Private Sins

by Gwen Moffat

  ‘You shouldn’t ask me that.’

  ‘You’re confiding in me.’

  Sophie looked stricken. ‘You’re right. I don’t know why she has to conceal it, at least not to want it publicised. He told her if she didn’t let him help out at the homestead then he’d tell —’ She stopped.

  ‘Tell whom? He must have known she’d tell you.’

  ‘I’m family. He knows we’re not about to talk… He’d have the newspapers in mind, the local rag.’

  ‘Is he threatening her with the police?’

  ‘Hell no! Whatever gives you that idea?’

  Miss Pink was silent. Sophie went on, talking fast, ‘All she’ll say is that he has to be kept quiet, but Mel, she was at the cabin before Charlie had his accident’ — the emphasis was marked — ‘and that happened miles from the cabin — well, getting on for two miles. No way can there be any connection.’

  ‘I didn’t suggest one. It’s Byer who seems to be doing that. And how does he know Val was there? He must have been there himself — surely? He was trying to pump me about the condition of the cabin. He says Val was up there today.’

  ‘Of course she was; she went there to get Charlie’s saddle.’

  Unthinking, Miss Pink helped herself to whisky and poured a dram for her host. She said slowly, ‘Why did she go to the cabin when Charlie was there?’

  ‘That’s simple.’ Sophie was dismissive. ‘She’d been worrying over Jen, what had brought her back, where she was, and she went to the cabin knowing Charlie was there on his own, determined on a showdown, make him tell her why Jen left and stayed away so long.’

  ‘How did she know Charlie was concerned? When Jen phoned Glenaffric, Val was already out on the trail. Did she have a mobile with her and Edna called her?’

  ‘No, no mobile.’

  ‘Then did she run into Jen —’

  Sophie shook her head vehemently. ‘Jen never went to the cabin. Charlie admitted as much to Val although he couldn’t help taunting her by telling her Jen had agreed to come. She must have thought better of the arrangement, or Ryan wouldn’t let her go. Maybe what bothers Val is that she was the last person to see Charlie alive and if the sheriff were to know that and start asking questions he’d uncover all the scandal about Jen and Paul Skinner, and Charlie’s crazy lies… No way can we allow that to happen. You do see, don’t you?’

  ‘Not really. See what, exactly?’

  ‘Why, there’s nothing to it, really. Storm in a teacup.’

  ‘And yet Byer’s blackmailing Val.’

  ‘It’s the family’s dirty linen. Can’t have it washed in public.’

  Miss Pink got to her feet. ‘I need a shower.’

  She undressed slowly, torn between loyalty and a desire for untrammelled delights. She had been intending to introduce the subject of her leaving and now she was asking herself why that should be so difficult, why she should feel like a rat deserting a ship that was heading for rocks. She took her time in the shower, emerging from her room only when sounds indicated the arrival of supper.

  Neither felt much like eating although it was salmon. Miss Pink said, ‘You told Val about Charlie’s misinformation: that Paul Skinner was Jen’s father?’

  ‘It didn’t seem to affect her, just another of her father’s nasty jokes.’ Seeing the other’s surprise, Sophie elaborated: ‘Well, we’ve had so many shocks, one after the other, over the last few days, what’s one more? We’re drained. Actually, I was relieved to get the matter out of the way without hysterics from her. I was more concerned with that Byer. I mean, that’s immediate.’

  Miss Pink played with a lettuce leaf. ‘I was considering driving south tomorrow.’

  ‘No!’ It was spontaneous and fierce. Sophie grimaced at her own reaction. ‘Oh, no,’ she repeated. ‘You can’t go.’ Then, defiantly, ‘Why should you?’

  ‘I’m an embarrassment. I’m not family.’

  ‘We’re born with family. We choose our friends.’

  ‘All the same, you’re so concerned with Val…’ Miss Pink let it hang.

  Sophie bit her lip. ‘Of course. Wouldn’t you be if she were your niece?’

  ‘If she were being blackmailed, yes.’

  ‘Are you suggesting it isn’t true?’

  ‘I accept that Byer is working some kind of scam, but I find it difficult to believe that Val would give in to his demands — whatever they are — in order to protect a family secret. Charlie’s behaviour was monstrous but it wasn’t criminal and if Skinner slept with an under-age girl, that’s his problem. Val wouldn’t be protecting him.’

  ‘Of course she wouldn’t.’ Sophie dismissed Skinner with contempt. ‘What you’re saying is, there’s something else. What’s on your mind, Melinda?’

  ‘Didn’t Val take you into her confidence?’

  ‘I told you the truth. I trust you.’

  ‘It’s the truth as far as you know.’

  Sophie dropped her eyes and fidgeted. ‘That’s what she told me,’ she said stubbornly. She looked up and her expression was unreadable. ‘Well?’

  Miss Pink considered possible responses. In the circumstances… The police thinking might be… What she said was, ‘Is there any way that Charlie’s death could have been rigged to look like an accident?’

  There was no reaction in the other’s face. ‘How long have you had that idea?’

  ‘Since you told me Byer is blackmailing Val. And you? When did the possibility of murder occur to you?’

  ‘For heaven’s sakes!’ Sophie’s eyes slewed wildly from the door to the open window but Miss Pink’s voice was pitched low. ‘I agree Val’s going to extraordinary lengths to protect reputations — Jen’s and Charlie’s — in any case, we’d all deny that Jen was pregnant — for God’s sake, we don’t know that she was! There’s only Charlie’s word for it’ — she’d lost the thread — ‘now what? You look as if you’re waiting for something.’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question. Could the accident have been rigged?’

  ‘No way.’ But Sophie gave the matter thought, then jerked to attention. ‘You’re suggesting Byer is accusing Val of being involved in Charlie’s death?’

  ‘You see’ — Miss Pink was calm but earnest — ‘since he knows Val was at the cabin, it implies he was there too, or in the vicinity. So he could be setting her up for the fall guy. And Val, by giving in to him, is putting herself in the frame. Surely you see that.’

  Sophie said sadly, ‘She hasn’t told me everything.’

  ‘Where do you think she’s not telling the truth?’

  ‘Byer’s got something on her. More than her being at the cabin, d’you think?’

  ‘Could it have to do with Jen?’

  ‘I guess. She’s a woman would do anything for her daughter, but then any mother would. Yes, she could be covering for Jen. But you’re assuming that there was something — not quite right about Charlie’s accident.’

  ‘There could have been a fight. He was an old man.’

  ‘But powerful. Neither Val nor Jen could have — oh no! Listen to us! I can’t believe we’re talking this way.’

  ‘And then the business with the stallion might have been rigged.’

  ‘Never! Not by one person. You’d need someone to hold the horse, the other to put Charlie’s foot through the stirrup.’

  ‘So it could have been worked that way.’

  ‘Only by two — oh!’

  They were both thinking of Jen and Bret Ryan.

  ‘They could have gone to the cabin together,’ Miss Pink pointed out. ‘And Ryan had a fight with him, knocked him down and he hit his head.’

  ‘And Val’s protecting them both by saying no one visited Charlie except herself?’

  ‘It’s odd, though,’ Miss Pink mused. ‘Why should Byer blackmail Val rather than Jen? It’s Jen who’s going to be rich.’

  ‘He won’t know the provisions of Charlie’s will. And maybe he thinks Val’s a softer touch without a man around. But he has me to reckon
with there.’ Sophie didn’t smile, she bared her teeth.

  ‘On the other hand’ — Miss Pink wasn’t listening — ‘it could be that he knows Val was at the cabin but is unaware that Jen was. And Ryan? That is, if those two were there at all.’ Her voice sank. ‘This is all surmise. How can one find out?’

  ‘Do we need to?’

  ‘What? I was thinking aloud there. But Val needs help because blackmailers don’t stop at one demand. He’s got his foot in the door, he knows that whatever he has on her is solid; he might just have been fishing in the first place, trying it on. She’s acceded to the first demand, if it was only to take him on as a hand, and he knows she’s hooked. And she does inherit half a million dollars. That’ll be a fortune to a ranch hand, if he does know about the will. He could bleed her dry. I wonder what he’s got on her.’

  ‘You could try to find out. She won’t tell me.’

  ‘What makes you think she’ll tell me? What right do I have to ask questions anyway?’

  ‘What right does Byer have to blackmail her? We can’t go to the police. We daren’t, we don’t know what’s going on.’ Sophie smiled, this time engagingly. ‘You can run away: drive south tomorrow and forget all about us, or you can stay. Charlie was the worst kind of louse; I’m not going to stand by and see any member of this family hanged because they put him down like a vicious hound. Whatever happened, he deserved it.’

  Manslaughter didn’t involve the death sentence, but that was only a scenario they’d dreamed up. The reality could have been murder. ‘I’ll have a talk with Byer,’ Miss Pink said. ‘And the others, if I get the opportunity,’ she added grudgingly, knowing the alternative, as Sophie said, was to cut and run. That wasn’t her style.

  9

  Byer was not at home. His pick-up was parked in front of the house, an old grey horse grazing close by, but there was no sign of the piebald. Miss Pink sat at the wheel of her hired Bronco and considered the house. Unscreened windows — there would be flies in hot weather, not to speak of mosquitoes so close to the water, but probably he didn’t open his windows. Certainly he never washed them. Bachelors didn’t need to be house-proud but they didn’t have to be dirty.

  She drove to the old homestead, rejoicing in the smooth running of this new car. Val was standing in the entrance to the barn, tense at the sight of the unfamiliar vehicle, but the hesitation was momentary. By the time Miss Pink had turned and come to a halt she was at the driver’s door. ‘My!’ she exclaimed. ‘You did yourself proud with this animal.’

  ‘Good power-to-weight ratio.’ Miss Pink was smug. ‘Like a quarter horse. I brought a book from Sophie, something on equine medicine.’

  ‘Right. She offered me the loan of it.’ Then, ostensibly casual, ‘Where is she this morning?’

  ‘She’s visiting Sam.’

  Val looked wary. Miss Pink went on, ‘She wants to know if Jen talked’ — beaming at the other’s bewilderment — ‘she says they have a good relationship: Jen and her father.’ Still no response. She became flustered: the well-intentioned old lady pushing into ever deeper waters. ‘Now that her grandfather’s out of the way and the other problem’s cleared up, it’s all plain sailing, isn’t it?’

  Eyebrows raised, the ingenuous expression demanding comment.

  ‘What’s she been saying to you?’

  Miss Pink nodded as if the possibility of a snub, not to mention a furious reaction, had never crossed her mind. ‘Gossip.’ She shrugged. ‘That ridiculous story of Charlie’s: confusing your two marriages, implying Sam isn’t Jen’s father.’

  ‘Implying! He told her Paul — my second husband — was her father. He told her as a fact.’

  ‘Silly man.’

  ‘He was evil.’ Val was no longer bewildered, she was savage.

  ‘How did you find out?’ Miss Pink seemed to have shrunk to a harmless innocent and she asked the question in all innocence.

  Val said, still angry ‘It was yesterday, when Ryan came for Ali. Remember? You were here.’

  ‘Oh yes? And he said Paul was Jen’s father?’ Miss Pink turned to survey the corral where Ryan had accosted them, when he’d insisted he’d come to collect the stallion.

  ‘No,’ Val conceded. ‘It was before that. Edna told me. She dropped hints. Not everything, but I got the gist of it.’

  ‘Ah, now I understand. And you went to the hunting camp to confront your father.’

  Val gasped. ‘I told Sophie in confidence.’

  ‘She’s so worried. She needed to talk to someone. I’m a friend. She’s an old lady, Val.’

  The woman gave an angry laugh. ‘And now the whole world’s going to know.’ She was struck by a thought. ‘Why did you come here? The book was an excuse. You’ve been pumping me! What —’

  ‘I’m looking for Byer.’ It was cool and firm; the chameleon had changed colour again.

  After a moment Val said warily, ‘I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Where is Ali?’

  ‘That’s the point! He’s taken the stud out.’

  ‘Riding him?’ Miss Pink was shocked.

  ‘No, no; leading him. Exercise, he said.’

  ‘It seems rather soon, with his leg sprained.’

  ‘He says it’s all right.’ Val looked wan.

  Miss Pink hesitated. The next question was; What hold does he have over you? but that was going too fast. She had some kind of brief from Sophie to protect her niece and the question could be counter-productive. Why was that? Because Val didn’t want to be helped. Why not?

  Val said, confidentially, woman to woman, ‘You see, Byer knows I went to the cabin to visit with Charlie that afternoon.’

  Miss Pink swallowed. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘If he spread it around everyone would know all our family problems.’

  ‘What’s more natural than your going to speak to your father when he was only a few miles away?’

  Val regarded the older woman with what appeared to be speculation. ‘He died shortly afterwards.’

  ‘And you’re assuming that the police, if they knew you were at the cabin, would think you had a hand in his death.’

  ‘Of course.’ Val smiled but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘And I inherit a fortune.’ She shrugged. ‘Motive enough?’

  ‘Byer would think so. You realise that he must have been there himself to know that you were.’ Val’s hand rose to her throat defensively. ‘How does he know?’ Miss Pink pressed.

  ‘I have no idea.’ Val considered this. ‘Maybe he did go to the cabin — after me —’ Her eyes jumped. A pick-up was approaching. Her face stiffened into lines that betrayed her age.

  The truck stopped and the man who got down struck a memory chord: an image against a background of a peeling mobile home, a large paunchy fellow with the vestiges of good looks in a fleshy face. Why was Paul Skinner visiting his former wife at a time when the rumour was current, at least in a limited circle, that he’d had a sexual relationship with his stepdaughter?

  Val said quickly, ‘My ex has come to see me on business.’

  Miss Pink said nothing. Even had there been time to ask whether she should go she wouldn’t have done so. She was here for information.

  ‘Where’s that sorrel stud of your dad’s?’ Skinner asked, ignoring Miss Pink, his eyes ranging the corrals.

  ‘Gone.’ Val was furious. ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘Is it over to Benefit?’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with you. My father’s will is family business. Why would you think it was at Benefit anyway?’

  ‘Byer said the stud goes to Jen.’

  ‘So?’

  Skinner seemed nonplussed. His eyes shifted to the visitor. Val said icily, ‘This is my aunt’s house guest, Miss Pink. Melinda: Paul Skinner. Now if you’ll excuse us —’ She took Miss Pink’s arm and shepherded her firmly across the yard. Her hand was trembling. The screen door banged behind them. ‘I don’t want those two to meet,’ she whispered. ‘Byer’s up with the horse
herd — the top pasture behind the house. Can you slip out the back and tell him to keep clear till I’ve got rid of Skinner?’

  ‘Do I tell him why?’

  Val stared, biting her lip. ‘Tell him that — just say Skinner’s breathing fire about — about Ali.’ Miss Pink made to protest. ‘Please don’t ask questions,’ Val was frantic, pushing her towards the back door. ‘Please! We have trouble enough without those two at each other’s throats.’

  Using the buildings as cover until she reached trees, Miss Pink plodded up the slope, so intent on puzzling over the reason for these two men to be at odds that she nearly blundered into Byer. He was riding the piebald and leading the stallion. She delivered the message, deadpan, and waited for him to ask why he should wait for Skinner to leave the homestead.

  Byer was expressionless, looking past her. He was trying to work something out: a man who had difficulty thinking on his feet. A devious fellow but not a clever one. Miss Pink stepped aside and surveyed the stallion critically. As one expert to another she said, ‘Even if the damage isn’t reversible it won’t affect his breeding capacity.’ She nodded sagely. ‘Yes, he could still hold his value. Have you put in an offer?’

  He was dumbfounded, then gave a bark of amusement. ‘She’s selling?’

  ‘Well, the price will be high…’ It was a discreet murmur. He fingered his chin. ‘I got the cash.’

  ‘So you have put in an offer.’

  ‘Of course. You need a man to handle this stud. Obvious he’d be sold when Charlie were gone. I put in the first offer.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘You’re asking a lot of questions. What’s it to you?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ Miss Pink was suddenly an embarrassed old soul. ‘One forgets one’s place — bad manners — not my business at all; it’s between you and the owner of course. But she said nothing to us about selling Ali when we were there yesterday.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Why, Jen — Mrs Ryan as she is now. I had the distinct impression that she meant to keep the stud —’

  ‘You got mixed up.’ He eyed her speculatively. She was red-faced and sweating. ‘I’m not sure about this horse,’ he told her. ‘If there’s a problem of ownership —’