours?”
“Oh, yes. But Jeff isn’t. That’s the rub. Marie’s father lost the farm she grew up on. She’s a woman of some pride and saw his failure as a stain on her family honor. That farm had been theirs for a lot longer than this place has been in my family. To this day, she claims the bank did the old man in, but he fell apart and hit the bottle. From the time Bobby was born, she always saw him taking over here as a kind of redemption: a son of hers setting the legacy right.”
They were still in the Cuttses’ living room, the door closed since Marie’s violent departure.
“And instead you gave it to a troubled kid off the street,” Joe mused.
“Kind of, yeah,” Cutts admitted. “Actually, Jeff wasn’t such a stranger. I knew his folks before they split up and disappeared and left him behind. I always knew he was good at heart. He just needed a break.”
“How did Bobby see his joining the family?” Joe asked.
“He was okay with it,” Cal answered carefully. “I suppose there might’ve been some rivalry early on. But Jeff’s nine years older. It didn’t take them long to sort it out, and after that, they were like brothers. The way I see it, Bobby was actually kind of grateful. He was always better as a number two man—wasn’t comfortable running things. That’s what I meant before.”
“Your wife must have been upset, seeing an outsider doing so well at her son’s expense.”
Calvin hesitated before repeating, “My wife has a lot of pride.”
Gunther wasn’t going to argue with what had obviously become a mantra of sorts. He changed directions slightly. “Sounds like Barry Newhouse has good reason to be pretty angry at Bobby. What do you think he’s capable of?”
Cal echoed his son-in-law. “Not much besides drinking and wasting time.”
“He wouldn’t want to get even?”
Cutts paused, clearly rethinking his response, given Joe’s implication. “Ah,” he said. “He might. He’s had run-ins with the law before.” He dropped his gaze to the floor and let out a deep sigh. “My God,” he added softly, “what have we come to?”
Gunther kept going, hoping to keep the man functional. “What can you tell me about John Frantz’s son?”
Cal looked up, his eyebrows arched. “Rick? Good Lord. I don’t know. He’ll probably put his father into an early grave, but that may be as much John’s fault as Rick’s. John’s a little straitlaced. Why do you ask?”
Joe kept his reply vague. “I heard he might be seeing Marianne, too. Would you call Rick a violent kid?”
Cal pushed his lips out and reflected. “I honestly don’t know. All the black leather clothes and body piercing. The violent message is there, but I don’t know if he’s ever carried it out. He could certainly hold his own if it came to a fight, I guess.” He gave Joe a hapless look. “Sorry.”
Joe rose to his feet and crossed to the window. Leaning against the cold glass, he asked, “I’m sorry to get more personal, but I need to know a couple of private things.”
Still sitting on the couch, Cutts looked up at him open-faced. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
“How were your finances before the fire?”
Cal smiled wryly as he answered, “Blame the patient for the illness?”
But Joe shook his head. “If by that you mean that I’m thinking insurance fraud, I don’t believe you’re a man who would sacrifice his animals, much less risk killing someone. I do have to ask, though. Not to mention that you may not be the only one to benefit from the loss of this farm.”
Cutts sighed. “Finances were fine; at least normal. I own the farm free and clear, I have an equipment loan from the farm service agency with about thirteen thousand