Jack The Roper (Axel Hatchett Mystery Book 6)

by Steven Nelson

  The rough tunnel wound around and finally came out into a low-ceilinged room as dark as Satan’s eyebrows.

  “Turn out your lights, dudes,” said Audra. “Some of the rocks in here glow in the dark.”

  We reluctantly switched off our miner’s lights. The place stayed dark. Then, over in a corner, an eerie green light appeared. It started moving towards us. All at once, the light grew brighter and we were looking at the haggard, bearded, face of a walking corpse. Somebody screamed in a high-pitched squeal. I think it was me.

  “Howdy, folks!” the ghost greeted us. It pulled off its silly beard and grinned like a loon. It was that damned Panhandle. Somehow he’d managed to beat us to the cave, probably riding by a shortcut. “You keep looking for the ghost of Blasty, cause you ain’t found him yet.”

  He laughed. We all laughed. It was a great joke. None of us had been scared. Of course not. We turned our headlamps back on. I realized I was holding my pistol. I looked at Tracy. My thirty-eight was in her paw. Something gleamed to my right and I looked that way. Walter was clutching a nickel-plated pistol in one hand.

  “I almost made you a real ghost,” Walter told Panhandle.

  “You almost made me pee myself, Billy,” complained Hester.

  “Just a little joke, folks,” Panhandle said, nervously. He pulled a flashlight with a green bulb out of his shirt and switched it off. His hands were shaking.

  “Let’s everybody put up their hardware,” said Drew. “We was just having a little fun.”

  We filed into another tunnel. Tracy kept smacking her gum and blowing bubbles. What was wrong with her? After fifty yards or so, we came into a low cavern whose floor glimmered in our lights.

  “This here’s the lake,” said Audra. “Don’t fall in. It’s said to be half a mile deep. Look for the blind fish.”

  We all looked into the water. I saw something swimming around, something white and wriggly. They were fish all right. I wondered if they were really blind, or just faking it so we’d give them treats.

  “This here’s as far as we go,” said Drew. “We’ll head back and have us a picnic lunch in front of the mine. You see any gold nuggets on the floor; you’re welcome to pick them up.”

  On our way out Tracy stumbled and bumped into Audra.

  “I’m so sorry, Audra!” she said. “I tripped. I was blowing a bubble and I got gum in your hair. Let me pull it out.”

  Smart girl!

  “You got gum in my hair?” complained Audra. “Get it out, but be careful. I don’t want to be bald.”

  Tracy got the pink bubble gum out, no doubt with a few strands of hair stuck to it. I saw her wrap it up in a piece of paper and put it in her pocket.

  We filed out of the cave and back into the mine. In a little while, we were back outdoors. A nice lunch of barbequed beef sandwiches was waiting for us. Panhandle joined us. His face and hands were covered with flour. He came over to where me and Tracy were sitting in the grass.

  “You could have shot me,” he complained.

  “I was just fooling,” I said. “Whose idea was it to have you play ghost?”

  “Breedlaw’s. You wouldn’t expect him to have a funny bone, but he does.”

  “Where’s your horse?” asked Tracy.

  “Over in the trees. I beat you guys here by about ten minutes.” He leaned over near Tracy. “You got any more bubble gum?”

  “Why, do you need a haircut?”

  “That was a pretty neat trick.”

  “Tracy shrugged. “Just normal detective stuff.”

  “You think Audra bumped off the doc?” whispered Panhandle.

  “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll soon know.”

  “What do you think of my cousin Hester?”

  “She looks just like you,” said Tracy.

  “Like hell she does.”

  “She’s a pistol,” I said, joining in on the conspiratorial conversation. “I wonder what Drew thinks of her.”

  “I hope he likes her,” said Panhandle. “Drew could use a girlfriend and Audra won’t have anything to do with him. Besides, you’re putting her behind bars.”

  “Keep that under your hat. We’re a long ways from proving Audra did anything at all,” I said.

  We stuffed ourselves full of lunch, piled onto our broncs, and headed back to the ranch. On the way, it started to rain. When we finally reached the barn, we all went to the grub house for coffee. Tracy was fidgety and I could tell she wanted to go back to our cabin. I hoped maybe she was feeling romantic, but that wasn’t it. As soon as we got back to our place, she asked me for my hair sample. She eagerly compared it to Audra’s, which still had some pink gum stuck to it.

  “It’s the same,” said Tracy, after close examination. “The hair we found in the woods is Audra’s. Same color, same texture, same length. She murdered Dr. Rumdab.”

  “Prove it.”

  “What? How?” She gave me her confused walrus look.

  “Exactly my thought. We’ll have to wring a confession out of her. We need to know her motive. Without knowing that, we’ve got nothing. The sheriff will laugh at us.”

  “Then let’s get busy figuring out a way to trick Audra into confessing.”

  “Couldn’t we get some sleep first?”

  “Not until we have a plan.”

  “Fine,” I said, “here’s the plan. We need to talk to Lilly. If Audra killed Lilly’s husband it was for a reason, and nothing that’s happened at the dude ranch would provide enough of a motive. Audra knew Rumdab, but he didn’t know her. That’s the only thing that makes sense. Something happened in the past to make her hate him.”

  “Enough to kill him. So why didn’t she kill him sooner?”

  “Maybe she didn’t have the opportunity. The doctor showed up at the Carefree Buckaroo, then Brice was killed, apparently murdered. It made a perfect setup for Audra. She could wreak her revenge on Rumdab and then blame the death on Jack the Roper. Made to order. She wouldn’t have known at first that Brice hanged himself.”

  “I like it. Let’s go talk to Lilly.”

  “We’ll go visit her in the morning. I’m assuming she’s still staying at a motel in Quail Eye. Panhandle can tell us where she is.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Sure. We’ve got thing to do before dinner.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like taking a nap.”

  “Oh,” said Tracy. “I’m suddenly very sleepy.” And she grinned.

  At breakfast next morning, Hester showed up in silk pajamas, a kimono, and marabou slippers. But her hair was combed and her makeup was painted on just so.

  “It’s too early to be awake,” Hester complained. “Do cowboys really get up this early?”

  Panhandle was putting a platter of bacon on the buffet table. “Cowboys get up when the cows do. Get used to it, cousin. You aren’t going riding in that outfit, are you?”

  “I’ll change in time.”

  “What’s the plan for today?” Betsy asked. She was sitting between Hester and Walter, as immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar.

  “You’re going to ride up to an old ghost town,” said Sissy Dell, who was busy refilling all of our coffee cups.

  “Sounds like fun,” said Tracy, “but me and Axe were thinking of driving down and visiting Curt and Mabel.”

  “That so?” said Panhandle. “I didn’t know you guys were such friends.”

  “Sure. We feel kind of sorry for them being stuck in town. Where are they staying, do you know?”

  “There’s only one motel in Quail Eye,” said Sissy Dell. “The Sleepy Eye. Tell them hey from us.”

  “You got it.”

  “Why not wait until after we see the ghost town?” Betsy asked. “Gee, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

  “I think Curt and Mabel have plans later in the day,” I said. “Maybe me and Tracy will ride up to the ghost town on our own sometime.”

  “Just the two of you?” asked Walter, looking gloomy as usual. “There’s safety in numbers you
know.”

  “Yeah,” said Tracy, “but Axe and me are two tough hombres.”

  Walter shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”

  We filled our bellies, said goodbye to our fellow dudes, and headed out to the truck. Panhandle had told us the motel was on the east edge of town. We couldn’t miss it. We drove down the rutted roads, stirring up a lot of dust, and made Quail Eye about nine o’clock.

  “We should have called ahead,” said Tracy. “They might be out to breakfast or something.

  “Then we’ll wait for them. I don’t like giving folks any warning when I want to talk to them. I like to take them by surprise.”

  “Lilly’s got nothing to hide.”

  “We don’t know that. Maybe she knows why Audra might have wanted Lilly’s husband dead but doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe there’s some scandal involved.”

  “What if she doesn’t know anything?”

  “Then we will have wasted our time. Welcome to the detective business, precious.”

  16

  The Sleepy Eye was a row of flat-roofed cottages painted pink and aqua. The aqua was to let you know that they had a swimming pool. I don’t know what the pink was for. Both Curt and Mabel’s, and Lilly’s cars were parked in front of cottages.

  “Looks like everybody’s home,” I said.

  “We should have brought a hostess gift.”

  We were just getting out of the truck when one of the cottage doors opened and Curt and Mabel appeared. They went next door and knocked. We joined them. They seemed genuinely happy to see us.

  “Hey, you two!” said Mabel. “What brings you to Quail Eye? Are you going to be staying here? Has there been another murder?”

  “No,” I said, “everything at the Carefree Buckaroo is hunky dory. We just thought we’d visit you folks, see how things are going.”

  “We’re doing fine,” said Curt. “We were just picking up Lilly to go to breakfast. I guess you two have already eaten.”

  Tracy poked a discreet elbow into my ribs. “We overslept this morning. We missed breakfast. We’d be happy to join you guys.”

  “The more the merrier,” said Mabel. “We could all go in one car. Why isn’t Lilly answering our knock?”

  Just then Lilly’s door opened. She was dressed too fancy for breakfast in Quail Eye.

  “Look whose joining us,” Mabel said to Lilly. “Tracy and Axe just dropped by to see us.”

  Lilly’s smile faded for a moment, but she got it back on her face in time to greet us. “The detective and his wife,” she said.

  “We’re just civilians today,” said Tracy. “Mind if we join you for breakfast?”

  “That’d be lovely. We’re going right now.”

  We all piled into Curt and Mabel’s Chrysler and Curt drove us to a busy restaurant called the Hungry Bird. Inside was a smell of bacon grease and maple syrup, and the noise of clashing cutlery. The waitress — a gnome with improbable red hair — seated us in a booth and brought us water and coffee. I looked at the well-thumbed menu. I wasn’t exactly hungry but, what the hell? I ordered scrambled eggs, sausage, and French toast. The conversation started out pretty general. I waited for an opportunity to bring up the murder. It occurred to me that Curt and Mabel and Lilly didn’t know that Brice Holcombe wasn’t a murder victim.

  “Some rain we’re having,” observed Curt. “You getting any in the mountains?”

  “Sure,” said Tracy. “They’ve got us riding water buffalo now. What have you guys been finding to do?”

  “Well,” said Mabel, “we went to the Quarter Horse Museum yesterday, and we played some miniature golf. Then we went back to the motel and played cards.”

  “We took a hayride in the rain,” said Tracy. “And we went and saw a cave.”

  “There were blind fish,” I said, trying to make them envious.

  “I’d like to go home,” said Lilly. She sighed.

  “They still won’t let you leave, huh?” I asked.

  “No. We’re supposed to talk to the sheriff today. I can’t believe they consider me a suspect.”

  Our food came and we shoveled it into our craws like happy birds.

  “The sooner they find the murderer, the sooner you can go home,” Tracy told Lilly.

  “Do you have any idea who the killer might be?” Curt asked me.

  “I’ve got some ideas.”

  “We have some ideas,” Tracy corrected me.

  “Apparently,” I said, “Brice, the wrangler, killed himself. There’s been only one actual murder.”

  I let them digest that along with their eggs.

  “Really?” asked Curt, chewing.

  “That’s right.”

  Lilly had stopped eating. She stared at me a moment. “Did my husband’s killer know that the wrangler was a suicide?”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “It looks like it was a copycat killing — an attempt to take away suspicion from your husband’s actual murderer. Of course, this means we aren’t dealing with a random killer, somebody who does it for fun. Dr. Rumdab goes on vacation and someone decides to do him in. Why? He couldn’t have made an enemy that fast.”

  “He wasn’t — polite,” said Lilly. “but that’s hardly a justification for killing him.”

  Her eyes were puffy under her makeup. She looked worn out and beaten down.

  “Is there any chance your husband knew someone at the ranch?” I asked her. “Somebody from his past maybe?”

  “No. He would have told me, and he didn’t. Besides, he didn’t have any enemies, not really. He rubbed a couple of colleagues the wrong way, back home. That happens in the medical profession. But why would some cowboy want him dead?”

  “A former patient maybe?” I asked. “I mean, I’m not saying they’d have any actual reason to hate him, but you know how sick people are sometimes. Maybe he failed to cure somebody and a relative felt he hadn’t done everything he could. Something like that.”

  Lilly thought about it. “Sometimes patients die. It’s not the doctor’s fault, but sometimes they blame him.”

  “Did that happen with your husband?” asked Tracy.

  “A couple of times. Of course, he found it hard to deal with. Such things are so unfair. Think of all the people whose lives he saved. I always told him to remember that. I hope it helped.”

  “So,” I said, “a couple of his patients died and the survivors blamed him? Do you remember anything about those cases? I mean, it might be important. It could be there’s someone at the dude ranch whose relative or friend was your husband’s patient. It could happen.”

  “I suppose,” said Lilly, looking thoughtful. “There was this man — a beast, really — who sued Karl for malpractice. Karl had diagnosed the man as having hemorrhoids. It turned out he had a brain tumor.”

  “Any doctor could make that kind of mistake,” I said.

  “Yes. Then, there was the orphan girl.”

  “The orphan girl?” Tracy asked.

  “Her father had died young. Her mother came down with a malady that puzzled Karl. He tried everything he could think of to cure her. Finally he advised surgery. He thought it might be her kidneys. The surgeon found nothing, but the patient died on the operating table. She likely had something wrong with her heart.

  “The surgeon, the scoundrel, tried to blame Karl for the woman’s death. And I’m afraid the poor woman’s child believed the surgeon. She wrote Karl letters for months. Nothing came of it. But the girl — I believe she was around fifteen, ended up in some kind of orphanage. She was convinced that her mother would have lived if it hadn’t been for my husband’s diagnosis. She felt her life had been ruined by Karl.”

  “What was the girl’s name?” I asked. “Do you remember?”

  “No. It happened before Karl and I were married, but he sometimes talked about it.”

  “Interesting,” I said. “So I guess the kid eventually stopped writing Dr. Rumdab?”

  “Apparently, yes.”

  “Have you told the cops about
this?” asked Tracy.

  “Why would I? I didn’t even think about it. I hardly think it likely that someone at the Carefree Buckaroo had any connection with my husband. Why wouldn’t Karl remember the person’s name?”

  “Maybe the girl changed her name for some reason,” I said. “Maybe she’s using a nickname. Who knows?”

  Tracy and I exchanged a look. No doubt we were both wondering if Audra was an orphan.

  By the time I finished my second breakfast, I felt liked a taxidermied quail. Then we went back to the motel.

  “We were thinking of taking in a movie later,” Mabel told me and Tracy when we were saying goodbye in the parking lot. “Quail Eye has a drive in. Would you two care to join us?”

  “What’s the film?” I asked.

  “Revenge of the Space Lizards.”

  “Wouldn’t you know it,” I said, regretfully, “me and Tracy just saw that one in the theater.”

  We said our goodbyes — Tracy hugged Lilly — and got into our truck.

  “Now what?” Tracy asked, as we hit the road.

  “We find out if Audra is an orphan and we confront her with Rumdab’s murder.”

  “What if she denies it?”

  “You could try your bubble gum trick again. That might make her confess.”

  When we got back to the Carefree Buckaroo, we were the only dudes in sight. Hester, Betsy, and Walter were still apparently at the ghost town.

  “I would have liked to have seen the ghost town,” Tracy told me. “I always wondered how a place becomes a ghost town.”

  “Played out mines. Worn out grazing land. Floods. Pestilence. You name it.”

  “How’d you like being the last person living in a town like that?”

  “No, thanks. But if you were there with me it’d be OK. Let’s go find Panhandle.”

  “What do you want him for? You going to ask him about Audra? I think we should talk to Sissy Dell. She’s been here longer.”

  “Her too. Let’s check on the cats.”

  We went to our cabin and rounded up our two wild cats and took them outside to play in the grass. They chased butterflies and each other and had a good time. Some rain clouds showed up and we put the cats back inside and headed for the dining hall.