Miss Pink Investigates- Part Four

by Gwen Moffat

  ‘What did Scott get out of these silly accusations if it wasn’t blackmail? Was it emotional?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Why, holding it over your head to try to force you to go to bed with him.’

  ‘Scott! Go to bed with me! You’re out of your mind. I wouldn’t give him the time of day. Hell, if he wanted women none of this would have happened.’

  ‘Someone else said that.’ Miss Pink frowned, thinking back. ‘No, it’s gone.’ She stood up and Avril pushed back her chair. ‘Did you ever dare to retaliate, like questioning him about Gregorio?’

  ‘Why – what would I say?’

  ‘He was your employee, you had a right to know.’

  ‘Actually, I woulda felt embarrassed about that. I still do.’

  ‘Embarrassed?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be? Your own hand gets a girl into trouble and she goes and drowns herself? Hell, you’re not going to talk about it with her father, are you?’

  ‘You never had any doubt that Gregorio was responsible for her pregnancy?’

  Avril returned the other’s stare for a long moment and then looked away. ‘I think this subject better be dropped; it can’t do any good to rake it up again.’

  ‘But you did find your ring.’

  ‘It was in a box of papers, musta fallen off the night table.’

  ‘So Gregorio wasn’t a thief.’

  ‘No, give him that.’

  ‘And perhaps he wasn’t the father of Veronica’s child.’

  ‘Like I said, forget it.’

  A difficult thing to do, she thought as she rode on: three violent deaths in as many months, and the victims intimately connected in life. And in death? Oblivious to her surroundings she rode until her horse stopped of its own accord and she looked up in surprise to see that the trail was rising towards the mouth of a broad canyon that must be Massacre. She had ridden more than three miles from Las Mesas and couldn’t recall one feature.

  She turned and retraced the route through foothills where arroyos were edged by crimson rock that was spiky with yucca and prickly pear. Coveys of quail were feeding in damp washes and a buck with magnificent antlers, all furred with velvet, glanced idly at the horse and went back to browsing on the willows. Quail and deer must have been there as she passed the first time but her mind had been busy – except that her subconscious may have registered a buck in velvet, and that had led her along a trail where the fixed points, the pointers, concerned hunting regulations and poaching and accidents involving loaded rifles.

  There was no sign of life when she passed Avril’s house and there was no one on the mesa trail. She wondered if anyone was trying to salvage the remains of the marijuana and who that might be: Gafford or Lloyd or even Kristen. She shook her head and walked on, reflecting that her horse hadn’t had much exercise today, starting to trot – to check almost immediately as she caught sight of movement on the scree above the road. At first she thought it was a porcupine strayed from the woods but then she saw it had longer legs, and that what she had taken for quills was fat. It was Pedro.

  Marge came hurrying round a bend in the road calling anxiously, worried about rattlers. Pedro ignored her and now he was circling something among the stones, giving little yelps of excitement. Above this point Rastus Creek dripped down the escarpment to fall on its own scree fan. The stones were in pale shades of red and as the women converged on the poodle the focus of its attention emerged from its background like the subject of a surreal photograph: a cracked old cowboy boot, the sole secured to the upper with strips of silver duct tape.

  Chapter 16

  Marge was scolding Pedro. ‘Coulda been a scorpion inside that old boot; one of these days you’re going to get bit so bad it’ll be too late to learn.’ She clipped the leash to his collar and tried to pull him away. ‘You been visiting with Avril?’ she asked Miss Pink.

  ‘And riding. I’ll take the boot. Would you hand it to me?’

  ‘What do you want with an old boot?’

  ‘It’s Gregorio’s.’

  ‘Never!’ It was an expression of astonishment rather than denial. She stared at the boot and from that her gaze travelled up the course of the shrinking waterfall to the rim. Her eyes were thoughtful when they came back to Miss Pink. ‘So now we know,’ she said heavily.

  ‘Hadn’t people always assumed that it was Gregorio – his remains – in Rastus Canyon?’

  ‘Some folk might have preferred to think it wasn’t.’

  ‘Which folk?’ Marge said nothing, her flat features inscrutable. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Miss Pink said, then added, ‘You were mistaken about Fletcher Lloyd being in Pearl’s place on Sunday afternoon. Have you realised since who it might have been?’

  ‘Why wasn’t it Lloyd?’

  ‘He was on Midnight Mesa. I saw him.’

  Marge looked away. ‘So I made a mistake; she put a light on and I thought she was a man, with her short hair.’

  ‘And you didn’t see her undressed either.’ Miss Pink was stern. She was surprised at Marge’s reaction to this: embarrassment changing to a hard triumph.

  ‘Didn’t I? And how did she get out of that red frock and into jeans and a sweatshirt without undressing? Ask Kristen. They saw her, they had to have passed her between here and the interstate because I saw Jay drive by not long after Tammy went down on her bike. Did I say something?’

  ‘Was he alone?’

  ‘Jay? He was then. He musta dropped Kristen off at her place. They went to the fiesta together, remember: him and Kristen? But they had to pass Tammy so they’d know she was wearing jeans. Like I said, she changed in Pearl’s.’

  The sound of hoofs brought Pearl out to the corral. ‘Something happened,’ she said. ‘I can see it in your face.’ She unbuckled the bridle and Miss Pink pulled off the saddle. ‘What’s that?’ Pearl asked, catching sight of the boot on the ground.

  ‘Greg’s boot.’

  ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘Marge did, or rather, Pedro; it was washed down Rastus Creek and over the rim, I assume, to end up only half a mile from his home.’

  ‘Except it wasn’t his home. He left.’

  ‘Not voluntarily.’

  Pearl untied the sorrel and opened the gate to the corral. She loosened the halter and pulled it over his ears while Miss Pink trudged across the patio with the saddle. Pearl followed her into the old wash-house and hung the bridle and halter on their pegs. Miss Pink settled the saddle on a buck and spread the blanket to dry. They left the door open and walked to the house. ‘I’ll get the drinks,’ Pearl said, and Miss Pink waited for her, seated at the table on the veranda.

  She came back with glasses and frosted bottles. She passed a glass and a bottle across, the cap already loosened. She sat down and gave a deep sigh.

  ‘How long have you known?’ Miss Pink asked, but this brought no response. ‘You knew it was Greg when you saw the bones in the ruin.’

  ‘I guessed. That boot could have been his, the first boot, and the timing fitted.’

  ‘So you knew what happened?’

  Pearl shrugged. ‘I don’t expect I was the only one, but Veronica had died, so there was sympathy for the Scotts, not just for him but for Ada and Kristen. No one was going to talk – but I don’t know anything; so far as anyone knew, Greg had just gone away, and we were forgetting, putting it out of our minds – until you arrived. You wouldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.’

  ‘I merely precipitated events—’

  ‘If you hadn’t gone into Rastus—’

  ‘If Jay and Kristen hadn’t been cultivating grass in Slickrock, I wouldn’t have seen her climb out of the canyon. All I was after was a short-cut to the village, that’s how I came to find the bones.’

  Pearl changed tack. ‘There’s no way you can prove he didn’t die by accident.’

  ‘There’s no point when his killer is dead.’

  ‘You’re guessing. And why are we having this conversation anyway?’

 
‘Because when I leave here you’re going to ask yourselves how much I know and what I’m going to do with it, if anything.’

  Pearl stood up and went indoors. Miss Pink listened for the telephone bell but all she heard was the opening and closing of the refrigerator door. She returned with more beer.

  ‘So,’ she said, with contrived gaiety, ‘tell me what you think you know.’

  ‘If Scott shot Greg then he collected the shells, but he could have hit him with his gun butt and pushed him over the edge. Whatever he did, Greg wasn’t killed by the blow or the fall, because he crawled up into the ruin. Then Scott—’

  ‘Wait. How do you know it was deliberate? It could have been an accident.’

  ‘Then Scott would have brought him down.’

  ‘You’ve no proof he was there.’

  ‘What are you, devil’s advocate?’ Pearl looked away. Miss Pink continued, ‘Someone was there: to bring Greg’s horse down and remove his gear from the bunkhouse. And I suspect it was Scott who put the story about that Greg was the father of Veronica’s baby.’

  ‘At the time it fit. Greg disappeared after Veronica drowned.’

  ‘Actually not soon enough. If he’d been the father he would have left immediately after the autopsy if he was going to leave voluntarily, even before. No way would he have waited several days before leaving.’

  Pearl shrugged but her eyes were alert. They drank in silence until she put down her glass with a crack and said, ‘So Clayton talked Greg into poaching in Rastus. How could he do that if Greg was—’ She stopped, disconcerted.

  ‘There you are! He couldn’t. If Greg would go into a remote canyon with Scott, an armed Scott, then Greg had to be innocent. If he’d had anything to do with Veronica, let alone been the father of the baby, he’d never have gone poaching with Scott.’

  Pearl’s eyes moved and Miss Pink turned to see Kristen approaching the veranda. The girl looked from one to the other. ‘I’m interrupting something. Do I go away?’ Pearl was hesitating. ‘I stay.’ Kristen grinned. She went in the kitchen and Pearl stared at the table. Miss Pink said nothing.

  Kristen took her time and came back with a Coke. ‘You’re embarrassed,’ she told Miss Pink. ‘Tell me the worst.’

  ‘Would you answer some questions?’

  ‘About what?’ It was said lightly but with a glance at Pearl that conveyed an element of doubt.

  ‘About Tammy,’ Pearl said.

  ‘I haven’t talked to Tammy.’

  ‘You don’t need to,’ Miss Pink said. ‘You knew some of what was happening and you guessed the rest.’

  ‘She knows why your daddy shot himself,’ Pearl said. ‘She pieced it together: about Greg. She just said that Greg would never have gone poaching with your dad if he was the father of Veronica’s baby. We were starting to speculate who the father was.’ Miss Pink stiffened. ‘My guess,’ Pearl went on, ‘is your daddy discovered he’d made a tragic mistake, taking justice into his own hands, and he shot himself out of remorse. It’s the kind of thing Clayton would do; he had such strong views on sin and punishment.’

  ‘I think we should forget about my sister,’ Kristen told Miss Pink. ‘Someone made a mistake with her as well, and even if we knew who it was it wouldn’t do any good. I want my mom to forget, and certainly I’m not after revenge. This thing only concerns my family.’

  ‘I agree.’ Miss Pink was quite composed. ‘I understand that, but there are loose ends where Tammy is concerned.’

  There was a pause. ‘You said I knew some of what happened?’ Kristen was polite.

  ‘You didn’t know everything that was going on because Tammy ran away twice and took you by surprise. She disappeared from the Harpers’ guest-room and then from Sam’s cabin.’

  Kristen glanced again at Pearl who said sharply, ‘I haven’t talked to her about Slickrock.’

  ‘It started when you met Tammy on Sunday afternoon,’ Miss Pink said, watching Kristen. Seeing no denial, not even surprise, she went on, ‘She was on her bike, riding down towards the interstate and she was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.’ Kristen frowned. ‘She didn’t tell you the whole truth then, she said that your father had taken her to task’ – the girl’s eyes were veiled – ‘she was lying.’ The eyes widened. Miss Pink continued, ‘But she told you enough for you to think it best to send her home with Jay. You put her bike in the back of the pick-up, and she crouched down on the floor of the cab so that your father wouldn’t see her if he happened to be looking out, wouldn’t know where she was—’

  ‘How do you know all that?’

  ‘That’s simple. Marge saw Jay go by in the pick-up but she says that he didn’t have a passenger. You weren’t concerned about your father seeing Tammy but she was terrified. That says volumes. It means you couldn’t have known what happened. She was too shocked to tell you.’ Kristen was stiff, her knuckles white on the Coke can. ‘Did he rape her?’ Miss Pink asked.

  Down in the bed of the creek the jays were mobbing an intruder. Miss Pink listened and nodded. ‘Marian Vosker heard jays that afternoon as Tammy went down the creek and back, and she heard you quarrelling with your father, although some of that could have been Tammy shouting.’

  ‘I didn’t know then,’ Kristen said dully. ‘I didn’t know for ages. But it wouldn’t have made any difference. The harm had been done.’

  Pearl shifted in her seat. ‘Tammy wasn’t raped,’ she said. ‘But what did happen blew his mind, which is another reason why he had to put an end to his life. For a man of his calibre it was just as bad; he knew how his neighbours would look at it.’ She was speaking to Miss Pink, seeming to exclude Kristen. ‘This strict attitude with the girls: he used to whip them, did I tell you?’ Kristen was watching Miss Pink’s face. ‘Both Veronica and Kristen were beaten,’ Pearl went on. ‘So was I, come to that; I’ve been there too.’ She had told Miss Pink this, she was talking for the girl’s benefit. ‘What happened that Sunday afternoon was, he whipped Tammy.’

  ‘Whipped her?’

  Pearl bit her lip. ‘He slapped her about.’ No one spoke. ‘All right! He handled her too – but there was no penetration.’

  ‘That makes a difference?’ Kristen asked.

  ‘Well, she won’t have a ba—’ Pearl stopped short.

  ‘And he tore her dress.’

  ‘He said it was a whore’s dress.’ Pearl was staring at Kristen.

  Miss Pink turned to the girl. ‘You didn’t know this at the time?’

  She shook her head. ‘Like you said, she was in jeans when we met her. She still thinks it was her fault, because of that dress. He told her that, he even said—’

  ‘Tammy was full of guilt,’ Pearl interrupted. ‘She knew Kristen was at the fiesta, you see, and she was bored. I guess she wandered down to the Scott place just for something to do—’ She trailed off.

  ‘She had no idea of the danger,’ Kristen said earnestly. ‘How could she, at that age?’

  Pearl threw her a glance. ‘He said that if she told anyone he’d say that she approached him and everyone would believe him because of the way she was dressed. He probably said other things that she don’t understand, and I guess we’ll never find out because she’ll block them out.’

  ‘I see why your mother wouldn’t have her in the house,’ Miss Pink told Kristen.

  ‘That was before,’ Pearl said quickly. ‘It was me wouldn’t have her here on Sunday night, when Kristen came and asked me to take her in—’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ the girl said. ‘I didn’t know myself what was behind it, I thought she was just playing up because she couldn’t go to Texas. When you wouldn’t have her, I let it go. I thought she was all right with Maxine and Daryl. What happened, her nerve broke; she was terrified he’d come and get her in the night and she knew Daryl and Maxine were only kids compared with him. They couldn’t protect her. I guess she wouldn’t go to Jay because he’s – well, sexy, and that was the last thing she wanted.’

  ‘She’d only feel safe wi
th women,’ Pearl put in.

  ‘So she went to the cabin at the head of Scorpion,’ Kristen went on, ‘and that’s where I found her in the morning, and I convinced her to let me take her to Slickrock, to Sam Dearing’s old shack. On the way she told me more, but still not all of it, and anyway – you know – I wasn’t sure if it was true?’ Suddenly she looked very young and helpless. ‘But I thought it best to get her out, get her away to her folks, so I said I’d find money for the plane fare and I’d come up next morning and we’d take her to Palomares, Jay and me. She stayed in Sam’s cabin overnight but in the morning she saw a big snake and she split. She got lost in the woods and when I arrived I couldn’t find her, and I went up the head of the canyon, see if she was in those caves.’

  In the ensuing silence Miss Pink knew they were waiting. ‘By then you knew about the dress,’ she said. ‘You didn’t know until the previous evening when we were all in the Harpers’ kitchen. And that made a difference. So you hit your father?’ She couldn’t help but end on a query.

  ‘I hit him because he was about to shoot Tammy. He’d fired at her already.’ Kristen was grim. ‘In the woods, remember, when you thought he was shooting at the pigs? She guessed he was in the search party so she didn’t dare show herself. She was lost and in a panic. She came out on the Beck side of the canyon and started up the wall and he would have got her then but I’d been following him a ways and – yes, I hit him. Then I ran after her and we were both climbing the wall when you reached him. Jay saw us but you were too concerned with reviving him to look up.’ Miss Pink was frowning. Kristen rattled on, ‘I gave her the money for the plane fare and sent her down on Pearl’s horse, told her to see if she could find a pick-up at Las Mesas and take that. You know the rest. I hung about in the pinyons until you’d all gone down and then I went back to Slickrock.’