by Gwen Moffat
‘And there was Miriam,’ Grace called. ‘She was hysterical today; even made me wonder if she would claim to have killed Gayleen herself to try to lure the police away from Oliver: more like zapping them over the head with a blunt instrument, I’d say. So it was all a trick on Laddow’s part: make Mom own up because she knew who the murderer was. Cunning bastards!’
‘What wine are you having, Lois?’ Chester asked, standing at the open refrigerator.
‘Look,’ Lois said wildly, ‘I changed my mind. Let’s hold the meal back a bit longer, right? Go down to the Tattler, both of you, please. I have to sort something out.’ Her voice was reedy, dangerous.
Grace came out of the kitchen protesting loudly but Chester, after one look at Lois, took the girl’s arm and, with surprising strength, urged her through the room and out of the door, murmuring to her as they went.
‘My God!’ Lois leaned back on the sofa. ‘I’m not trying to get rid of them but they’re too susceptible for this.’
‘For what?’
‘It’s – squalid. He was her step-father, like she said.’
‘Which could make it worse.’
‘The situation could be worse?’
‘Grace could be more disturbed because he was family. If she felt contempt for Andy’s sexual overtures the feeling could well be exacerbated by shock, even guilt, when he was killed.’
Lois stroked her forehead with fingers that were not quite steady. ‘No one should have talked to you about our family business,’ she said.
‘I thought that was why you sent them down to the Tattler: you needed to speak about something that would embarrass them.’
‘It would hardly embarrass Chester since he told you in the first place.’
Miss Pink turned amazed eyes on her. ‘Chester would die sooner than betray your confidence – or Grace’s. No; Andy’s – pursuit – of Grace is known to your friends.’
‘That’s impossible. I only told Chester.’
‘Andy talked.’
Lois sat with her hands pressed against her mouth, her eyes like flint. Suddenly they softened and she lowered her hands. ‘The poor stupid guy,’ she said. ‘He had to boast even about trying to seduce his step-daughter!’
‘Not altogether stable?’ suggested Miss Pink. ‘Insecure, obviously.’
‘He was getting worse.’ Lois was letting down her defences. ‘He was like a little kid; he’d do anything to get attention, anything. You saw him in the Tattler; why, everything he did was designed to shock: his behaviour, what he said, his manners – or lack of them. There was a kind of – hectic desperation about him that last weekend: an impression that he was very close to the edge. I even … ’ She trailed off.
‘Yes?’
Lois was muttering, not looking at her. ‘I didn’t tell him to give himself up – not to the police. I did try to make him go to a psychiatrist. I had the feeling that it would sort of demonstrate that he was crazy, not only when he shot her, but afterwards. What I’m trying to say is, he was on the verge of a breakdown and that weekend, perhaps quarrelling with her as they drove north, his mind collapsed. A crazy man wouldn’t give himself up to the police but he might be persuaded to unburden himself, unload everything in the lap of a psychiatrist like, in another age, a murderer would go to a priest. Am I talking sense?’
‘Oh yes. What did he say to that?’
‘There’s no straight answer. We talked for hours that night. I was terribly shocked, of course, and I could see only that he had to have help but that I wasn’t the one could give it. He wanted me, like a child needs its mother, but honestly, Melinda, I didn’t reject him for negative reasons – God knows, I wanted to help – but because I’d just make it worse: his dependency. He was a little boy, he reverted to childhood: weeping, on his knees, imploring’ – she covered her face with her hands – ‘and then he would turn on me and say I had no feelings. I rejected him, if you can call it that, because what he needed was professional trained help. Drugs perhaps: tranquillisers to calm him down. What did he say? One moment he’d be sneering at me, saying I was the one needed a psychiatrist. A little later he was begging me to take him to Portland; he’d see someone next day.’
‘Did he mention suicide?’
Lois thought about it. ‘Not as such. He said there was nothing left for him if I turned him away, that he couldn’t have a satisfactory relationship with anyone, his work was just a contrived goal … No, he didn’t say he would shoot himself. He had before.’
‘He had?’
‘Yes, there was one time when we’d had a spat about something, probably when he made up the story about Grace trying to seduce him – that was to cover his own advances, of course – and I’d sent him packing, told him not to come back. He came back, and he had another story. This time it was that a child had gone missing from a campground on the coast – which was true – but that he was responsible. I said he’d do anything, say anything to attract attention. I told him I’d had enough of his morbid fantasies – he should put them in his screenplays. That was when he broke down, said they were all a joke, that he would kill himself if I threw him out. I thought he meant it, he was certainly very sick: making up these tales. So I allowed him to stay.’
Lois looked at Miss Pink, her face drained of expression, her eyes empty. ‘I loved him,’ she said. She scratched the back of Lovejoy’s skull and went on without a change of tone: ‘When this old cat came to me, he was a stray, probably thrown out of a car by a passer-by. He’d been trying to live in the forest but he’d had a fight with a racoon or something and he had a nasty abscess on his face so he’d got pretty tacky and mean. I took him in and cleaned him up and he got well again – and I’m responsible for him for the rest of my life. Do you understand?’
‘I think I do,’ Miss Pink said.
Chapter 16
At eleven o’clock the night was so black that only by the wheezing of the horn could one tell that the coast was blanketed by fog. That, and the fact that no light was visible from Quail Run. Miss Pink had drawn her curtains and was sitting by the stove, not reading despite the book on the arm of her chair. When the knock came at her window she was moving to rise before the caller spoke.
‘Don’t be alarmed; it’s me, Chester.’
He stepped into the room. There was a tray with drinks and clean glasses on a coffee table. They sat down and she poured Scotch for him.
‘Were you expecting me,’ he asked drily, ‘or the police?’
‘You; possibly Grace.’
‘She won’t come. She’s fighting hard to keep it in the family.’
‘Does she condemn Lois?’
‘Never; she’s her mother.’
‘And you?’
He had sounded frank; now a shutter came down over his eyes. ‘What course could she take except to send him away? She’d never hand him over to the police.’
She said nothing and he stared at her, then turned his head as if his thoughts could be read in his eyes. ‘What did she tell you?’ he asked, unable to couch it less bluntly.
She sighed. ‘She sent you and Grace to the Tattler.’ It was a reproof.
His eyes narrowed. It was obvious the situation was alien to this courteous elderly fellow but he soldiered on gallantly. ‘She’d tell you what she wouldn’t tell her own family?’
‘Because you are family.’ She noted his insistence on the relationship. ‘I’m impersonal, objective. More objective,’ she corrected.
‘If she told you, then she has to tell the police.’
‘I think the police suspect. There’s that long gap between her bringing him back to the house from the roadworks and her appearance at the Tattler; it must have been around three hours. She says they were talking all that time. I suppose it’s feasible.’
‘It’s considerably more likely that they were talking than that they went together into the forest on a wet night – ’ He watched her carefully, daring her to complete the sentence.
‘Oh yes, much more
likely that he went up there alone. That’s what her lawyer will argue, of course. How could she persuade him to go with her, or he persuade her to go with him? Maybe,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘there are factors we don’t know about.’
‘You’re saying she’s keeping something back?’
‘From what she did tell me, I’d say she’s keeping a lot back.’
‘Like what?’
‘Andy’s behaviour, his attempts to seduce Grace— ’
He made a gesture of impatience. ‘Load of rubbish. Grace says he never did, never could; he was scared stiff of her. She figures he was impotent – her words.’
‘It’s in character. Then there was the story about abducting the child from the campground – ’
‘What that woman’s had to put up with! It’s monstrous. Go on.’
‘He’d threatened suicide before.’
‘He would. Emotional blackmail.’
‘You must have felt like getting rid of him yourself.’
‘There were times I dreamed of it – seriously. And in my waking moments I considered how it might be worked, without being caught myself.’
She said nothing. Alerted by her lack of response, her stillness, he studied her and saw that she was waiting. His eyes brightened with a thought before he voiced it, carefully.
‘The important thing,’ he said, ‘was not to get caught.’
‘He’s confessed,’ Laddow said next morning. ‘Now he’ll bolt.’
‘I doubt that.’ Miss Pink filled his coffee cup. ‘There’s no point in confessing unless he’s going to stay to take the rap.’
‘Ha! So you got it.’
‘His so-called confession proves it.’ She sketched a smile. ‘It’s called chivalry. Chester is a gentleman.’
‘And she’s no lady. But she is, isn’t she? She just couldn’t take that son-of-a – excuse me, ma’am – ’
‘Rogue,’ she supplied. ‘But he was much more than that: he was mentally disturbed.’
‘Tell me about it.’
The police had gone early to the Keller place, only to find that Lois was awaiting the arrival of her attorney from Portland and meanwhile would say nothing. Laddow, leaving Hammett with her, had walked along the lane to Quail Run, to be accosted en route by Chester who confessed to Andy’s murder. Laddow had gone along with that and, to Chester’s chagrin, sent him home with the assurance that he would follow shortly to take a statement. Laddow continued to Quail Run where Miss Pink received this latest news without surprise.
‘She’ll get off,’ he said when he had heard the gist of the conversation after he left the Keller place last night, and had read between the lines. ‘In fact, how can we prove it wasn’t an accident? Violent deaths in backcountry areas are hell for investigators. It may have been an accident for all we’ll ever know. What are you thinking? Ah, she’s told Hoyle what really happened; must have done, otherwise why should he confess?’
‘He could be panicking on her behalf, thinking that somewhere there is proof – or at least an indication – that Andy was pushed rather than he fell. Something she overlooked – or maybe she was seen.’
‘On a stormy night? Who goes into the forest in the dark? No, her story will be that he announced his intention of killing himself and she followed, even went with him, trying to talk him out of it. You don’t agree.’
‘Oh yes, that’s what her story will be, or something similar.’
The telephone rang. It was Hammett. She handed the receiver to Laddow and walked to the window. The fog shrouded everything and even her fuchsias were without colour. The fog horn sounded mournfully, reminding her that she had become so accustomed to it through the previous evening and the night that most of the time she no longer noticed it.
Behind her Laddow put down the telephone and said, ‘The attorney hasn’t arrived yet. Grace seems to have walked out.’
‘And Lois?’
‘She’s there, or Hammett would have said.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘There’s nothing I can do. Just wait. She won’t talk until the attorney arrives, if then.’ She avoided his eyes and moved to the bookshelves. He frowned and asked suddenly, ‘Who is her attorney?’
‘I have no idea.’
He turned to the telephone and dialled a number. Hammett must have answered. ‘Get the name and number of her attorney,’ Laddow grated and, when Hammett came on the line again, scribbled on a pad. He cleared the line, dialled, waited, and grimaced. He turned to Miss Pink. There was no need to comment; the line was engaged. When he did get through, the people at the law office said that Mrs Keller hadn’t been in contact with them. There was no attorney on his way to Sundown.
‘Now why should she do that?’ Laddow asked, but the question was rhetorical; he was already on his way to the door.
Leo and Sadie arrived, breathless, interrupting each other.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Leo demanded. ‘She knows we can’t stand the animal— ’
‘Which is why she said take it to Fleur— ’
‘Locke! We still had to take the thing in the car! And that fellow Hammett: why’s he answering the phone? Why won’t he put her on?’
‘Who brought the cat?’ Miss Pink asked.
‘Why, Lois of course. The note said so: “Please take Lovejoy to Fleur. Thanks. Lois,” is what it said— ’
‘ —and there it was: screaming its ugly head off; that’s how we knew it was there: at our gate, in a basket thing, and tearing it to bits. We thought it had to go to the veterinarian in Salmon, guessed it could be for an operation – terminal injection, if I had my way. So we took it down to Fleur like the note said, and she knew nothing about it! She put the thing in a shed and then we tried to reach Lois. Hammett answered and told us Lois said not to come up. What’s going on?’
She told them about Chester’s ‘confession’ and how that pointed the finger at Lois. They were flabbergasted. ‘I suspect,’ she said, ‘that the cat was dropped off because Lois is anticipating being taken to Portland— ’
‘Arrested?’ Leo growled. ‘But she’ll be allowed bail!’
‘They can’t hold her,’ Sadie protested. ‘She has to get an attorney. Why doesn’t she?’
‘How did she get the cat to your place?’ Miss Pink asked, and they stared at her, bewildered. ‘Hammett wouldn’t let her out of his sight,’ she explained. ‘I suppose that’s where Grace went: to deliver Lovejoy to you.’
‘That’s not important,’ Sadie said. ‘I think we should go visit Chester. If he’s all on his own up there, stewing over Lois, he needs company, poor man.’
‘Particularly when he’s made such a noble gesture,’ Leo said drily. ‘That was a stupid move if ever there was one.’
‘I don’t think it’s of much consequence,’ Miss Pink said. ‘All it means is that Grace and Chester came back from the Tattler last night and Lois told them the truth – or rather, she told them the same story that her attorney will use in her defence.’
‘What’s the difference?’ demanded Leo. ‘Oh, I see: you mean the did-he-fall-or-was-he-pushed question? No sweat. He fell. We all know that.’ She glared from Sadie to Miss Pink.
‘Of course, dear,’ Sadie said quickly.
Chester was not at his house and the place appeared to be abandoned, which was curious, because Laddow had sent him home less than an hour ago. But all the windows were closed and the doors locked, including that of the garage. Leo peered through a window and said that his car had gone.
They were worried. Leo drove them back to Quail Run and Miss Pink went to the telephone. When Hammett came on the line she told him that Chester had locked his house and left. He asked her to hold the line, and Laddow came on. She repeated the information. He said – and not, she thought, spontaneously, ‘Yes, Miss Ferguson has also gone. No doubt they went together.’
After a moment she said weakly, ‘I thought you ought to know.’
‘I’ll tell her,’ he said. ‘We were wo
rking on collusion all along,’ and put down the receiver.
‘What did he say?’ Sadie urged, seeing her surprise.
‘He had to be speaking for Lois’s benefit,’ she said slowly. ‘But he must read her her rights … I see, a ploy to make her confess? Can he do that?’
‘What ploy?’ Leo asked.
‘He’s suggesting that Grace and Chester are in collusion. Apparently they left together.’
‘Someone is acting in collusion,’ Sadie said. ‘Else how did that cat come to be dumped at our gate? Lois couldn’t have done it because you say Hammett wouldn’t let her out of his sight, so it had to be Grace. They must have communicated under Hammett’s nose, probably passing notes in the kitchen.’
‘Or they discussed contingency plans last night,’ Miss Pink said.
‘You’re making them sound like criminals!’ Leo stamped across to the window and glared at the fog. ‘I tell you: Andy Keller fell down the slide.’
‘I don’t think anyone can prove otherwise,’ Sadie murmured, and Miss Pink suggested coffee before Leo could retaliate.
There was nothing they could do. It was obvious that Sadie and Leo didn’t want to leave Miss Pink, and there was no question of going for a walk when one of their circle was in danger of arrest – because whatever Leo maintained, they knew that the police were deeply suspicious, the more so because Lois had lied about her attorney – and then there was Chester’s blunder.
‘I wonder how he said he did it,’ Leo mused, pacing the room, a mug of coffee in one hand.
‘Laddow didn’t say,’ responded Miss Pink. ‘I had the impression that the only interest Chester’s confession held for the police was merely the fact of it, not the details, if there were any.’
‘But,’ Sadie said, ‘if there were details, you’d expect them to be correct, only Chester had put himself in Lois’s place.’
Leo stopped pacing and turned, her coffee slopping. ‘What details?’
At the same time Miss Pink was saying, ‘It could be that Laddow was more concerned to get to me and discover what we’d talked about last evening after the police left.’