Horror on the ruby x, p.3
Horror on the Ruby X, page 3
The only windows overlooking the patio were in the dining room and their curtains had been drawn. There were two entrances with double doors of solid oak, one opening from the living room, and the other from the dining room.
Georgina Mackenzie was sitting in a long chair near the fire. She wore a black sweater and black slacks and necklaces and bracelets of exquisite unset turquoise. She was tiny, warm-looking, and very attractive. Her big dark eyes made a smart contrast to her tinted bright hair. She was like Alan, but without his somber look, and her face lit up with charm when he presented us.
Tom Smith, the copper-skinned blue-eyed Navajo, sat a little away from the others. His drum waited on the stones near by. He wore a white velvet fullsleeved shirt open at the neck, skin-tight black gabardine trousers, and so much turquoise and silver in necklaces, bracelets, rings and his belt, that you would think they would weigh down his slender body. His hands, too, were very slender and well cared for. His small feet were encased in beaded moccasins. When introduced he barely inclined his head.
The others in the patio were Gina’s younger son, David, who was fair as Alan was dark, and Gloria Wyatt, a lush blonde with a big sensual mouth and too much make-up, including luxurious artificial eyelashes.
“We’re feeling sad because we lost one of our men early this afternoon,” Gina said, when we’d been seated and David asked what we would drink. “We were very fond of him.”
“Let’s not talk about it any more, darling,” David said. He handed drinks from a portable bar and suggested to Gina that she should have another. He served her and then lit her cigarette. She was a chain-smoker. We soon noticed that both sons were gently considerate of their mother. They vied with each other in attention to her.
Alan said, “We’re going to lose Joel if he doesn’t stop driving like an idiot.”
“I suppose it was mad to give him that car,” said Gina. “But he was wild for it and, to get the money, determined to sell some pictures which will be worth a lot more in a couple of years. I know you think I’ve been foolish to spend so much on him, Alan, but he’s such a success.” To us: “He paints like an angel. You must see some of his pictures while you’re here. Do you like Indian music, Mrs. Abbott?” I said I did and she said, “Sing something, Tom. Not too loud because we want to talk.”
The Navajo picked up the small drum and began tapping it in rhythm to some wordless falsetto chant. He had a light thin voice. The song was in a minor key and sung in such a fashion that it seemed far away. He kept his vivid sky-blue eyes fixed overhead and looked as though entirely unconscious of his audience.
The day was beginning to fade. The sky had been turquoise. Now it was blue. Alan excused himself, saying he must telephone the lower ranch. David picked up a white mink stole and wrapped it with an affectionate squeeze over his mother’s shoulders.
We made the usual small talk until dusk fell. Gina was the chatty kind. Do you know so-and-so? Don’t you love this place or that? Gloria batted her eyelashes. Alan didn’t come back. David handed more drinks and said finally that he must find out what was keeping Alan. Next, Cousin Ada Fraser came out of the living room and when we were introduced grunted a pleased-to-meet-you. She sat down to knit a sock in the firelight. She was a big woman, as tall as a tall man, with broad shoulders and big hands and feet. Her hair and her tailored suit were charcoal gray.
“Did you go into town, Ada?” Gina asked.
“I did.” Her tone made it plain that what she went about or even her going was no one else’s business. To us she said, “What are you folks doing in this wicked place?” Her voice was harsh. Her gray eyes pierced us through her rimless glasses.
“Wicked?” I asked.
“Wicked and godless. Heathen.” She jerked her head toward the Indian. “That’s heathen music. A good man passed away today and yet they can sit here drinking alcohol and listening to heathen music. Georgina, tell him to stop it.”
Gina frowned, but she motioned to Tom to stop singing, which he did at once. She asked, “May Tom bring you a cup of tea, Ada?”
“He may not. At this hour sensible people are eating supper.”
Cousin Ada suddenly pilloried the sock to the ball of wool with the needles and stood up. “I myself haven’t time to loaf out here. I’m going to see if those lazy servants have started supper.” She eyed us. Her glance was sharp as a stiletto. “You mark my word. This house is evil. Georgina, there is a time to weep and a time to mourn. Why can’t you learn?”
She stalked out by way of the door. The door closed. The latch caught with a snap so determined that you felt it must be infected with Cousin Ada’s angry certainty.
Gina shook her head and Gloria asked, in a colorless voice, “What on earth is eating her, Gina?”
Gina sighed. “She has spells like this. She’ll get over it. I think she’s very upset over Refugio’s death. She liked him. He took care of her car.”
“Cousin Ada’s car!” Gloria said, laughing. “You must see it. It’s a museum piece. James Melton ought to latch onto it. Mayn’t Tom go on singing, Gina?”
Gina nodded, as the light voice rose in what might have been the same song, because my ear was not fine enough to distinguish the difference. Joel Chapman banged out of the living room. He headed for the portable bar to pour himself whiskey. When Gina introduced us he said Hi over one shoulder without glancing at us.
“I did it, kids,” he announced. “I broke my own record to Santa Maria and back.” As Alan returned he was saying, “The Jag’s a dream at a hundred per. Try to top that record with your Doretti, Gina.”
“You’re lucky to have got back alive,” Alan commented, as he resumed the chair near us.
“Nuts!” Joel took the chair Cousin Ada had vacated. “You couldn’t turn that car over if you tried.” He hooked a thumb at Tom Smith. “Do we have to have that god-awful noise?”
“If you don’t like it, go elsewhere!” Alan barked.
“Now, boys, don’t quarrel again. Thank you, Tom. Maybe you’d better see that the cars are put in the garages.”
The Indian rose without a word and crossed the terrace on silent feet. As he was closing the diningroom door after him he threw Joel Chapman a look of bitter hatred. His oblique eyes were slits of murderous light.
“I don’t see how you can bear to have him around, Gina,” Joel said. “He gives me the creeps.”
“That’s none of your business,” Alan said.
Joel lifted eyebrows and slurped his whiskey. He didn’t reply.
I said, “I’m surprised he’s happy away from his own people.”
“He isn’t,” Alan said. “He takes off now and then for a few days at home. We give him time off whenever he wants it because he’s a wizard with motors. We’d hate to lose him.”
“Horse feathers!” Joel Chapman said. “He comes cheap.”
“That’s not true,” Alan said. He was angry. His black eyes smoldered.
Joel turned to Patrick. “I hear you’re a dick?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you’re here?” he sneered.
Patrick made no answer. He and Alan talked about the ranch. Gina fingered her turquoise and watched the fire. Gloria preened herself before a small pocket mirror. Then David came back and for a while the talk picked up on generalities. Joel made no further effort to cut in, but he remained seated, his ugly face looking very self-satisfied.
It was time to go. I exchanged looks with Patrick, who nodded, and I rose. We said good-bye to Gina and the others and left by way of the living room. Cousin Ada Fraser stood up from the sofa as we came in. Carrying her knitting she crossed to speak to us as Lauren Brent rose and put her book on the side table by her chair.
“You young folks mark my word. This is a godless place. Wickedness will be punished,” Cousin Ada intoned.
“Yes, dear,” Alan said, patiently.
“You still have time, Alan. The hand of God struck down your wife in her youth because alcohol is evil, but your father was a righteous man before your mother drove him to suicide. There’s a bad streak in her family, but if you are vigilant you still have time.”
“We’ll talk later, Cousin Ada. The Abbotts are going now.”
“Money is evil, young folks. Evil.”
David came from the patio and instantly Cousin Ada’s manner grew gentler. With a stiff nod she acknowledged our departure and sat down to go on with her knitting. We called good-bye to Lauren, who hadn’t come nearer us. She was looking at David with a special something in her expression. It’s David she likes, I thought. I couldn’t blame her. I preferred him at once to Alan because of his sunny face and considerate ways. And his arrival had promptly silenced Cousin Ada’s determination to drive her opinions home, whether the time was right or not.
David had followed us with the message that Gina would like us to stay to dinner. We thanked her through him and said we must go. We nodded goodbye to Cousin Ada Fraser and waved to Lauren again. Our eyes met. For the briefest instant I sensed a kind of panic in the girl. Then she looked away and picked up her book.
The brothers came with us to the door, where we told David good-bye. Alan came on to the parking space.
“I’m worried about Cousin Ada,” he said. “She’s deeply religious and we admire and respect her for it. But I wonder why she’s piling it on like this? She’s never done it when visitors were present. I’ll see if I can’t quiet her down when I go in. Refugio took care of her car and his death would be a shock. But she never showed any special affection for him.”
“Accidents always upset people intimately concerned,” Patrick said.
Alan nodded and lowered his tone. “Did you notice anything, Pat?”
“Nothing. Chapman’s behavior made me itch to kick him, though.”
“I’ll take care of that all right. But Gina’s so proud of him it will have to be handled carefully. She took him out of a veteran’s hospital, you know. Five years ago. Assumed his expenses. She sensed his great talent and he certainly has made good. But he’s psycho. I’ve never liked him but I’ve never seen him so insolent before. She fixed him up a studio in Houston and he isn’t around here much, thank God. You’re sure there was nothing?”
“Do you absolutely trust Tom Smith?”
“Oh, yes.”
“My, he’s beautiful!” I raved. “Copper skin and bright blue eyes. But how come his hands are so nice if he’s a mechanic?”
Alan smiled. “Gloves, and always scrubbing himself. Don’t concern yourself with Tom Smith, Pat. He’s okay.” Alan breathed deep and exhaled before he added, “I guess I’m just jumpy. Ruby and I were divorcing when she was killed, but I can’t get over the way she died. I always feel that I might have prevented it. Well, thank you for coming. Take care.”
Since our car was headed in the direction we would take, we drove on without having to turn. The headlights fell on the cream-colored road. The desert growth closed in tightly and in the shadows looked like a dry jungle. “That’s quite a setup,” I said. “What with Joel Chapman, Cousin Ada, and that lush Gloria Wyatt. Quite, quite a setup. And the Navajo. What perfection, in face and body and dress! His pants fitted like skin.”
“He carries a knife in his hip pocket,” Patrick said.
“You noticed that? What eyes!”
“You were much too busy eyeing his jewelry. If I were Joel Chapman I’d lay off Tom Smith. That redskin looks just as likely to knife the artist as not.”
“Well, we’ve got at least one thing from this visit. We can understand now why Alan wants a hide-out. He’s devoted to his mother, but it’s really odd that she would want to shut herself away in a lonely place like that ranch. It isn’t as though there’s any social life for her in Santa Maria, either. Did you notice Lauren when she looked at David, Pat? He’s the one she likes.”
“He’s a likable guy. I don’t know him as I do Alan, but I expect he’s really the more pleasant one. Easier to get on with, I expect.”
“If this were one of your murder cases, darling, I’d think that both Cousin Ada and Joel Chapman have something on Gina Mackenzie. Just a notion, of course.”
We had come out on the state road. Patrick put the car in low gear to drive down the hill. The night was pitch-black. The gorge was a black gash in the blackness. We came slowly down to the level of the Rio Grande. The lights picked up the rippling water and the silver bridge ahead. Patrick drove faster. We crossed the bridge. Suddenly, without warning, our car plunged madly down the bank of the smaller river and crashed in a dizzy, swaying, noisy halt on its red rocks.
Chapter Four
“Oh, Pat! Our new car!”
“Damn the new car! We’re alive, aren’t we?”
“What happened?”
“Steering gear and brakes both failed.”
“If it had happened on that hill …”
“Well, it didn’t!” he snapped. He was brusque, angry. He took the flashlight from the glove compartment and got out on his side and walked about on the rocks between which the water of the river trickled like rills. I began to tremble from delayed shock. My hands were so shaky that I had difficulty lighting a cigarette.
“Lock your door and slide out on this side,” Patrick said.
After I stepped out he turned off the headlights and locked his door and took my arm to steady me as we crossed more boulders between more rills and climbed the bank to the road.
We walked toward the bridge. Patrick picked up a cranklike object and examined it under the flashlight.
There was a car descending the switchbacks. When it came parallel with the Rio Grande its headlights indicated a jeep. Patrick put the object he’d picked up into his pocket.
The jeep’s driver braked when he saw us and hopped out. He was Alan Mackenzie.
“What happened to you?”
Patrick flashed the light on our car in the riverbed.
“Good God!”
“Next time we visit your ranch I’ll leave the car facing the house,” Patrick said. “Or maybe I won’t. Maybe if there had been even one sharp turn before we got to that hill we’d have plunged down the wall of the canyon. Like Refugio.”
“It’s a new car!” Alan said.
“Sure.”
“You don’t think anybody …”
“Of course not. Defective part, maybe.”
“I’ve got a chain in this jeep, Pat. Maybe I can get you out.”
“It will take more than one chain. Can you take us into town?”
“Why, sure.”
“Job for a wrecker,” Patrick said, as we drove three in the seat of the jeep. Patrick sat between me and Alan. “Think I can get one tonight?”
“Maybe. I’ll take care of the cost, Pat.”
“Why should you?”
“You came to the ranch at my request. I’d like to take care of any expense. I want to pay your fee, too.” He went on talking. “I couldn’t stand that place tonight. I’m going to spend the night at the inn. And I’m still going to say my say to Trask when he gets back.”
“Sure,” Patrick said, diffidently.
“You will let me pay you?”
“No. I did nothing for you.”
Alan asked, presently, “You don’t think somebody fouled up your car, do you?”
“Why should they?”
“They all know you’re a detective. If Refugio was murdered, the murderer would want you out of the way.”
Patrick continued to behave as if nothing much had happened to us.
“That’s a bit far-fetched. They also know that we’re friends. A detective can make a social call, can’t he?”
Alan’s chuckle was more like a grunt.
“I told you I was jumpy. I can’t let the thing alone.”
He dropped us at the inn, saying he was going to the sheriff’s office first, to see if Trask was back. He asked us to meet him for a quick dinner at a restaurant called El Patio. Patrick couldn’t get a wrecker to go at once for our car so we joined Alan in a few minutes. He said that there was no word from Trask and announced that he was going back to the ranch instead of staying at the inn.
“I called Gina. She got upset all over again when I said I was staying in town. Everybody’s upset. Thinking it over, I must get back. I’m certain that Laurie is in danger.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’m heading for a crackup. Maybe it’s all in my mind. Nobody seems suspicious except me. But there’s something you can do for me, Pat. Talk with Trask if he gets back tonight, will you? I can leave word at his office that he can find you at the inn. It’s the only place to go anyhow. Everything shuts up early at this season except the bar at the inn.”
“All right. Want him to phone you?”
“No. It’s a party line and there are also extensions all over our house. Just say that I want to see him as soon as possible.”
“Will tomorrow do?”
“It’ll have to, if he doesn’t get back. Or if he can’t come out tonight. In that case I’ll run downtown again first thing in the morning.”
It wasn’t a very happy meal. The steaks were tops and the room with its open fire and modern paintings and its little bar was charming, but Alan wasn’t comfortable company. He was so nervous that you couldn’t help feeling nervous, too. He hardly touched his food and he refused to drink anything but coffee. He left us before we had finished. Then he came back to the table and apologized again for dragging us out and inadvertently causing our accident.
Patrick’s attitude toward Alan had subtly changed. He didn’t show it by any special act or word, but I sensed it.
“Do you think Alan might have crippled the cars himself, Pat?”
“I’m not thinking at the moment.”
“Why else should he have followed us when we left the ranch? Except to see if we’d crashed?”
“He says he’s in town because he’s jumpy. Says he wants to see the sheriff.”
I shook my head.
“I liked him for a while this afternoon. I liked his gentleness with his mother. But … I don’t know. Laurie doesn’t like him for some reason. If David goes for her Alan might do anything. I’m worried.”
“Have a brandy with coffee and forget it.”
