by Gwen Moffat
‘You see’ — Miss Pink was calm but earnest — ‘since he knows Val was at the cabin, it implies he was there too, or in the vicinity. So he could be setting her up for the fall guy. And Val, by giving in to him, is putting herself in the frame. Surely you see that.’
Sophie said sadly, ‘She hasn’t told me everything.’
‘Where do you think she’s not telling the truth?’
‘Byer’s got something on her. More than her being at the cabin, d’you think?’
‘Could it have to do with Jen?’
‘I guess. She’s a woman would do anything for her daughter, but then any mother would. Yes, she could be covering for Jen. But you’re assuming that there was something — not quite right about Charlie’s accident.’
‘There could have been a fight. He was an old man.’
‘But powerful. Neither Val nor Jen could have — oh no! Listen to us! I can’t believe we’re talking this way.’
‘And then the business with the stallion might have been rigged.’
‘Never! Not by one person. You’d need someone to hold the horse, the other to put Charlie’s foot through the stirrup.’
‘So it could have been worked that way.’
‘Only by two — oh!’
They were both thinking of Jen and Bret Ryan.
‘They could have gone to the cabin together,’ Miss Pink pointed out. ‘And Ryan had a fight with him, knocked him down and he hit his head.’
‘And Val’s protecting them both by saying no one visited Charlie except herself?’
‘It’s odd, though,’ Miss Pink mused. ‘Why should Byer blackmail Val rather than Jen? It’s Jen who’s going to be rich.’
‘He won’t know the provisions of Charlie’s will. And maybe he thinks Val’s a softer touch without a man around. But he has me to reckon with there.’ Sophie didn’t smile, she bared her teeth.
‘On the other hand’ — Miss Pink wasn’t listening — ‘it could be that he knows Val was at the cabin but is unaware that Jen was. And Ryan? That is, if those two were there at all.’ Her voice sank. ‘This is all surmise. How can one find out?’
‘Do we need to?’
‘What? I was thinking aloud there. But Val needs help because blackmailers don’t stop at one demand. He’s got his foot in the door, he knows that whatever he has on her is solid; he might just have been fishing in the first place, trying it on. She’s acceded to the first demand, if it was only to take him on as a hand, and he knows she’s hooked. And she does inherit half a million dollars. That’ll be a fortune to a ranch hand, if he does know about the will. He could bleed her dry. I wonder what he’s got on her.’
‘You could try to find out. She won’t tell me.’
‘What makes you think she’ll tell me? What right do I have to ask questions anyway?’
‘What right does Byer have to blackmail her? We can’t go to the police. We daren’t, we don’t know what’s going on.’ Sophie smiled, this time engagingly. ‘You can run away: drive south tomorrow and forget all about us, or you can stay. Charlie was the worst kind of louse; I’m not going to stand by and see any member of this family hanged because they put him down like a vicious hound. Whatever happened, he deserved it.’
Manslaughter didn’t involve the death sentence, but that was only a scenario they’d dreamed up. The reality could have been murder. ‘I’ll have a talk with Byer,’ Miss Pink said. ‘And the others, if I get the opportunity,’ she added grudgingly, knowing the alternative, as Sophie said, was to cut and run. That wasn’t her style.
9
Byer was not at home. His pick-up was parked in front of the house, an old grey horse grazing close by, but there was no sign of the piebald. Miss Pink sat at the wheel of her hired Bronco and considered the house. Unscreened windows — there would be flies in hot weather, not to speak of mosquitoes so close to the water, but probably he didn’t open his windows. Certainly he never washed them. Bachelors didn’t need to be house-proud but they didn’t have to be dirty.
She drove to the old homestead, rejoicing in the smooth running of this new car. Val was standing in the entrance to the barn, tense at the sight of the unfamiliar vehicle, but the hesitation was momentary. By the time Miss Pink had turned and come to a halt she was at the driver’s door. ‘My!’ she exclaimed. ‘You did yourself proud with this animal.’
‘Good power-to-weight ratio.’ Miss Pink was smug. ‘Like a quarter horse. I brought a book from Sophie, something on equine medicine.’
‘Right. She offered me the loan of it.’ Then, ostensibly casual, ‘Where is she this morning?’
‘She’s visiting Sam.’
Val looked wary. Miss Pink went on, ‘She wants to know if Jen talked’ — beaming at the other’s bewilderment — ‘she says they have a good relationship: Jen and her father.’ Still no response. She became flustered: the well-intentioned old lady pushing into ever deeper waters. ‘Now that her grandfather’s out of the way and the other problem’s cleared up, it’s all plain sailing, isn’t it?’
Eyebrows raised, the ingenuous expression demanding comment.
‘What’s she been saying to you?’
Miss Pink nodded as if the possibility of a snub, not to mention a furious reaction, had never crossed her mind. ‘Gossip.’ She shrugged. ‘That ridiculous story of Charlie’s: confusing your two marriages, implying Sam isn’t Jen’s father.’
‘Implying! He told her Paul — my second husband — was her father. He told her as a fact.’
‘Silly man.’
‘He was evil.’ Val was no longer bewildered, she was savage.
‘How did you find out?’ Miss Pink seemed to have shrunk to a harmless innocent and she asked the question in all innocence.
Val said, still angry ‘It was yesterday, when Ryan came for Ali. Remember? You were here.’
‘Oh yes? And he said Paul was Jen’s father?’ Miss Pink turned to survey the corral where Ryan had accosted them, when he’d insisted he’d come to collect the stallion.
‘No,’ Val conceded. ‘It was before that. Edna told me. She dropped hints. Not everything, but I got the gist of it.’
‘Ah, now I understand. And you went to the hunting camp to confront your father.’
Val gasped. ‘I told Sophie in confidence.’
‘She’s so worried. She needed to talk to someone. I’m a friend. She’s an old lady, Val.’
The woman gave an angry laugh. ‘And now the whole world’s going to know.’ She was struck by a thought. ‘Why did you come here? The book was an excuse. You’ve been pumping me! What —’
‘I’m looking for Byer.’ It was cool and firm; the chameleon had changed colour again.
After a moment Val said warily, ‘I don’t know where he is.’
‘Where is Ali?’
‘That’s the point! He’s taken the stud out.’
‘Riding him?’ Miss Pink was shocked.
‘No, no; leading him. Exercise, he said.’
‘It seems rather soon, with his leg sprained.’
‘He says it’s all right.’ Val looked wan.
Miss Pink hesitated. The next question was; What hold does he have over you? but that was going too fast. She had some kind of brief from Sophie to protect her niece and the question could be counter-productive. Why was that? Because Val didn’t want to be helped. Why not?
Val said, confidentially, woman to woman, ‘You see, Byer knows I went to the cabin to visit with Charlie that afternoon.’
Miss Pink swallowed. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘If he spread it around everyone would know all our family problems.’
‘What’s more natural than your going to speak to your father when he was only a few miles away?’
Val regarded the older woman with what appeared to be speculation. ‘He died shortly afterwards.’
‘And you’re assuming that the police, if they knew you were at the cabin, would think you had a hand in his death.’
‘Of c
ourse.’ Val smiled but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘And I inherit a fortune.’ She shrugged. ‘Motive enough?’
‘Byer would think so. You realise that he must have been there himself to know that you were.’ Val’s hand rose to her throat defensively. ‘How does he know?’ Miss Pink pressed.
‘I have no idea.’ Val considered this. ‘Maybe he did go to the cabin — after me —’ Her eyes jumped. A pick-up was approaching. Her face stiffened into lines that betrayed her age.
The truck stopped and the man who got down struck a memory chord: an image against a background of a peeling mobile home, a large paunchy fellow with the vestiges of good looks in a fleshy face. Why was Paul Skinner visiting his former wife at a time when the rumour was current, at least in a limited circle, that he’d had a sexual relationship with his stepdaughter?
Val said quickly, ‘My ex has come to see me on business.’
Miss Pink said nothing. Even had there been time to ask whether she should go she wouldn’t have done so. She was here for information.
‘Where’s that sorrel stud of your dad’s?’ Skinner asked, ignoring Miss Pink, his eyes ranging the corrals.
‘Gone.’ Val was furious. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘Is it over to Benefit?’
‘It’s nothing to do with you. My father’s will is family business. Why would you think it was at Benefit anyway?’
‘Byer said the stud goes to Jen.’
‘So?’
Skinner seemed nonplussed. His eyes shifted to the visitor. Val said icily, ‘This is my aunt’s house guest, Miss Pink. Melinda: Paul Skinner. Now if you’ll excuse us —’ She took Miss Pink’s arm and shepherded her firmly across the yard. Her hand was trembling. The screen door banged behind them. ‘I don’t want those two to meet,’ she whispered. ‘Byer’s up with the horse herd — the top pasture behind the house. Can you slip out the back and tell him to keep clear till I’ve got rid of Skinner?’
‘Do I tell him why?’
Val stared, biting her lip. ‘Tell him that — just say Skinner’s breathing fire about — about Ali.’ Miss Pink made to protest. ‘Please don’t ask questions,’ Val was frantic, pushing her towards the back door. ‘Please! We have trouble enough without those two at each other’s throats.’
Using the buildings as cover until she reached trees, Miss Pink plodded up the slope, so intent on puzzling over the reason for these two men to be at odds that she nearly blundered into Byer. He was riding the piebald and leading the stallion. She delivered the message, deadpan, and waited for him to ask why he should wait for Skinner to leave the homestead.
Byer was expressionless, looking past her. He was trying to work something out: a man who had difficulty thinking on his feet. A devious fellow but not a clever one. Miss Pink stepped aside and surveyed the stallion critically. As one expert to another she said, ‘Even if the damage isn’t reversible it won’t affect his breeding capacity.’ She nodded sagely. ‘Yes, he could still hold his value. Have you put in an offer?’
He was dumbfounded, then gave a bark of amusement. ‘She’s selling?’
‘Well, the price will be high…’ It was a discreet murmur. He fingered his chin. ‘I got the cash.’
‘So you have put in an offer.’
‘Of course. You need a man to handle this stud. Obvious he’d be sold when Charlie were gone. I put in the first offer.’
‘When was that?’
‘You’re asking a lot of questions. What’s it to you?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ Miss Pink was suddenly an embarrassed old soul. ‘One forgets one’s place — bad manners — not my business at all; it’s between you and the owner of course. But she said nothing to us about selling Ali when we were there yesterday.’
‘Who?’
‘Why, Jen — Mrs Ryan as she is now. I had the distinct impression that she meant to keep the stud —’
‘You got mixed up.’ He eyed her speculatively. She was red-faced and sweating. ‘I’m not sure about this horse,’ he told her. ‘If there’s a problem of ownership —’
‘You were told the stud was to come to Val?’
‘Ah-h.’ He spun it out. Blinking at him like a distressed owl, she imagined she could hear the brain working, the wrong cogs catching. ‘What Charlie said was “her”. I took him to mean Val. Maybe he meant Jen after all. Maybe he intended me to be confused. He loved his joke.’
Miss Pink gave a girlish giggle. ‘As if it matters beside the money.’ She glanced at Ali carelessly. ‘He’s worth a few thousand, certainly, but there are millions to be divided…’
He grinned and the piebald walked on. It was a few moments before she remembered that her mission had been to detain him until Skinner had left the homestead.
*
‘No, they didn’t meet,’ Val assured her on her return. ‘You kept him away long enough for me to get rid of Paul. Actually, I misjudged that guy’ — she gave an odd little laugh and continued with a delicacy at variance with her usual manner — ‘that old scandal was all Charlie’s doing.’
‘So I understood.’
‘I mean, the suggestion that Paul had some kind of relationship with Jen. That’s as wild as the lie that Paul’s her father. Paul suspected something when he met Bret one time in Ballard and Bret said him and Jen were married. Paul wondered why Bret acted kind of familiar. He knows now, of course. Incidentally, it was Paul who confirmed that Ali was to come to Jen. Byer told him.’
*
‘So how did it go?’ Sophie asked, placing a bowl of clam chowder before her guest. ‘Were you able to talk to Byer?’
Miss Pink described her morning. ‘I didn’t find out what Byer has on Val,’ she admitted, ‘but I’m certain Ali is the price he’s asking to keep quiet: the stallion rather than cash. He tried to confuse me by pretending he wasn’t sure who owned Ali now but he’d let slip that Charlie had told him the horse was to go to Jen. Val says Byer told Skinner, which makes those two rather friendly, doesn’t it: Byer and Skinner?’
Sophie grimaced. ‘Cronies rather than friends. Vultures more like: looking for pickings. What was Skinner doing at the homestead anyway? If Val didn’t want those two to meet it wasn’t because they’d fight but because she wanted Skinner on his own, find out something. Did she say anything about meeting Charlie at the hunting camp?’
‘I put it to her that she went there to confront her father. She didn’t deny it. She was insistent that Jen didn’t go there. As for her needing to talk to Skinner alone, she says she’s misjudged him, that there was no illicit relationship with Jen.’
‘Well, he’s not going to admit it, is he?’
‘True.’ Miss Pink reverted to the subject of the stallion. ‘Byer said he’d put in an offer for Ali —’
‘He’s not for sale.’
‘Calling it a sale would be the cover. Neither Byer nor Val could admit that the horse changed hands as blackmail payment. I was intrigued that Byer should be blackmailing Val instead of Jen, but I concluded that Byer’s banking on Val buying Ali from Jen, then turning the horse over to him, or —’
‘Or what?’
‘That Jen will give up the horse when Val tells her about the blackmail.’
‘Jen would never —’ Sophie checked. ‘You think Jen did go to meet Charlie, don’t you?’
‘I’d like to talk to Byer again. I think he was there, at the hunting cabin. What did Sam have to say?’
‘Nothing. That is, he didn’t go after Jen and she didn’t come back to Benefit so he went home. He says he’ll have a word with Bret when he starts work. You talk to Sam, you wouldn’t think there was any urgency; things will work out, is his style.’
The telephone started to ring. Sophie picked up the receiver, listened, gasped, ‘What?’ and the blood drained from her cheeks. Miss Pink moved quickly, pushing a chair towards her as the woman put out a hand to the sideboard.
The person at the end of the line clacked on, stopped, asked a question. ‘She’s here,’ Soph
ie said in a small voice and held out the instrument to Miss Pink, but by the time she’d put it to her ear the line was dead. She frowned, shook the receiver and got the dialling tone. Sophie started to giggle on a rising note.
Miss Pink said coldly, ‘This is where I slap your face and you collapse in tears. Don’t make me do it. We’re grown women.’
The giggling stopped. Sophie allowed herself to be steered to the sofa and pushed down on the cushions. Miss Pink found the brandy and brought stiff drinks for both of them.
‘It was just that I didn’t think Charlie had any shoulders left,’ Sophie explained with terrible gravity. ‘There’s a bullet track in his shoulder, apparently, the pathologist says. I guess if you’re used to gunshot wounds it would show even given the state he was in.’
‘Drink your brandy.’
‘Ah, Melinda: priorities in the right place as usual.’
‘Who were you talking to?’
‘Why, Val of course. The police are on their way.’
‘On their way to where?’
‘To see her. To arrest her?’ The tone was mildly curious.
‘No. If they connected her with foul play they wouldn’t tell her in advance. They’ll be thinking in terms of accident — as we’ve been doing all along, but now with the addition of a gun. He shot himself by accident.’
‘Actually Val did say, “They’ve warned me so I can’t be a suspect.” The girl’s realised they’d be thinking in terms of murder. We’ll have to get our stories straight.’
Miss Pink opened her mouth and closed it again.
‘There’s Jen,’ Sophie said. As if anyone needed reminding. She traced rings on the table with her glass. ‘Jen doesn’t shoot,’ she went on, reddening under Miss Pink’s stare. ‘You know, I think Val said the police said it only looks like the track of a bullet, not that it is a track.’
‘That makes more sense, given the condition of the remains. And no one’s said they heard a shot.’ Miss Pink sat up. ‘This is ridiculous. The man was dragged to his death. Even if a shot had been heard there’s nothing to say it wasn’t a poacher. Or a hunter after coyotes. When are the police seeing Val?’