The Talisman - Crisscross
Page 49
Quinn swung up on the green broke colt, his mind, was on Trish. He had held her in his arms. He had kissed her and, more importantly, she had kissed him.
Her kiss had an orchestration for something more. Or that was what he had intended. His course led him to the paddock. Maybe she was at the livery getting a bridle. It seemed uncharacteristic for her, having adamantly claimed she needed to go home, to not be readying her horse for travel this morning. He turned the colt toward the livery, expecting to see Trish emerge at any moment.
Not finding her in the livery only caused him to think more about her. She'd never seemed completely at home here, even avoiding her job singing at the saloon. She had a fair voice, but Lucinda's was sweeter as she sang gospel hymns. Trish seemed to make up the words as she went along, only singing the same song once that he had noticed. He wasn't a musician so what did he know? She played the piano better than Granger, but not as well as he remembered others playing in Denver, Frisco or Salt Lake.
Something about this morning felt odd. He mulled the events of the week over in his mind. Trish had seemed to fake her surprise over Albert's murder. The small footprints. Hadn't he wondered at the time if they might belong to her? She claimed she had found Albert dying.
Had she murdered Albert? It fit. Trish showing up days before the murder. He had unwittingly introduced her to Lucinda and Albert. She had drawn them all in…Albert, Lucinda, Pierre, Zelda and him. The more he thought about it the more it made sense. She could have easily killed Curly without his help. She and Moore could have killed Albert. She could have met Milton there. She could have helped Moore finish the dirty deed. If he was right, he only needed to steer Sheriff Tuckett in the right direction.