Jack The Roper (Axel Hatchett Mystery Book 6)

by Steven Nelson

  “I think I’d start for the cabins about here.”

  “Do it.”

  We walked into a stand of low growing trees and had to duck to keep our hats from getting knocked off. At one point Tracy didn’t stoop low enough and a pine bough swiped her hat. She picked it up and carried it in her fair young paw. A little farther on, she failed to duck low enough again.

  “My hair!” she said.

  “You can comb your lovely locks later. Wait. Hair!”

  “You just noticed I was wearing some?”

  “Let’s go back, slowly.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re going to look for strands of hair that might have caught in the branches. If we find any, the length and color might tell us who the murderer is.”

  “You ought to do this for a living,” said Tracy.

  We backtracked. We walked very slowly, keeping an eye on the tree branches we crossed under.

  “I found some,” said Tracy, after we’d walked about ten yards.

  I went over and looked. “It’s awfully short.”

  “Maybe Curt was the killer.”

  “No, I think it’s deer hair.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’d say it came from a four-point buck, a good-sized fellow.”

  “Don’t be a smart guy.”

  I pointed to a clump of aspen. A four-point buck stood very still, giving us the eye. Tracy spotted him and gave me an admiring look.

  “OK, Davy Crockett, lead on,” she said.

  We spent the next twenty minutes looking for hair. I finally found a few strands tangled in the needles of some pine branches.

  “Eureka!” I said.

  “You found gold? Let’s retire.”

  I carefully loosed the strands of hair. They were brown, maybe six or eight inches long. “Great! This hair could belong to you, or Audra, or Mabel, or Betsy.

  “At least we’ve narrowed down the suspects. I don’t think it’s long enough for Betsy’s, though it might be broken off. I think it’s too light for Audra’s. Can’t be sure though.”

  I got a little yellow baby shower announcement envelope out of my pocket. Tracy wound the hair around her finger into a little curl and I put it in the envelope.

  “I feel a whole lot better now,” I said. “Now we’ve got something to go on.”

  “Are we going to turn this hair over to the sheriff?”

  “To hell with him. He didn’t find it, did he? We’ll have to find a sneaky way to compare this hair to the dames at the ranch.”

  “Steal their hair brushes.”

  “Not bad. I’ll leave that up to you. Let’s get back to our cabin. I’m tired of being rained on. And I want to take a nap.”

  “A honeymoon kind of nap?”

  “With you? That’s exactly the kind of nap I like.”

  We headed back to the trail and walked it until we were just in sight of the ranch buildings. Then we headed into the woods again and made our way to our cabin. The cats sniffed us all over and showed us their empty food bowl. I filled up the bowl with their favorite smelly food and we took off our wet clothes and had our nap. It was close to suppertime when we got up.

  We took a good look at the hair before we ambled — through a now misty rain — to the dining hall. Mabel was at the motel in Quail Eye. Lilly and Sissy Dell’s hair was light colored. As it turned out, Audra didn’t show for supper. That left Betsy as the only reasonable suspect whose hair we could get a gander at.

  “I’ll tell her I’m getting a bug out of her hair,” said Tracy, “and I’ll pull out a couple of strands.”

  “You’ll make a shamus yet.”

  “Pulling hair’s a big part of the job, is it?”

  “You just never know. I pull mine often enough.”

  We went around to the back of the chow house. Panhandle was torturing a couple of big racks of ribs. Sissy Dell was fussing around, putting out plates of food and acting like there were twelve dudes instead of just four. The gloomy Walter was drinking a beer and smoking a Camel. Betsy was checking out the food and Tracy was hovering around her head.

  “Is that a black widow in your hair?” Tracy asked her.

  Betsy screamed. “Get it off! Get it off! Ouch!”

  “Sorry,” said Tracy. “His legs were tangled up in your hair. I got him though.” She wiped imaginary spider remains on her pants and gave me a conspiratorial wink, pushing one hand into her pants pocket.

  None of the buckaroos except Sissy Dell and Panhandle were around.

  “Not much of a crowd tonight,” I said, walking up to Panhandle. He was wearing a slicker and a silly rain hat, though the rain was practically over.

  “You dudes all ran away,” he said. “You got yellow streaks down your backs.”

  “Not me and the missus. And Walter and Betsy have stuck it out. What’s the plan for after supper?”

  “We’re all going to play hide-and-seek in the woods. Sound like fun?”

  “What’s the plan for real?”

  “There isn’t one. We’re tired of trying to keep you dudes cheered up. You can all go shiver in your cabins. Maybe somebody else will get murdered.”

  “You’ve misplaced your carefree spirit,” I said.

  “To hell with that. I got a letter from Auntie today. She wants money for gas and the wear and tear on her car. I know what she’s up to. She doesn’t want me coming back.”

  “Were you thinking about it?”

  “Hell, no. Guess what? Hester’s wanting to come up here.”

  “I can’t see her as a buckaroo.”

  “She won’t be working here, just getting away from her boyfriends and resting up.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “You know, if the only horse you can find to ride is a nag, it’s still better than no horse at all.”

  “You and Hester are romantically involved?”

  “We both got an itch, that’s all,” said Panhandle.

  “Don’t let those ribs burn.”

  “In the rain? I’ll be lucky if I can get them cooked. Hear about Hawk?”

  “I’ve heard nothing. What about him?”

  “He went up to the big house today and quit.”

  “Was he scared of the killer?”

  “Probably, but I think he’s thinking of going back to Hollywood. Good riddance to him”

  “The lady dudes will be crushed.”

  “You’re right about that. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if Uncle Prime closed down the dude ranch. What would I do then?”

  “It might help if I can find the murderer.”

  “How you coming along with that?”

  “Give me another day or two,” I said.

  “For real?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tracy joined us.

  “Howdy, Mrs. Axe,” said Panhandle.

  “Those ribs look good.” Said Tracy. “Who killed Dr. Rumdab, Panhandle?”

  “I still think it was your husband here. Maybe he had a bad experience with a croaker when he was a kid.”

  “First I’ve heard of it,” said Tracy. “Tell me about the bunkhouse. Do you all have one big bed or are you more private?”

  “We all got our own space, like stalls in a barn. There’s one bathroom and a little kitchen. I’ve stayed in worse flop houses.”

  “If one of you wanted to take a midnight stroll, you could do it without the others knowing?” Tracy asked.

  “Why you asking? You think one of the buckaroos is the killer? Hawk’s leaving us. Maybe he did it.”

  “Answer my question.” Tracy used her sternest mean waitress voice.

  “Sure thing, ma’am. As long as everybody else was asleep, you could sneak out and nobody’d know.”

  The ribs were ready, so we helped Panhandle carry them over to the picnic tables under the veranda roof. There were scalloped potatoes, peas, biscuits, and an honest-to-God pear cactus cobbler. We’d all worked up big appetites being rained on and we did credit to the
meal. Afterwards, Panhandle unlimbered his guitar and Sissy Dell crooned some cowboy songs. Tom Dooley wasn’t one of them.

  “You still looking for a checkers partner?” I asked Walter.

  “No. Panhandle beat me about twelve games this afternoon.”

  “Did you play for money?”

  “Yeah. Don’t tell Betsy. Any luck with solving the murder?”

  “Nothing I can talk about, but Tracy and me got our clue.”

  “You guys are good. I hope they hang the guy like they did Rumdab.”

  “They gas folks in Colorado,” I said.

  “Hanging’d be better.”

  Not if the killer is your wife, I thought.

  “Let’s play some cards,” Tracy suggested.

  “I think me and Walter are just going to stay in our cabin tonight,” said Betsy. “We’re not feeling too cheery.”

  “Why sulk in your cabin? Me and Axe will cheer you up. How about some Canasta?”

  “I’ve got to work on my new invention,” said Walter. “It’s a new kind of saddle, with handlebars. Sorry, me and Betsy aren’t much for cards anyway.”

  “Spoil sports,” I said. “I guess we’ll see you for breakfast then.”

  “Sure,” said Walter, “if we’re all still alive.”

  They got up, thanked Sissy Dell and Panhandle for the supper, and crept off to their cabin.

  “I want to talk to Sissy Dell for a minute,” Tracy told me. “I want to know if anyone’s been slipping out of the bunkhouse at night.”

  “OK. You want me to join you?”

  “No, a guy would just screw it up.”

  Tracy went off to help Sissy Dell carry things into the kitchen. I went to help Panhandle clean up.

  “Thanks,” he told me, when I picked up a stack of plates. “You still think me and Ned worked together to swipe Auntie’s bunny?”

  “I’m not sure what I think. You could be innocent. Stranger things have happened.”

  14

  In a few minutes, Tracy rejoined me and we headed to our cabin. She couldn’t wait to compare the hairs she’d plucked from Betsy to the ones we’d found in the woods.

  “How’d you make out with Sissy Dell?” I asked.

  “She was a bust. She says she sleeps like the dead. Bad choice of words, considering.”

  When we got back to the cabin, we found the cats had been busy in our absence. They’d amused themselves by trying to unhook the hooked rug on the floor. They’d made pretty good progress and I figured the ranch would bill us for the damage. Tracy took the hairs from the evidence envelope and compared them to the ones she’d plucked from Betsy. She frowned. “Betsy’s not our killer. Her hair is about the right shade, but it’s thicker. These hairs don’t match at all.”

  “That leaves Mabel and Audra, or someone we don’t even know about. I’m going to hide those hairs we found in case somebody searches our place.”

  “You’re awfully suspicious.”

  “That’s an attitude that pays off. Where should I hide them?”

  “Tape them to one of the cats.”

  “Maybe not. I could stick them to a bar of soap if we had a bathroom in here.”

  “Why don’t you just keep them in your pocket? They aren’t heavy.”

  “I think that’s what I’ll do. Listen, figure out a way to get some of Audra’s hair. You can’t use the bug ploy again. I don’t think Audra is afraid of bugs. She was playing with a couple of ants the other day, trying to get them to race.”

  “I’ll think of something,” said Tracy. “Don’t worry, partner.”

  “You did good today.”

  “Thanks, chief.”

  “Panhandle told me his so-called cousin Hester is coming up to the dude ranch. I wonder how’s she’s going to ride a horse with those slinky dresses she wears.”

  “Maybe they can find a side saddle for her.”

  “She’s trouble. I’m sorry she’s coming up here.”

  “She can help us pass the long rainy days,” said Tracy.

  “If you think Betsy’s a flirt, wait until you see Hester in action. She makes Betsy look like a bashful nun.”

  “Oh, in that case we need to put a padlock on Hester’s cabin door. But you don’t get to keep the key.”

  “She’s not a looker.”

  “That’s good news.”

  It rained all night. We couldn’t even take the cats out for an airing. I felt like pacing so I did. Tracy didn’t like it.

  “Go outside if you’re going to pace. You’re making the cats nervous.”

  “I’ll get wet.”

  “It’ll do you good. Your clothes need washing anyway,” said Tracy.

  “If you’re going to be a detective you’ll have to learn how to pace.”

  “Remind me to practice sometime later. I’ll go for a walk with you right now, though.”

  “We’ll catch our deaths.”

  “Around here, that could be true.”

  We struggled into the baggy yellow slickers the ranch had loaned us and went outside. It was cold and damp and dark. I tried lighting a cigar but the rain kept putting it out. The lights were out in Betsy and Walter’s cabin.

  “There’s still lights on in the dining hall,” said Tracy. “Let’s go see if they have any coffee, or whiskey.”

  “No whiskey. We’re on the clock.”

  “Maybe you’re on the clock, but I’m on vacation. I’ll get drunk as a hoot owl if I want.”

  We sloshed up to the grub house. The door was unlocked and Panhandle was inside. He turned to look at us.

  “Sleep walking?” he asked. He was putting tablecloths on the tables, and lining up the benches and chairs. “I got to get as much done as I can for breakfast tomorrow or Sissy Dell will kill me.”

  “Why?” asked Tracy, shaking the water off of her like a dog.

  “I got to drive down to Quail Eye and pick up my cousin at the bus stop in the morning. I won’t be here to help cook.”

  “What are you going to drive?” I asked.

  “I’ll borrow the ranch truck.”

  “Is your cousin Hester related to your uncle Prime?” Tracy asked Panhandle.

  “Damned if I know. I know they’ve never met. You guys want some coffee?”

  “Sure, if you’ve got,” I said.

  “Have you got a drop of whiskey to put in it?” asked Tracy.

  Panhandle raised his considerable eyebrows. “Sure, sister, I’ve got a bottle in the pantry.”

  “Tracy’s been working with me,” I said. “She thinks she’s a tough guy detective now. Pretty soon she’ll be smoking cigars and carrying her own gun.”

  “And I want my own blackjack, and my own fedora.”

  “The whole gumshoe mystique is going to her head,” I explained to Panhandle. “Be careful she doesn’t sock you on the jaw.”

  Panhandle shrugged and went into the kitchen. In a minute, he came back carrying a big metal tray with a coffee pot and cups and a pint of whiskey on it. Tracy and me shrugged out of our slickers and sat at one of the tables. Panhandle joined us.

  “Just coffee’s fine for me, thanks,” I said.

  Panhandle poured out our coffee. He added a dollop of hooch to his and Tracy’s cups.

  “There’s some cookies in the kitchen if you want,” said Panhandle.

  “None for me,” I said.

  “I’m still full from supper,” said Tracy.

  “OK, you guys,” said Panhandle, “spill. Who killed the little doc?”

  “He was killed by a horse. I think it was Lucky.” I said.

  Panhandle snorted. “Even I know better than that. Come on, who?”

  “We don’t know yet,” I said, “but we’ve got some ideas. We’re keeping them close to the vest for now.”

  “How well do you know Audra?” Tracy asked Panhandle.

  Damn Tracy and her big mouth.

  “Audra, huh?” Panhandle’s eyebrows practically jumped off his face. “You think that short stack of s
weet flapjacks strangled the croaker? I don’t see it.”

  “We need some of her hair,” said Tracy. “Just a few strands.”

  “You guys making voodoo dolls or something?”

  “Never mind my partner,” I said. “She talks too much. Tracy admires Audra’s hair and is thinking of having a wig made. She needs a sample to take to her wig maker.”

  “Sure,” said Panhandle.

  “It’s true,” said Tracy. “I have a lot of wigs. I’m wearing one right now. You’d never know, would you?”

  Panhandle made a disgusted noise. “Why can’t you two be straight with me? I might be able to help.”

  “We’re just kicking some ideas around,” I said, “that’s all. If we think we can use your help, we’ll fill you in on the details.” I changed the subject. “What time is Hester arriving?”

  “I’m picking her up at seven. I hope to hell she doesn’t bring all her clothes with her. I don’t feel like hoisting suitcases. You looking forward to seeing her again, cousin Miles?”

  “Why not? She’s OK. A little over-friendly maybe.”

  He snorted. “Only with guys. She hates broads. You want some of Audra’s hair? Maybe Hester will get in a catfight with her. That’ll make the hair fly.”

  “You arrange the fight,” said Tracy. “I’ll bring my butterfly net.”

  “It sounds like Hester and Betsy won’t get along,” I said.

  “You’re right about that,” said Panhandle. “Hester don’t like competition. I figure those two will get into it. Care to lay any bets about which one has the best right hook?”

  “I’d put my money on Hester,” I said. “She’s a flyweight, but there’s always blood in her eye.”

  “You folks ought to go to bed,” said Panhandle. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

  “Why is that?” asked Tracy. “Are we riding elephants tomorrow?”

  “No. They’re taking you dudes to the Lost Buckaroo Mine.”

  “Is it dangerous?” I asked.

  “You better hope not. They’ve shored it up with new timbers, but most of it’s an actual cave. They tapped into it when they were blasting out the mineshafts. You’ll love it.”

  “We’re going to ride horses into a cave?” asked Tracy.

  “Naw, you’ll leave the horses outside. They’ll give you miner’s hats — you know, with lights on them — and you’ll walk and crawl. Don’t wear your best duds. It’s muddy, and rocky, and slimy.”