by Gwen Moffat
Sophie appealed to Miss Pink who said calmly, ‘I’m not sure about the law here, but Hilton would probably view that testimony in the same light as he would that of a spouse.’
‘Like Jen giving Bret an alibi,’ Sophie explained, in case he didn’t get it.
Ali was nuzzling Clyde’s shoulder. He put up a hand to the soft lips. The defiance faded and the lines in his face relaxed. They made an impressive picture: the ageing Adonis and the sorrel with the shining eyes — much more alert today — back to normal? What was in Val’s mind, handing the animal over to Edna? ‘You could be right,’ Miss Pink said. ‘She may be expecting to be away a long time. She could have gone to the police.’
‘There’s bail,’ Sophie pointed out. ‘That will be why —’
‘Bail!’ Clyde was enraged. ‘I told you! She was with me all —’
‘You’re as bad as your mother,’ his aunt told him, ‘refusing to face the facts. You figure your word stands for proof where the police are concerned — and now there’s Byer saying a developer put out a contract on Charlie. You’re all crazy.’
‘Byer said what?’
Sophie gestured impatiently. ‘It was just a story to get Hilton off Bret’s back.’
He pushed up his hat and wiped his forehead. ‘Byer never said anything to me.’
‘It’s a lie, Clyde.’
‘I’d have thought he’d want Bret jailed. They never hit it off. I’d never expect him to try and keep the guy out of jail. Why would he do that?’
‘He was blackmailing Val.’
‘He was?’ He looked stunned. ‘She never told me.’ They allowed him to think about it and they saw the moment the next question surfaced in his mind. ‘What — how could he blackmail her? What for?’
Another dead loss, Miss Pink thought; he was an ingenuous fellow, he really didn’t know the answer. Val had taken no one into her confidence. She listened distractedly as Sophie protested that she had no idea what kind of knowledge Byer held. She observed Clyde’s efforts to recall distant events — a week old, anyway — and she was convinced of his sincerity. She wondered if Byer could be broken — and dismissed the idea; blackmailers didn’t reveal the nature of their hold, even to their victims… Her brain faltered, checked and diverged. Did Val know herself? What kind of information was capable of disabling the victim without her knowing its exact nature? This called for lateral thinking. ‘He could have planted something,’ she said aloud.
They turned to her in astonishment. ‘What?’ Sophie asked, and ‘Who?’ came from Clyde.
‘I’m thinking of the blackmail. Suppose Byer had stolen something of Val’s and dropped it at hunting camp?’ Or Jen, she thought: placing something of Jen’s in the cabin. ‘Not a good theory,’ she went on, backtracking. ‘Val’s been to the cabin twice since Charlie was there. Anything of hers could have been dropped subsequently.’
‘But Charlie didn’t die in the cabin.’ Clyde was mystified. Miss Pink turned to Sophie. ‘Let’s go to Irving. We need to talk to Val.’
‘You said it looks bad to go rushing off — and anyway, what excuse do you have to barge in there — if she’s with the police? I mean, does Hilton know you’ve investigated murders before?’
Clyde’s jaw dropped. Miss Pink said, ‘Not investigated; I’ve just been there when they happened, or someone asked me to find out — I don’t have to go to the police. You do that: find Val and try to get her away from them.’
‘What do I say to her?’
‘We’ll work it out as we drive. The first question could be crucial. If it doesn’t succeed she could throw up defences — more defences. We’ll stop at the Rothbury, I’m going to need my car.’
*
After dropping Miss Pink at the hotel, Sophie went ahead, having given directions to the Riverside Restaurant where they would meet, providing she could find Val.
Miss Pink located the restaurant without trouble and sat in the shade of an umbrella on a deck overlooking the water. Here, in the city, the river had been dredged and deepened, and the water slid by with sluggish power. The occasional log floated past and once a pallet with an egret perched on the slats.
As the egret faded in the distance Miss Pink became aware of Val approaching, with Sophie so close behind that she gave the impression of herding the younger woman, of giving her no chance to run. Val looked drawn, at the end of her tether.
‘Found her parked outside the sheriff’s department,’ Sophie explained. ‘Seaborg told me she’d gone there to wait, give Bret a ride home. But they’re keeping Bret a while.’
Val sat down opposite Miss Pink. A waitress came and Sophie ordered coffee all round. Miss Pink asked curiously, as if in the middle of a conversation, ‘How did Byer know it related to yourself and not to Jen?’
Val stared as if she hadn’t understood the question. After a pause she shook her head in the faintest gesture of denial. ‘It didn’t matter.’
Sophie’s mouth opened, and closed as Miss Pink’s glasses flashed a warning. ‘Either would do,’ she mused. ‘You’d fight even harder for Jen than for yourself. How does Bret come into it?’
‘I don’t know till I’ve talked to him. He hasn’t —’ The waitress brought the coffee. They made small movements in their seats, looking automatically for spoons and sugar. ‘How did you find out?’ Val asked.
‘It was obvious as soon as one realised that Byer need not have turned back at the landslide that evening, that he went all the way to the cabin.’ Miss Pink switched her attention to a sachet of Sweet and Low. ‘If only you’d stopped off as you were passing next morning,’ she murmured, and left it hanging.
‘I didn’t know! Besides —’ She stopped and glowered. ‘I mean I didn’t know I’d dropped anything when I visited with Charlie the — the day before. Anyway, Clyde was with me when we passed and no way would I have him implicated.’
‘You what!’ This was too much for Sophie. ‘You really did visit with Charlie? For God’s sake, girl!’
‘I told you I did.’
‘Yes, but we never believed — we thought —’ Sophie turned on Miss Pink, dumbfounded.
Miss Pink asked pleasantly, ‘What was it that you left behind?’
Val’s hand went to her ear and a tiny gold hoop. ‘An ear-ring like this. Byer found it. He had a flashlight.’
‘He wasn’t to know it was yours.’
‘It didn’t matter. All he had to say was that Charlie had a lady visitor.’
‘And the fact that you were intimidated by that told him he’d guessed correctly. But how does your visit to the cabin relate to Charlie’s accident over a mile away, up by the escarpment?’
Val shrugged. ‘I’m tired. We went up there. Charlie was trying to shake me off. I knew what he’d done, you see: coming between me and Jen; I lost ten years of my daughter’s life. Can you understand that? I could have killed him. I would have killed him and he knew it, and he threatened to shoot me — well, my horse — he said he’d kill my horse if I didn’t leave him alone. And I shouted at him, I flipped, and Ali spooked and reared, and Charlie’d drawn his pistol and it went off and Ali bolted.’ She stopped and her ravaged face broke into a ghastly grin.
‘What did you do with the pistol?’ Miss Pink asked.
‘I threw it away of course.’
‘You’re going to tell Hilton this?’
Val studied her. ‘I’ll see if he charges Bret. Are you going to tell him?’
‘Of course not. It’s your business and I’m Sophie’s guest. And I’m tired too.’ Miss Pink looked apologetically towards her host. ‘I think I’ll go back to the apartment and sleep for a while. I have the spare key. You’ll stay with Val, of course.’
Sophie nodded distractedly. It was obvious that neither cared what Miss Pink did at this moment; Sophie was intent on extracting more information from Val, and Val — Miss Pink nodded to herself as she went out to her Bronco — Val was too intent on incriminating herself to bother about anything else.
; 14
Meadow larks were singing on the road to Benefit, their breasts bright sulphur in the sun. Showers of little blue butterflies rose from drying puddles and overhead the vultures wheeled, alert for rodents washed out of flooded holes. The storm had left the world noisy and colourful, with a bonus of easy pickings for the opportunists.
Jen had company. Sam Jardine sat beside her on a bench outside the cabin and, seeing them like that, their expressions expectant, a little wary at the sight of the Bronco, Miss Pink wondered how anyone could have thought that Sam was not the girl’s father. There were the same delicate features and wiry build; both had the aquiline nose and chiselled nostrils hinting at Indian ancestry. No one could think Jen the daughter of the blond and beefy Skinner.
Sam was standing. ‘Nice morning, ma’am. Take a seat, enjoy the sunshine. I’ll fix some coffee.’ He stepped indoors.
Jen was eyeing the Bronco, uncertain how to react to this visit.
‘I’ve been to Irving,’ Miss Pink said. ‘Talking to your mother.’
‘Bret?’ It was a whisper. She cleared her throat. ‘Did you see Bret?’
‘No. I didn’t go there to see him. The first person to clear was Val.’ Miss Pink smiled pleasantly and didn’t turn, although she hadn’t missed the other’s glance at the doorway. ‘She didn’t go to the hunting camp,’ she went on, ‘although she’s fighting like mad to convince Sophie and me that she did.’
Jen grinned and then was serious again. ‘How do you know she wasn’t there?’
Sam stepped out of the doorway and stood beside the bench, waiting for the answer.
‘Because she has no idea what was left behind,’ Miss Pink said. ‘What it was that Byer found.’
‘What was it?’ Sam asked, looking down at his daughter. Jen was shaking her head. He put a hand on her shoulder and regarded Miss Pink. She hadn’t sat down and they confronted each other like adversaries. ‘Jen didn’t go to the cabin,’ he said firmly. ‘So you can tell us what was left there.’
Her mind raced. Sam? This would add a new dimension, she had never seriously considered Sam.
The pause had been momentary. ‘Bret will have told them the truth,’ she said.
Jen stared into the distance. She nodded as if in agreement. Sam’s hand tightened on her shoulder. She looked up quickly. ‘Charlie was fine when Bret left,’ she assured Miss Pink. ‘He figures that it was a bear frightened Ali and Charlie’s gun went off by accident. No one else was involved.’
Miss Pink glanced at Sam to see if he knew that Charlie’s rifle hadn’t been fired, that no pistol had been found, but he was deadpan, observing her own reactions. ‘Why did Bret go to the cabin?’ she asked.
‘To see what Charlie wanted.’
‘Charlie made the arrangement with you.’
‘Bret wouldn’t let me go.’
‘What did Charlie have to say?’
‘Nothing really.’
Miss Pink moved impatiently. Sam said, ‘Bret told Charlie that him and Jen were married but Charlie didn’t have much to say about that. Bret felt it wasn’t the right moment to say anything about — what Charlie had told Jen —’ He stopped in confusion.
‘I didn’t know then!’ Jen protested. ‘It was only afterwards… why, it was you told me only a few days back. How could I have known?’
‘You’d told Bret.’
‘Not all of it and not the worst part. That’s the point, Sam. I’d told Bret I’d gone away because I was having a baby but I never told a soul who was responsible.’ She pondered a moment and then: ‘I told him Paul was my father because that was what I thought myself, but Bret didn’t make the connection: that Paul was the baby’s daddy as well.’ Her eyes widened madly. ‘Who would? It’s wild, horrible!’ She inhaled sharply, let the breath go and went on, ‘I got used to it, though: the horror, blocked it out, I guess, over the years’ — she was addressing Miss Pink — ‘but imagine a guy like Bret learning that… He loves me, you know.’ She smiled shyly and the next moment she was grim again. ‘He’d have killed Paul. But I blamed my mom. There was no way I could take the blame myself, I’m too much of a coward.’
‘She couldn’t,’ Sam told Miss Pink earnestly. ‘It were too great a burden. She were only a kid.’
‘And as for Paul’ — Jen shrugged — ‘he wasn’t worth blaming; you have to be big to take a load like that on your shoulders. I mean, Paul wouldn’t be worthy. Now my mom was a good person to hate. I’m telling you how it was for me all those years away. I blamed Mom for letting me think that Sam was my daddy when really it was Paul, so I figured it was all her fault that he — that we — the baby, I mean; she was to blame for everything. I was so angry, I coulda killed her. My God, I was a mess! I guess it was guilt, right?’
‘You had to turn the rage against someone,’ Miss Pink said calmly. Alone in Texas and pregnant (and through incest, as she had been led to think) if she had turned the rage inwards she might have killed herself. As it was, she had killed… there had been an abortion, presumably. More guilt.
Sam was watching Miss Pink. ‘It was Charlie told her Paul was her daddy,’ he said heavily.
‘So when you came home,’ Miss Pink said, ‘you meant to confront your grandfather —’
‘No! I told you: I didn’t know then! I still thought Paul was my father. I came back because — because —’
‘She was lonely,’ Sam put in. ‘She wanted to be with her folks again.’
Miss Pink couldn’t hide her scepticism as she turned to the younger woman.
‘I’d found out I couldn’t have babies.’ Jen’s face was set. ‘Something about internal damage. The abortion was botched, they say. Actually, I don’t know why I came back. To confront Mom? Someone anyway, make them pay for everything. How I felt, it was the old ghastly mess back again, only worse, and one moment I wanted to be with my family, like Dad says, the next I was full of hate again.’
‘I see.’ Miss Pink did. She saw more. Jen was to discover that the person at fault was her grandfather — but she hadn’t found that out until after Charlie died. Fortunate timing for her, but Hilton would never believe the sequence of it. ‘When did your mother learn the truth?’ she asked.
‘I never told her. I wouldn’t dare.’
Sam said, ‘Now she’s scared of Val because she misjudged her so. She don’t know how to make it up to her.’
‘She was sweet to me yesterday, though.’ Jen’s tone was soft. ‘After the funeral, but then she doesn’t know what a bitch I’ve been.’
‘She knows,’ Miss Pink said. ‘And she thinks you killed Charlie.’ And after this demonstration of her feelings Jen had motive enough.
‘She’ll get over it.’ She was unperturbed. ‘Bret will tell the truth. He went to the cabin, told Charlie he’d seen a bear on the way down, in the rocks there above the cabin. Charlie was all set to leave, the pack-horse loaded, having a last coffee, when Bret arrived. That’s why they didn’t say much; Charlie —’
‘Wait a minute.’ Miss Pink stirred impatiently. ‘Charlie was expecting you to visit; why would he be leaving if you hadn’t come?’
‘Just that: I hadn’t come. He told Bret he’d given up on me, wanted to get through the canyon before dark. He said he’d ride out to Benefit only he had the pack-horse — and then there was the bear. I guess at that the bear had priority. If it wasn’t shot it would try to break into the cabin again. So Bret just had some coffee and they both took off: Charlie up through the meadows, Bret coming down the canyon because he didn’t want to be close by with Charlie out shooting bear.’ Jen stopped, considered and added, ‘He thought someone else was about.’
‘You didn’t tell me that,’ Sam exclaimed.
‘I forgot till now.’
‘Where was this?’ Miss Pink asked.
‘Upstream of the landslip, before he headed up that steep climb to home. But it couldn’t have been anyone, not really. How could you tell among all those tree trunks? Most likely it was a moose.’
&
nbsp; ‘It coulda been a poacher,’ Sam said. ‘He wouldn’t want to be seen.’
‘Then he’d have to leave his rig here and there was no one left a trailer that weekend.’
‘Unless he rode in from Ballard.’ Sam’s eyes gleamed. ‘Or from Byer’s place. It was a Saturday. Where was Byer?’
‘His day off,’ Miss Pink supplied, thinking that Skinner could have ridden in from Ballard.
*
‘If you eliminate the family — as, of course, one does — you come down to Byer and Skinner.’ Miss Pink added aubergine to the pilaf.
‘What makes you so sure the family can be eliminated?’ Sophie leaned against the wall, looking tired after the long day. ‘Devil’s advocate,’ she added, ‘but I did feel that Val was protesting too much when we were at the Riverside.’
‘Oh, undoubtedly, but it can’t be Val or Bret; their stories are too thin.’
‘Everyone is speaking the truth —’
‘Some of them are, a framework of truth, perhaps, but much embroidered. The weft but not the warp? Byer admits he was in the canyon but stops short of saying how far he went. Val, of course, is lying; she was never at the cabin the day Charlie died —’
‘She’s protecting Jen.’
‘— and she hasn’t thought her story through. If Charlie shot himself with a pistol, where is it?’
‘She said she threw it away. What’s wrong with that?’
‘You’re taking devil’s advocacy too far. What is wrong with Charlie having a pistol is that he wasn’t wearing a gun belt. It couldn’t have come unbuckled any more than his pants belt did. Clothing gets ripped off when a rider’s dragged, but no way can a belt come undone. Besides, if Val had been at the cabin, Bret would have seen her.’
‘He wouldn’t say so.’
‘Hilton would get it out of him.’