The Pink Pony

by Charles Cutter

  Burr still didn’t see how anyone could identify them, which was exactly Karpinen’s point.

  “These are the ones that match the widow and her lawyer.” Muller picked up another piece of paper. “I still don’t know who these belong to.” He shuffled through the pile and picked up another one. “This one belongs to the kid next door, whatever his name is.”

  “Ronnie Cross,” Jacob said.

  “His prints don’t match the prints on the lights,” Mueller said.

  “So, he wasn’t there and he’s not the killer,” Eve said.

  “All it means is that his prints aren’t on the lights. He may have been there, and he may have killed Jimmy,” Burr said.

  Mueller went back to his newspaper. Burr and his entourage walked to cabin Number 5. Burr knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. “Are you sure this is his room?”

  “This is where I left him,” Jacob said.

  Burr knocked again. The door opened a crack.

  “Ronnie?” Burr said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Burr Lafayette.” Silence. “The lawyer.” More silence. “Jacob Wertheim’s partner.”

  “Oh.”

  “Can we come in?”

  “I’m sleeping.”

  “It’s almost noon,” Burr said.

  “I’m in college.”

  “My client is on trial for murder.”

  “I’m not dressed.”

  “Ronnie, I’m going to count to three and then we’re coming in. All three of us. One of whom is a woman.” Ronnie walked away. He left the door open and in they went. Ronnie sat on the bed in a pair of plaid boxer shorts. He was at least six-three with broad shoulders, a small waist, and what was left of a tan.

  Handsome. That was really all that was necessary to say about him. Big, strong and handsome. Wheat-colored hair and the same green eyes that Anne had. Eve couldn’t keep her eyes off him. For that matter, neither could Jacob.

  “Do you want to get dressed?”

  “I’m good,” Ronnie said.

  “Your fingerprints don’t match the lights,” Burr said.

  “I told him they wouldn’t.”

  “You could still be the murderer,” Burr said.

  “I didn’t have any reason to kill Jimmy. We were friends.”

  Burr was thinking that all this Ronnie Cross business had been a colossal waste of time. Not to mention money. But he thought he might as well keep going. “What was your job on Fujimo?”

  “I did the pit some. Mostly I was a grinder.”

  Why is everyone keeping you such a secret?”

  “I didn’t know they were.”

  “Come on, Ronnie. You’re the most top-secret grinder I ever met.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  “How about this? You spend the weekend here in cabin Number 5 as my guest? Jacob will pick you up bright and early Monday morning and you can come to court and watch Murdoch Halverson be convicted of murder.”

  “I have class on Monday.”

  “I’ll get you a tutor.”

  * * *

  Saturday dawned crisp and clear, a stiff wind from the north.

  It’s a fine day for football.

  Burr’s bike had frost on the handlebars, but it had melted off by the time he reached Aerie. He walked up the sidewalk, past the garden that had the annuals, now replanted with mums in yellow orange, purple and burnt red.

  Anne answered Burr’s knock, then tried to shut the door in his face. Burr stuck his foot in the door.

  If I’m not careful, I’m going to lose another toenail.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “What happened to Anne with an e?” Burr said to the formerly perky Anne of July.

  “She’s not here.” Anne pushed on the door. “Take your foot out of the way.”

  Burr pushed the door open. He stood toe-to-toe with her in the foyer, but he still couldn’t get all the way in. “You have to testify. We don’t have a chance without you.”

  “Yes, you do. Roy says you do.”

  “Murdo’s defense is based on your alibi. I need you to testify.”

  “Roy says it’s too risky.”

  Murdo peered over Anne’s shoulders. They wore matching maize and blue sweaters.

  “Murdo agrees. Don’t you, Murdo?”

  Anne let go of the door and Burr literally fell into her arms. She pushed him away and shook her hair out of her face, like Murdo.

  Burr looked at Murdo. “I need Anne to testify for you.”

  Murdo put his arm around Anne’s waist. “She’s not going to testify.”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “She’s the one who called Roy.” He disappeared into the house, Anne at his heels.

  * * *

  At Horn’s, Burr nursed a Labatt and watched the television over the bar. He’d just finished his second Bloody Mary, and the beer chaser took the edge off the Tabasco. The battle for the Paul Bunyan Trophy and the state of Michigan was going the Spartans’ way. Then Michigan scored, giving them the lead at the end of the third quarter.

  “Damn it all.”

  He looked out the window and watched a street cleaner shuffle by. He finished his beer and bolted out the door.

  * * *

  Burr found Chief Brandstatter at the jail, legs propped up on his desk watching a black and white portable television with rabbit ears. A piece of aluminum foil was twisted around one of the ears.

  “Don’t bother me. This is the only peace I get.”

  “Chief, I only have one question.”

  “Come back after the game.” Brandstatter turned back to the television. “Michigan’s going to win this one. I can feel it.”

  Burr stood in front of the television.

  “Get out of the way.”

  “One question,” Burr said.

  “Forget it.” Brandstatter started to get up.

  “How about if I just put my foot through it,” Burr said.

  “You do that, and I’ll arrest you.”

  “You’ve been trying to do that for the past three months.”

  “What is it?”

  * * *

  Burr pedaled past the stables, the dump and into the Settlement, the only subdivision on the island, the houses modest, most of them less than modest, and where the year-round residents live.

  He rang the doorbell of a small, white, single-story, painted over where the paint had peeled, been scraped, and painted over again. No one answered. He rang again. Still no answer. He started back down the sidewalk.

  “The doorbell don’t work.” Burr turned around. A short, skinny man stood in the doorway. “You got to knock.” Burr started back to the house. “Come back later. This is one helluva game.”

  “Burr Lafayette,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Are you Sidney Ravenswood?”

  He nodded. “I ain’t told that sheriff nothin’. Not yet, anyways.” Ravenswood had an egg- shaped face with fine features, blond hair and clear, blue eyes that, unfortunately for Burr, had seen too much.

  “Are you a street cleaner?”

  “It don’t matter to me that you stole the pony. Happens all the time. Them sailors are the worst, and it’s too expensive at the Pony. I can get a beer and a shot for two bucks at the Mustang.” Sidney scratched his chin. “It was pretty damn funny when you hoisted it up that flagpole down at the docks.” Sidney laughed. “I was just minding my own business, cleaning up after the horses, I ain’t told Brandstatter nothing yet, but he’s got me on a couple of things. So, I don’t know if I can keep mum forever. I got to finish up the game.” He went back in the house. Burr a followed him in.

  * * *

  “That was one helluva football game,” Mueller said. He opened the door for Bur
r. “I got ’em, but it cost me a hundred bucks.” Mueller went back into his room.

  Burr followed him in. Mueller sat in the sagging easy chair. Burr pulled up a chair from the table. “What happened?”

  “The janitor caught me, but he looked the other way for the hundred.”

  “Did you get a match?” Burr said.

  “I did, and I’m passing the cost on to you.”

  I don’t think I’ll be able to put this on my bill.

  * * *

  Burr found Toad on Fujimo. He had a fire going in the charcoal fireplace. It was about the size of a toaster, but it took the chill off. Toad was tucked into a down-filled sleeping bag and not too happy to see Burr. Toad took a half-smoked joint out of an ashtray and lit up.

  “Don’t even think of passing that over here,” Burr said, but if past was prologue, he was going to get a buzz just sitting there.

  “I’ve done everything you wanted me to do. Leave me alone.”

  “There’s just one more thing,” Burr said.

  “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

  “Toad, why do all of you want to keep Ronnie out of this? What’s the big deal?”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  Burr looked out the porthole onto another beautiful fall day on Mackinac Island. “If it’s no big deal, then why go to all the trouble? What are you protecting Jimmy from? He’s dead.”

  “I know he’s dead, but he was good to me.”

  “Are you willing to let Murdo get convicted of murder because Jimmy Lyons was good to you?”

  “He paid me to race with him, watch his boat, and keep it clean.”

  “Come on, Toad.”

  Toad blew the joint back to life. Smoke filled the cabin. Burr opened the hatch.

  “It’s cold in here.”

  “You’re in a down-filled sleeping bag. You can’t possibly be cold.” Burr stuck his head out the hatch and sucked in a breath of crisp October air. He sat on the bunk across from Toad. “Here’s what I think. Jimmy lived large. He spent a lot of money. Money that he didn’t have. So, he invited his creditors, including Murdo, on the race. To buy himself some time, smooth things out. Maybe make a deal. But you know what else? I think Jimmy was a man of large appetites. Very large appetites.”

  Toad didn’t say anything.

  “Let’s say sexual appetites. And let’s say that Jimmy was having an affair with Anne.” Burr paused. “But you know what I think? I think Ronnie was, let’s say, Ronnie was Jimmy’s special friend.”

  Toad cringed.

  “I’ve got it right, don’t I? And let’s say that maybe Murdo was also Jimmy’s special friend. And maybe Jimmy’s ego was big enough, and maybe he was a big enough fool to invite both of them on Fujimo. And let’s just say Murdo’s jealous. Jimmy blew him off in the bar. Murdo was drunk, and he killed him. That’s what you think, isn’t it? You don’t care if Karpinen has the wrong reason as long as he has the right guy.”

  Toad pulled the sleeping bag over his head.

  * * *

  Burr sat across sat across from Carole at the Village Inn, the only restaurant still open that served wine with corks instead of screw-off caps. The candlelight picked up the highlights in her hair. She had on the fall version of the little black dress with a scoop neck and a gold necklace.

  The waiter uncorked the second bottle of Bordeaux and poured them each a glass. The wine hadn’t opened up and tasted like pennies. She reached under the table and put her hand on his knee.

  “Did you see anything going on at Jimmy’s table that night? Anything odd or peculiar?”

  “I thought this was going to be a romantic dinner.”

  “It is,” Burr said, although he knew it wasn’t going to be.

  Carole looked so good that he was afraid he’d lose his nerve. The waiter came back and started to tell them about the specials. Burr waved him off. Carole gave him a what’s going on? look.

  “I thought you said that, when you came in the morning after Jimmy was killed, that the doors were locked.”

  “What’s all this about?”

  “You did say that, didn’t you?”

  “Burr, please, we’re having such a good time.”

  “We are, aren’t we? You said the doors were locked, but they weren’t, were they?” Burr took a sip of his wine. It was opening up nicely.

  Here goes.

  “Do you know who Sidney Ravenswood is?” She gave him a blank look. “Of course, you don’t. Do you know what he saw that night?”

  “Stop it.” She looked into her glass but didn’t drink.

  “Of course, you don’t,” he said again. “He’s a street cleaner. A lowly street cleaner. Do you know what he saw?”

  “Is this some kind of a mystery?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” He swirled the wine in his glass and took another sip. Much better.

  “Sidney Ravenswood told me that he saw someone going into The Pink Pony from the street that night. After it closed. But if Karen Vander Voort locked the doors, how could that be?”

  “She must have locked the doors after that.” Carole picked up her glass but didn’t drink.

  “Carole, dear, what’s really unfortunate for you is that you testified under oath that the doors were locked. But they weren’t.”

  She set her glass down.

  “So, Carole, you may be a suspect. At the very least you committed perjury.”

  “The doors were locked. I swear it.”

  Burr rolled his eyes. “You lied under oath, which could get you five years.” Actually, he didn’t think Carole could be charged with anything, but he didn’t think she knew that. “Tell me what really happened. Then we can keep going with our wonderful evening.”

  Fat chance.

  “The doors were locked when I came in.”

  “I love it when you lie.”

  “That’s the truth. I swear it.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t kill Jimmy, but if you don’t tell me why you lied about the doors, I’m going to make it very painful.” Burr put his hands on the table and folded them. Carole didn’t say a word. Neither did Burr.

  The first one who says something loses.

  Carole drank. Burr drank. Again and again. Burr waved off the waiter twice.

  Finally, Carole said, “After the bar closes, it’s the bartender’s job to lock up. But you know that. When I came in the next morning, the doors weren’t locked.” She brushed a hair off her forehead. “I went in the bar, and that’s when I saw Jimmy.”

  “And?”

  “And then I locked up.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And what about Karen Vander Voort? At the preliminary exam, she said she’d locked the doors.”

  “I didn’t want her or the hotel to get in trouble, so I went along with it.”

  “That’s a lot of trouble for a couple of doors that weren’t locked.”

  “It sounds terrible now, but at the time it didn’t seem like a big deal.”

  “So, you lied to me to protect Karen and the hotel.”

  “I didn’t really lie.”

  “What exactly would you call it?”

  “We have such a nice thing going.”

  “Who paid you to get rid of Karen?”

  If he had her, she didn’t let on.

  She slapped him and walked out.

  * * *

  “I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Eve said. “Lover’s quarrel?”

  “You could say that.”

  Eve had a fire going and was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. She had a book for a date and didn’t look especially glad to see him. Zeke, who had been napping in front of the fireplace, was glad to see him.

  “What is it this time?”
/>   Burr told her what happened.

  Eve closed her book. “You’re a fool for a pretty woman.”

  Burr sat down in a leather chair next to the fire. Zeke lay down at his feet.

  “Is she telling the truth?”

  “Not all of it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “All rise,” Henry Crow said.

  “Counsel, approach the bench,” Lindstrom said.

  Burr, Dahlberg, and Karpinen stood in front of Lindstrom like ducks in a row.

  “Mr. Lafayette, I trust you had a pleasant weekend,” Lindstrom said, bright and shiny as a new penny.

  “I did indeed, Your Honor.”

  “Really? In spite of the fact that your team lost?”

  “My team won, Your Honor.”

  “I thought you were a Michigan lawyer.”

  “That’s right, Your Honor, but I went to Michigan State for undergrad.”

  Lindstrom scowled at him, his penny tarnished. “Let me get right to the point. I’ve reviewed the statutes as they relate to privilege, and I find that Mr. Dahlberg is quite right. The privilege extends to the spouse who claims it. The court finds that the marital privilege extends to Anne Halverson, and she cannot be compelled to testify.”

  Karpinen looked at Burr. “Open-net goal.”

  Lindstrom peered over his glasses at Burr. “You may proceed.”

  Burr looked out in the gallery. He had asked Aunt Kitty to make sure she sat next to Martha for the grand finale. Then, “Your Honor, the defense calls Sidney Ravenswood.”

  Ravenswood looked like a street sweeper ready to go to church. The bailiff swore him in.“Please tell us what you were doing at three a.m. on the morning after the first Port Huron boats came in.”

  Ravenswood fussed with his tie. “I was cleaning up after everybody. Like I always do.”

  “And where were you?”

  “Just down the street from The Pink Pony. Across from the docks.”

  “Did you see anything happen at or near The Pink Pony?”

  “Well, by that time of night, all the bars was closed and most of the drunks was gone. On race night, they’re roaming around longer, but it was pretty quiet by then. But I seen this guy go in the Pony from the street door. Which isn’t supposed to happen ’cause the bars was all closed by then. Then I got all caught up in the horse manure and I forgot all about it.”