Jack The Roper (Axel Hatchett Mystery Book 6)

by Steven Nelson

  “Do you think we should level with Panhandle and Sissy Dell?” Tracy asked. “Tell them what we’ve figured out?”

  “Never give away more than you have to. What if one of them warns Audra off?”

  “You got a point. Listen, you talk to Panhandle and I’ll tackle Sissy Dell.”

  “Deal. But we’ll have to find them first.”

  That proved to be easy. They were both behind the dining hall. Sissy Dell was hanging laundry on a clothesline near the croquet court: table clothes and kitchen towels and aprons. Panhandle was mowing the patch of wild grass that made up the croquet lawn. He was cursing to himself. I don’t think he liked having to pull up the wickets to mow, and then put them back. Tracy went to help Sissy Dell while I followed Panhandle around and tried to keep him from cutting my toes off.

  “How are the city slickers doing?” he asked me, while he took a breather.

  “They’re fine. We had breakfast with them.”

  “A second breakfast? What, we don’t feed you enough here?”

  “I don’t want to risk losing my paunch. It makes me look distinguished.”

  “I wonder when the sheriff’s going to let Lilly and the rest of the dudes go home.”

  “Who wants to go home?” I asked. “Tracy and me are having fun.”

  Panhandle shrugged. “You catch our little murderer yet?”

  “I’ll let you know when that happens.”

  “Good luck. If I was the killer, you’re the last guy I’d talk to.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. What do you know about your fellow buckaroos? Where they’re from, what their folks do, whether or not they’re triplets.”

  “They might all be triplets for all I know. I haven’t been around them that long, you know? Hell, I got here the same time you did.”

  “Yeah, but you worked with some of these buckaroos before. A couple of years ago, right?”

  “Sure. Sheepy and Breedlaw and Sissy Dell. The others are new to me.”

  “Any orphans in the bunch?”

  “First you ask me about triplets, now you’re asking me about orphans. Listen, I got a lawn to mow.”

  “You can rest a minute longer. I’m serious about wanting to know who might be an orphan.” I offered him a cigar and he took it.

  “Orphans? Are killers usually orphans?”

  “Couldn’t say. Who around here doesn’t have parents, Panhandle?”

  “I don’t. Mine were killed in a bumper car accident at an amusement park. I swear.”

  “You’re lying. I guess maybe I’ll talk to Breedlaw. He should know something about the buckaroos.”

  “Sure, or talk to my uncle. Me, I don’t know much. Hawk is a ladies man who’s leaving. Drew is a wet-behind-the-ears bumpkin. Audra has a mean streak. Sheepy keeps girlie magazines under his bunk. Sissy Dell keeps a halo under her pillow. That’s all I know.”

  “Audra has a mean streak? She seems as sweet as mountain meadow grass.”

  “That act’s for the dudes. She likes playing the cowboys off against each other. She’s a tease.”

  “Did you strike out with her? Is that why you think she’s mean?”

  “Naw. She ain’t my type.”

  “No money? Too many curves?”

  “What’s with you, Mr. Detective? I’m just telling you what I know. You don’t have to go getting personal.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Go jaw with somebody else.”

  Tracy had better luck with Sissy Dell than I’d had with Panhandle. She came over to me grinning like a bear full of barbeque. Apparently Sissy Dell wasn’t all angel. She could be a gossip.

  “It’s got to be Audra,” Tracy told me, making sure no one was near to overhear our conversation. “Her parents are dead. She talks about her mom like she was a saint. Her mom died when Audra was a kid. Our buckaroo finished being raised in an orphanage in Nebraska. That’s where the Rumdab’s live.”

  “Perfect. What’s the best way to handle this, I wonder? Do you think Audra would spill her guts to Breedlaw? Maybe not. I’m betting the old man, Primus Roan, could get her scared enough to talk. Let’s give it a try.”

  Tracy wrinkled her freckled brow. “She’ll go to prison, won’t she?”

  “Yeah, at the very least. She might get the gas chamber, though being a dame might help her.”

  “Maybe she’s sorry she did it.”

  “Sure, and maybe Doc Rumdab is sorry he’s dead. And his widow might be feeling some sorrow, too.”

  “You’re right, but I still feel like an executioner.”

  “You do look good in black.”

  We went over to talk to Panhandle together. He’d finished mowing and was now scrubbing down his beloved grill with a Brillo pad.

  “What is it now?” he asked us.

  “We want to talk to your uncle. Can you set it up?”

  “Talk to Breedlaw. He runs the dude ranch.”

  “Where can we find him?”

  He took his attention off the grill for a moment.

  “We talking about murder here?”

  “That’s right, but keep it under that silly hat of yours. Where can I find Breedlaw?”

  “I don’t know. He wanders around a lot. Listen, if you’re ready to identify the killer, don’t bother with Breedlaw. He hems and haws sometimes. Talk to Great Uncle Prime. He’s the boy for action.”

  “Fine,” I said, “give me his number and a phone.”

  “Coming right up, dude,” said Panhandle. “Follow me.”

  He led us into the chuck house and to the kitchen. There was a wall phone. Panhandle dialed a number and handed me the receiver.

  “Sadie will answer. Don’t let her say no. She’s awfully protective of Mr. Roan’s time.”

  I put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring.

  “Hello? Twin Roans Ranch. How can I help you?”

  “Sadie? This is Axe Hatchett. You met us the other day. I need to talk to Prime. It’s important.”

  “Mr. Prime’s taking his nap. I can’t disturb him.”

  “I understand, but I’ve been hired by him to find out who killed the dude, Dr. Rumdab. It’s time to round up the murderer, and I need Prime to do his part. Never mind his beauty rest; you need to wake up your boss. Please. This is serious. If you won’t wake him up I’ll drive up to the house and start honking the horn.”

  “Don’t you dare! If you really think it’s that important, I’ll get him up.”

  “Thanks.”

  I waited with the phone in my hand for what seemed an hour. It was probably five minutes.

  “This is Prime Roan,” an old voice finally said. I could tell he was trying to sound like everybody’s boss, but he didn’t have enough volume.

  “Axe Hatchett. I know who killed Rumdab. Your employee, Audra. I want to bring her up to talk to you. We need her confession. What do you say?”

  “Well, you’re one of those hasty city boys, so give me a moment to think.”

  I waited half a minute. Then he started talking again.

  “I need to call the sheriff.”

  “Do that, but let’s not wait for him. I think Audra will talk if you and me get her cornered. That’s my belief as a detective. I’ve solved a few murder cases.”

  “I trust you. I’ll call Sheriff Fish. You go ahead and come on up to the house. Where is Audra?”

  “Probably still showing the dudes the ghost town. As soon as folks get back, I’ll grab Audra and bring her to you.”

  “Why would that poor girl kill the doctor?”

  “It was personal. She thinks he killed her mom.”

  “All right. Round her up. I’ll be waiting.”

  I hung up and turned to Panhandle, who, like Tracy, was eavesdropping.

  “Panhandle, when are the dudes due back?”

  “Pretty soon. I got to get lunch ready. They should be back in less than an hour. I got trout to pan fry.”

  “Trout?” I asked. “I’m sorry I’m going to miss
lunch.”

  “I’ll save you a fish,” said Panhandle.

  “And one for me, too,” said Tracy.

  Tracy and I went out in front of the grub shack to wait for the dudes and the buckaroos. I burned a cigar and paced. Tracy sang a couple of cowboy songs.

  “Are you sure Audra’s guilty?” she finally asked me.

  “I’d bet you a thousand dollars she’s guilty.”

  “Keep your money, as if you had it. If Audra’s not guilty — you know what? — you can buy me a string of pearls. I’ve always wanted pearls.”

  “OK. If I’m wrong and Audra isn’t the killer, I’ll buy you the best string of pearls oysters have to offer.”

  “Deal. But I hope nobody is a murderer. Are you sure Dr. Rumdab didn’t commit suicide?”

  “The sheriff doesn’t think so. Rumdab was hit on the back of the head, remember. Look, I know what you’re thinking. Tracking down killers isn’t altogether fun. Pinning the crime on somebody you know is tough, even when they’ve tried to kill you — Audra might have fired those shots at us last night — but that’s how it is.”

  “It’s starting to rain.”

  “Let’s walk up to the barn and greet the travelers.”

  I took Tracy’s arm and we walked up to the corral in the rain.

  “What if Audra won’t confess?” Tracy asked me, as we ducked into the barn to avoid the water falling out of the sky.

  “That’s the spirit,” I said. “Sink the ship before it’s even taking on water.”

  17

  When Tracy and me got to the barn, the big doors were open and we could hear Sheepy singing about darling Clementine. We walked in on him. The old cowboy was mixing up something in a big bucket and the barn smelled like a barbershop for horses.

  “What kind of homebrew are you making?” I asked Sheepy.

  He stopped singing. “Horse liniment. My own recipe. Witch hazel for a base, some wintergreen and juniper berry, and a splash of turpentine and a dash of pepper.”

  “What, no hooch? How about adding some gin? The horses would appreciate it.”

  Sheepy made a disgusted noise and spat into the straw at his feet. “They don’t drink the stuff, mister.”

  “Say,” Tracy asked him, “when are the dudes due back?”

  “Well, they’re up to the ghost town. Expected back for lunch in about an hour, I figure.”

  “An hour?” I asked. “I don’t want to wait that long. Could I talk you into saddling a couple of nags for me and the missus? We’ll ride up and join the folks at the ghost town.”

  Sheepy narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t be calling my horses nags, even if that’s what they are.”

  “I’ll help you saddle them,” said Tracy.

  “Ma’am, I admire your riding, but nobody saddles my horses but me. I reckon you two dudes got a right to get your money’s worth if you want to ride up to that ghost town. I got a couple of horses in the corral that are good and rested. I’ll fetch ‘em and saddle ‘em up for you all.”

  He took a couple of bridles from pegs on the wall and headed out to the corral. In a few minutes, he came back leading a short-backed paint and a lean bay. He made short work of saddling them.

  “I recommend the paint for you ma’am,” he said to Tracy. “She’s a might frisky.”

  “Suits me,” said Tracy.

  We led the cayuses out of the barn and mounted up. Sheepy followed us out and gave us directions to the ghost town.

  “You take this road here for about two miles. Then you’ll see an old wagon road — it ain’t much — on your left. Follow it for another two mile and you’ll be at the ghost town. Can’t miss it. Bunch of broken-down old buildings. Watch them horses on that wagon road. It’s mighty rocky, and I don’t want them horses getting stone bruised.”

  “Thanks for the help, Sheepy,” I said, and Tracy and me started riding down the road.

  We were scarcely out of sight of the barn when Tracy gave me a wink and kicked her paint into a trot. I did the same with my bay. It’d been a lot of years since I’d trotted a horse, and I bounced up and down like I was riding a pogo stick. Tracy stuck to her saddle like her pants were sewn to it.

  “Come on, partner,” Tracy shouted to me. She broke into a canter. “We’ve got a killer to round up.”

  “Don’t sound so pleased about it.”

  I had my Browning High Power automatic stuck in my belt, and the horse’s movements kept working it loose. I finally pulled it out and held it in my hand, just like some vigilante.

  The day was heating up and burning off the rain clouds. We slowed our mounts to a walk again and in a short time came level with the old wagon road. It was nothing more than a couple of ruts choked with weeds and cluttered with stones. We turned up it.

  “You can put your gun away now,” Tracy told me. “We don’t want to scare off Audra.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re right.” I stuck the pistol back in my belt. “I’m trying to think how we’re going to get Audra to cooperate with us. She’ll likely know something’s up. I’d hate to have her ride off into the hills, or — worse — get suspicious and decide to clam up.”

  “We’ll think of something. Detectives are good at that kind of thing.”

  “Nice to know it’s such a walk in the park.”

  It was slow going picking our way up the wagon ruts, but we finally came in sight of a gray log barn with half its roof gone. A little further on we came across some little cabins, a weathered church, and a false-fronted building that might once have been a saloon. It made me kind of thirsty for a beer and I told Tracy so.

  “No drinking on the job,” she said. “Audra might be a tough customer. I know she’ll be wearing a gun.”

  “There’s not going to be any gun play. We just need to accompany her back to the ranch without her knowing what’s up.”

  We kept riding, passing a few more derelict buildings, and spotted some horses tied to an old hitch rail in front of the remains of another false-fronted log building. You could just make out the letters on a faded sign. It said “Assay Office.”

  “What exactly is an assay office?” asked Tracy.

  “It’s where they look at gold ore and other ores and determine what they’re worth.”

  “I wish I’d brought my ore with me.”

  “Why, are we going boating?”

  “I can row a boat…canoe?”

  “I’ve heard that one before.”

  We got off our horses and tied them with the others. There were only four besides our own. Those would belong to Walter and Betsy, Hester, and either Drew or Audra. A pretty small party.

  “What do we do now?” Tracy whispered to me.

  “Why are you whispering? We’re in the middle of a ghost town. What we do now is go look for our playmates. They’re bound to be in one of these buildings. Just listen for the sound of cowboy songs.”

  We walked around the old place like a couple of tourists, though we didn’t take any pictures. Finally, we heard voices coming from the old church. We moseyed over and stepped inside. It would have been dark except there was a big hole in the roof that let in sunlight. Betsy, Walter, Hester, and Audra were sitting on the remains of a church pew. We walked around where they could see us.

  “Hey!” cried Betsy, “it’s the rest of the gang. How’d you guys get up here?”

  “We took the last stage,” I said. “This is an interesting old town. You guys having a good time?”

  “Sure,” said Walter. He looked as happy as if he’d come to the church to attend a friend’s funeral.

  “Hi, Miles!” said Hester. “Hi, Trixie!”

  Tracy stared holes in her.

  “Hiya, Audra!” Tracy almost shouted. She had a big fake smile plastered on her face. “How are you doing?”

  Audra started up like she’d been spurred.

  “I’m — I’m fine,” she said. She looked at Tracy and then looked at me. I don’t know what kind of expression I had on my face, but it must no
t have looked friendly. Audra turned pale under her suntan. “What are you two up too?”

  “Nothing! Nothing at all,” said Tracy. “We just rode up to join you guys.”

  “That’s great,” said Audra, recovering a bit. “We’re getting ready to head back. We’re having trout for lunch. Our pack mule ran off and Drew’s out rounding it up. That mule runs off every chance it gets.”

  “What do you need a pack mule for?” I asked. “You didn’t bring lunch.”

  “Our slickers and canteens are on that mule,” Audra explained. “At least the rain’s over.”

  “I could sure use one of those canteens,” said Walter. “Walking around this dump has made me thirsty.”

  “I saw a saloon down the way,” I said, helpfully.

  “Wise guy,” said Walter. “I don’t suppose either of you brought any water with you.”

  “No,” said Tracy, “we didn’t think about it. We were kind of in a hurry. Detective business.”

  “I think I can handle this myself, Tracy.” I said. “Why don’t you go pick fleas off our horses?”

  Tracy scowled at me. She’s good at that.

  Audra looked at the gun in my belt and at the no doubt disgruntled look on my sour mug.

  “What’s this about?” asked Audra.

  “We know you murdered Dr. Rumdab,” blurted Tracy. “We have all the evidence we need to get you arrested. Sheriff Fish is on his way. He might be at the ranch right now.”

  Audra stood up and it looked like she was going to make a run for it. I stepped close to her. Tracy came up beside me. Audra collapsed on the pew and put her hands to her face.

  “What are you saying?” Betsy asked us. “Audra couldn’t have killed anybody! She sings too much!”

  “It looks like she’s the killer,” I said.

  “I knew there was something wrong with her,” said Walter. “Little Miss Sunshine.”

  Audra took her hands from her face. She was crying. “I didn’t kill anyone! I didn’t kill Dr. Rumdab, but it’s partly my fault! I should have gone to Mr. Breedlaw. I should have talked to the sheriff.”

  “What would you have told them?” I asked.

  “I — I can’t talk.”

  “Sure you can. If you didn’t kill Rumdab, who did?” I asked.

  “I — Drew. Drew killed him. He found something out, something I shouldn’t have told him. Drew’s in love with me. Oh, I hate him!”