Seeds of Vengeance

by Sylvia Nobel

  There was no way to apply logic to what I’d experienced, so I swiftly moved on to the quotations Marissa and La Donna had received. “So, what do you think?” I asked. “Is that a logical supposition on my part?” The only thing I omitted was my suspicion that Ruth might be in possession of the third clue.

  He flashed me a peculiar look. “Not only does that sound exactly like something Riley would do, I wonder if he included me in this little game.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Buried under the pile of mail I had waiting for me this afternoon was a package from Riley’s law firm.”

  I inhaled sharply. “What? Don’t tell me you got one of the quotations too?”

  “Nope. A book.”

  “What kind of book?”

  “The complete works of Edgar Allen Poe.”

  I’m sure my mouth hung open as I blinked at him in complete bewilderment. “That’s it? Just a book? Nothing else?”

  “There was a short explanatory letter from his lawyer stating that they’d been instructed to mail it to me in the event of his death. I didn’t attach any significance to what Riley had written on the inside cover until now.”

  “What did he write?”

  “A quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

  I pictured the mystery books lining the shelves in Riley’s crowded little sanctuary on the hotel’s third floor. I was beyond curious. “What does it say?”

  “I can’t remember offhand. I’ll show it to you when we get to the house, but don’t get too excited. I could be wrong. The book is old, published in 1899, and is probably a collector’s item. For all I know it might be nothing more than a posthumous gift.”

  I suspected it held greater significance than that. As soon as he braked, Attila and I made a beeline for the kitchen door. When I rushed inside, Gloria, who was busy loading the dishwasher, inquired about my health and flashed me a welcome smile, which I immediately returned. Judging by the pungent aroma of garlic, onions and chili peppers still lingering in the air, I regretted that I’d missed one of her succulent Mexican dinners. The other dogs barked and begged for attention while I hung my coat and purse on the wall hook. The second Tally walked in behind me I pounced. “Well, where is it?”

  Unsnapping his coat, he walked to the kitchen table and picked up a hefty volume. “Right here.”

  Reverently, I ran my hand over the worn leather cover of the book and then opened it to read the inscription. WHEN YOU HAVE ELIMINATED THE IMPOSSIBLE, WHATEVER REMAINS, HOWEVER IMPROBABLE, MUST BE THE TRUTH. -SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

  I swiftly ran through the other quotes in my head, hoping that this one would shed some light, but I was more puzzled then ever.

  “So, what do you make of it?” Tally asked, leaning over my shoulder.

  “I’m positive he meant to convey something to you, although I don’t know exactly what. One thing interesting, the ink doesn’t appear to be faded so it’s a good bet it was written fairly recently.”

  “Oh, something else,” Tally said, picking up a small slip of paper from the table. “This fell out of the book when I was leafing through it.”

  I eagerly read the note. PEOPLE ONLY SEE WHAT THEY ARE PREPARED TO SEE. -RALPH WALDO EMERSON. I met Tally’s quizzical frown. “This could be really important. I don’t suppose you have any idea what page this marked, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Damn.” I fanned through the pages, hoping there might be a second note, something scribbled in the margins, any other hint as to why, considering all the other titles I’d viewed in his vast collection, Riley would choose this particular book to bequeath to Tally, but could find nothing notable on my cursory examination. “Would you mind if I hang on to this for a little while? I’d like to study it again when I have time to go through each page more carefully.”

  “Sure. If nothing else you’ll enjoy the stories, if you haven’t already read them.”

  “Meees O’Dell,” Gloria sang out, rocking a plate from side to side, an enticing grin plastered on her round face. “There is one piece of flan left if you would like it.”

  “How can I refuse?” I replied, accepting the golden square of custard smothered with her special honey caramel sauce and a generous dollop of whipped cream.

  Tally re-snapped his jacket. “Jake and I are finishing up on a couple of repairs needed on the truck. He’s putting in a new battery now, so it should be ready for you to test drive in an hour or so.”

  I planted a heartfelt kiss on his lips that would have lasted longer if Gloria hadn’t been watching us. “You’re the best, big guy,” I purred warmly. “Got any plans for later on?”

  His brown eyes twinkled with affection. “I do now.” He headed out the door and I dug into the flavorful dessert with gusto. His absence presented me with an opportunity to go through the book and also talk to Ruth alone before his return. With avid expectation, I opened the old volume and ran my index finger along the story titles on the contents page. THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER (1839), THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE (1841), THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM (1842), THE TELL-TALE HEART (1843), THE GOLD BUG (1843), THE BLACK CAT (1843), THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO (1846). It had been a long time since I read the macabre tales and I wracked my brain trying to fathom what significance they might have. I re-read the inscription again, but nothing jumped out at me. With a sigh of disappointment, I closed the cover, scooped up the last spoonful of caramel sauce, gave Gloria a hug of thanks and when I stepped into the hallway, almost collided head-on with Ronda.

  “Whoa!” she said, holding me at arm’s length. “Sorry, I didn’t see you coming. Hey, I’m glad to see that you’re okay.”

  “Thanks. And just to put your mind at ease, there was a good reason I was with Grant in Prescott yesterday.”

  “Yeah, Tally told me. I’m sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion about you two being together yesterday. Lucy told me what happened at the fairgrounds, and well I just—” Her voice trailed off and at least she had the grace to look contrite.

  It was probably an honest mistake on her part, unlike Lucinda whose motivations were calculated and malicious. But, it was over and done with so I decided to let it go. “I need to speak with your mother. Is she around?”

  She thumbed over her shoulder. “She’s in her bedroom watching TV, but I have to warn you that she’s been really depressed since yesterday. She’s in one of her weird moods and won’t communicate with anybody.”

  While I didn’t doubt she was truly distraught, I had a sneaking suspicion Ruth was using the emotional aftermath of the funeral as an excuse to delay her confession to Tally. I badly wanted to say you mean she’s acting weirder than usual? but managed to restrain myself, substituting, “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Knock yourself out,” she said, matter-of-factly, moving past me towards the kitchen.

  I could hear the TV blaring when I rapped on her door. No answer. I knocked again. “It’s Kendall. I need to talk to you.” No answer. Oh no. Not this stupid game again. I knocked with authority. Quiet footsteps alerted me to the fact that she was on the other side of the door. “Come on, Ruth, I know you’re there. This is important. Did Riley give you anything the last time he was here? A letter containing a poem, a proverb or something to that effect?” No response for a few seconds and then the door whipped open. It was hard not to gasp. She looked like absolute hell—her face gaunt and gray, her eyes dark with remorse. And I knew why. She hadn’t yet followed through on her part of our agreement.

  “How could you possibly know that?” she demanded crossly, the ever-present cigarette smoldering between yellowed fingers.

  “We need to discuss a couple of things.” Funny. She’d looked fairly decent for the funeral yesterday, but had now returned to her rag-lady persona—stringy, matted hair, a threadbare old bathrobe and she didn’t smell particularly good. I could tell by her tight-lipped demeanor that she’d rather not talk to me, but I wasn’t going away and she knew it. She cast an apprehensive look over my
shoulder and waved me inside a spacious bedroom where smoke hung in the air like a thin blue curtain. Instant tears sprang to my eyes and I sneezed hard three times. My throat hurt. Oh my God, how was I going to stand living in the same house with this woman?

  “Tally told me what happened yesterday and I just saw you on the news. I’m…I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” I wondered if she was being sincere. My death would have spared her the discomfort of ever having to tell Tally the truth. “Let’s sit over here,” she said, gesturing for me to follow her to a loveseat and chair positioned near a bay window. I asked her if I could open it a crack and then got right to the point, sharing everything that I’d learned. When I told her about the figure at the graveside leaving the black rose, her eyes widened with fear. “You have to stop this person before it happens again.”

  “I’m working on it, but I need your help. Show me what Riley gave to you.”

  She folded her arms, her lips pinched together tightly. “No. It’s…personal.”

  Obstinate, annoying old lady. “Maybe, maybe not. La Donna received a letter containing some old proverbs, Marissa did too, and he sent Tally a book with an odd inscription included. I have my suspicions that he chose each one for a particular reason. I haven’t figured out the nuances of each quotation yet, but it appears to be some kind of game, like connect the dots.”

  Her wide-eyed expression of surprise held a shadow of doubt. “No, you must be wrong. He meant this one for my eyes only.”

  I dug deep in my shallow well of patience. Keeping my tone soothing, I urged, “Ruth, you asked me to help find Riley’s killer and that’s what I’m trying to do. I need your cooperation. Because of his special connection to you, yours may hold the key.”

  She appeared to be thinking it over and then abruptly rose, crossed the room and extracted two pieces of paper from a jewelry box. She stood there with her back to me for a long time before returning and wordlessly placing them in my outstretched hand. My hopes rising, I unfolded the first sheet. DEAREST RUTH, IF WE DENY LOVE THAT IS GIVEN TO US, IF WE REFUSE TO GIVE LOVE BECAUSE WE FEAR PAIN OR LOSS, THEN OUR LIVES WILL BE EMPTY, OUR GREATER LOSS.

  I edged a quick look at Ruth. Riley had been a very perceptive man and these wise words, which I’m sure he meant expressly for her, were certainly good advice for any of us to follow. I quickly unfolded the second sheet. PURE OF SOUL, SHE RESTS IN SOLITUDE, HER LONE COMPANION THE ETERNAL SILENCE OF UNTOUCHED BEAUTY and further down the page, THE TREASURE OF THE YEARNING HEART IS REVEALED THROUGH REVERENT EYES.

  Man oh man. What did they mean? As I read and re-read the baffling quotations, my euphoria slowly evaporated. I’d been banking on the fact that one word or phrase would provide an obvious piece in this intriguing puzzle, but that did not appear to be the case. If anything, I was more confused than ever. “Did he say anything when he gave these to you?” I asked, looking up to meet Ruth’s expectant gaze.

  “No. Except, he did request that I not read them until after he’d left that day.”

  “Would you mind if I keep these for a while?”

  “I guess not, but please be careful with them.”

  At the door, I turned back. “I’m still waiting for you to keep your part of the bargain.”

  She hunched her shoulders and avoided my steady gaze. “I’m going to tell him. I was just waiting for the right time.”

  Doubt that she’d ever follow through on her promise gnawed at me as I left the room clutching the papers. When I stepped through the kitchen door, the muffled tune from my cell phone caught my ear.

  “I was coming to find you if it rings again,” Gloria announced, pulling off her apron.

  “How many times has it rung?”

  “Three.”

  I hurried to retrieve the phone from my purse and tapped the button to see who had called. Three calls from Tugg. I glanced at the kitchen clock. Ten minutes until eight. Something must be going on for him to call this late. I hit the redial and waited.

  “Hey, Tugg, it’s Kendall.”

  “Ah, there you are. Sorry to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. I’ve been visiting with Tally’s mother. What’s up?”

  “Didn’t know you were at Tally’s place. Well, guess where I am?”

  “Where?”

  “Hidden Springs.”

  My heart did a jerky little jig. “What are you doing there?”

  “If I’d known you were up and about, I’d have called you in to cover this.”

  “Cover what?”

  “La Donna Gibbons and Winston Pendahl have just been taken into custody for the murder of Riley Gibbons.”

  26

  By ten o’clock Thursday morning the shocking news had spread through Castle Valley faster than a dust devil on a hot August day, completely eclipsing the story of my accident as the number one topic of discussion. The collective sigh of relief from the citizenry was palpable, bringing smiles back to people’s faces and seeming to lighten the air around us. Beneath the infinite azure sky dotted with puffy fast-moving clouds, the warm winter sunshine was busy melting the final remains of the rare and decorative snowfall nature had bestowed upon us. An atmosphere of gaiety and liberation filled every corner of the town, from the people standing in line at the post office and feed store to the boisterous customers at the Iron Skillet. Everyone could relax again and cease furtive glances over shoulders wondering who might be the madman’s next victim.

  Behind my desk once more, I’d conferred with Tugg on details of the arrest. During the time I’d been zonked out the previous afternoon, Duane Potts had received an anonymous phone tip pinpointing the whereabouts of Riley’s missing hunting rifle and the saw blade used to decapitate the judge. It was not known how the tipster obtained such intimate knowledge and in spite of the fact that the call had been traced to a pay phone in Surprise, Arizona, a search warrant had been signed within the hour. The rifle in question had been found in La Donna’s laundry room stashed behind the washer and dryer. Ballistic tests still had to be run on the weapon and DNA tests would have to be performed on the bloodstained blade discovered at the bottom of a toolbox located in Winston Pendahl’s utility trailer. It occurred to me that the informant might very well be Bernita. Who else knew more about the skeletons in the closet at Hidden Springs than the housekeeper?

  Even though I didn’t know her that well, I nevertheless felt a twinge of relief that Marissa had not been implicated and wondered if the fragment of cotton I’d given to Fritzy would pound another nail of guilt into La Donna’s coffin, so to speak.

  Yes, all the pieces appeared to have fallen into place, returning an aura of tranquility to Castle Valley. While I shared the town’s point of view that, following weeks of anxiety and fear, things should now normalize, I could not suppress a crushing sense of disappointment. I’d been robbed, damn it. I’d worked my butt off to break this story and practically been killed in the process only to see it evaporate before my eyes like a mirage on sizzling blacktop.

  “Mrs. Gibbons and Winston Pendahl are being held without bond at the Yavapai County jail in Prescott,” Tugg announced, rising from his chair. “I can send Walter, but since this is really your baby. Do you want to take the rest of the day off and run up there this afternoon and see if you can nail down an interview with either of them, or are you too tired?”

  I did feel drained, physically and mentally. I wasn’t sure whether it stemmed from my ordeal in the snow, the fact that I’d had a lousy night’s sleep, or the letdown from having the slats knocked out from under me. “I’m still tired, but I’ll perk myself up with some caffeine and go.”

  “Atta girl. Call me later.” After he left the room it occurred to me that driving to Prescott today and then turning around to deliver the posters to Myra tomorrow afternoon would be redundant. Perhaps I could accomplish both tasks in one trip. Even if she couldn’t be there, perhaps I could leave them someplace for her. I dug out her card and dialed the cell number, which immediately rolled into voicemail.
>
  “Hi, Myra. It’s Kendall O’Dell. It’s about eleven o’clock. I have to make an unscheduled drive to Prescott this afternoon and I know we settled on Friday, but I was hoping I could drop those posters of Tally by your place on the way there. You’ll have them a day sooner and it will save me some time.” I gave her a couple of numbers, including my cell, and hung up. I filed my piece about the Gibbons funeral, fielded a half a dozen phone calls from correspondents in some of the small outlying ranching communities and then sifted through stacks of possible story submissions for Saturday’s edition. Suddenly, everything I read seemed incredibly boring, incredibly mundane. I’d tried to convince myself these past few weeks that I didn’t need to be out on assignment, following one of these life-threatening stories in order to be happy; that I wasn’t, as Tally claimed, an adrenaline junkie. But the Gibbons case was something I’d really been able to sink my teeth into. It got my brain cells humming, my psyche fired up. The only piece remaining was the unsolved matter of the mysterious quotations. I looked up glumly when Walter tapped on the doorframe of my office. “Hell’s bells, that was a huge surprise, huh?”

  I shrugged. “Sort of. Well, not really. They were both on our list of possible suspects.”

  “Guess there’s no need to continue busting my hump to research any more old case files now?”

  “I guess not.”

  He must have heard the despondent note in my voice because he gave me an understanding smile. “Yeah, I know how you feel. I had my heart set on breaking this story too. Well, onward and upward. There’ll always be another one to take its place.”

  Of course there would, I grumbled to myself after he’d left. But what were the chances there would be another story of this magnitude in Castle Valley in my lifetime? As I gathered the stacks of papers together on my desk, I picked up my notebook and leafed to the list of proverbs.