Trish stood on the landing looking down at the poker players. One of them could be the murderer. A cold wave rippled through her.
"That man's as dangerous as ever," Zelda said moving toward the bar. "Damned lucky he ain't bloodthirsty. Pierre, pour me a drink. I need one after holdin' my breath so long."
Trish agreed and joined Zelda. For the first time in her life, she ordered a straight whiskey, determined to nurse it most of the evening. The first sip scalded her throat. She coughed.
"You sure about this?" Pierre's sympathetic voice didn't match his amused expression.
"Yeah," she gasped, unable to intonate.
Ace cursed from where he sat. Trish glanced in his direction, watching him flex trembling fingers. He shuffled, the cards scattered across the table. He cursed under his breath, and gathered the cards.
"You goin' to be able to sing?" Pierre asked, bringing her attention back to her drink.
Trish took another sip and sputtered. Whiskey didn't alleviate the sickening feeling in her stomach. Every time the odors of smoke and body odor assaulted her, it made things worse. She started to nod but instead shook her head. She was in no mood to sing. The burning liquor gave her the ready excuse. If she could succeed in tending her drink throughout the evening without getting sick to her stomach, Pierre would let her to herself which would let her think. Unfortunately, she would have to remain in the saloon and probably at the bar. The deception would work, if she could avoid being plied with more drinks.
Picking up her whiskey, she meandered to the end of the bar under the steps. Perched on the bar, her back to the wall, she began deliberating facts, her hands silently accentuating the points. Who had a motive to kill Albert? Ace claimed his innocence and for no other reason than her gut instinct, she believed him. He claimed to have come here for the homestead. If he had murdered Albert, then what would keep him from doing the same to Quinn? Yet he clearly knew he was no match for Quinn.
Ace had come here to gamble for the homestead. Apparently, it was a special place. Would Quinn kill his brother for all of it? Her mind jerked to the twenty-first century and the claims of attorneys that such a crime of violence was often perpetrated by an acquaintance of the victim and usually thought out. But she didn't know what the murder weapon was so how could she possibly support such an argument? Find the motive, she reminded herself—power, money, or greed. Who would profit from Albert's murder?
Ace? He hadn't gained anything. If he wanted the land, he now had to cross Quinn. Quinn? Why now? How could any man kill his brother and over what they had agreed to share? It didn't seem likely.
Two cowboys entered the saloon, sauntering up to the bar. Their conversation reached her in muffled tones. Could Pierre and the other man have anything to do with the murder? With Albert gone, much of the business that his smithy brought to the immediate area would suffer. His death might even cause Pierre to go out of business. No, she quickly threw the possibility away.
She must not overlook the argument she had heard between Albert and Milton Moore. Could Milton have acted upon the ramblings of a spiritualist? A fraud?
What of the cowboy and the threat over his horse throwing a shoe? Had he made good on his threat? She hadn't noticed his horse at the livery but she wasn't thinking of the motive at the time. She needed to check on that.
Might someone owe Albert a considerable amount of money? The possibility needed further exploring. It needed to be a great deal of power or gain to commit murder. Ace and Quinn stood to gain the land, but Ace must go through Quinn to get it. Did that mean another murder would be committed? What about Lucinda? Was she in danger? Milton Moore. The man was small in stature compared to Albert or Quinn, but he might feel he had a lot to gain with the smithy out of the valley. Then there was the cowboy, angry over his horse throwing a shoe. No, that only happened in movies. But someone she didn't know about owing Albert money was a possibility.
Her thoughts settled on the prime suspect. Quinn had a lot to gain, probably the most of anyone. What had one of her professor's said? 'Family always sits at the top of the list of suspects in every murder case.'
What if he had fought with Albert, nearly killing him, hurried to the swimming hole to clean up, then returned to find the victim dead? Deceptive and risky, but feasible.
She quickly rearranged her list of suspects and reviewed her list while making plans for how she might discover the truth. She had two days and needed a good night's sleep.
Chapter 24
The Talisman - Crisscross Page 31