by Gwen Moffat
‘I’m going down to Porcupine,’ she said.
‘I’ll go with you.’ He gestured for her to precede him.
‘No.’ She was smiling but firm. ‘I never go first; it makes me self-conscious. I’m no guide.’
It was too silly to argue about and he took the lead. When they came to the landslide they listened but there was no sound from below. There appeared to be no one in the gully.
‘Do you think they’ve given up searching for the gun?’ she asked. ‘Or could it be that it’s Sunday?’
‘Laddow didn’t say, but then – would he? I’m sure we don’t know half of what’s going on. What do you think?’
‘In my experience the police never, or very seldom, work with a civilian. They may appear to do so, they may even ask for help, but their motives are suspect.’
‘Did you get any nearer finding out who took that revolver?’
‘Let’s cross, shall we? We’ll stop on the other side; this place makes me nervous.’
They crossed the slide, Chester still in the lead. She observed his progress while keeping an eye on her own footing. She saw that he was careful but balanced, confident but not reckless, and yet she knew that one wrong step, one push on her part, and he would commence that terrible bouncing fall into the gulch. He stopped under the outcrop and turned. A few paces from him she stopped too and they looked down, each with one hand on the rock.
‘Where do you think it happened?’ he asked.
‘Possibly the exposed section we’ve just come along. Here it’s comparatively safe – if he had a hold on the rock, and it’s stony. I never feel so safe on steep earth as on steep scree. What do you think?’
He turned and looked along the traverse. When he remained silent she went on, ‘The steep earth, I reckon. He could have been running and might have thought impetus would carry him across but the rain had made it slick.’
He nodded. ‘That’ll be how it happened. I wonder if Laddow thought of it that way.’
‘Do go on, Chester. The forest looks so inviting from this point.’
‘Oh, quite; I’m so sorry.’
‘Watch it!’ – as a stone spurted from his heel and clattered down the slope – ‘I didn’t mean to rush you.’
They proceeded, treading carefully under the poised blocks, into the trickle of water and out again. On the far side they halted and sat on the bank beside the trail, their faces damp with sweat. The red-tailed hawk called through the fog, prodding Miss Pink into speech. ‘You do realise the significance of the gun?’ she asked quietly.
He wasn’t surprised at the question; he too could have been wondering why the searchers had left the slide. He said, ‘Whoever took it doesn’t have to be the one who shot Gayleen. It could have been stolen again – but Laddow doesn’t think so.’
‘When you postulate two thieves: one stealing from the other, are you suggesting both are in your own circle, that they are local people?’
He was quiet for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer but then he shook his head. ‘You make people think, or rather: make them realise how little they do think. That question forces one to consider motives: who took the revolver in the first place, and why was it stolen from him – or given by him to someone else, perhaps as protection but if so, protection against whom? The permutations are infinite.’
‘Laddow wouldn’t even start to consider them.’
‘What?’
‘Permutations. His theories are simplistic. He considers collusion however; Laddow likes collusion, particularly between sexual partners.’
‘You’re not thinking of the ridiculous theory of Andy and Lois having killed Gayleen?’
‘Or of one being an accessory. No, I was thinking of Grace and Oliver.’
‘We-ll – they’re not sexual partners, of course, and Grace is very much of her generation. She considers the police a lesser form of life, and she might go out on a limb for Oliver not because there’s anything between those two but just because he needs help, and for her that help costs nothing. The girl is totally amoral.’
‘To the extent of protecting a murderer?’
He thought about it. ‘That would depend on the circumstances: on the identity of the victim as well as the killer.’
‘And when Gayleen is the victim?’
‘Then it would depend who killed her.’
‘Oliver?’
‘Possibly.’ It was as if they’d reached a point they had been travelling towards. ‘There’s no motivation,’ he said, ‘but Laddow would say it was blackmail.’
‘He killed Gayleen because she was blackmailing him?’
‘Laddow’s theory, yes.’
‘You mean Gayleen – and by association, Andy – were threatening to tell Miriam that Oliver is a con-man? That won’t do at all; any old lady of even moderate intelligence knows – but she blocks out the knowledge – that she’s buying a young man’s attentions. Laddow will have to do better than that.’
‘You got the wrong idea. It was rather more unpleasant, even dangerous from Miriam’s point of view. Oliver’s secret isn’t a matter of sponging off rich widows but the sort of company he prefers otherwise.’
‘His own age-group? Grace?’
‘The opposite. He shares an apartment with a guy in Portland.’
She frowned. Someone else had implied something similar.
‘He’s gay,’ Chester elaborated, thinking she hadn’t understood. ‘You see the implications: Miriam wouldn’t have had him in her house the moment she found out.’
‘So why hadn’t Andy blackmailed him already?’
‘Because Oliver has no money.’
‘He has some very nice possessions. He has a Gucci watch.’
‘He hadn’t then. If he has now Miriam is desperate to keep him. There are a lot of younger women around who are rich and lonely and she can’t compete with that. Moreover she’s not a generous person in the normal way. The Gucci watch will have cost Oliver.’
‘But if he was with his friend during the critical period when Gayleen was killed, Laddow has to find out – surely?’
‘Laddow has to prove Oliver wasn’t with Grace. He can’t if she sticks to her story.’
‘But so many people know he wasn’t with her. Surely Lois does, and me. You don’t seem to care.’
‘Why should I? I’m a selfish man. My friends are in the clear.’
‘I see.’ And she did. Chester had trusted her with someone else’s secret in order to protect his lady’s daughter. ‘But,’ she insisted, ‘what you’ve told me exposes Oliver. He has no alibi – at least, Grace isn’t his alibi. Is the implication then that his lover can alibi him?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it. You may be sure Laddow has. Perhaps his lover doesn’t want his name brought into it.’
‘I think Oliver is going to break down and tell the police the truth rather than face a charge of murder.’
‘Probably.’ He stood up. ‘We’d better be getting down. Seven, Lois said.’
‘For what?’
‘There! And I was sent to ask you. You’re invited to dine with us. I forgot in all the excitement.’
‘Who sent you?’
‘Why, Lois, of course. Grace told us you were up here.’
‘How did you know where to meet me?’
‘Grace said you’d gone after the owls and Lois said you’d be up in the old-growth under Pandora so I followed your tracks from her cabin and where you went up Porcupine, I cut up this slope to meet you. I don’t want to hurry you but seven is when we eat … ’
‘This place is a madhouse,’ Lois said as Miss Pink stepped in from the deck. ‘Would you believe it, those two have disappeared. There’s Grace gone down to the bar for a bottle of tequila, Chester went after her and now they’re both missing. You stay here; I’m not letting you out of my sight. We’re having lamb cassoulet. We have another half hour to go before we eat. Come and have a sherry.’
Miss Pink sat on a sofa beside L
ovejoy, the cat, thinking what a cosy domestic scene they made.
‘So you saw an owl,’ Lois said, handing her a glass of Tio Pepe. ‘Weren’t you thrilled?’
‘Delighted, and so was Chester. I feel it’s a privilege to be on the Oregon coast and see a spotted owl.’
‘It is a privilege. I have to go up there before Leo puts an embargo on further visiting.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘And she hasn’t even seen the bird. It’s difficult though: this problem of disturbance; there’s so little habitat left. How extensive would you say that old-growth is?’
‘Two thousand acres perhaps. It’s not all in one stand. You’ll know the extent better than I.’
‘It’s a while since I was there – other than the day we did Pandora from Fin Whale Head with you – but thinking of how it looks from Cape Deception, I’d say that there’s adequate space for one pair of owls. The old-growth extends over Pandora and down into Coon Gulch.’
‘When were you last in there?’
Lois sipped her sherry. ‘I can’t remember. Probably when I was looking for phantom orchids, around July some time. I wonder where those owls came from. I didn’t hear them that day.’
‘You weren’t up there the day Andy died?’
‘My God!’ Lois stared at her. ‘You do throw things at a person. You’re serious too. You have to have a reason. No’ – she was suddenly cool – ‘I worked that day.’
‘I thought I heard your voice.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Of course I was mistaken. In the distance a light voice can sound like any woman. Covering almost the same route today, it all came back: a tree falling, people talking, a rockfall. No doubt everyone is a little on edge. And the owl: a strange day indeed; don’t you feel there’s a peculiar quality of magic in these forests when the fog comes in … ’ She prattled on until there was a step on the deck and Chester appeared, carrying a bottle.
‘Grace is coming along the road,’ he told them. ‘I came up the trail.’
‘Why didn’t— ’ Lois stopped.
‘She took the bike.’ For a moment their eyes locked, then he went to the sideboard with the bottle. ‘Fog’s thick,’ he said and, as if on cue, the fog horn boomed.
Lois rose and slid the glass panel shut. The cat stirred, rearranged himself and went back to sleep. She sat down again and rubbed his head. She looked at Chester who had seated himself beside her with a glass of whisky. ‘Grace is a long time,’ she said.
‘She could have stopped. Laddow and Hammett are wandering around, on foot.’
‘So?’
‘Laddow— ’ he began, and checked. He looked across the table at Miss Pink. Lois was looking at her too.
‘Laddow will be interested in the bike,’ Miss Pink said.
In the silence that followed they heard, not one step, but a trampling along the deck, and Grace was there, with people behind her. She slid the glass aside and stepped into the room followed by Laddow and Hammett. Lois stood up: the gracious hostess. They accepted her invitation to sit down but they declined drinks.
‘You own a folding bicycle, ma’am?’ Laddow asked.
Grace had not sat down but stood, leaning against the sideboard, regarding him with faint contempt.
Lois said, ‘My husband did. I mean, there is a bike, yes. He used it.’
‘So it was a premeditated crime,’ Hammett said, and Miss Pink winced as the horn moaned in the fog. ‘He put the bike in the trunk of the Chevy,’ he went on, ‘and after he killed Gayleen he cycled back to the roadworks – and through them. He could go through them on a bike. How long did it take him to ride home?’
No one spoke. Chester stared at his knees, Grace looked at her mother as if she were on the verge of tears. ‘Mom?’ she whispered.
Lois said, ‘He called me from Moon Shell. I took the Jeep and met him at the roadworks. I brought him home.’
‘And then what happened?’ probed Laddow. ‘After he met you?’
‘On the way back he told me he’d killed Gayleen.’ Her shoulders slumped; she looked very tired. ‘You can guess the rest.’
‘You don’t have to ask her any more questions,’ Grace said savagely. ‘Hell, she loved the guy but no way would she take him back after that! It was bad enough— ’
‘I suppose they have to hear it from me,’ Lois interrupted gently. ‘I told him he’d got to go. He asked where. What could I say?’
‘You might have suggested that he give himself up to the police,’ Laddow pointed out, and they looked at him in surprise. Miss Pink thought that such a course wouldn’t have occurred to any of them.
‘I didn’t,’ Lois said. ‘I told him to take the Jeep and go. We argued – well, he argued, pleaded, but at last he did go: he walked out the front door and I didn’t see him again.’
‘He took the revolver?’
‘I have no idea. I didn’t ask him where it was, what he’d done with it; whether he had it with him or left it in the Chevy or had thrown it away. That was important – beside what he told me?’ Her voice rose.
‘What’s all this got to do with Oliver?’ Grace asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject, hysteria threading her words.
‘Nothing, sweetie, Oliver’s done nothing criminal.’ Lois glanced at Miss Pink. ‘Oregon is a liberal state.’
Laddow coughed, claiming her attention. ‘Did your husband give you a reason for killing the girl?’ he asked.
Lois answered at a tangent: ‘I don’t think that it was premeditated. I assumed that he needed the bike in town: to save gas and so on, easier to park it than the Chevy. But they quarrelled; they were always quarrelling, he said; I mean, that weekend. Gayleen had got the wrong idea about me: she thought I was an alcoholic, with loose morals.’ Chester moved restlessly and glanced at Grace. Lois was saying, ‘He told her we were divorcing but when she got here she saw that none of it was true; she also realised that no way would Andy give up all this to marry her, which was what he’d promised. So she nagged him and Andy doesn’t like being nagged. They were fighting all the way north until he pulled off the road and told her to start walking. It was pouring with rain by that time and she refused, so he got out to pull her case out of the trunk and she followed, shouting at him. The suitcase came open and he went back to the front of the car, took the revolver from the glove compartment, and shot her as she was stuffing her clothes back in the case. He said he went crazy.’
‘When did he call you?’
‘Presumably after he’d taken the bike out and put the body in the trunk.’
Hammett cleared his throat. ‘When you met him at the roadworks, ma’am, how was he dressed.’
‘How was he dressed?’ He didn’t help her. She frowned and said slowly, ‘Why, in the red helmet and rain gear— ’ She stopped, bit her lip, then said quickly: ‘But that doesn’t mean it was premeditated. The bike was no good to him without the helmet and the other gear.’
‘What time did he leave here?’ Laddow asked.
‘Late, we talked a long time – hours, it seemed.’ Her eyes misted as she tried to remember, then life came back and she focused on the table. ‘Perhaps people would like a little brandy, Grace.’ It was transparent: it was she who needed a stimulant.
Chester leapt up, caught Grace’s wrist forcing her to sit down, and himself went to the drinks on the sideboard.
‘Would you turn the oven off, please?’ Lois asked him. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ she said to Miss Pink.
Laddow waited until she had sipped some brandy and then he said, ‘What do you think happened?’
‘I don’t know.’
Hammett said, ‘It would have been very dark up there, a wet night in the forest.’
‘Yes, it would.’
‘Did he take a flashlight?’
‘Oh, really!’ Chester exclaimed, and Grace swore.
‘I expect so.’ Lois was listless. ‘It’ll be there on the landslide somewhere.’
‘With the gun,’ Laddow said. It wasn’t a question. He
glanced at Hammett. ‘We’ll need a statement, ma’am.’
Grace said angrily, ‘Before she gives you a statement she’ll speak to her attorney. Isn’t that right, Mom?’ Lois blinked at the girl who went on, regarding her intently, ‘Andy was family, he was my step-father. There may be aspects of this – like insurance – that you have to be careful what you say. Take advice first.’
‘I think she may be right.’ Lois turned to Laddow. ‘I’ll be available tomorrow but you do see I have to speak to my attorney first. You do understand?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Laddow looked from her to her daughter. ‘We understand.’
The police left but Lois insisted on Miss Pink’s staying: ‘I feel as if an enormous weight’s been lifted off my shoulders,’ she said. ‘Such relief! Now it’s all out in the open and we can have our friends around us and say what we like instead of always being on our guard.’
‘Speak for yourself!’ Grace was furious. ‘Mom, you were crazy: covering up for a dead man, for God’s sake!’
‘That’ll do, Grace,’ Chester said firmly. ‘Your mother needs some peace. Besides, you did your own bit of covering up.’
‘That was different. Like Mom said: Oliver was doing nothing wrong.’
‘Miriam wouldn’t say that.’
Lois said. ‘Darlings, if you’d dish up I want a word with Melinda.’ She turned to Miss Pink. ‘Why were the police interested in Miriam and Oliver?’
‘Laddow was thinking in terms of collusion. And he was right: you could be termed an accessory – but a good lawyer should be able to cope with that. Since you haven’t made a statement yet you’ll probably be advised to say that at some point during that evening you did tell Andy to give himself up to the police.’
‘That’s right,’ Grace called from the kitchen, ‘you did; you just forgot to say.’
Chester was silent. Miss Pink went on, ‘And it’s a well-known ploy of the police to appear to concentrate on an innocent person or persons in order to lull the guilty party – in your case, one with guilty knowledge – into a false sense of security.’
‘I never had any security,’ Lois said. ‘Of course I was going to have to tell them because of Oliver. No way could we have had him suspected of murder.’
