1944 - Just the Way It Is (14 page)

‘Did you fall downstairs, or something?’ Casy asked. ‘Let me get you a drink.’

‘Now you’re talking,’ Duke said, levering himself to his feet. He shook his head and the pain became localized, hammering his temples.

He walked slowly back into Casy’s sitting room and took the mug of applejack that Casy held out to him.

He felt a lot better when the strong spirit hit his stomach. ‘That’s better’ he said, and sat down in the rocking chair.

Casy said, ‘This is Jetkin. He owns the shack next door.’

Duke looked at the thin, towering giant and nodded. ‘I’m not feeling my best,’ he said. ‘You’ll excuse me.’

Jetkin gaped at him and moved his large feet uncomfortably. ‘Sure,’ he said. He was chewing steadily and every now and then he would swallow, making a fierce little grimace.

Duke hoped he wasn’t chewing tobacco.

‘What happened to you, mister?’ Casy asked. ‘I found you lying at the bottom of the stairs. It gave me a proper fright. Did you fall or something?’

Duke looked at him and shook his head. ‘I heard someone upstairs, Casy,’ he said. ‘So I went up and ran into a kick in the face. One of your friends?’

‘I live here alone,’ Casy said. ‘Are you sure?’

Duke touched his forehead. ‘Think I’m dreaming?’ he said, dryly.

‘Someone upstairs?’ Casy and Jetkin exchanged glances.

Duke got up. ‘Come on, you two,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a look round.’

He went out of the room, opened the front door to let the sunlight in and walked stiffly upstairs. Casy and Jetkin followed him.

When he reached the landing, he paused. ‘Where do we go from here?’ he asked.

Casy pushed past him and threw open a door. ‘There ain’t nothing up here,’ he said. ‘I only use the downstairs.’

Duke peered into the small empty room and saw nothing. The windows were boarded up, but the light from the hall was enough for him to see that the room was unfurnished.

He shook his head and backed out of the room.

Casy went a little farther down the passage and opened another door. ‘This is the only other room up here,’ he said.

It was dark and Duke couldn’t see anything. ‘Can’t we have a light?’ he asked, impatiently.

Casy went over to the window and pulled a board away. It made a sharp screeching noise as the nails were ripped from the wall.

Sunlight entered the room which seemed full of broken furniture and other junk.

Duke stood looking round. He looked at the dust covered floor. Someone had been up there. Blurred footprints showed on the dusty boards.

‘There’s where he was,’ Jetkin said, pointing to the smudges in the dust.

Duke glanced over at Casy. ‘Any idea who it could have been?’ he asked, feeling a sudden rage boiling up inside him. He knew he had been very near to solving the mystery of Pinder’s End.

Casy shook his head. ‘I guess not,’ he said. ‘What would anyone want up here?’

Duke began to wander round the room. He examined the damp marks on the walls, the fireplace, the boards and the ceiling. He found nothing.

‘I wish I knew,’ he said, in disgust. ‘But someone was up here, after something.’ He stood back and scratched his head. ‘How long have you lived in this joint?’

Casy thought for a moment. ‘Must be getting on for six years,’ he said. ‘That was when my wife was alive. We used the whole of the house then. This was our bedroom. When she went, I gave up these rooms and lived downstairs.’

Duke wandered round the room again.

Jetkin and Casy watched him with interest.

‘There’s nothing here,’ Casy said, as if reading his thoughts. ‘There’s nothing anyone would want.’

Duke faced him. ‘There must be,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m as sure of that as I’m sure you two guys are standing here.’ He went over to the mantelpiece and ran his fingers over the dust. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, suddenly.

Casy peered over his shoulder.

On the mantelpiece, carved on the wood were the initials F.N.

‘Oh, that?’ Casy shrugged his shoulder indifferently. ‘That was there, when we came. I reckon the last owner did it.’

Harry Duke wiped more dust away. The carving had been done a long time ago.

‘Yeah,’ Duke said. ‘It looks old.’ His fingers traced over the carving thoughtfully. ‘F.N., I wonder what that’d stand for?’

‘This house has been up over a hundred years,’ Casy said. ‘Anyone could have put it there.’

‘A hundred years, huh?’ Duke shook his head. ‘Makes you think.’ He took out his penknife and opened the blade. ‘Mind if I put my initials alongside that?’

Casy and Jetkin exchanged glances. ‘That’s okay,’ Casy said, ‘if you want to.’

After a few minutes work, Duke compared the initials. His stood out clearly, showing a new scar. He could see that the other initials had been done a long time ago and he was satisfied.

‘Oh well,’ he said. ‘There don’t seem anything.’ He walked across the floor testing the boards with his toe. They all seemed solid enough. ‘Ever looked under this lot?’ he asked, abruptly.

Casy shook his head. ‘Nothing under there, mister,’ he said.

‘All the same we’ll have a look now we’re up here.’

Jetkin pointed to a board in the window corner. ‘Looks like someone’s had a look already.’

Duke crossed over and knelt in the dust. The board had been levered up recently. He could see the fresh scars where a crowbar had been inserted. He trod on the board which lifted and then he got his fingers under it and pulled it up. There was only plaster and laths of the ceiling below.

He struck a match and peered under the floor. He could see nothing except dirt and a few spiders. He put the board back and stood up, dusting his trousers.

‘Well, there it is,’ he said, and shrugged.

The other two watched him with interest. ‘What are you looking for, mister?’ Jetkin asked.

Duke smiled mirthlessly. ‘No idea, pal,’ he said. ‘I always go on like this in a strange house.’

Again Casy and Jetkin exchanged glances.

Duke pulled out his .38. ‘Know how to use this?’ he asked Casy.

Casy took it from him. ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘I used to own one years ago.’

‘Well, keep it by you,’ Duke said, looking at him intently. ‘Don’t let anyone get in this dump. Do you understand? There’s something in here that someone wants and it’s up to you to see he doesn’t get it.’ He felt in his pocket and pulled out a roll of money.

Jetkin caught his breath sharply.

‘I’d like to put you guys on my payroll,’ Duke went on. ‘Here’s a hundred bucks. Just keep anyone out of here.’

Casy’s serious eyes became a little hostile. ‘Listen mister,’ he said. ‘This is my home. I don’t need money to keep guys out of my home.’

Duke stared at him. He hadn’t expected that kind of reaction. ‘You’ll excuse me,’ he said, ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

‘You ain’t going to turn all the dough away, are you, Tim?’ Jetkin gasped.

Casy frowned at him. ‘You shut up, Jetkin,’ he said. ‘This ain’t anything to do with you.’

‘All right, boys,’ Duke said. ‘Give me those notices to quit and I’ll get ‘em fixed up. Then I’ll come out tomorrow and we’ll have another talk.’

Casy produced a bundle of papers and Duke stuffed them into his pocket. ‘Now, there’s nothing for you to worry about. Stick tight, keep anyone from messing around and leave everything to me.’

Casy offered his hand. ‘It’s a good thing you looked in, mister,’ he said. ‘I think you’ll get us out of this mess.’

‘That’s the idea,’ Duke returned, and they went down the stairs together.

It was growing dusk and the sun was sinking behind the hills lighting up Fairview in a red glow.

‘You’ve got a nice view from here,’ Duke said, as he paused on the step.

‘That’s about all there is,’ Casy said, bitterly. ‘You kind of get used to it.’

‘Yeah, I suppose you would.’

Jetkin said, ‘I’ll see you to your car, mister.’ But Casy jerked him back.

‘Lay off, Jetkin,’ he snarled. ‘You leave that guy’s money alone. We don’t take money from anyone unless we earn it.’

‘But, Tim,’ Jetkin pleaded, ‘the kids want shoes and the old lady ain’t had a bit of meat in six weeks.’

‘You shut up!’ Casy snapped. ‘Listen, if you don’t like it, get over to Bentonville and start earning money. There’s plenty of work for guys who want shoes and meat. Go out there and work for it. No one at Pinder’s End’s going to take charity.’

Jetkin took a step back. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘But this guy is rich. He wouldn’t miss it. We could buy a lot of things with a hundred bucks.’

Casy spat in the dust. ‘Beat it,’ he said. ‘And tell your old lady that if she wants meat, you’ll earn her some.’

Jetkin shrugged and walked away.

Duke listened to this in amazement. ‘Head man, huh?’ he said.

Casy looked at him steadily. ‘Listen, mister,’ he said, ‘this place has been happy for a long time. Maybe we are living the hard way, but we don’t care. We like it. Most of us could clear out and make money in Bentonville, but we live the way we live because we like it. We don’t like strangers coming around flashing their rolls. It kinda upsets the weak ones.’

Duke nodded. ‘A new kind of philosophy,’ he said, puzzled. ‘Okay, I’ll remember next time.’

‘You remember next time,’ Casy repeated, looking cautiously outside. He stepped back into the house and beckoned Duke, ‘You like that applejack, huh?’ he said, showing his strong, white teeth.

‘Sure, it’s great stuff. But I don’t want any more now. It’s still burning holes in my belly.’

Casy lowered his voice. ‘I’ll sell you that jar, mister,’ he said, with a wink. ‘You just wait here.’

He was back in a moment, carrying the jar. Duke took it from him, looked at him thoughtfully and then brought his roll out again. He selected five twenty-dollar bills and handed them over. ‘It’s expensive, ain’t it?’

The money disappeared into Casy’s pocket. ‘But it’ll last you a long time,’ he said. ‘Besides, mister, I’m including service as well,’ and he slapped the .38 in his hip pocket.

‘I was forgetting that,’ Duke returned. ‘Look after the service end and I’ll do more than drink your health.’

Casy’s eyes gleamed. ‘No one’s getting into this house after tonight,’ he said. ‘You can bet on that.’

Duke waved to him. ‘Well, so long,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ and he walked down the path, across the field to his car.

FIFTEEN

C
lare was just putting her hat on when Sam Trench came into her office.

‘Going home?’ he asked, propping himself up against the wall and fumbling for his matches.

‘I was, Sam, then I’d arranged to meet Peter for dinner.’

Sam lit his pipe. He released a long stream of tobacco smoke and sighed. ‘This young fella, Peter Cullen. You serious about him?’

‘Now, Sam, it isn’t your business whom I’m serious about,’ Clare said, smiling at him. ‘So don’t be nosy.’

‘Clare,’ Sam said, seriously, ‘I’ve always looked on you as my daughter. I want you to be happy.’

She went over to him and patted his arm. ‘Oh, I’ll be happy,’ she assured him. ‘You don’t have to worry.’

‘But, I do,’ he insisted. ‘Still, I suppose you know what you are doing. I thought he looked a nice lad. Has he a good job?’

‘Really, Sam!’ Clare said, trying to be angry. ‘You’re quite impossible. I won’t have you interfering with my young man. If you must know, Peter’s doing very well and one of these days he hopes to have his own business.’

‘Not the same as having it,’ Sam said, shaking his head. ‘I’ve heard a lot about what these young fellas hope to have. The point is, is he a worker?’

‘Now, that really is quite enough from you,’ Clare returned. ‘If you haven’t anything better to do than to criticize my boyfriends, then we both had better get off home.’

‘I just want to make sure that you’ve got the right one,’ Sam said, hastily. ‘Not that I’ve got anything against the lad.’ He scratched his bristly cheek with his pipe stem. ‘Now, that Harry Duke . . . there’re no flies on him. . .’

Clare walked over to her desk and began to slide her papers into her drawer. A slight flush mounted to her face. ‘I don’t see why you should mention Harry Duke and Peter in the same breath,’ she said, a little coldly.

‘He just came into my mind,’ Sam said, enjoying her embarrassment. ‘That fella’s going to go far.’

‘If he doesn’t get into trouble first,’ Clare returned. ‘You know, Sam, I wish Peter didn’t think so highly of him. It worries me. Harry Duke’s such a reckless person. He just doesn’t care what happens and I feel that he’ll get Peter into an awful mess before long. Look at this business with Timson. He tried to make out that he’d committed suicide. He doesn’t seem capable of telling the truth.’

Sam found that his pipe had gone out and struck another match. ‘I suppose it didn’t occur to you that Duke was protecting young Cullen?’

Clare looked at him sharply. ‘Protecting him? What do you mean?’

‘Just that. After all, my dear, this fella Timson must have come to see young Cullen, otherwise how did he get into Cullen’s room? On the face of it, Harry Duke could have walked out and left Pete Cullen to it, if he wanted to.’

‘Are you trying to tell me that you think Peter had something to do with the murder?’ Clare said, coldly.

‘Now, don’t be silly, my dear,’ Sam said, puffing at his pipe, ‘I’m just saying that Duke is less mixed up in this than young Cullen. But, Duke is doing all the work. I notice that young Cullen was quite willing to let him do it too.’

‘I think you’re a horrid old man, but you won’t make me quarrel with you. You’re being unfair and you know it. Peter’s got his job to do and he can’t neglect it. After all, Harry Duke’s got nothing better to do and this kind of thing amuses him’

‘I was thinking, my dear,’ Sam said, not listening to her, ‘that if Cullen’s too busy to help Harry Duke, perhaps we might do something.’

Clare nodded. ‘Well, of course,’ she said. ‘But what can we do?’

Sam tapped out his pipe into Clare’s trash basket and took out his worn tobacco pouch. ‘Isn’t Bellman tied up in this business?’ he said. ‘Well, we might take a look at him. At least we could talk to him and see if he’s got any ideas about Timson.’