by Gwen Moffat
‘You’re wasting your time. You followed the Joplin Trail clear to the other side; Danger and Crazy Mule are just blind ends. You’ll only get yourself lost.’ Rose Baggott’s coveralls were splotched with paint and, far from being in a welcoming mood, she was clearly resenting Miss Pink’s reappearance.
‘I’m sorry I interrupted you.’
‘Well, look at me!’ The tone was conciliatory. ‘I’m decorating one of the bedrooms. Sorry if I sounded rude. You’d better register. The boys at the Queen tell me you write,’ she went on as Miss Pink completed the form. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t read any of your books.’ She was trying to make up for her lack of welcome.
‘They’ll be in the library.’ Miss Pink signed her name and straightened her back. ‘Who owns the big house in Danger Canyon?’
Rose blinked, taken by surprise. ‘Granville Green. He’s another Western buff: a member of the Western Trails Association. You went up Danger? So why go back there?’
‘I went only as far as the locked gate. Did I meet the landowner: a young dark fellow, drives a pick-up?’
‘That’s Brett Vogel; he looks after the place.’ Sharp eyes studied Miss Pink. ‘What did he have to say?’
‘Well of course, he was deeply suspicious of me … ’ Miss Pink paused, waited, her eyes unfocused, but Rose was waiting too. She continued smoothly: ‘Hostility towards strangers is to be expected, I suppose?’
‘Why should he be hostile to you?’
‘I didn’t think it was personal; I assumed that was his manner towards everyone.’
‘No –’ Rose looked as if she would say more but thought better of it. Absently she turned the registration form towards her and regarded it blankly. ‘How many nights are you staying?’
‘I don’t know yet. But he was even more hostile towards Timothy Argent.’
Rose gave a little snort of amusement. ‘No wonder.’
‘Certainly they didn’t get on. Was it because of the locked gate?’
‘The locked gate?’ Miss Pink was attentive. Rose continued: ‘You mean that gate at the start of the forest. But Timothy would –’ She checked. ‘I was going to say he would just have climbed over it – but they probably had a set-to about Timothy being on private land. He’d have spoken his mind about blocked trails. Tim hadn’t much time for Brett Vogel.’
‘Local people can be extremely possessive about their own territory.’
‘Vogel’s not local. They – he’s only been here a few months.’
‘I didn’t meet his wife.’
‘Miss Pink! I shall start to think you have ulterior motives: all these questions.’ Rose was arch but the tone was contrived. She said, more naturally: ‘Vogel’s on his own.’
‘I have ulterior motives,’ Miss Pink confessed. ‘And I think I have to come clean. I called my agent from Credit and they want me to take over the book that Timothy was supposed to be writing.’
‘Isn’t that a bit unusual?’
‘Timothy’s been given the push.’ Miss Pink looked embarrassed. ‘I’m afraid he’s by way of being an alcoholic and he appears to have taken to the bottle again. Tragic circumstances, but that’s basically why I had to come back: to explore the canyons, take photographs and so on. I could write a romance based on a quick drive across Breakneck but for an in-depth travel book, that would be altogether too superficial. After all, Timothy was here – how long?’
‘No one’s quite sure. How can you take over a book in the middle? Half will be his, the other half yours. It will be disjointed.’
‘I don’t know what the publishers intend to do. There was a hint that, once I’d finished this California section, I might go back to the beginning and start where Timothy did, on the Missouri River, make the whole thing consistent, scrap Timothy’s contribution.’
Rose looked past Miss Pink at the sunshine in the street. ‘Poor Timothy,’ she said, and sighed heavily.
Miss Pink sauntered out of the hotel, moving purposefully once she was out of sight. She entered the Red Queen and went straight to the door at the back that led to the kitchen, startling Verne Blair who was drinking coffee at a scrubbed table with a cookbook propped in front of him.
‘You came back!’
‘I’ve taken over from Timothy.’
He gaped at her. ‘Taken over what?’
‘Why, his book. I’ve been in touch with my agent … ’ She repeated her story patiently. He showed no surprise but then he’d guessed that Argent was an alcoholic. He appeared to accept the explanation for her return, only asking how long she intended to stay: ‘Earl’s in Endeavor right now; I’d like to catch him, tell him we have you back.’
He went to a wall telephone and dialled a number. After ascertaining that Lovejoy wasn’t in what was presumably a store, and hadn’t been in, he left a message that Miss Pink was back and for the shopping list to be amended accordingly. He put down the receiver, and she returned to the subject of Timothy Argent as if there had been no interruption: ‘His publisher is furious about the girl, maintains she has to be responsible for his falling off the wagon – which is what everyone assumes has happened.’
‘I don’t know.’ Blair was morose, unthinking. ‘She could take the liquor or leave it. It’s unfair to blame her for that.’ He did a double-take. ‘Who told you about her?’
‘Everyone knows.’ She was dismissive. ‘What would you blame her for?’
He slumped in his chair. ‘Quite honestly, I’m not interested in other people’s private lives.’ He thought about this and added: ‘If you want my opinion they got what they deserved; they’re both adults, they knew what they were letting themselves in for. Oh, we liked Timothy but he had his weaknesses. I mean, it’s one thing to be fond of the ladies, but Joanne!’ He grinned wryly. ‘But then he won’t have gone into details to his publisher. Maybe he didn’t know the truth about her himself; didn’t care, is more like it. He was quite besotted.’
‘Why do you refer to him in the past tense?’
‘It’s two months ago now. He’s in the past.’ He grinned again as he caught the implications of that. ‘Nothing sinister about it, I promise you. Tell you the truth, they arranged a special dinner-party for Joanne’s birthday and never turned up. Left us with the bill –’
The telephone started to ring. He excused himself and lifted the receiver. As he listened, he threw a startled glance at Miss Pink, then turned slowly until his back was towards her. When he replaced the receiver she waited for him to return to the table, to say something, but he was silent and he didn’t sit down.
‘That was Rose Baggott,’ she told him, ‘telling you I was asking too many questions.’
He had a cornered look. ‘You’re certainly asking a lot of questions. Why’s that?’
She improvised quickly. ‘Because his publishers gave Timothy a huge advance and they’re rather keen to know where he is. I’m afraid they’ll have to sue.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. What was the sum?’
‘Fifty thousand pounds, around there. That would be getting on for a hundred thousand dollars.’
He was astonished. ‘So much? No wonder they have to find him. And no wonder Joanne got her hooks in him – although I never thought of her as mercenary. She wasn’t an ordinary gold-digger.’
‘Hiram Wolf is even more partisan.’
He couldn’t restrain a giggle. ‘Hiram was another sucker.’ His eyes glazed. ‘She was flawless,’ he said, adding quickly: ‘except for the dirt. Went barefooted, her feet were always grubby. But the rest of her … Her skin was translucent.’
‘Someone said she wasn’t white.’
‘She had some Indian blood. Timothy said that accounted for her beauty.’
‘But she was English.’
‘An illegal alien obviously. Keeping out of the way of the police.’
‘In Dogtown.’
‘She mostly kept out of Dogtown. She stayed up Danger Canyon, minding the store.’
‘That’s an expression
I’ve not come across: “minding the store”.’
‘Looking after the place, answering the phone when Vogel was out. I guess, because they were both taken on for the job, when Vogel went away, she had to stay behind, look after the ranch, otherwise they weren’t doing their job as caretakers.’
‘In that case, going off with Timothy was somewhat irresponsible.’
He shook his head and sat down. ‘Stupid guy. He’s the same age as me, and here he’s making a fool of himself over someone young enough to be his daughter, who’ll stay with him just until they get to Hollywood or wherever. He’ll buy her some proper clothes, take her to a few posh restaurants. Soon as she finds a director – and she’ll find one quicker’n she found Tim – soon’s she finds the right guy to get her into the movies, she’ll dump poor Tim like he’s caught something unmentionable.’
‘I’m surprised Vogel wasn’t glad to be rid of her.’
He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘What makes you think he isn’t?’
‘Because he’s so hostile towards Timothy.’
‘Vogel’s from Texas and all Texans are macho. His pride’s been dinted, is all – and then there’s no one to cook for him. Not that Joanne could cook, she hated it –’ He stopped short. ‘You do draw people out, don’t you? Rosie Baggott said you were like an investigative journalist.’ He smiled, wanting to keep on her good side, taking the sting out of his words. ‘I don’t think there’s anything else to tell. All we know is that Timothy went off with Vogel’s woman – you could hardly call her a lady – and that’s it.’
‘You didn’t mention it when I was here before.’
‘You were just someone passing through – and Timothy was our friend.’
‘Doesn’t that still apply?’
‘Well no, because you’ve obviously found out where they came down on the other side and you’ve come back primed with information. I just filled in a gap. No good holding out on you once you got half the truth.’
The kitchen door opened and Julius Semple stepped over the sill. He gaped at sight of Miss Pink. She smiled broadly. ‘Yes, it’s me, Mr Semple. Unforeseen circumstances. Joanne –’
Her expression remained benign as he put out his hand, feeling for a counter top, his eyes going from her to Blair and back again. ‘Joanne?’ he breathed. ‘You found her?’
‘What was her last name?’ she asked. No one answered. She nodded as if their silence confirmed something. ‘I see; she wasn’t married to Vogel?’ She raised her eyebrows at Blair, who shrugged. Semple took a step towards the table, regarding Miss Pink as if she were a snake. Consternation sat oddly on his raddled good looks. ‘Don’t know as I ever heard a last name,’ he muttered.
‘What makes her so frightening?’ she wondered aloud.
Semple passed a hand over his face. Blair threw him a glance. ‘She was trouble,’ he said: ‘for everyone. We should be grateful to Timothy for taking her away.’
A muscle twitched in Semple’s jaw. ‘Yeah, she was big trouble.’
‘The past tense with you too, Mr Semple?’
‘What’s that?’
‘People refer to them both in the past tense.’
He hesitated. ‘I told her,’ Blair put in, ‘that it all happened two months ago. It’s ancient history. We’d forgotten about them until this moment.’
‘That’s right,’ Semple agreed. ‘They left, went over the other side –’
‘She’s traced them.’
‘Traced ’em?’ Semple’s eyes swivelled to Miss Pink.
‘Not really,’ she confessed. ‘I merely picked up some information here and there. Just gossip, you know: something about a girl – er – operating on the Pacific slope.’
‘Not –’ Semple stopped short.
‘It can’t be Joanne,’ Blair said, and grinned. ‘She’d stick with Timothy – all that money.’ He turned to Semple. ‘Miss Pink says he got a hundred thousand dollars for his book, in advance!’ Semple looked blank. ‘He wouldn’t have it with him, of course,’ Blair went on, addressing Miss Pink. ‘Joanne would be persuading him to use his credit cards. A hundred thousand would be a fortune to her. She was poor as a wetback, and she loved – loves pretty clothes.’
‘I gotta get back,’ Semple said. ‘There’s a faucet leaking –’
‘What did you come over for, Julius?’
He blinked. ‘A washer – for the faucet.’
‘Another one? They’re in the hog-house out back. I’ll show you. You need new faucets, not washers – but then, don’t we all?’
Miss Pink strolled across the street to the museum. She opened the screen door and a figure moved in the gloom of the barn. ‘I thought you might be back,’ came Charlotte Semple’s voice, unsurprised. ‘How far did you get?’
‘Only to Credit. And I’ve not come back by choice so much; I’ve taken over Tim Argent’s job. Odd things have been happening.’
‘Such as?’
‘How much did you know about Timothy?’
Charlotte looked bewildered. ‘He was an author, an explorer – you asked me this before. And I told you we never got to know him properly.
‘It’s more important now. He’s disappeared, which is why I’m going to complete the book about the Joplins.’
‘What do you mean: “disappeared”?’
‘His publishers have lost contact with him. They think he’s indulging in a protracted drinking bout with the girl. He’s an alcoholic.’
‘The girl.’ The tone was neutral.
‘Joanne.’
‘So you discovered that affair. It was none of our business, besides we weren’t unsympathetic –’ She smiled, no longer neutral. ‘I thought it was rather romantic in fact; except he had a Jeep instead of a white charger, it could have been young Lochinvar stuff – well, middle-aged Lochinvar. Joanne was ready to leave Vogel anyway. You should have seen her, she was much too decorative to be stuck up there, in Danger Canyon. I don’t blame Tim or her, good luck to ’em, I say, although she won’t stay with him; she’s not exactly what you’d call constant. I don’t mean to sound bitchy; it’s just that she wasn’t very mature, emotionally.’
‘You’re only confirming what the men say.’
‘No doubt. Which men? Who did you talk to?’
‘Anyone, everyone. People do talk, don’t they? What would a girl with her looks be doing in Danger Canyon? And English at that.’
‘We-ell –’ she drew it out, ‘– people hide in the canyons. We don’t ask questions.’
‘Criminals?’
‘Not all of them. There are other reasons for going into hiding: like getting away from a violent partner – or debts; being an illegal alien, that kind of thing, not really criminal. Live and let live is my motto, but not everyone else’s apparently. Who told you about Joanne?’
Miss Pink was puzzled. ‘I can’t remember. I’m not sure that it wasn’t Vogel.’
‘You were up to Danger Creek! You asked him? How did you know she was with him in the first place?’
‘How did I?’ She was becoming flustered now. ‘Dear me, did I know at that point? How could I unless someone else –’ She regarded Charlotte earnestly. ‘I think Vogel must have mentioned her.’
‘Not voluntarily then. More likely he let something slip and you pounced on it. Is it important?’
‘Not in the least. Except that this girl seems to have aroused intense emotions in everyone with whom she came in contact.’
‘You’re exaggerating, of course. In some of the men, yes: Timothy, Brett Vogel … Who else?’
‘Hiram Wolf.’
‘Oh. Hiram, yes. She made a play for him.’ Charlotte paused. ‘Verne and Earl wouldn’t be interested – you realise why –’
‘On the contrary, Verne says she’s flawless.’
‘What! Then he’s referring to … to her complexion, must be. He’s being technical – objective. I mean, she’s what used to be called high-yaller, probably a quadroon. You were at the Red Queen?’
; Miss Pink smiled. ‘Your husband came across while I was there.’
‘Oh dear.’ Charlotte returned the smile. ‘My old boy was terrified of her. When he saw her coming he’d climb up in the loft here, leave me to cope. Not that I minded; she was fun. We’d rap for ever, her telling me all about herself, not that I believed everything she said, but it was highly entertaining.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘It varied. One time I remember she said her grandfather was an Indian rajah, another time he was the chief of an Afghan tribe; you could take your pick.’
‘What reason did she give for coming to Dogtown?’
‘You won’t leave that alone, will you? Like I said: I didn’t ask questions and you couldn’t believe what she said anyway, not that kind of thing. In any case she retracted immediately. “I didn’t say that,” she said. Now that was unusual. Other times, like who her grandfather was, she’d hold eye contact and lie like a little kid. Not this time. I never saw her frightened except then.’
Charlotte started to fidget with a bridle. She didn’t look happy herself.
‘You haven’t told me what reason she gave for coming to Dogtown. What was it she said that she tried to retract?’
‘It was ridiculous. You English don’t get mixed up in that kind of thing.’ Miss Pink waited patiently. ‘She said it was the Mafia!’ Charlotte threw it out like an accusation.
‘The Mafia are used to hide a multitude of sins,’ Miss Pink said comfortably. ‘They’re a convenient scapegoat, even a glamour object – and Joanne appears to have been fascinated by glamour. I suspect that she’s in Hollywood at this moment.’
‘You do? And Timothy: where d’you think he is?’
Miss Pink picked up a geode sparkling with heliotrope crystals. ‘Difficult,’ she murmured. ‘I’d hazard a guess that he’s in Hollywood too, not necessarily with her. People are unpredictable once they start drinking heavily. I rather think she will have ditched him. Drunks are a liability.’
