by Gwen Moffat
‘Bret’s apparition? That had to be a moose.’ Miss Pink was too casual and Sophie’s eyes narrowed.
‘You’re thinking of Byer. Are you meaning to go to his place?’ Miss Pink said nothing. ‘No way!’ Sophie was adamant. ‘If you have any suspicion — and you have, I know you have — then I’m coming with you. For God’s sake, Mel, if there’s a chance he was involved in Charlie’s death I’m not about to let you go to that house on your own.’
Miss Pink protested but Sophie refused to budge. In the event, protests and argument were superfluous; when the Cherokee nosed down the track to Bear Creek, Byer’s horses were in their pasture but there was no sign of his pick-up.
‘Saturday,’ Sophie said, without expression. ‘He could have taken off last night.’ She turned in the yard and started out again.
‘Stop!’
‘Why?’
‘I want to go inside.’
‘Mel! You can’t!’
‘You can’t, you’re his employer’s sister. I have no connection.’
‘Suppose he comes back?’
‘We’ll think of something. He can’t kill us.’
The words hung in the air. Otherwise there was only the sound of the creek, still running high after the rain, and a group of redwings talking in a reedy slough.
Sophie advanced to a dirty window. Miss Pink went to the door and turned the old-fashioned knob. The door opened obligingly. Sophie stared in alarm, but Miss Pink entered as if it were her own property.
It was a shabby little house: two up, two down, of no character other than that lent to it by a horseman. One room was given over to his saddle and tack, a slicker, chaps, old boots and spurs, tins and bottles on the dusty windowsill containing salves and thick brown liquids.
The other ground-floor room was furnished after a rough fashion with two ancient armchairs, a formica-topped table with tarnished gilt legs, kitchen chairs, cupboards, a sideboard and a telephone. There was a television set and a radio, tattered copies of Western Horseman and a stack of magazines on guns and hunting.
At the back there was a slip of a kitchen and a sink, but cooking would have been done on the wood stove in the living-room.
They went up the uncarpeted stairs. There were two bedrooms containing four single beds, only one of which was in use. The sheets were neither dirty nor clean, the blankets looked as if they were military surplus stock and dust swirled in sunbeams at every move they made.
There were clothes in a dark wood closet: mostly the usual possessions of a ranch hand, a few bright Western shirts but an unexpectedly smart fringed jacket in cinnamon suede. There was a new beaver Stetson with a turquoise and horsehair braid, stiff new Levis and a pair of lizard skin boots.
‘That hat will have set him back a few hundred bucks,’ Sophie observed. ‘He had to have stolen it — and look at that jacket! No way could he buy that on a hand’s pay. Curious, you’d expect him to wear his good gear on a weekend trip.’
Miss Pink mumbled something from the depths of the closet. She backed out, studying an object in her hand.
‘Broken cup,’ Sophie said. ‘What’s it doing in the closet?’
‘It’s Wedgwood.’
‘It can’t be. You mean genuine Wedgwood? Something from Glenaffric?’
They stared at each other. ‘I wonder,’ Sophie breathed. ‘Edna has this gorgeous vase — that colour —’
‘Blue jasper. I saw it when she showed me over the house.’
Sophie gasped as the significance dawned on her. ‘He stole it and broke it? The bugger. It had to be worth a small fortune. Where would the rest of it be?’
‘In the creek I would think.’
They moved to the window and looked out at the water beyond the cottonwoods. ‘I wonder what else he took,’ Sophie said. ‘And where he disposed of it? Billings?’
‘Too close. He’d have to go to an antiques dealer and anyone who recognised its value would be suspicious. What’s a cowboy doing with an eighteenth-century Wedgwood vase? He couldn’t fence this one but there were probably others. He’d hardly stop at stealing one piece — and would Edna notice?’
‘So he stashed them somewhere till he had the chance to go to a big city? He’s probably got a buddy —’ It hit them both at the same time. ‘Skinner!’ they exclaimed.
*
Edna stared at the three fragments of jasper on the kitchen table. She looked fresher this morning but after a moment it was obvious that she was on a different wavelength from the visitors. She touched one of the blue chips with a finger. ‘A lovely colour,’ she observed. ‘Like my pretty vase in the English room.’
‘Show us,’ Sophie ordered.
They trooped through passages to a shady bedroom where the colour scheme was blue and gold, the spindly chairs poor imitations of the type found in the corridors of great English houses. A flock of Meissen swans floated across the surface of a marquetry dressing-table that even in this dim light looked anything but fake.
‘It’s French,’ Edna said, seeing Miss Pink’s interest. ‘Lewis something.’
‘Louis Quinze,’ Sophie corrected. ‘Where’s the Wedgwood vase?’
‘Wedgwood, dear?’
‘The blue vase. You said those broken bits were like your pretty vase.’
‘The same colour, yes.’
‘Edna! Where’s the vase?’
‘There, you see’ — pointing — ‘the swans swam — no, they’re walking, you can see their little black feet. Aren’t they neat? They arranged themselves round the vase, like they made a setting for it.’
‘The vase isn’t there, Edna.’
There was a long pause. ‘No.’ Edna stared at an empty space in the centre of the white swans. ‘It’s gone.’
‘Have you missed anything else?’ Miss Pink asked.
Edna peered up at her. She really was a tiny ball of a woman.
And exasperating. ‘Such as?’ she asked, trying to be helpful.
‘She wouldn’t know,’ Sophie said. ‘Look at all this junk.’ Her gesture took in the whole house. ‘She’s no idea what she has.’
‘I do so.’ Edna was indignant. ‘And it’s not junk.’
‘Some is. Not this table, I grant you, nor the swans. I always admired those swans.’
‘Take them, dear —’
‘How about looking around?’ Miss Pink suggested. ‘See if you can spot any more gaps. Among the valuable pieces,’ she added, raising an eyebrow at Sophie.
They toured the house, Edna able to recall which items had stood where but displaying no emotion regarding disappearances except in one instance. A missing stein didn’t bother her — ‘A German tankard.’ Sophie was contemptuous. ‘An ugly thing, but it was gilded and with one of those European hunting scenes on it, worth a bit, I guess.’
A bracket clock had gone, a collection of porcelain snuff boxes, a silver tray. ‘And the scent bottles,’ Edna said sadly. ‘That’ll break Clyde’s heart. I was about to ask Jen could he have them.’
‘Not those little bottles with the painted peacocks?’ Miss Pink was incensed.
‘Who’s taken them?’ At last Edna was back in the real world. ‘It can’t be any of the maids.’
Back in the kitchen Sophie said, commanding her attention: ‘Edna! You have to report this, or’ — she glanced at Miss Pink — ‘I’ll do it.’ Edna stared at her, blinking confusedly. ‘Byer has been stealing from you,’ Sophie said clearly, as if she were addressing a child. ‘Those pieces’ — she indicated the jasper fragments. ‘We found one in the bottom of his closet, the other two were at the edge of the water. He broke your vase and threw the pieces in the creek, except these bits that he missed.’
‘Where are the little scent bottles?’
‘He’ll have sold them — but we’ll get them back, don’t worry.’ There was small chance of that but neither she nor Miss Pink was comfortable in the face of Edna’s bewilderment. ‘I’ll call Hilton,’ Sophie went on. ‘He’ll know what to do.’
&nb
sp; ‘Where is Byer today?’ Miss Pink asked gently.
Edna made an obvious effort to orientate herself. ‘He’ll be at home, dear; he has a house on Bear Creek —’
‘He’s not there,’ Sophie cut in. ‘His pick-up’s gone. Where does he go weekends?’
Edna thought about that. The question seemed to demand excessive concentration. ‘With Paul?’ she ventured.
‘How close are they?’ Miss Pink asked as Sophie, disgusted, turned to the outer door.
‘Paul and Erik? They’re very close.’ Edna considered. ‘They’re buddies, partners — hunter-poachers, Daddy called them. Thieves, he said; you name it, Paul and Erik did it. Isn’t that so?’ She appealed to Sophie. ‘Daddy said Paul killed Carol. That was Paul’s first wife,’ she told Miss Pink.
‘Second wife,’ Sophie said, resigned, as if she’d heard this a hundred times. ‘And Charlie was not your daddy, for Christ’s sake!’
‘What’s going on?’ Clyde opened the screen. ‘You sound like you’re bullying Mom.’ But he was grinning as he entered, nodding affably to Miss Pink, removing his hat.
‘She’s started referring to Charlie as “daddy”,’ Sophie protested.
‘She does that. She did when we were kids. It’s natural as she — gets older, nothing to bother about.’
‘Clyde, there are a lot of valuable things missing from this house.’
‘Oh, no, don’t —’ Edna cried and lapsed into silence as they turned to her, fingering her lips, her eyes on her son.
‘Don’t what?’ He put an arm round her shoulders. ‘It’s all right, Mom, don’t be scared. What’s wrong?’
‘The perfume bottles you liked,’ Sophie said, ‘they’re missing, and the German tankard and stuff — and that’s all that’s left of the blue Wedgwood vase.’ She pointed.
He stared at the fragments. ‘Where’d you find those?’
‘One piece in Byer’s closet, the other two at the edge of the creek by his house. The rest will have been swept away by the water.’
‘He broke Mom’s vase?’
‘By accident probably,’ Miss Pink said. ‘He’d have intended to sell it — and the rest of the stuff he stole — in some big city.’
‘How long’s this been going on? Mom, why didn’t you say?’
‘She didn’t know, Clyde.’ Sophie rushed to Edna’s defence.
‘Where’s Byer now? He’s not at home.’
He shook his head. ‘How would I know? He’ll be back Monday. My God, I’ll — I’ll —’
‘You’ll leave it to the police,’ Sophie told him firmly. ‘I’m going to call Hilton —’ She stopped and stared at Miss Pink, aghast at a thought.
‘Let’s go outside,’ Miss Pink said. Her eyes slid meaningly to Edna. It would be highly imprudent to discuss matters in her presence: no knowing what she might repeat to the wrong person.
Clyde followed them out. In the yard Sophie clutched Miss Pink’s arm. ‘We can’t report it. If we accuse Byer, he’s going to open the whole can of worms.’
‘Does he know?’ Clyde asked.
‘He knows Val was at the cabin —’
‘But she wasn’t —’
‘Right, she didn’t visit Charlie, but Bret did.’ She told him how they’d come to the conclusion that Byer was blackmailing Val on the strength of the washed coffee mugs and pot. ‘If Byer tells Hilton,’ she said, ‘Hilton’s going to ask Val why she washed up and never said a word to anyone. Once he tumbles to it that she thought she was protecting Jen, it puts Jen in the frame, see?’
‘Why shouldn’t she wash up? It’s an innocent action. But if Byer was at the cabin the night before, and said he wasn’t, now that’s not innocent.’
‘Nice one, Clyde. We have to go down there, talk to Val before Hilton does.’
‘No one’s phoned Hilton yet,’ Miss Pink reminded them, her brain racing. ‘Val never said she’d washed those mugs. Make sure you find out about that.’
Aunt and nephew were moving to the Cherokee. ‘You stay with Edna,’ Sophie called back. ‘Don’t let her use the phone, or go out, or anything. We won’t be long.’
Miss Pink returned to the kitchen, thinking about Byer. ‘Where did they go?’ Edna asked.
‘To talk to Val.’
Edna sighed, stood up from the table and walked to the refrigerator. From the freezer compartment she selected a large parcel. She placed it in the sink and turned the hot tap on. Miss Pink followed, switched off the water and read the label: Saddle of Elk. She hoisted the parcel to the draining board, calculating it weighed all of ten pounds. ‘You’re expecting company?’ she asked.
Edna looked confused. ‘Are we, dear? You’re good company.’
‘Tonight? The family’s coming to dinner?’
‘That will be nice.’
Miss Pink replaced the venison in the freezer. ‘We’ll all help with the cooking,’ she said. ‘Not such a large joint, perhaps, this would take too long to thaw. Tell me, what plans have you made about where you’re going to live?’
Edna blinked. ‘This is my home.’
‘Isn’t it a little inconvenient for one person?’
‘Jen and Bret will be here.’ Edna beamed happily. ‘And there will be children.’
Not if Jen was telling the truth. ‘When did you find out Jen was pregnant?’
If Edna was happy before, now she was radiant. ‘She is? Isn’t that neat? I must think about a nursery. How about we go and —’
‘She’s not pregnant,’ Miss Pink said kindly. ‘She was, ten years ago. Your husband knew.’
‘You could never believe Charlie.’ Her mind switched channels without any appearance of emotional transition. ‘He was a great joker,’ she assured Miss Pink.
‘So I understand. Like telling Jen that Paul Skinner is her father.’
Edna started to fidget with the broken Wedgwood. She hadn’t been asked a question and she didn’t respond.
‘Did Skinner murder his second wife?’ Miss Pink mused, seeming to commune with herself.
Edna was trying to fit the jasper fragments together like a jigsaw. She looked petulant. ‘Carol? He couldn’t unless he used Erik —’ She regarded Miss Pink doubtfully. ‘As the hit man?’ she hazarded.
‘Was that Charlie’s opinion?’
‘I don’t remember. He said they were two of a kind. He was about to fire Erik.’
Miss Pink was very still. The refrigerator was quiet and from outside there came the cry of the red-tailed hawk. ‘But he liked Erik,’ she said. ‘He confided in him, told him the contents of his will.’
‘He changed after Abdullah was stolen. He was Ali’s sire.’
‘Erik stole a horse?’
‘His statue. Solid silver it was. Didn’t you notice the gap above the fireplace in the den? No, I moved the others along so the gap wouldn’t show. But Daddy saw. He always knew Erik was a thief but he said he’d never dare steal from Glenaffric. It was why he wouldn’t have live-in help; he said servants were all thieves.’
‘Had he told Erik he was fired?’
Edna shrugged and looked blank. Then something snagged in her mind. ‘Daddy didn’t like them being buddies.’ She nodded emphatically. ‘He was frightened of AIDS.’
Miss Pink’s mind did a backwards somersault. ‘Buddies,’ she repeated slowly. ‘Paul and Erik?’ Edna had gone rigid, staring at her. ‘A gay couple,’ Miss Pink went on, looking out of the window as if bored, making polite conversation.
‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ Edna muttered. ‘Daddy loved his little joke.’ She paused. ‘They went to Seattle.’ She frowned. ‘But they couldn’t…’
Miss Pink said clearly, ‘Paul and Erik went to Seattle at the same time?’
Edna shook her head irritably. ‘That’s what I’m saying: they had to go separately or people would talk —’
‘Wait a minute. Seattle’s what — five hundred miles away? One day to drive there’ — Miss Pink’s eyes glazed — ‘a day to return, a day there? Charlie gave Eri
k three days off at a time?’
‘No, dear. Erik leaves after he’s done chores on Saturday morning — that is, when Clyde doesn’t do chores. If he does, then Erik leaves Friday evening. Clyde did chores today because Erik didn’t come in.’
‘He should have done?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘So Erik has only two days off at the most. How could he drive to Seattle and back, and attend to business… He doesn’t go, Edna.’
‘Doesn’t he, dear?’
‘No.’ Miss Pink was grim. ‘Byer does the stealing, Skinner takes the loot to a fence in Seattle.’
Edna smiled. Miss Pink sighed and stood up. The woman seemed happy enough and now that there was plenty of money available the family could run to nurse-companions round the clock. It was comfortable to think that here was one old soul who wouldn’t have to be incarcerated in an institution.
16
‘Let’s get this straight,’ Cole said. ‘You say Byer stole this silver statue before Charlie Gunn died, but all the rest he took afterwards?’
He’d arrived at Bear Creek to find Sophie and Miss Pink waiting for him. Hilton was engaged on another case, he told them; Miss Pink thought it more likely that Hilton was concerned with another aspect of the investigation into Charlie’s death, but she wasn’t about to question the statement.
She had telephoned the others from Glenaffric, bringing them back to hear her suggestion on how the thefts could be reported without touching on the family scandal. Cole had been run to earth in Irving and a message delivered for Hilton. Cole came back with the request that a member of the family should meet him at Byer’s place.
While they waited at Bear Creek, Sophie told Miss Pink that Val had come clean. On the morning of the search she had been the first person to reach the cabin. She had left Byer with Clyde to look for signs of Charlie in the vicinity of the landslide. And yes, she had rinsed the mugs and the coffee pot and replaced them.
‘It’s as well to know for certain,’ Miss Pink said. ‘Now we know what to avoid and how to skirt round it. Byer won’t say a word; no way is he going to admit that he reached the cabin the previous evening when he’s always maintained he turned back at the slide.’