Miss Pink Investigates 3

by Gwen Moffat

  ‘So you say. It’s worrying.’

  ‘Aren’t you worried that he should ride alone up to Rustler Park?’

  ‘Is that where he went?’ The voice was listless now. ‘He’s a good little rider.’ But she wasn’t thinking about his horsemanship.

  ‘Isn’t Maxine worried?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘That Shawn knows who the murderer is.’

  ‘He told you!’

  ‘Not the identity of the man.’

  ‘No more he told me. Maxine isn’t well; she’s very highly strung. She’s sick in bed so she doesn’t know about any of this.’ She made a gesture of indecision. ‘Don’t you think he should tell us?’

  ‘Definitely. Perhaps we could impress on him the need. How about now? The sooner the better.’

  ‘When he gets back.’

  ‘Back – from where?’

  ‘He’s with the Olsons today. He’ll be home this evening. I’ll make him talk then. And if he won’t, I’ll send for that detective, the fatherly one – Sprague? It was him got Shawn to admit he’d seen the killer taking Birdie to the creek.’

  Shawn was not at the Olson place. No one had seen him that day, in fact, none of the children had seen him since he left them just before the storm on Saturday.

  The Olson family was busy. Mike was working at Wind Whistle, the big girls were out in the alfalfa, irrigating, the twins were in the kitchen, drawing maps of Alaska: geography lesson, Jo explained. The baby was stumbling round the kitchen followed by the solicitous collie. Debbie tapped Miss Pink’s arm. ‘I’ve got time to talk if you don’t mind me working at the same time.’

  They went round the back of the cabin to the vegetable garden.

  ‘I’m running late,’ Debbie said, bustling along the rows. ‘I have to get these old peas weeded before dinner, and I should be out helping with the irrigating— ’ She sighed heavily and Miss Pink accepted the broad hint and started to work on a parallel row.

  ‘How did the picnic go?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, it was fun!’ Immediately Debbie forgot the urgency and straightened her back. ‘We went up Rustler. Why didn’t you come?’

  ‘I had to talk to people. I would have liked to come. Tell me about it. Did Sarah photograph the rattler at the line camp?’

  ‘No, we didn’t go near the rocks. Sarah says there are rattlers all round that reef, not just at the old cabin. We had the picnic in the trees.’

  ‘Near the Pale Hunter?’

  ‘Across from there. We rode past the Hunter; we rode right round the park after we’d eaten.’

  ‘Dolly and I picnicked above the Maze.’

  Debbie stood up again, gave an ostentatious sigh and pointed past the Stone Hawk. ‘That’s the Maze.’

  ‘True, but Rustler Park’s up there too. Isn’t there a way down to here from Rustler through the Maze?’

  ‘Heavens, no!’ She rolled her eyes. ‘There’s only one way to Rustler: up Horsethief.’

  ‘Why didn’t Shawn go with you?’

  Debbie turned back to the peas. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘He felt left out.’ Debbie struggled with a dandelion root. ‘I saw him in Horsethief yesterday,’ Miss Pink went on idly. ‘He went up Rustler on his own.’

  The child stood up, staring. ‘Walking?’

  ‘No, on Birdie’s pinto.’

  ‘He stole it?’

  ‘Mrs Estwick is letting him ride it.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  Miss Pink was untwining a convolvulus stem. ‘She’s not thinking straight,’ Debbie amended. ‘My dad’s gone over there, see if he can help. He’ll sort that one out.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t he ride the pinto? He’s good enough. I watched him on the trail yesterday; he doesn’t ride as well as some, but he’s not bad.’ Debbie said nothing. Miss Pink straightened her back. ‘I’m going to call on Mrs Estwick. Is there any message for your father?’

  ‘Tell him what you just told me – in case Mrs Estwick didn’t tell him yet.’

  ‘I’ll do that. You’re worried about Shawn. I can understand that. People shouldn’t go riding in these canyons on their own. It’s too easy for a horse to put a foot wrong and go over the edge.’

  The child looked at her, and deep in those clear blue eyes something moved that was not at all childish, something that made Miss Pink distinctly uneasy.

  Paula and Olson were in the corrals when she drove into the Estwicks’ yard, Paula smearing ointment on the back of a horse while Olson held its head. They came out of the corral and greeted her without enthusiasm. Paula, as might be expected, appeared dull and incurious, but an unwonted belligerence on Olson’s part contrasted sharply with the attitude of the rest of his family. He might be in pain; he was limping, having been kicked by a cow. Forset had said that Olson was careless. When Paula went indoors Miss Pink asked him if he knew that Shawn had ridden the pinto yesterday. No, he hadn’t known.

  ‘Is he safe, d’you think?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m not bothered about Shawn.’

  Annoyed, she said tartly: ‘You don’t have to bother about Mike’s alibi either.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with— What’s that supposed to mean?’ He was more frightened than wantonly rude.

  ‘Mike was fishing in the pool below the Upper Jump. Didn’t he tell you?’

  ‘That’s what he— What are you talking about?’

  ‘You gave him a false alibi, and he didn’t need it. Alex Duval was watching him all the time. And then Mike called at Wind Whistle so that must have been just before Jo arrived. You only have to ask Tracy and Sandy what time he was there, or how long before Jo got there that he left – and you know what time he reached your place, so you can work out that he didn’t have enough time to come over here and do everything that was done, and to wash. Was he wet when he came in?’

  ‘Not like he’d been in the creek. How did you work it all out?’

  ‘Once Alex said he was fishing in the pool I realised why Mike was so surprised when you said he was with you around three on Saturday. You thought if he told the police he was fishing, that wouldn’t be good enough. Didn’t he tell you he was within sight of Alex? And that he called at Wind Whistle?’

  ‘I didn’t think. I just thought the more people had been with Mike around the time that Birdie went home the better.’

  ‘And saying Mike was with you gives you an alibi.’

  ‘I don’t need one.’

  A car could be heard approaching and Dolly’s white Volkswagen nosed into the yard. She got out carrying a casserole.

  ‘Hi, you guys!’ Her smile suggested that she was trying to behave as if nothing had happened, but her eyes were wary. She raised her brows and nodded towards the cabin. ‘She O.K.?’

  ‘She’s all right,’ Olson said. ‘I got her to come out. We’ve been doctoring Sam’s horse.’

  ‘I looked in to give her this casserole, see if there’s anything she needs. Then we can have a talk.’ (This to Miss Pink.) ‘You staying a while, Erik?’

  ‘We’re going to go and look at the cattle.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Just to get her out, get her moving about the place.’

  ‘Good. Put her up on a horse – best thing you can do.’

  ‘It would be, but there’s only one horse. Sam’s has got a nasty saddle sore.’

  ‘Hm, you’re both too heavy for the pinto. You’ll have— ’

  ‘Shawn’s out on the pinto.’

  ‘What?’ Both women exclaimed together. ‘He’s taken it today as well?’ Miss Pink asked. ‘Where did he go?’

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ Olson said flatly. ‘If that old pony bucks him off, all’s I can say is it’s no more’n he deserves.’

  ‘Do you know what that boy’s saying?’ Dolly hissed.

  ‘Shawn? No. What?’

  ‘He says he does know who the killer is.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Jesus, Erik! Don’t you realise— ’

 
‘Shut your car door!’ Miss Pink interrupted loudly, seeing Paula emerge from the cabin. ‘You’re wasting your batteries.’

  ‘Hi, Paula!’ Dolly turned, almost smoothly. ‘I brought you a casserole … ’

  ‘Who told you?’ Miss Pink asked as, their having driven in convoy to Dolly’s cabin, the younger woman came hurrying back to the jeep.

  ‘Myrtle called me asking what she should do.’

  ‘And what did you suggest?’

  ‘I told her to hang on till he comes home and then she must make him tell her. Then I started looking for you. Jo told me you were at the Estwicks’. The casserole was a blind: my dinner for the next few days. But it does mean it can’t be Sam, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It would seem so. Since all the indications were that it was him, Shawn seems to be implying now that it was someone else.’

  ‘But this is wild! Shawn’s saying it’s one of us? I mean, one of those left? Where is that kid? He didn’t tell Paula where he was going but someone must have seen him. Do we call people, or what?’ Miss Pink was deep in thought. ‘I mean,’ Dolly pressed, ‘he’s in a terribly dangerous position, don’t you think? Should we call the police?’

  ‘He could be lying.’

  ‘There is that. Shawn will say whatever suits his convenience at the moment.’

  ‘But someone may not take that into account, may decide to be on the safe side.’

  Dolly twisted an ear-ring. ‘Surely it’s up to his family to take the initiative?’

  ‘I don’t think anybody’s capable. Maxine is “sick” which is probably a euphemism for drunk, and Myrtle’s a broken reed.’

  ‘Oh, hell. So what do we do?’

  ‘Let’s try to discover if anyone’s seen him. Start with Wind Whistle.’

  There was no reply from the Duvals’ number, nor from John Forset, nor Glen Plummer. Lois was at home and asked why Dolly should think that she had seen Shawn when his mother had forbidden him to visit with the Stenbocks. ‘Why’s that?’ Dolly asked, replacing the receiver. ‘Why doesn’t Maxine let Shawn visit with Lois?’

  ‘Because— ’ Miss Pink checked.

  ‘Oh, come on! I can find out from Lois easily enough.’

  ‘And she’ll tell you.’ Miss Pink was grim. ‘Shawn told her that Sam Estwick was too fond of small boys, so Lois told Maxine what she thought of her as a mother.’

  ‘Shawn said that! The little bugger.’

  ‘But I met him yesterday and he retracted, admitted he was lying; it seems he was getting his own back on Sam for some slight or other. Maybe Sam did whip him at one time. On the other hand he said he’d like Sam for a father.’

  ‘This gets even more weird. He was having you on.’

  Miss Pink studied Dolly’s face. ‘He was very plausible.’

  ‘He is. Now I come to think of it, he’s so plausible, and such a little bastard – particularly when I remember what he did to my painting – I’m not all that keen to find him after all. Let him take his chance, is how I feel.’

  ‘I’m going to call the Grays’ cabin. They might have seen him at a distance; no one can miss the pinto.’

  Sarah answered the telephone. She had not seen Shawn or the pinto; was something wrong? Miss Pink hesitated and Frankie came on the line.

  ‘Something happened?’

  Miss Pink explained that Shawn was dropping hints that he knew the identity of the killer.

  ‘It’s not Sam then!’ Frankie exclaimed. ‘That’s a relief— ’

  ‘Then it’s someone else.’

  There was silence on the line. Sarah came back. ‘What’s Frankie so upset about?’

  Cornered, Miss Pink had to explain, despite Sarah’s tender age, but then Sarah was not all that tender. ‘Did Shawn say anything to you?’ she asked. ‘When you went to see him Sunday afternoon. You talked to him just before the police did and he told them he’d seen a man carrying Birdie’s body. Surely he told you?’

  ‘I knew he was concealing something but he wouldn’t talk. The police must have brought pressure to bear. I couldn’t.’

  ‘Have you any idea where he would be now?’

  ‘None. I’ll tell you what, though; Shawn’s quite safe as long as you know where everyone else is.’

  ‘I don’t see – oh.’

  Frankie came back on the line, hard and triumphant. ‘She means there are eight suspects. One of them’s sitting out by our pool at this moment, and this time I’m not asleep.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ Miss Pink said. ‘And after all, the child isn’t missing.

  ‘Exactly.’ There was a long pause. ‘When do we assume he is?’

  ‘What would Shawn be doing inside Wind Whistle when the house was empty?’

  ‘Helping himself to a Coke?’ Jerome ventured.

  ‘Stealing,’ Sarah said.

  Miss Pink and Dolly had lunched with the Grays: an alfresco meal beside the pool. Somnolent after two glasses of wine, Miss Pink had put her question generally to the company.

  ‘Do you have evidence to back that up?’ she asked.

  ‘The criminal mind,’ Frankie murmured.

  ‘You mean, proof that he steals, not just that he was stealing at Wind Whistle?’ Sarah asked. ‘The Olsons could answer that one better than me. He cheats at games and he tells lies. He’s basically dishonest.’

  ‘He’s anti-social,’ Frankie said. ‘What he said about Sam was amoral.’

  ‘Immoral,’ Sarah corrected. ‘He knew what he was doing.’

  Jerome cocked an interested eye at his daughter. ‘How d’you know that, miss?’

  ‘He was deliberately slandering Sam.’

  ‘He knew what he was doing all right,’ Dolly put in grimly.

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Jerome said. ‘He may have seen or heard some reference to child abuse and repeated it without being fully aware of the consequences.’

  ‘Like a psychopath?’ Sarah asked. ‘Daddy, you’re being naive.’

  ‘And you’re another one.’ Jerome was not in the least put out.

  ‘A psychopath?’

  ‘Not fully aware of the meaning of terms.’

  ‘So he’s a fledgling psychopath. His wings aren’t grown.’

  ‘Perhaps they should be clipped.’ Dolly leaned back in her chaise longue. ‘Perhaps someone’s done that,’ she added lazily.

  ‘Don’t, Dolly,’ Frankie said.

  ‘Sorry, my subconscious is coming to the surface. I’m hot; I’m going in the pool.’ She got up and went to the house.

  ‘We have plenty of swimsuits, Melinda,’ Frankie said.

  ‘Thank you. Later, perhaps.’ She looked at Sarah. ‘How many ways could Shawn have taken when he left Paula’s place this morning?’

  ‘Up or down the canyon, and on either side of the creek.’

  ‘This side of the creek he’d be on the road,’ Jerome pointed out, seeing what was in her mind. ‘Someone would have seen him. It’s more likely that he crossed the creek and went up – or down – the trail on the far bank.’

  ‘Then John Forset would have to see him, or Bob – or Alex.’ She had kept her promise and told no one that she had met Alex in Sheep Canyon. ‘At either end of the trail on the other side of the creek he had to pass one of those ranches.’

  ‘But you called John and the Duvals and no one was home,’ Frankie said. ‘If they all left early, before Shawn set out, no one need have seen him go except Paula.’

  ‘When did he leave Estwicks’?’ Jerome asked, but no one knew.

  ‘Shall we call Paula?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s a bit casual, a telephone call. I’ll run down there, take some cookies and stuff.’

  ‘You won’t run down there, in this heat.’

  ‘I’ll take my bike.’

  Jerome said: ‘Are you sure— ’

  ‘It’ll save Frankie the trip, and Paula will talk to me. Frankie goes down every day.’

  They went indoors, passing Dolly, plump
and tanned in a blue swimsuit. She plunged in the deep end of the pool and started a slow crawl.

  ‘Oh, bliss,’ she gasped, coming to the side. ‘The others coming in?’

  ‘Frankie’s putting up some cookies for Sarah to take to Paula. We want to know what time Shawn left there this morning.’

  ‘You still bothered about him? Come in the water and cool off. It’s super.’

  Jerome smiled politely and turned to Miss Pink. ‘How do you feel about Shawn?’ he asked. ‘Are you worried?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m intrigued. I keep wondering why he was in Rustler Park yesterday. Has he gone up there again, and if so, why?’

  ‘You must ask Sarah that. She was there too. They came down together.’

  ‘What did he tell her?’

  ‘Just that he wanted to go to Rustler because he wasn’t invited to the picnic. It sounds reasonable. It’s considered quite an adventure by the children to ride up Horsethief and through the Twist. A paranoid child would feel he hadn’t been invited because he wasn’t considered a good enough rider, so he’d do it alone, to prove that he was. Would Shawn be paranoid? Dear me, this is infectious: psychopath, paranoid. What next?’

  Sarah returned within the hour to say that Shawn had left the Estwicks’ place some time after nine o’clock and Paula had not noticed which way he had gone. Paula had been quite chatty, Sarah said, turning to Miss Pink. ‘You thought Shawn was trying to get his own back on Sam because Sam threatened to whip him. It was a bit more … significant than that. After Shawn threw the stone at your horse Sam took him aside and told him that if he was his father he’d send him away to a special school where people knew how to deal with spoiled kids. Shawn said he wasn’t his father and never would be, and Sam said no, but he’d have a word with Glen Plummer and put him straight on the subject. Plummer had enough money to have Shawn put away in a very secure special school.’

  ‘Paula told you this?’ Frankie said in amazement. ‘And Sam told Paula all that?’

  ‘Maybe he told her more than we know – but he certainly told her about this rather nasty exchange with Shawn. Sam was worried afterwards about what the kid might do.’

  ‘What could he do?’ Jerome asked. ‘He’s only ten, for Heavens’ sake! You mean slashing tyres, that kind of mischief?’