Rangers at Roadsend

by Jane Fletcher

  The only one who was on her own at any time was Sergeant Takeda. Her story was that she had spent part of the time in the officers’ quarters, talking to Bergstrom, and then had gone straight to her room in D Patrol bunkhouse, where she had stayed until news of Ellis’ death reached her. The testimony of the sentries was that Takeda had made only one crossing of the parade ground, heading away from the admin block. She had not been seen again, with or without a knife.

  Chip considered going into the bunkhouse to warm up, but then she remembered the cook. Dinner was still an hour away; with luck, the cook would have things sufficiently under control to chat for a while.

  In Chip’s experience, military chefs came in two flavors: mother hens who would cluck away nonstop and sour despots whose only conversation was swearing more venomously than any Ranger would. To her relief, she found within seconds of entering the kitchen that the Roadsend cook was firmly in the former group. All the Rangers, from the divisional commander down, were her “girls.” Engaging the flour-covered woman in conversation was not hard, but steering the flow of words in the desired direction took far more effort. Eventually, Chip got there via the oblique route of Katryn.

  “I thought it was her I saw playing football…poor lamb.” The cook slapped a boulder of dough on the table, punctuating her speech. “She should have gotten an award for topping Ellis. I can’t imagine why they did what they did. I don’t know anyone who wasn’t glad to see the woman out of the squadron…not that I want to talk ill of the dead, you understand.”

  “You didn’t get on with—” Chip did not get the chance to finish.

  “I couldn’t stand her. I like to think I treasure all my girls, but there was always this sinking feeling when I heard the 12th was coming. And it was just Ellis. You get some people like that. She couldn’t cope unless she had everyone under her thumb. A real bully. She used to come in here, trying it on with me, shouting. So I told her, ‘I’m a civvy, I don’t have to say ma’am, and I only report to the quartermaster.’”

  The cook snorted and thumped both fists into the dough before continuing. “It was the girls in her patrol I felt sorry for. The cheeky one, Bo—she was always coming in here, cadging bits to eat and telling me about the goings-on. I’ve heard some say Bo isn’t up to much as a Ranger, but I reckon she’s sharp enough—just that there was no point in her trying. Everything she did was wrong by Ellis. And there was Pat. You’re not telling me she was happy sleeping with Ellis, but she didn’t get the choice. That’s not right, and there’s no need for it.” The cook smiled at Chip. “I know what you girls are like, but there’s no shortage of women in town who’re desperate to have a Ranger warm their bed. Ellis didn’t have the prettiest face, but she had a sergeant’s badge, and that always helps.”

  “I know. It’s what I rely on. I’d be lonely without it,” Chip said, matching the teasing tone.

  The cook barged her with a hip. “Oh, go on. I’m sure you don’t need it. You’ve got a lovely smile.”

  Thanks, Chip thought, stifling a sigh.

  The cook went on. “And I can tell you, no one ever said that of Ellis. She had to be totally in control. That’s why she couldn’t make a move on someone who was free to say no. That’s why she treated her girls the way she did. Take that other one. The one who drinks. What’s her name?” The cook smudged flour across her forehead. “Whatever. Ellis used to pick on her. Okay, the girl’s got a problem with drink. She needs help, not abuse. But Ellis liked it. It meant the poor lamb was totally in her power. She’s coming up to the end of her fourteen years. Bo told me Ellis kept threatening to block her re-enlistment because of the drink, but it was just a game.

  “Ellis could be nasty like that. She’d even pick fights with the other sergeants. She and Val Bergstrom hated each other. I’m surprised they never came to blows. And on the day she died, I heard her having a go at Sergeant Takeda. The pair were standing outside the mess snarling at each other, just like my sister’s dog. That’s a vicious brute as well; only the other day, it went for—”

  Chip cut in to try to steer the conversation back. “Somebody must have got on all right with Ellis.”

  “Name one,” the cook retorted.

  Chip pursed her lips. “The corporal? Surely the patrol couldn’t function if she didn’t get along with the sergeant.”

  The cook’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Hardly. Jan keeps a tight lid on herself, but after the thing with her gene mother, I’m surprised she wasn’t the one to gut Ellis.”

  “Her gene mother?”

  “Bo told me all about it. They were stationed down at Monday Market when they got the news Jan’s gene mother was dying. Jan put in for compassionate leave, and Ellis said no. No reason; they weren’t stretched at the time. Jan appealed to the captain, but Ellis stuck her heels in. It had to go to a full review. In the end, Jan got her leave after two days of mucking around and got to her gene mother a few hours after she died—just too late to say goodbye. But that was Ellis through and through. She didn’t need an excuse. She had the power to say when people could come and go, and she was going to use it.”

  The cook finished pounding the dough and began to shape lumps on a baking tray. Chip considered the woman’s back thoughtfully. It was hard to know how much faith to put in thirdhand gossip, but it was certainly interesting. “You don’t think it might have been Jan who did it?” Chip tried to make her tone as mild as possible.

  “Jan’s too quiet. Not that that’s always a safe marker. Sometimes they’re the most dangerous when they’re pushed too far. Like the big girl in the patrol. Tina Agosta. She acts all quiet. I used to think she was a bit dim, and then she blows.” The cook glanced back over her shoulder. “You know, I think Ellis was frightened of Tina. But that’s a bully all over. They never pick on someone they think can give it back. But she picked on the wrong person in the end.” She returned to the dough.

  “So you’re sure it’s the woman in my patrol who did it?”

  “Oh, yes. Not that I’ve had much to do with her. It was the first time she’d been in Roadsend—her and the other young one.”

  “That’s a bit worrying.” Chip did not attempt to argue Katryn’s case. It was far more instructive to let the cook have a free hand.

  “You shouldn’t hold it against her. Anyone can snap, and Bo was telling me Ellis was really awful to her. It would have pushed the Blessed Himoti into fighting back. Though that didn’t stop Bo joining in—” The cook broke off and turned around, looking uncomfortable. “I suppose you heard that she got a beating from the others?”

  Chip nodded, and the cook went on.

  “No one is supposed to know anything about it, but…” She shrugged. “I heard that Jan and Tina would have no part in it, and the alkie…Sal, she only went as far as being a lookout for the rest. Some of the girls from the other patrols joined in. But it says something if half a patrol won’t avenge their own sergeant.”

  The cook picked up the baking tray and waddled toward the oven. Chip obligingly opened the door. The cook smiled at her. “Now, don’t you worry about that new girl of yours. She’s already taken more than she should’ve.” The cook swung the oven door shut. “She deserves a second chance.”

  *

  On the way back to the bunkhouse, Chip stopped in the center of the deserted patrol ground. Dusk was not far away. The churned snow held a gray sheen in the last of the light. She turned in a full circle, finishing looking toward the latrine block. Her eyes became unfocused as she played with the fantasy of being able to turn back time, of being able to go to Katryn’s aid. In the hope that she’ll hurl herself into your arms in gratitude? Chip jeered at herself. Do you think she’d squeal with delight at the sight of her heroic rescuer? She shook her head. Katryn was not the squealing type. Chip would not find her nearly so attractive if she were.

  There were layers to Katryn. On the surface, she was reserved and calm; beneath that, there was steel. She had to be strong to have gone through the previou
s year without cracking. And under all that was someone who had been hurt far too much, in too many ways.

  Chip closed her eyes. She wanted to help heal the pain, but what hope was there that Katryn would ever look to her for comfort?

  She rubbed her hands over her face in despair. When creating a human life, Imprinters were supposed to select the best combination of genes to ensure a healthy baby that had no predisposition to disease. Considering the amount that the Tangs had paid for the Golden Chapel, surely the Imprinter could have put in a bit of extra effort and done something more creative with her facial bone structure.

  “You’ve got a lovely smile.” Chip groaned as she remembered the cook’s words and the dozens of times she had heard them before. It was the nearest thing to a flattering description she ever got, and Chip was quite coldly certain that it would take more than grinning like an idiot to merit Katryn’s attention.

  She hunched her shoulders and continued walking across the parade ground, kicking lumps of ice. It was probably just as well. If Katryn ever admitted the same feelings toward her, Chip thought she might pass out from the shock. And what would that do for my reputation as a mean, tough Ranger sergeant?

  Chapter Eighteen—The List of Suspects

  A noisy game of dice was in progress in the bunkhouse. Katryn was looking down on the players, sitting on her bed with her legs dangling over the side, when she saw Chip return. The football had provided a temporary distraction, but now her sense of anxiety was growing. She had to know what Chip had learned and in what direction the information had sent her thoughts.

  Chip shared a few wisecracks with the dice players, stripped off her heavy cloak and wandered into the sergeant’s room. Katryn did not wait. If she stopped to think, she would lose her nerve. She slipped down from her bed and followed.

  “Can I talk to you, ma’am?” Katryn blurted out.

  “Sure. You’ve got nearly half an hour before dinner. Is this about Ellis?” Chip hung her cloak on a peg and kicked the door shut. Through it, the sound of the dice game was muted but still audible, rising and falling. A sudden burst of ironic cheering erupted; someone had been very lucky—or silly. Chip pointed Katryn toward the cushioned chest.

  Katryn sat rigidly. Do you still think I’m innocent of murdering her? was far too abrupt. It was the thing she desperately wanted to know, but she did not think that she could cope with the blunt answer “No.” Instead, she asked, “What do you make of things…now that you’ve seen Roadsend?”

  Chip settled on the edge of her bed. “It’s not easy.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I mean, the obvious candidate for murderer is Sergeant Takeda, but you can’t rule anyone out.”

  “Takeda!” Katryn’s voice rose. “But she was—”

  “You look surprised,” Chip said, grinning. “Supposing I tell you how I see things?” Katryn nodded. It was exactly what she wanted.

  Chip continued, “There was no sign of a fight, and you didn’t hear Ellis shouting. From this, I deduce that Ellis wasn’t startled by whoever she encountered in the stores; which might in turn imply that they’d planned to meet there. Why has to be a guess, but everyone knew Ellis disliked you. Maybe someone told Ellis they suspected you of stealing but didn’t want to make it public without evidence. She arranged a secret meeting and asked Ellis to get the key and bring her knife.”

  “Something like that would explain what Ellis said to me in the stables,” Katryn said cautiously. “But the sentries…I don’t see how Takeda…” Her voice trailed away in confusion.

  “From the position the sentries were in outside the lockup, no one could cross from one side of the parade ground to the other without them seeing,” Chip said. “But they didn’t have sight of the doorways to the admin block, or of B and D Patrol’s bunkhouses. If Takeda snuck down the path between the kitchen and the mess hall when she left Bergstrom, she could have reached the stores without anyone noticing. When she got there, she could have stabbed Ellis, removed her knife belt and left again. She could easily have hidden the belt under her jacket.

  “The sentries saw her walk across the parade ground. But they couldn’t tell whether she had come directly from the admin block or whether she went straight to her own room. It would have been quite possible for her to slip into B’s bunkhouse first. Takeda could have gone to your locker, taken your knife, put it in the belt and then hung it up in Ellis’ room before continuing on to her own bunkhouse. Takeda wouldn’t have known which locker was yours, but she could have riffled through the letters in them. It would have taken her only a few minutes, and she had plenty of time.”

  “You don’t think it was simply chance whose knife she took?” Katryn spoke with a frown on her face.

  “No. I think it was a deliberate attempt to frame you by someone who knew you’d be nearby and had heard about your threat to Ellis that morning.”

  “I didn’t mean it seriously,” Katryn mumbled, embarrassed.

  “I know,” Chip said quickly. Then she went on. “But it does put a question mark against Takeda. Would she have heard about it? She doesn’t seem the type to gossip. The women from your old patrol are more likely candidates.”

  “None of them left the White Swan.”

  Chip held up her finger. “None of them made a big thing of waving goodbye and heading out the front door for half an hour. But if they spent an evening drinking, you can bet they all paid at least one visit to the latrine. We’ve seen that it’s easy to scramble around from the back of the tavern to the riverside path, and we’re assuming the murderer had arranged to meet Ellis. Therefore, Ellis could have opened the rear door and put out the bridge, and would be there to lend a hand up. Within seconds of slipping out of the taproom, the murderer could have been in the stores.”

  “How would she get the knife off Ellis?”

  “Easy. She’d have asked for it. I’ll demonstrate.” Chip bounced to her feet. “You be Ellis. I’ll be the killer.”

  Katryn also stood, although she felt uncomfortable.

  “And this is a row of crates.” Chip pointed to her bed. “Right. We’ve just closed the rear door. I rush over to these crates, and you follow.” Her intonation shifted to an act of forced eagerness. “Thanks for meeting me here, ma’am. But before I say anything more, I want to be sure of my facts. I think this is the crate.” She patted the bed and glanced back to Katryn. “Can I borrow your knife, ma’am?” She held out her hand.

  After a second of hesitation, Katryn realized that she was expected to play her part in the charade. She pulled the knife from her belt and passed it over.

  Chip took it and mimed prying up the lid of a box. She peered down. “Yes. It’s like I thought. If you want to see…?”

  Chip stepped away. Katryn moved forward automatically and then realized that Chip was now directly behind her. Katryn felt the knife handle tap gently on her back. “And now you’re dead.” Chip spoke the final words softly.

  Katryn turned around. Chip smiled and handed back her knife. They resumed their seats.

  “But if it wasn’t Takeda, how did the murderer get my knife into Ellis’ belt?” Katryn asked.

  “There’s a stock of grappling irons in the stores. I know; I checked. The murderer borrowed one, locked the rear door, returned the key to Ellis’ pocket and slipped out the main door. She went to the wall by the kitchen and used the grapple to climb over. She trotted along the riverbank, around the corner and over the wall again into the space between A and B blocks. She made a quick visit to your bunkhouse and then went back the way she came. She left the grapple hidden under the rubbish in the alleyway before climbing around to the White Swan.

  “The whole thing would have taken her five minutes—ten at most. Probably no one even noticed she’d been gone. If anyone had, she could say that there’d been a line for the latrine or she’d been chatting in the courtyard. When the Militia asked if anyone had left the tavern for part of the night, the rest weren’t going to say, ‘So-and-so took a little bit longe
r than you’d expect when she went for a piss.’”

  “Wouldn’t the missing grapple be noticed?”

  “I’d guess the murderer collected it early the next day and snuck it back—maybe even pushed it through a ventilation grill.” Chip looked thoughtful. “Of course, for completeness, there are two more suspects to consider. Bergstrom and Adebayo were together all evening, but like the Rangers in the tavern, one of them could have slipped off for a few minutes. I think we can dismiss Adebayo. With her leg, her days of climbing over walls are finished, but Bergstrom could have used the riverside path to return the knife belt.” Chip paused. “And I’m afraid the last suspect has to be you—if I can just work out a reason why you’d switch your knife with Ellis’.” The grin removed any serious intent from her last sentence.

  Katryn sank back so that her shoulders rested against the wall. She felt light-headed. Her first reaction was to not even care whether what Chip proposed was feasible; it was enough that Chip still believed in her. Then it struck her that Chip was right. The facts did not add up to an impossible picture. Someone had murdered Ellis and tried to frame her—and came frighteningly close to succeeding.

  For the first time, it fully hit Katryn that someone she knew had conspired to kill her. She was not the primary target. She was sure that it was merely incidental to the murderer’s plan that she would have been hanged, but she would not have been any less dead. A cold feeling of anger gripped her. She raised her head. Chip was looking at her.

  “You’re going to find the murderer,” Katryn said—more a statement than a question.

  “I’m going to find her,” Chip confirmed. She opened her mouth as if to say more, but the dinner bell rang out, greeted by shouts from the room outside. “Come on; let’s go eat.”

  *

  By the time the patrol got back to Eastford, the weather was deteriorating, while the action was starting to heat up, metaphorically speaking. Ash was already off chasing reports of missing people. Kim’s patrol was dispatched to the south the day after Chip’s return. C Patrol had less than a week to savor the delights of the Three Barrels before they were sent on a mission to Liffey’s Crossing, escorting an important convoy. In early February, a series of bad storms hit. All the Rangers spent the middle half of the month taking emergency aid to isolated homesteads, rescuing stranded travelers and, on one occasion, digging out corpses after an avalanche overwhelmed several hill farms. By the end of February, the snow lions were getting hungry enough to try for domesticated animals.