Miss Pink Investigates- Part Four

by Gwen Moffat

  ‘I do a bit of duck shooting in the fall and I used to hunt with Herb Beck when he was alive; I still look forward to getting a buck come November. I’m partial to a good roast of deer meat. My wife’s a great cook, but I’m afraid the girls – Kristen don’t take after her in that respect.’

  ‘How does she take after her?’

  ‘Oh, Kristen’s a good daughter to me; you mustn’t go by appearances. There’s not much for a young girl to do in a place like this, and she won’t leave her mother. That would be one answer to the problem: go and take a job in town, come home weekends. She won’t do it. You see, Ada’s not been herself since our tragedy – you know about that? We none of us is over it yet, but maybe you can’t – can’t go back to where you were before it happened. How can you, nothing can bring her back, you have to start over, make a new life without her, but there’s this gap. No matter what we do, you can’t fill the gap.’ He glanced furtively at the open windows and lowered his voice. ‘I hope she’s better,’ he murmured, but the tone was full of doubt. ‘And Kristy,’ he went on, ‘she says the wildest things. Sometimes I’m not sure but what it unsettled her mind.’

  ‘We all have to go through it,’ Miss Pink said.

  ‘What!’

  ‘Everyone has to cope with grief some time.’

  ‘Ah yes, but not like this. Not that way.’ His eyes implored her to appreciate the peculiar circumstances, the depths of their tragedy.

  ‘No, that was thoughtless of me. There’s always shock and guilt, of course, but violence intensifies it.’ He stared at her. There were tears in his eyes and her heart gave a lurch. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, glancing at the windows herself. ‘I’m sorry for all of you.’

  ‘Exhausting!’ she exclaimed, entering Pearl’s living-room and dropping into a chair. ‘Raw emotion. We shouldn’t have gone. Why did you take me?’

  ‘You agreed to come, and you knew their daughter had committed suicide. Anyway, Ada enjoyed visiting with you, I’ll swear she did. I wasn’t to know Clayton would choose to come home early; Ada didn’t expect him back till supper-time. You need a drink; we both need a drink. My,’ she went on, handing Miss Pink a stiff Scotch, ‘but didn’t he get uptight about Tammy’s shorts? God help us if he’d ever seen her in that red dress – remember: the one she had on the day you arrived?’

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Pearl turned and stared out of the window at Marge’s house. ‘What can you expect: he sees Kristen going the same way as Veronica: he must be out of his mind with worry.’

  ‘That’s what he said about Kristen.’ Leaning back, savouring the whisky, Miss Pink was relaxing.

  ‘Kristen?’ Pearl turned. ‘Kristen – worried?’

  ‘No, unhinged – with grief. “She says the wildest things,” was how he put it to me.’

  ‘Rubbish. Kristen’s as sane as you are.’ Pearl snorted with amusement. ‘Except where Jay Gafford’s concerned but, you ask me, she’d never let her father see her like we saw her this afternoon. Made me go queer inside, you could see she’d been with him, couldn’t you? Blatant. Outrageous, I call it,’ but she was smiling, admiring and condoning. ‘Of course,’ she added seriously, ‘if Clayton means she acts wildly, that’s true in a sense, I mean: from his point of view what she’s doing is dangerous, could be fatal.’

  ‘I can understand his concern about Kristen, but taking it on himself to criticise the way someone else’s child dresses is way over the top. Kristen’s not going to start wearing hot pants and a see-through blouse because a child five years her junior does.’

  ‘It wasn’t see-through.’

  ‘A manner of speaking. On Kristen it would be pretty revealing, a tank top. It would be on Tammy if she had anything to reveal.’

  ‘And she will have, she’s got fabulous legs already. I see your point, but it’s all part of the same picture. Tammy’s spoiled, she cheeks her father, she’s a bad influence on Kristen.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. Of the two of them Kristen’s the dominant character by a long chalk; you saw how she took Tammy away. And incidentally, how do the Markows take Scott’s criticism of their daughter?’

  ‘For my money they ignore it. You can ask them. We’ll call on the way up Scorpion; have to anyway, can’t pass the ranch without stopping by. I see the girls saddled the horses. Now they’ve gone off someplace. You never know with those two what they’ll be up to next. If Tammy don’t come back we’ll leave her the old bay and go ahead on our own.’

  Chapter 6

  The escarpment decreased in height towards the south and there the Markow ranch was situated at the mouth of a shallow canyon. As they approached the buildings the main divide came into view at the head of the canyon, its timbered spurs side-lit by the low sun.

  ‘Amazing,’ Miss Pink exclaimed, ‘I’m constantly astonished in this country at the gap between appearances and reality.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘The forest looks exquisite: soft and benign when really it’s appallingly rough – when there’s no trail, even dangerous.’

  ‘Why do I have the feeling you’re not talking about trees?’

  Before Miss Pink could answer the sorrel threw up its head and slewed to confront a bunch of young horses which came charging up to the other side of the fence. ‘Who lives here?’ she asked, glimpsing a mobile home nestling in the shade of big trees. There were roses on a patch of bare earth that was set with small plastic windmills in an effort to deter ground squirrels. A girl came round the side of the house carrying a plastic basket loaded with washing. She walked with the deliberate gait of the heavily pregnant. On seeing them she put down the washing and wiped her forehead.

  ‘The Harpers,’ Pearl murmured. ‘Hi, Maxine,’ she called. ‘Meet my friend from England, Miss Pink. You all right? You look shattered.’

  The girl shrugged. ‘It’s not so bad now the sun’s going down, but the heat is awful. Pearl, you got no idea; I just laid on the bed all day. Thelma come over and did the wash for me.’

  ‘Never mind, soon be over.’

  ‘The baby’s due in about three weeks,’ she told Miss Pink as they rode on towards the big house. ‘The way she looks it’s enough to make you swear off men for ever.’

  ‘You don’t go for babies.’

  ‘I don’t think you do either. It’s like young animals: blind and helpless and dependent on their mothers – yuk, you can keep them and the hell of carrying them: nine months feeling like Maxine looks? No thank you. I like them though when they start to think for themselves; puppies, colts, kids: that’s when they’re fun to have around. And now you’re going to meet Thelma Markow who thinks the opposite: likes babies but can’t for the life of her cope with ’em once they’re out of diapers. Reminds me of an old cat I had once: wonderful mother until the kittens were weaned and then she didn’t want to know. Violent, she was: boxed their ears when they wanted to nurse. Poor little things; if it hadn’t been for me they’d all have grown up deprived. Surrogate mother I was.’ They stopped at a garden fence and she stared at the house on the other side. ‘Ira makes up for it though,’ she muttered.

  They dismounted and hitched their horses to the rail. A dirt path led to a wooden house like an overgrown cabin, all nooks and corners under the ubiquitous sheet-iron roof. The screen door opened on a dim kitchen with a low ceiling and tiny windows. A light was burning, without it they would have seen nothing. A figure turned from the stove and for a moment Miss Pink, prepared for a middle-aged ranch wife, thought that Tammy had a sister whom no one had mentioned. At first sight Thelma Markow looked about twenty-five. She was slight with bobbed hair and delicate features that were too fine for the big glasses she wore. She welcomed them pleasantly and sent them to the living-room while she put the finishing touches to a pie.

  The living-room faced north, its windows draped and netted so that very little light entered and furniture was lumbering dark pieces cluttered with framed photographs and silk
flowers in dull vases. Miss Pink knew it was logical in a hot country to exclude the sun but to shroud windows with a northern aspect seemed paranoid and she sighed for higher latitudes and pale walls and pictures and ornaments that were meant to be seen.

  Thelma came in with the inevitable iced tea and Pearl inquired after Maxine as if she were family. ‘She’s going to her mother in Taos next week,’ Thelma said. ‘We could manage if there was no complications but we can’t risk anything. She’s not strong.’

  ‘We don’t have a doctor nor a hospital nearer than Palomares,’ Pearl explained to Miss Pink. ‘So where’s Tammy?’ she asked of Thelma.

  ‘She went out hours ago. Didn’t you see her?’

  ‘We saw her; she saddled my horses and then vanished with Kristen.’

  There were footsteps in the kitchen and Ira Markow appeared in the doorway. ‘Evening, ladies! What’re you drinking? Tea? You don’t mind if I have a beer?’ He came in and sat down, quite at his ease with three women. ‘Tammy with you?’ he asked.

  ‘I think she’s with Kristen,’ Pearl told him. ‘She may follow us; she was to ride with us this evening.’

  ‘So why didn’t she come with you?’

  ‘Miss Pink and me, we were at the Scotts’, and the girls left to saddle up, and when we went home they’d done that but they’d disappeared so we came on and left a horse for Tammy. Why’re you worried?’

  ‘She’s all right,’ Thelma said. ‘She’s just off somewhere with Kristen.’

  Markow was staring at the doorway, rubbing his chin with a large hand. ‘Can’t come to much harm,’ he muttered, ‘not in Regis.’ He addressed Miss Pink: ‘I couldn’t bear to live in a place like New York,’ he explained, as if in extenuation. ‘I’d go out of my mind with worry.’

  ‘He would that,’ Thelma assured them with a kind of pride.

  ‘I can’t imagine any rancher being able to tolerate New York,’ Miss Pink remarked with a smile.

  He looked absently at his wife. ‘You’d never be able to allow her out the front door.’

  ‘They survive,’ Thelma said. ‘And we don’t live in New York so we don’t need to borrow trouble. Where’s Jay Gafford?’

  ‘He’s away somewheres. It’s Saturday. I woulda thought Kristen’d be with him.’

  ‘And Tammy will be tagging along—’

  ‘I doubt that—’ Pearl said drily, and at that point a telephone started to ring in another room.

  As his wife went out Markow turned to Pearl. ‘You left her that big bay to ride,’ he protested.

  ‘You don’t expect folk our age to ride that brute? Tammy’s young enough not to care if a horse is a bit rough.’

  ‘She’s got her own pony here, she wants to ride.’

  ‘You spoil that kid like you were her grandpa! It never hurt anyone to find out what a rough ride is like. Miss Pink here rode the bay over eight miles the day we went up Midnight.’

  ‘Yes, I wanted to ask you were there any new developments, like—’

  Thelma was back. ‘It’s for you,’ she told Markow. ‘Your daddy’s bad and it’s your mom on the phone.’

  He pushed past her and she closed the door behind him.

  ‘Serious?’ Pearl asked, full of concern.

  Thelma nodded. ‘We been expecting it. He’s been suffering for months. Cancer.’ She touched her abdomen. ‘Ira’ll have to go.’ She was abstracted. ‘His mom’s in a state; they can’t get hold of my sister-in-law, she’s in Hawaii.’

  ‘Um’ – Pearl threw a glance at Miss Pink – ‘anything we can do—’ Feeling superfluous they made movements to rise.

  ‘Don’t go,’ Thelma said automatically. ‘I’m thinking what we have to do. Is that Tammy?’ Above the thudding of hoofs they heard horses neigh. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, and went in to her husband.

  A screen door crashed and Tammy appeared from the kitchen, breathing hard. ‘Caught you!’ she exclaimed. ‘You coming now?’

  ‘We have a problem,’ Pearl said. ‘Your Grandpa Markow’s sick. Would that be the one in Texas?’

  ‘Yes, way over in Big Thicket. You fly to Houston—’

  Her parents came out of the inner room. Thelma hesitated, staring at Tammy as if trying to place her in the scheme of things. ‘We going to Houston?’ the child asked eagerly.

  ‘Sweetie, you can’t come,’ Markow told her.

  ‘Oh no!’ It was a wail. Miss Pink stood up, taking the initiative. ‘If we could run any messages?’ she prompted, looking down at Pearl.

  Thelma said, ‘We both have to go. My mother-in-law’s not well herself and she’s all confused and there’s no knowing whether they’ll reach Ira’s sister in time. We been expecting it – Tammy, you go down to the Harpers and you help Maxine, you hear? She’s got the spare room you can sleep in.’

  ‘I can go to Kristen’s; why do I have to—’

  ‘Maxine needs help—’ Thelma began but was over-ridden by her husband. ‘Why don’t you call Ada Scott? She’d be happier with Kristen.’

  ‘I will! I’ll call her!’ Tammy rushed away.

  ‘Where’s Daryl Harper?’ Pearl asked. ‘You going to leave him and Jay to run the place on their own?’

  ‘They have to. Shouldn’t be for long. Providing they feed the stock and don’t turn a tractor over on theirselves, there’s no problem. Gafford’s experienced enough. Harper was putting a bunch of heifers up in Scorpion. He shoulda been back by now. You might keep an eye out for him if you go that way, and if you see him tell him we had to leave in a hurry. I got time to do the chores before we go; that way I’ll be sure the steers have one good feed inside ’em. Maybe I can get Clayton Scott over—’

  ‘The men can manage,’ Thelma chided. ‘Stop worrying.’

  ‘We were going up Scorpion,’ Pearl said. ‘We’ll look for Daryl.’

  Tammy returned, furiously angry. She glared at her father. ‘That Kristen Scott!’ she blurted. ‘She’s seeing too much of Gafford!’

  ‘Not now, Tammy.’ Her mother was firm. ‘I want you to—’

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’ She was shouting at her father. ‘She’s going with him! They’re – they’re shacked up!’

  ‘Gafford’s down at Scott’s?’ Markow asked, surprised. ‘Right, I’ll have a word with him.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. And he’s not there. What I’m telling you is they’re having it off together.’

  ‘Now that’s no way for a young lady to talk—’

  ‘You old fool! Don’t you listen to what I’m saying? I’m telling you that Jay Gafford—’ As her voice rose to a shriek Pearl stepped forward and slapped her face. Tammy stopped as if choked, her hands flying to her cheeks. Thelma blinked, Markow was horrified and bewildered.

  ‘Now,’ Pearl said coldly, ‘we’ll have some order here. Your Grandpa is very sick and your ma and pa are trying to think; they can’t do with your temper on top of everything. They gotta pack and they have to catch a plane. You come with me and we’ll call the airport, you write down the times as I tell you. Miss Pink can help with the chores, your ma will pack – and that’s everything organised—’ She was edging the child towards the room with the telephone.

  Tammy held back. ‘I’m not staying in this house on my own while they’re away.’ Her voice broke and tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘You hit me,’ she sobbed.

  ‘Why can’t you stay with Kristen?’

  ‘They won’t have me! She says her mom won’t neither. They don’t want me! It’s that Gafford, she has him there—’

  ‘Rubbish. They just don’t have the room – and Mrs Scott’s an invalid. Kristen’s trying to spare her. Now you pull your weight, miss, in a family disaster—’ She lowered her voice. Thelma had left the room but Markow lingered. ‘Come on’ – she was impatient, starting to run out of steam – ‘come and find the airport number, I can’t see that small print. Miss Pink, you go and help Ira with chores.’

  In the stack yard Markow shovelled barley. ‘She’s jealous,’ he said
indulgently, placing full buckets before Miss Pink. ‘Kristen Scott has taken a shine to one of our hands – the one was with me when you came down from Rastus two days back – and Tammy idolises Kristen. She’s still just a little girl.’

  ‘But growing up.’ Miss Pink took a couple of buckets and trudged across the yard to a trough under a fence, and a line of waiting steers. All the same, she thought, it was a pity Ada Scott couldn’t agree to help out, particularly in the circumstances.

  Tammy sulked. It was understandable. Probably she didn’t realise that her grandfather was dying so the trip to Texas was more important to her than its objective. Rejected (as she saw it) by her parents and the Scotts, scolded by Pearl, she shifted her allegiance to Maxine Harper and refused to go for a ride. Nor would she say goodbye to her parents but trudged down the road carrying her overnight bag. ‘Oh dear,’ muttered Pearl as they stood at their horses’ heads. ‘We have to change that mood. You start up the trail; I’ll overtake you.’

  And so for a short while Miss Pink knew perfection: mounted on Pearl’s smooth sorrel and riding alone into the wilderness. Never mind that it was only for a few minutes, time was relative; it was the sensation that was important, not its duration. Like sex, she thought: people are obsessed by it for years, society is obsessed, and its perfection is momentary and – now why on earth, surrounded by beauty and the purest air, with a thrasher calling and a cactus glowing with plummy blooms, did sex have to raise its head? There was one answer, she thought, smiling to herself, sex was the serpent in the Garden of Eden and her subconscious was reminding her that she should be on the look-out for rattlesnakes. ‘So watch your step,’ she said aloud. The sorrel flicked his ears and she glanced sideways, startled by the sound of her own voice.

  The horse breasted the easy gradient and from close at hand a great horned owl cleared its throat and delivered its sonorous call. A clump of asters trembled and was still. The sorrel stopped and Miss Pink held her breath. At the top of a pinyon the owl sat motionless. Nothing moved on a slope that was dreaming in the pale shade. Out in the valley the cottonwoods of the Rio Grande blazed with green fire and all the desert on the other side: the plains and the crumbling ranges were brazen in the last rays of the sun.