The Devil's Cradle

by Sylvia Nobel

  “Well, call him again. I keep hearing noises and I don’t like the idea of there being mice in my room,” she said with a shiver of distaste.

  Marta shrugged agreement, and when she hurried off to answer the telephone, I decided that Audrey was beginning to get the hang of being the lady of the manor. The birds in the desert willow were making a terrific racket as we stepped outside and I suspected Princess was probably skulking nearby still searching for the meal I’d denied her.

  “Oh, dear,” Audrey exclaimed, shading her eyes from the sun’s glare. “Look at all the dents in your car. And the paint is all scratched up. I feel really bad.”

  “Well, don’t. These things happen. Just getting the mud washed off will be an improvement.”

  She set her jaw. “Kendall, I insist on paying to have it fixed. Isn’t there someplace in town we can take it?”

  “Actually, there is.” I repeated what I’d learned from Whitey and watched her eyes widen in awe when I told her about her father’s car collection. “And there’s an added bonus,” I continued, sidestepping a prickly-pear cactus. “It just so happens that one of our prime suspects, Miss Willow Windsong herself, works right there at Toomey’s garage.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. Marta said she called here yesterday while I was talking to Dr. Orcutt. I never called her back.”

  “Based on what we’ve heard, she was probably calling to lobby against re-opening the mine.”

  “What should I do?”

  I grinned. “I think we should go hear what she has to say.”

  “Well, that settles it then,” she said, dusting her hands together. “Let’s take a look right now and you can pick out any car you want to drive while yours is being repaired.”

  We turned and began our hike up the driveway toward the garage just as D.J. roared by and honked a greeting before disappearing through the wrought-iron gate. “Looks like he’s in a bit of a hurry,” I said as we reached the massive, wooden structure. “Where do you suppose he’s off to so early?”

  “Mmmmmm,” she answered absently, turning the knob on the side door to no avail. Impressive padlocks adorned each of the four garage doors, so we had to return to the kitchen.

  “He keeps all the keys in here,” Marta said, ushering us into a small study adjacent to Grady’s bedroom and pointing to a roll top desk. From the middle drawer, we chose the key ring marked: GARAGE, and retraced our steps back up the hill. We fiddled with several keys and finally found one that opened the side door.

  For a few seconds, we groped around in the shadows until I located a switch and flooded the building with light. Audrey drew in a sharp breath and stared open-mouthed. “Unreal.”

  Whitey hadn’t been exaggerating. A quick count yielded nine magnificent looking cars parked inside the high-ceilinged structure. I remembered Dr. Orcutt’s remark about Grady frittering away the family fortune and gathered his penchant for collecting these classic beauties had to be a big part of it.

  “They’re amazing,” she marveled, running her hand over the gleaming yellow paint on the first vintage vehicle.

  “And they’re all yours. Boy, I’m certainly no expert, but I’d wager there’s a fortune tied up in these babies.”

  We roamed around admiring each one until she finally asked, “Well, which one do you pick?”

  I shook my head. “Audrey, I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable driving any of them.”

  “Oh, piddle, as my Aunt Nellie...or rather Dr. Orcutt’s aunt often said, ‘what good are things if you can’t use them?’“

  We turned to leave when it dawned on me that there was plenty of room where we stood at the far end of the garage for another car. But the space was curiously empty. Perhaps D.J. sometimes parked the Suburban there, I thought, noting the smudged remains of an oil stain. But, that didn’t seem logical, since the cars in front would have to be moved in order to drive it out. “I wonder which car belongs here,” I remarked, directing her attention to the vacant spot.

  She stared at the concrete floor and shrugged. “Maybe nothing belongs there.”

  I counted the keys on the ring. There were only nine sets, so as we locked the doors and strolled towards my car, I concluded it was just my overactive imagination at work again.

  Throughout the drive, Audrey sat in customary silence staring at the caramel-colored hills, many of which still bore deep scars from scores of abandoned mines. It took less than ten minutes for us to arrive at the turnoff and we bounced along a rutted dirt road cratered with mud puddles until we arrived at an open gate marked DEFIANCE MINE. PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT. Audrey sucked in a ragged breath at the sight of a second crudely-drawn sign, tacked on below the company name, depicting several dead birds and screaming out, MURDERERS!!

  “Oh! Who would do something like that,” she cried, clamping one hand over her mouth.

  “My guess would be Willow or one of her disciples is sending you a message. I imagine it’s coming home to you that you’re about to be thrust into the hot seat like your father.”

  “But how on earth could Willow know I was coming here today?”

  I made a cynical face. “The way news travels in this town? She probably knew about this get-together before you did.”

  She heaved a sigh of resignation, and as we eased to a stop near the door of the mobile home office, it was difficult to miss the candy-apple red Jaguar parked next to Jesse’s truck.

  After exchanging a quizzical look, we got out and went to stand beside it. I whistled my appreciation. “If this belongs to your cousin, no wonder he’s pissed. With you holding the financial reins, he’s probably wondering if he’ll be able to keep up the payments on this beauty.”

  Just then, the metal door squeaked open and we turned to see Haston step onto the landing and fasten his gaze on Audrey. His expression of polite interest was cancelled out by resentment smoldering behind his eyes. Edging closer to my elbow, Audrey croaked out a faint “Hello.”

  “Good morning,” he said crisply. His curt nod in my direction let me know that he knew who I was and his look of displeasure made it clear he wished I hadn’t come.

  Audrey tensed at the movement behind him in the doorway and I drew back with surprise when, instead of the dreaded Jesse, a young man appeared. And, he was drop-dead gorgeous. Tall, well built, and sporting a thatch of chestnut-brown hair, he flashed us a smile guaranteed to charm any woman under the age of ninety. “Cousin, Audrey,” Haston said, his voice stilted as though it pained him to even mention her name. “I’d like you to meet Duncan Claypool.”

  Chapter 11

  Inside the narrow trailer, we seated ourselves on metal chairs in front of Haston’s cluttered desk. So far, there’d been no sign of Jesse, and although Audrey seemed visibly more at ease, a palpable climate of strained civility hung in the stuffy room.

  Before us, next to Haston, sat the great-grandson of the infamous Jasper T. Claypool, the wily scoundrel who’d cheated Audrey’s great-grandfather out of his dream and most certainly hastened his early demise. I imagined she was replaying the story in her mind as I was, and questioned Haston’s wisdom of inviting him to this initial meeting, considering the delicate circumstances.

  As I suspected, Haston balked at my being there and put up quite a fuss until I convinced him that he could specify that certain remarks be off the record and that I’d already assured Audrey that nothing would be printed without her permission.

  Somewhat mollified, he eyed his watch and then leveled a final glare of suspicion at me before turning to Audrey. “Miles Orcutt phoned yesterday to corroborate your authenticity and per his suggestion, I also verified your claim in a discussion with your late mother’s attorney in Tucson yesterday afternoon.”

  His voice was so saturated with indignation, it gave the impression that he might just as easily have been discussing the merits of a pure bred dog having arrived bearing the correct papers. Audrey must have picked up on his tone also, because her dark brows collided in annoyance. “So, please
allow me to extend an apology to you for our reprehensible behavior towards you the other night,” he continued in a strained voice. “We both had a little too much to drink and well, I think you can appreciate our reaction to this whole situation which was...totally unexpected, to say the least.”

  I watched Haston Pickrell with fascination, already formulating adjectives for how to describe him. Hard ass, maybe? There was certainly nothing soft about the man. He seemed all sharp edges and angles. Prickly.

  But then cold fish seemed equally appropriate. His close-set, colorless eyes were devoid of warmth and coupled with his pointed nose and razor-thin lips, he projected a rather forbidding image.

  “It was pretty unexpected for me too,” Audrey said. “Until two days ago, I didn’t know you existed either. Did Dr. Orcutt explain what happened?”

  “Briefly. I can attest to the fact that your father possessed a volcanic temper but, for the doctor to go so far as to fabricate your deaths, well...it seems a bit extreme. But, be that as it may,” he added, rolling a pen between his palms. “It’s my hope that we can let bygones be bygones and work out a speedy and amicable solution to this predicament, which,” he said, gesturing towards Duncan, “is why I asked Mr. Claypool to join us today.”

  Shirtsleeves rolled casually to his elbows, the young man leaned forward and bestowed another charismatic smile on Audrey. I was elated to see a blaze of color stain her normally pale cheeks. Well, well, this might add an interesting twist. I looked at Haston. Had he noticed the lightning-quick charge of sexual electricity that sizzled between them before she lowered her eyes?

  Evidently he had not, for he continued almost in the same breath, “...and because he’s unfortunately been caught in the middle of this...this fracas, and that since you are now in the position to make vital decisions concerning the future of this company...of this whole town in fact, I thought it best you two should meet so he can apprise you of where we were in the negotiations at the time of Uncle Grady’s unfortunate passing.”

  “I hope my presence here today has not caused you any distress,” Duncan inquired in a pleasant baritone.

  “I don’t find you distressing,” she answered, shooting me a playful look.

  Oblivious to the underlying sarcasm in her remark that had me struggling to maintain composure, Haston droned on, “And it’s my sincere hope that you’re not going to continue this ridiculous family vendetta over something that happened a hundred years ago.”

  Leaning forward, his hands clasped together, Duncan locked eyes with Audrey. “I hope you haven’t already formed a poor opinion of me. And just to put you at ease,” he said, breaking into an impish grin, “I don’t even own a gun.”

  Audrey, seemingly enchanted by Duncan’s disarming personality, returned his smile. “Actually, I haven’t had time to form an opinion one way or the other.”

  “How did you become embroiled in all of this, Mr. Claypool?” I asked, secretly rejoicing in their obvious attraction for one another.

  Duncan reluctantly withdrew his gaze from Audrey and turned to me. “It was a simple business decision on my part. Haston needed capital for new equipment and developmental costs. After I saw the results of the test drilling, I decided it would be a profitable investment.”

  “Things were progressing smoothly until Grady discovered who the backer was,” Haston cut in, anxiously checking his watch again before glancing out the window. He seemed jumpy.

  “If you knew of his deep hatred for the Claypools, why did you contact Duncan in the first place?” I asked.

  “I’d heard the stories since I was a kid, but my mother sort of pooh-poohed them. How could I know Uncle Grady was going to behave like a blithering idiot?”

  “And you have a lot at stake here.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. By the time I returned from Venezuela, the old fool had already squandered the bulk of the estate. He seemed excited with the results of our studies and gave me his word that if I could bring in the capital, he’d turn over management of the company to me.” He plowed a hand through his thinning blonde hair. “Damn him. I’ve devoted countless hours to this project, not to mention that I’ve sunk every red cent I own into it. With the metal prices so low and start-up costs so high, I didn’t have any firm offers other than Duncan’s. My back was against the wall...so I cut the deal in secret.”

  I didn’t know a lot about the mining industry, but it seemed obvious enough to me that if Duncan Claypool put up the lion’s share of the money it also meant he would be calling the shots.

  “So, you’re saying that Grady wouldn’t have kicked up a fuss about turning over control of the company to another party. It was just losing to a Claypool that had him in a tizzy.”

  Haston scowled. “He didn’t really care about the mine. Oh, maybe the mystique of three generations of ownership and being top dog in this town, but mostly he just loved the money and prestige that went with it. Heaven help us if he should have actually had to work for a living.”

  “What made you think you could get away with arranging it behind his back?” I asked, noting Audrey’s look of rapt attention.

  Haston’s lips twisted in disgust. “Uncle Grady was in a drunken stupor half the time or ranting nonsensically about one thing or another. I guess I was hoping we’d have operations under way before he got wind of it.”

  “Who tipped him off?”

  “I don’t know. Even before he found out about Duncan, he was waffling because that Windsong woman and her bunch of wackos were haranguing him about us destroying animals and birds with toxic waste or some such ridiculous notion. Uncle Grady was back and forth, up and down. Hot one day, cold the next.”

  Fascinating, I thought, scribbling notes as fast as I could. Audrey’s constantly shifting moods had prompted me to have the very same thoughts. Could this eccentric temperament be a family trait?

  “What was Jesse’s part in this?” Audrey asked softly.

  For the first time, Haston had the grace to look chastened. “I was strapped for cash, so she loaned me the bulk of her mother’s inheritance. We both stand to lose a great deal if you don’t sign off on this deal.”

  “So, that’s why she was so angry with my father.”

  “Yes, she was angry. We both were. And don’t think we haven’t heard the petty whisperings around town that she might have played some role in his accident. But I’ll tell you the same thing I told the sheriff. She was home in bed with me that night.”

  I studied his face carefully. Was he lying? With so much at stake, the motive for Grady’s untimely death certainly existed. But like Orville Kemp had said, there was no hard evidence. Yet. I thought again about the gaudy little barrette and decided it just might be something Jesse would wear.

  Curious to gauge Audrey’s reaction to his alibi, I felt cold shock rip through me when I noticed her eyes were fixed and glazed, her newly-acquired rosy complexion was fading to blue. Before I could react, she toppled to the floor and began to jerk and twitch while saliva bubbled from her mouth.

  “Jesus Christ!” Haston shouted, leaping to his feet. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Duncan’s eyes widened in alarm and he gasped, “My God!” as her eyes rolled back and her teeth ground together. Even though she’d warned me, I was hardly prepared for the unnerving and rather grotesque spectacle unfolding before us.

  For a few seconds we all stood by helplessly watching until I remembered her instructions to do nothing except keep her head away from hard objects. Gathering my wits, I reached out and scooted the metal chair away.

  “What should we do? What should we do?” Haston screamed hysterically, his eyes bulging in horror.

  Duncan lunged for the phone. “I’ll call the doctor!”

  They both froze in place when I shouted, “No! We do nothing.”

  I could sympathize with their dual expressions of open-mouthed incredulity and added with deliberate calm, “There’s no need to panic. Audrey is having an epileptic seizure.”


  Haston threw his arms wide. “Oh, great. Just great. First a crazy old man, and now we’ll have an invalid running the show.”

  I fired him a look of complete disgust. If compassion was the milk of human kindness, Haston had only two percent running through his veins. “Try and get a grip,” I said. “She’ll be just fine in a little while.”

  Within minutes, she had stopped convulsing and lay motionless, having fallen into the deep sleep that followed a seizure of this type. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that I’d taken the time to read the epilepsy book last night. And I felt something else too. Relief. This was no act. The uncertainty I felt regarding her true identity all but evaporated.

  “Here,” Duncan said quietly, handing me his handkerchief and motioning towards the saliva pooling on the floor beneath Audrey’s lips.

  His simple gesture warmed my heart and bumped him to the top of my ‘preferred people’ list as I knelt to dry her mouth and pull down the hem of her dress that was hiked up on her thighs.

  I rose to my feet and turned to Haston. In an apparent attempt to camouflage his distaste, he began to wring his hands. “How very...um...unfortunate for my poor little cousin.” His synthetic attempt to sound concerned fell flat. No doubt he’d noticed Duncan’s thoughtfulness and decided that perhaps he’d best say something to diminish his image as a total jackass. He turned his piggish little eyes on me. “Are you sure she’s going to be all right?”

  “Yes.” I was about to suggest we step outside to give her some privacy when I noticed her eyelids flutter and then open wide. At first, she had the same disoriented look on her face as when I’d first seen her on the plane two days ago, but when her eyes focused on Duncan they clouded with humiliation.

  Remembering the story of her first, short-lived love interest, I could imagine what she was thinking. She darted me a glance filled with despair and pushed herself to a sitting position. Before I could move to assist, Duncan had rushed to kneel by her side. “May I help you up?”