The Fortune Hunters (12 page)

‘Stay out there for a moment, Aunt Mamie,’ he ordered.

‘What is it, Dusty?’ she replied, but obeyed him.

‘Trouble. Lon, go get dressed, and you, boy.’

Crossing the room, Dusty bent by the woman’s body. He had no eye for her shapely breasts as such for he knew they belonged to a corpse. Dropping a hand, Dusty touched the cold flesh, then he rose and walked across the room, through the door, closing it behind him.

‘Lon!’ he called. ‘Saddle up and head for Thackery City. Get the sheriff out here as fast as you can.’

Not for the first time Dusty felt grateful for having friends who would obey orders without asking any questions. The Kid gave a wave and carried on up the stairs out of sight, Waco on his heels.

‘What’s happened, Dustine?’ Mamie asked.

‘There’s been a fight. Not just a yelling fight, but cat-clawing. Marlene’s dead,’ Dusty answered, then put out his hand to catch and steady the old woman. ‘Easy there, Aunt Mamie. There’s nothing we can do and I want that room leaving just as it is until the law comes. Where’s the key?’

Gently he eased Mamie down into a chair and for a moment she made no reply to his question. With an effort Dusty could almost see the old woman take a hold of herself and looked up at him.

‘Marlene asked me for it shortly before the party broke up. She said she wanted to sleep downstairs to teach Claude a lesson and didn’t want him coming to her until morning.’

Turning, Dusty opened the door, he found the key in the lock, removed it and closed the door to lock it from the outside. Then he turned to the old woman and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

‘Did—did Joan kill her?’ Mamie asked.

‘It looks that way,’ Dusty replied.

‘Why? For the money?’

‘They’d been fighting, a hell of a fight, not just a slap, hair-yank and run away crying brawl. Maybe Joan struck out in self-defence, she was a lot lighter than Marlene.’

‘I liked Joan. She was so friendly—’

‘Sure,’ Dusty answered. ‘Do you reckon we’d best wake Claude?’

‘I don’t think we could, not with the amount he drank during the evening.’

Before either could say more, the Kid and Waco came clattering down the stairs, both fully dressed and armed, Waco carrying Dusty’s shirt, socks and boots.

‘Tell Lon how to find Thackery City, Aunt Mamie,’ Dusty ordered, taking the shirt and drawing it on.

‘Just follow the trail to the east, Lon,’ she explained. ‘Sheriff Topham lives in a white frame house on the edge of town as you go in.’

‘Yo!’ replied the Kid and left the house.

‘Mark sent this down, Dusty,’ Waco said and dropped a ring into the small Texan’s palm.

‘It’s the one Marlene bought in Mulrooney,’ Dusty snapped. ‘Where did you get it, boy?’

‘Mark took it from Joan’s finger just now.’

CHAPTER NINE

‘IT looks like an open and shut case to me,’ Sheriff Brendan Topham announced judicially as he followed Dusty Fog from the library to face Mamie and Dusty’s three
amigos
.

The time was half past four in the morning and Topham had just completed examining Marlene Thackery’s body and the library. Topham was a tall, thin, miserable looking man, poorly dressed and not too bright. However, he came cheap and this had been the main reason for the county commissioners hiring him; Elmo Thackery ran the county commissioners with his usual tight-fisted regard for money.

‘Does, huh?’ grunted the Ysabel Kid.

Always a great one for first impressions, the Kid did not possess a high regard for the sheriff on their first meeting and nothing seen so far caused him to revise his opinion.

‘Sure, that dancehall gal knifed Mrs. Thackery—’

‘Who said Joan was a dancehall girl?’ Dusty put in.

‘I heard Elmo tell about her when he come back from that trail drive. Reckon I’ll go upstairs and haul her off to jail.’

‘Just like that?’ Mark growled.

‘How’d you mean, young feller?’ Topham answered. ‘She killed Mrs. Th—’

‘And you stood by and let her?’

Eyeing Mark for a long moment while he thought over the meaning of the big Texan’s words, Topham finally gave it up.

‘How’d mean? I wasn’t there to stop it.’

‘Then how’d you know Joan did it?’ Mark asked. ‘I always heard that folks were considered innocent until proven guilty.’

‘What’s wrong down there?’ asked Jennie from the head of the stairs.

‘Nothing you can help with,’ Dusty replied. ‘Go back to bed.’

Ignoring Dusty’s words, the girl came downstairs and looked at the library door. Then she turned her pallid face to Dusty.

‘There’s something happened. In that room. I knew there would be trouble when they locked the door after them.’

‘Who?’ Dusty asked.

‘Aunt Marlene and Miss Shandley. They went into the library after the party ended. Aunt Marlene sent Francine and I to bed. I heard the lock click as I went upstairs. What’s happened, Dustine?’

A triumphant leer came to Topham’s face as he heard Jennie’s words and read the meaning behind them. One of the first things he did when entering the library was to check that all the windows remained fastened on the inside.

‘It looks like we got an open and shut case again,’ he said.

‘Dustine!’ Jennie’s voice raised a trifle. ‘What has happened?’

‘You’d best tell her, Aunt Mamie,’ Dusty answered, then turned to Topham. ‘Let’s go hear what Joan has to say before you toss her in jail.’

Although he would have preferred to question Joan privately, Topham found the four Texans on his heels as he entered her room, where Mark had carried her after cleaning her wounds. Joan woke as the Kid lit the lamp, and stared around her. Seeing the sheriff’s badge, cold fear hit her and she wanted to scream her innocence even though he, from his appearance, would not believe her.

‘I’m taking you in for murder,’ Topham announced with relish.

There had never been a murder while he held office and this one looked like it ought to attract attention even in the East. Topham had heard that Eastern newspapermen sometimes bought stories from Western lawmen and he could always use money, for the county did not pay him very well.

‘She’s not being moved,’ Mark put in quietly.

‘Now look here, young feller—’ Topham began.

‘Suppose we hear Joan’s story first,’ Dusty interrupted.

‘Knowed a sheriff once, he had him what looked like a certain suspect to a crime. Was so sure about it he arrested the man and sent him for trial. Only trouble then was that the man proved his innocence and sued the county for false arrest. He won his case and the county got itself a new sheriff.’

Apparently Topham had enough sense to work out the moral of Dusty’s story. While he might understand it, Topham did not like it. Scowling at the four Texans, he hoped to send them from the room while the girl said her piece.

Speaking slowly and weakly, Joan told the sheriff and cowhands—who had not taken Topham’s hint—of the fight and what led up to it. She felt scared, for she knew no small town jury would believe her story and would find her guilty. A saloongirl would have no chance at all in a place like Thackery City.

‘You say you thought you’d knocked her cold?’ Dusty asked at the end of Joan’s story. ‘You were kneeling astride her, banging her head on the floor. Then she hit you over the head and when you recovered she had the knife in her.’

‘It’s the truth, Dusty!’ Joan gasped. ‘May I never move from here if it’s not. I didn’t kill her.’

‘Open and shut case,’ grunted Topham. ‘That door was locked on the inside. Only the two of ‘em in the room. She had to be the one who done it.’

‘Did she?’

Once more Topham looked hard at Mark as the blond giant asked a question.

‘Who else could have?’

‘You’ve a real good point there, sheriff,’ drawled Mark. ‘Only Joan couldn’t have done it. You take a look on the top of her head. There’s a helluva lump on it. Happen she caught a crack hard enough to raise that she wouldn’t be doing anything for a fair time.’

‘Mrs. Thackery hit her!’ Topham answered.

‘You saw that wound,’ Dusty put in. ‘Straight to the heart. Are you telling me that Marlene Thackery picked up that chair leg that was beside her, hit Joan with it, after she was knifed?’

‘How many men have you killed with a knife, sheriff?’ asked the Kid.

‘What—how many—none!’

‘I have, a few, and I’ll tell you one thing for sure. Whoever used that knife’d get splashed with blood. On the hand holding the knife for certain, maybe on the chest. Blood’d spurt out of the wound, even with the knife in it.’

‘And there was no blood on Joan’s hands or body, not enough for that,’ Mark went on. ‘But you’ll have to take my word for that. I cleaned her up.’

‘Why’d you do that?’ snapped Topham suspiciously.

‘Because I didn’t know there’d been a killing when I started to clean her. By the time I heard it was too late. Just take a look at the lump on Joan’s head.’

Grudgingly, Topham bent forward and Joan lowered her head. Even through the tangled hair, the lump showed plainly. From its appearance, Joan had taken a hard enough knock to render her unconscious for some time. Yet Topham still sought for excuses, not wanting to let a promising case slip through his fingers, nor have it become so complicated that he would never solve it.

‘Maybe she fell d—’ he began.

‘How’d she do that?’ Waco asked. ‘Stand on the table and dive head first?’

‘Or put her head down and charge at the wall like a big-horn ram fighting for a lil gal sheep?’ drawled the Kid mildly, which in his case sounded more sarcastic than if he had sneered the words out.

From the position on her head, Joan would have been unable to deliver such a blow as needed to raise that bump. Topham saw this, after it had been pointed out forcibly to him.

‘She has to be the one—’ he groaned.

‘Happen you feel that way,’ Dusty said. ‘I’ll go wake Frank Gaunt and ask him to act for Miss Shandley.’

The mention of Gaunt’s name brought a sudden change in Topham’s attitude. All too well the sheriff knew Gaunt’s legal reputation, and he had no wish to endanger his case against Joan by making trouble for her lawyer.

‘Naw, I’ll leave it lie until morning,’ he started. ‘Don’t go disturbing Mr. Gaunt’s sleep.’

‘Then let’s get out of here and let Miss Joan get some sleep,’ Dusty suggested. ‘She won’t try to escape.’

It never occurred to Mark, the Kid and Waco to disobey any order—for order and not suggestion it had been—Dusty gave. They left the room and the sheriff went along with them.

‘Whyn’t you mention the ring, Dusty?’ Mark asked as they followed the other men to the stairhead.

‘Then he’d be sure Joan killed Marlene.’

‘He’s sure now.’

‘Yep. But that’d give him a stronger motive. We know Joan, Mark. She might get into a fight with Marlene, if Marlene pushed her and I reckon, she did. But she wouldn’t kill and she wouldn’t steal the ring. Even if she stole it, Joan’d be a damned sight too smart to wear it.’

‘You’re the boss,’ Mark drawled. ‘I’ll go along with you about Joan not stealing it. Only how the hell did all this happen? I mean, if Joan didn’t kill Marlene, who did?’

‘I don’t know.’

On their way down to the ground floor, the men met Mamie and Jennie who were on their way to bed. Dusty stopped the women, seeing that Jennie did not appear to be unduly worried by her aunt’s death.

‘Will you come down with us, Aunt Mamie?’ he asked. ‘We’d like to look around the room. I’ve had M—the body covered with a sheet.’

‘I’ll come,’ Mamie replied.

‘So will I,’ Jennie went on. ‘Don’t worry, Dustine. I can face it. I know I may seem callous, but I didn’t know Aunt Marlene very well and doubt if we would ever have become friends.’

‘Sure,’ Dusty answered, watching the girl’s face. ‘You know the house better than anybody other than Aunt Mamie, so you may be able to help us.’

In the room, Dusty set his pards searching, checking that the windows’ fastenings did their work properly. He asked Jennie if she was sure about hearing the lock click and she stated firmly that she had heard it.

‘Nothing, Dusty,’ Mark said at last. ‘Every window’s held firm from inside.’

‘Say,’ the Kid put in. ‘This here’s an old Spanish place, isn’t it?’

‘Built by the
Conquistodores
,’ Jennie replied, a note of pride in her voice.

‘Remember Casa Almonte, Dusty?’ asked the Kid.

‘Sure— You mean that secret passage behind the walls?’

‘Yep, that’s just what I mean.’

‘How about it, Aunt Mamie?’ Dusty asked. ‘Do you know of any secret passages in the house?’

‘I’ve never seen or heard of any, Dusty. Of course, Elmo had been living here for almost a year before he brought me in as housekeeper. Do you know of any, Jennie?’

If anybody in the house knew about secret passages Jennie would be that person. Although he treated his sister Mamie little better than a hired housekeeper and told her nothing of his business, Thackery had doted on Jennie and never held anything back from her.

‘No, Aunt Mamie,’ the girl replied, her face impassive and uninterested. ‘There are none.’

‘Are you sure, Jennie?’ Dusty asked.

‘Of course I am!’ Jennie snapped. ‘If there had been, Grandfather would have told me about them.’

‘It looks bad for the sal—’ Topham began.

‘Mister, that gal up there is one of the legatees for the Thackery will,’ Dusty cut in. ‘Let’s save this until morning.’

Topham watched Dusty’s face, wondering if the small Texan was joking about Joan having a share in the Thackery fortune. Nothing about Dusty said he exercised his cowhand sense of humour and so Topham concluded Dusty spoke the truth.

‘Undertaker’ll be here in the morning, and the doctor,’ he grunted, not saying what he thought. ‘I’d be obliged if you’d stay on for the inquest and trial Cap’n Fog.’

‘We’ll do that,’ Dusty replied. ‘Now let’s get some sleep. Lock the door of the library and keep the key, sheriff. Let’s go.’

Breakfast at Casa Thackery proved to be a sober meal, far different from dinner the previous night. At the head of the table a black dressed Claude Thackery moodily stirred a cup of coffee. He had been told of his wife’s death and while he looked shocked, he did not seem to be over-grieving. Mark, the Kid and Waco, the two girls, Gaunt and Topham shared the table. All looked towards the door as Dusty and Mamie entered. The old woman’s face showed the strain she was under, but she seemed to be steady enough.

‘I told Joan to stay in her room,’ Dusty said as he came to the table.

‘We thought it would be best,’ Mamie went on. ‘Where’s Vint?’

‘He’s not awake yet, Aunt Mamie,’ Jennie replied. ‘I sent one of the maids to call him.’

At that moment, the room door flew open and a terrified-looking Mexican girl burst in, ran to the table and began to babble in such rapid Spanish that only the Ysabel Kid could follow her words. The others could catch a word here and there, but not enough to make sense of what she said.

‘What is it, Lon?’ Dusty asked as the lean, Indian-dark youngster came to his feet.

‘The gal allows Borg’s lying on the floor in his room—with a gun in his hand and a pool of blood around his head.’

‘Go check, Mark, Waco,’ Dusty snapped, then realised that the county sheriff should be giving the orders.

‘Hold hard!’ Topham yelped, rising from his chair and looking around in a bewildered manner. ‘I’ll come with you.’

His words went to the departing backs of the two cowhands, for they had not waited around on hearing Dusty’s orders.

Turning, Dusty looked to where Mamie and the Kid had succeeded in quietening the girl. She sat rigid in a chair, shivering with fear, teeth chattering, but could speak clearly when Dusty asked her how she came to see Borg.

‘Did you go into his room?’ he asked.

‘N-no,
senor
,’ the girl replied. ‘I knock. I try the door. It is locked. Often before it has been locked and I go to the side window, where I make noise and wake Senor Vint. This morning his window she is fasten. I look in and see him. He lies on the floor with a—with a—’

‘All right, Rosita,’ Mamie said quietly, taking the girl into her arms.

Dusty threw a look at the two girls. Francine sat with eyes wide open and fear on her face, but Jennie showed no emotion, which was about what he expected.

‘Look after the women, Frank,’ he said to the lawyer. ‘I’ll go see what’s happening. Come on, Lon.’

Followed by the Kid, Dusty left the room. Thackery still sat at the head of the table and he thought what Borg’s death meant. Taken with Marlene’s demise, it meant over five hundred thousand extra dollars to be divided between the survivors. Then another thought struck him. Suppose one of the others intended to be the last survivor and take the lot? At that moment Claude Thackery started to think of getting out of Casa Thackery as soon as he could, or surrounding himself with bodyguards who would ensure his safety.

Borg’s quarters lay at the end of a passage on the ground floor. The room was as large as the one allocated to the Texans and furnished in much the same manner.