Miss Pink Investigates 3

by Gwen Moffat

  Fortune blinked. ‘He were hung up with wire.’

  ‘He was dead. The blow from the shovel fractured his skull.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess he had to be dead first.’

  ‘You didn’t leave the ranch immediately.’

  ‘I did so. A man like that, smuggler, he’d be armed, wouldn’t he? I took off ’case he had a dog.’ He looked sly. ‘Hiram’s bitch would have scented me, told him I were there.’

  ‘But she didn’t scent you. She wasn’t there.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘You knew all along who was in that pick-up because you’d found the other truck before you reached the ranch.’

  He shook his head. ‘No.’ The woodpecker started to strip bark and his eyes flickered. ‘I didn’t find no truck.’

  ‘You hung around, you saw him park Vogel’s truck and leave the ranch and return to where he’d left his own vehicle. You know who he was.’

  ‘I went the other way, up Deadboy. I wasn’t going down the meadow towards my place when he could come along behind, lights blazing, and armed. Had to be armed, I figured, out at night, up to no good; poaching, I thought.’ His voice strengthened. ‘And it had to be Vogel. What else would I think? His pick-up comes down the meadow, turns in at the ranch where he lives. ’Fact, it probably was Vogel, no reason why not.’ He avoided her eye.

  The woodpecker stopped work and shuffled round the trunk. In the silence they could hear leaves tear as the doe browsed. ‘I’ve talked to Joanne,’ Miss Pink said.

  He stiffened but he said nothing, waiting.

  ‘She’s well and happy, and careless as ever. I tried to persuade her to go away, to go into hiding. I wasn’t successful.’

  ‘Jesus,’ he breathed. ‘Is she close by?’

  ‘Too close. And she’s got a job in television. Soon everyone will know where she is –’

  ‘No!’

  ‘She has no idea she’s in any danger. She laughs at the thought.’

  ‘You gotta stop her!’ His voice rose and the deer sprang away. ‘She mustn’t go on television,’ he cried. ‘Didn’t you tell her?’

  ‘Tell her what?’

  ‘That … that –’ He was mumbling and glaring, unable to find words.

  ‘She thinks it was Vogel shot Timothy,’ Miss Pink said earnestly. ‘She’s certain of it, and since he’s dead she says there’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘You gotta go back and convince her to leave. Where is she?’

  ‘I’m not saying.’

  He thought about that. ‘Maybe you’re right. How did you find her?’

  She answered obliquely. ‘It couldn’t have been Hiram who shot Timothy, or if it was, his passion evaporated very quickly. Because he knows where she is and he didn’t follow her.’

  ‘Does anyone else know?’

  ‘So you weren’t bothered about Hiram either. And now we both know who was driving the pick-up you found in the forest that night.’

  ‘I don’t. Sure I found the truck but I never saw the driver. I went up Deadboy like I said, but I did backtrack Vogel’s pick-up, so I found his body. I’ll tell you who the other truck belonged to if you take me to Joanne. I can convince her to go somewhere she’ll be safe.’

  ‘I know whose truck it was.’ And she told him.

  It was high noon in Dogtown. Windows and doorways looked blind, as they do in hot countries where fly screens shield open spaces. There was a moment, as the Cherokee came quietly up the wide bright street, when the place resembled a stage set: a plywood ghost town waiting for the gunfight, an impression heightened by a glimpse of Rose’s horses dozing under a cottonwood.

  The Cherokee itself shattered the illusion, and now the pick-ups were visible, although the Semples’ was absent. Dust drifted away as Miss Pink came round and parked facing the Red Queen.

  Lovejoy, stacking shelves, greeted her in surprise. ‘I thought you said you were up to Palmer Meadows with Granville today.’

  ‘I missed them. I’ve been working in Crazy Mule Canyon.’

  ‘We’re back to that, are we? Crazy Mule or Breakneck or Deadboy Pass. I guess it’s a harmless occupation: a relief really after the past coupla weeks. Did you get your letter written?’

  Blair came in with mugs of coffee, asked Miss Pink if she would join them, and went back to the kitchen.

  ‘There are one or two loose ends,’ she murmured, and turned to look out on the brilliant street.

  ‘I never did get it clear –’ he began, but Blair, reappearing with another mug of coffee, said harshly: ‘Leave it, Earl. Everybody’s had it up to here. And remember –’ it was a warning, ‘– Miss Pink was intimately involved.’

  ‘Sorry. Here’s Rose coming over. Thirsty weather, this heat wave. She’ll be wanting coffee too.’

  Blair retreated. The screen door opened. Rose said: ‘I thought you were out with the Westerners. What happened?’

  ‘I missed them. There’s no hurry. We can afford to take things easy now.’

  ‘That’s a change. And no police, no press; you dodged all that by taking off for LA.’

  ‘It was too hot for interviews.’

  Blair came in with coffee for Rose. ‘This is nice,’ she said with sudden appreciation. ‘It’s a bit dead – I mean, I feel as if something’s missing; we gotta take up our lives again as if nothing happened. But something did happen – and it was shattering. So why do I feel a sense of loss?’

  ‘Unfinished business?’ murmured Miss Pink.

  Blair made an impatient movement but Lovejoy’s expression was questioning. Rose was still puzzled. ‘We’ll never know the truth,’ she said helplessly, but the partners’ attention had strayed to the street and the women turned to see Julius Semple walking through the sunshine, wearing a gun-belt with the butt of a gun visible in its holster. No one said anything, no one moved. Semple came in and clumped over to the bar in his high-heeled boots. Rose exhaled and said breathlessly: ‘What on earth are you doing with that?’

  His eyes were bright. ‘Isn’t it fabulous? The Colt’s just to complete the picture, I have to find one the right period. I bought this gun-belt last week; don’t you think it’s a beauty?’ He drew the pistol and laid it on the bar. Blair said: ‘You know you can’t bring a firearm in here, Julius.’

  ‘It’s not loaded.’

  The partners stared at the Colt as if mesmerised. Semple unbuckled the belt and handed it to Rose. ‘Look at the tooling on that holster; no one makes stuff like that today.’

  Miss Pink picked up the gun which was, indeed, unloaded. ‘A handy weapon,’ she observed. ‘Do you have a collection of firearms too, Mr Semple?’

  ‘Julius, please. Who else does?’ His eyes danced. A breath of spirits wafted towards them. Rose lifted an eyebrow and turned to her coffee. ‘I’m off the hook today,’ he informed them. ‘My dear wife’s at a sale in Endeavor.’ He beamed: for him an unfamiliar expression. Usually he looked hag-ridden. Blair put a mug of black coffee in front of him. ‘Drink that, Julius,’ he said firmly.

  Semple opened his mouth, caught the other’s look and said: ‘Good idea, Verne. Thanks.’

  ‘Do you have other firearms, Julius?’ Miss Pink’s words dropped like water from a height: crystal-clear, discrete.

  ‘Only a few,’ he told her. ‘But my collection’s increasing all the time; that’s my department: firearms, and harness of all kinds. Charlotte’s specialty is the clothes. You came back early, ma’am; aren’t you going up to Palmer Meadows?’

  ‘I had to get some things straight for a report I’m working on for Timothy’s publisher.’

  ‘Like what?’ Rose asked.

  ‘I needed to know where the pick-up was concealed on the night that Vogel was killed.’

  The import of this penetrated slowly. Lovejoy’s lips moved as he repeated the statement, Blair blinked behind his spectacles, Rose’s mouth hung open. Semple stared and said: ‘What pick-up? They used his: his pick-up, his shovel to bury him –’

  �
��Vogel wasn’t buried,’ Miss Pink said.

  He laughed and shook his head as if to clear it. ‘Of course he wasn’t; I’m getting muddled with Timothy. But then I guess he had to be buried with Vogel’s shovel because Vogel buried him, right?’

  ‘Vogel buried Timothy, but he didn’t shoot him. I was referring to Vogel being murdered; where was the killer’s pick-up that night?’

  Rose said: ‘You’re guessing. How could you know they had a pick-up and not, for instance, a car?’

  ‘Because it was seen.’

  ‘Oh no!’ breathed Lovejoy.

  ‘Who saw it?’ demanded Semple.

  ‘Why hasn’t he come forward?’ Blair was suddenly angry. ‘Someone’s having you on, ma’am.’

  ‘There was a tip-off,’ Miss Pink said vaguely.

  ‘Anonymous phone call?’ Blair jeered. ‘Someone’s got it in for his neighbour –’ he looked uncomfortable, ‘– not a neighbour in Dogtown; probably someone in Endeavor trying to get in on the act.’

  ‘People can be extremely spiteful,’ she admitted. ‘They can claim to recognise a vehicle, even to giving the registration number. The police get loads of false accusations after any major crime.’

  ‘Which night are we talking about now?’ Semple asked.

  ‘Well, both nights really.’ She sounded apologetic. ‘There were two victims but only one murderer.’

  ‘But the barbed wire!’ Rose exclaimed. ‘You’re back to the same gang killing both of them?’

  ‘There was no gang. Vogel’s death was made to look like a gang execution.’

  ‘Who was it?’ Lovejoy asked, and everyone hung on the answer.

  ‘There’s no proof,’ she confessed. ‘It’s just the word of one person, and Counsel would shoot her down in flames in court.’

  ‘Lorraine?’ Rose drew it out in disbelief.

  ‘Joanne.’

  ‘You mean,’ Lovejoy said after a pause, ‘Joanne would be a witness if they could find her? What you’re saying is that she saw who shot Timothy?’

  ‘If she did, she’s in a hell of a dangerous position right now,’ Rose said.

  ‘No, she’s safe –’ Miss Pink began.

  ‘He could kill again!’ Lovejoy protested. ‘Killing gets progressively easier, like with multiple killers. It’s like a drug –’

  ‘This man isn’t that type; he’s no longer aggressive.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ asked Semple. ‘He could have found her already. She could be dead.’

  ‘She’s alive and I talked to her.’

  There was an impression of impact, of a blow. They reeled, recovered, and threw questions at her. Then they stopped, aware of their own babble, only Rose trailing on with: ‘– you have to tell us what she says happened that night.’

  ‘We’d guessed most of it already,’ she told them. ‘Except that facts were lost in the welter of speculation. What happened was that Timothy was shot, Joanne thought he was dead and she escaped in the Jeep. At the same time she realised the tank was empty she saw headlights behind her so she sent the Jeep off the road and hid in the forest. The killer turned round above the crash and went back down the canyon. He never bothered to go down to the creek although the Jeep’s lights were blazing.’

  ‘Did she see the killer?’ Semple asked.

  Miss Pink looked at him thoughtfully. Lovejoy said: ‘I hope she’s got protection.’ He was staring at his partner. Blair’s body jerked as if he’d received an electric shock. All eyes came back to Miss Pink. ‘He’s driving the school bus,’ she told them.

  Someone gasped. Comprehension was followed by bewilderment. Rose said: ‘I need a drink. Give me a brandy, Earl.’

  ‘We all need a drink,’ Semple said. ‘Bourbon for me.’

  ‘Why did he kill Vogel?’ Blair asked. ‘You did say there was only one killer. How did Joanne know what happened to Vogel? She was gone long before.’

  ‘She didn’t. Vogel was killed because he knew who shot Timothy. Obviously Timothy was alive after the shot and he told Vogel who was responsible. It had to be Vogel who came home and found him – well, had to be with hindsight. Vogel could have been blackmailing the killer.’

  ‘You have to get on the phone to the sheriff,’ Lovejoy said. ‘He’s out there, driving schoolkids: a double murderer!’

  Semple laughed angrily. ‘He’s not going to start shooting kids, Earl!’

  ‘The man’s mad,’ Blair said. ‘He’s a psychopath. He could take off soon’s he finds out and go after Joanne.’

  Miss Pink looked away and saw a swirl of dust drift past the windows.

  ‘Now who’s this?’ Lovejoy asked.

  Rose moved to the window. ‘It’s Charlotte,’ she said. ‘She’s back early.’ She went to the screen door and opened it. ‘Charlotte! We’re all over here; come and join us.’ A question was asked. ‘Yes, he’s here too,’ Rose replied. She returned to the bar. ‘The police won’t believe a word of it,’ she told Miss Pink. ‘I think you should take a run into town, tell them face-to-face. I’ll come with you; I don’t think you should be on your own till he’s safe behind bars.’

  ‘That’s an excellent idea,’ Miss Pink said as the door opened. Charlotte stepped inside and stopped short at sight of the company. ‘Something’s happened. Again,’ she added drily. ‘You’re looking at me as if I came from Mars.’ She regarded Miss Pink. ‘You shouldn’t be here. You’re supposed to be out with the Westerners. I know: you’ve brought more bad news.’

  ‘Only in a manner of speaking,’ Lovejoy said. ‘She’s identified the killer.’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Charlotte repeated.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here either,’ Miss Pink observed. ‘You should be at a sale in Endeavor.’

  ‘They had nothing I wanted. What killer?’

  ‘Vogel’s and Timothy’s.’

  She moved closer to her husband. ‘I thought they were a gang, the same gang. What are you trying to tell me?’

  ‘It was Hiram,’ Semple said.

  Charlotte’s hands closed on his arm. Her eyes were wild. ‘What was Hiram?’

  ‘He shot Timothy,’ Lovejoy said. ‘Then he murdered Vogel.’

  ‘Why?’

  Lovejoy collapsed like a punctured balloon. ‘You tell her,’ he begged Miss Pink.

  ‘Joanne was irresistible,’ she said, enunciating clearly as if it was news to them. ‘She was beautiful, adorable, completely unaware of the havoc she caused –’ Charlotte’s face was white and her nostrils flared as she inhaled. ‘Two men have died,’ Miss Pink went on, ignoring the effect on her listeners, ‘– another is going to stand trial for his life –’

  ‘Femme fatale,’ murmured Rose.

  ‘No one was immune.’ Miss Pink stopped and continued conversationally: ‘This is how the media will portray her. Of course, that’s a caricature; she’s a normal healthy girl, a bit casual in her relationships, emotionally immature, but she exploded on this little community like a bomb. Everyone was affected by her –’ her eye passed over Blair, ‘– more or less, but Joanne had no deep feeling, except perhaps for Timothy; she was just affectionate, and so careless she couldn’t see that lovesick men might be dangerous. So the killer went up to the ranch one night, maybe with nothing more in mind than to visit her while Vogel was away – but he took a rifle. The feel of a gun in your hands when you’re consumed by jealous rage must produce a terrible compulsion. He was blinded, he saw a shadow on the screen, and he fired.’

  Wordlessly Lovejoy poured brandy and bourbon. The sound of liquid filling glasses was loud in the big room. A hawk’s long scream came to them through the heat-soaked air.

  ‘There’s no man in Dogtown capable of a rage like that,’ Charlotte said.

  ‘How do you know?’ Miss Pink asked.

  ‘Not Hiram,’ Rose said. ‘Not really.’

  ‘This is all circumstantial evidence,’ Charlotte said. ‘The police closed the case. They say it was a gang.’

  ‘She’s talked to Joa
nne,’ Lovejoy said.

  ‘How could – Where did you find her?’ Charlotte’s eyes were unfathomable in the gloom.

  Miss Pink glanced towards the windows. ‘In the desert.’

  ‘And she told you who fired the shot?’

  ‘More than that. And there were other witnesses. The pick-up was seen the night Vogel was murdered. The killer left his own truck concealed – as he did the night Timothy was shot – and he approached the ranch on foot, killed Vogel and strung him up.’

  Charlotte said: ‘Timothy’s wallet was found in Vogel’s cabin. You’re saying that was planted?’

  ‘Naturally. If Vogel had killed Timothy he would have burned it. The killer took the wallet the night he shot Timothy and kept it against a time when he might need to throw suspicion on someone else.’

  ‘There’s no proof of any of this,’ Charlotte persisted. ‘It’s just what people say.’

  ‘They are witnesses. Defence counsel would have to show that they’re unreliable.’

  ‘Exactly. And Joanne has no more credibility than any other cheap hooker.’

  ‘The registration number of the pick-up is known,’ Miss Pink said. ‘The one concealed in the forest.’

  ‘Concealed when?’

  ‘Both nights. It’s all over now; everything is known.’

  Semple was shaking his head. Charlotte clung to him. ‘What was the registration?’ she asked.

  ‘The same as yours,’ Miss Pink said.

  Charlotte relinquished her husband’s arm and they drew apart. She stared at him and his eyes were expressionless. Someone said: ‘It’s not true.’ It was Lovejoy. He added weakly: ‘It’s someone getting his own back. You got an alibi, Julius.’

  Rose turned on Miss Pink. ‘I saw him the night Timothy was shot, the night you say he was shot. I saw him in the museum. I keep telling you.’ Semple looked at her but his eyes came back to his wife. ‘So I saw him early,’ Rose cried. ‘So what? He went up there afterwards, but it was an accident, he was mad with jealousy –’ She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes on Charlotte who had moved further away, as if dissociating herself from horror. ‘What did you say, Charlotte?’

  ‘What is it?’ Miss Pink asked shortly

  ‘I said, there’s Vogel too.’