Alex Barclay - Harm's Reach

‘Williston, North Dakota,’ said Eleanor.

‘Williston?’ said Ren. WTF? Where Robert Prince owns land? ‘Was it an anti-fracking thing?’

Eleanor laughed. ‘No — it was an anti-sins-of-the-flesh thing. There are two new strip clubs there to cater to all the oil workers with not a lot else to do with their money. She was joining a group of protesters outside.’

‘But why those particular strip clubs?’ said Ren. ‘When we have some perfectly bad ones here. Is Delores from North Dakota?’

Eleanor paused. ‘I have no idea where she’s from. It’s not something we talk about. People are free to be who they want to be here,’ said Eleanor. ‘We have a Clean Slate Rule. We even have a clean slate hanging in our hallway. It’s our subtle way...’

Don’t you get curious? ‘Williston... that’s a long drive,’ said Ren.

‘Yes — about eleven hours,’ said Eleanor. ‘And in the old bus, that can’t have been pleasant.’ She laughed. ‘Some billionaire oil man could have spotted the bus and sent us a pity gift.’

Ren laughed. ‘Do you mind if I just check my phone?’ she said, taking it out. She opened Google Maps and put in Denver, Butte and Williston. If a bus was traveling from the abbey to Williston, the route went right through Cheyenne. Could it be possible that one of the ladies of the abbey mailed the check to Burt Kendall that day?

‘Eleanor,’ said Ren. ‘Is Betty Locke here — did she drive the bus that day?’

‘Yes,’ said Eleanor. ‘Let me call her in.’ She reached over to an old-style phone on the table. ‘Cute, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘I think I’d like to move in here,’ said Ren.

‘The detective with the phone in the library...’ said Eleanor.

Ren laughed. I like you, Eleanor Jensen.

Betty sat down on the armchair beside Ren, her eyes bright with curiosity.

‘I believe you and some of the other residents made a trip to Williston in April,’ said Ren. ‘Do you remember... did you stop off in Cheyenne on the way?’

Betty paused. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, we did. Why do you ask?’

‘Just clearing up a few details,’ said Ren. ‘What happened in Williston?’

‘I’m sorry — meaning what?’ said Betty.

‘I heard you were protesting against strip clubs,’ said Ren.

‘I have never seen anything like that place,’ said Betty. ‘There is this vast man camp outside the town and it holds — it must be — a thousand men working for the mining companies. There is nothing for them to do other than drink and fornicate. Honestly, we looked ridiculous. We did our best, but we looked ridiculous. We weren’t even treated with any kind of respect by people walking past. Poor Delores took to her bed.’

‘Wasn’t it her suggestion that you go there?’ said Ren.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Betty, ‘we should have known better. She doesn’t get out much these days, and I guess we were so happy to see her getting involved that we went along with it.’

‘And when you stopped in Cheyenne, did everyone stay together or did people go their separate ways?’ said Ren.

‘We all pretty much stayed together,’ said Betty.

‘Did Delores manage to make it out and about at all?’ said Ren. Trying to act casual...

‘Yes, I think so, but... I can’t be sure,’ said Betty.

‘OK, thank you,’ said Ren.

‘Do you think Delores has done something?’ said Betty.

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘Not at all. Like I said — just clearing up a few things.’

All I’m hearing is Butte, Montana, Williston, North Dakota. And Robert Prince. And Delores Ward.

Have Robert Prince and Delores Ward got some kind of connection?

Delores Ward opened the door to the cabin and welcomed Ren in.

‘Can I get you coffee?’ said Delores.

‘No, thank you,’ said Ren. ‘But water would be great.’

Delores went to her little refrigerator and brought Ren a bottle of Poland Spring.

‘What can I do for you?’ said Delores.

‘I’d like to ask you about your trip to Williston in April,’ said Ren.

‘Oh,’ said Delores.

‘You stopped off in Cheyenne,’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Delores. ‘I was feeling unwell. And I wanted to mail a check to Burt Kendall.’

‘Oh,’ said Ren. Wind out of sails. Damn.

‘Why did you want to send Burt Kendall a check?’ said Ren.

‘We needed a new bus,’ said Delores. She smiled. ‘That journey was particularly bad, so it was quite ironic that I had planned to send the check during that trip.’

‘But why anonymously?’ said Ren. And where did you get the money?

‘I didn’t want to embarrass him, I didn’t want the ladies of the abbey to know, and I wanted to help him because I was aware he was in financial difficulties. I wander around the grounds and I’ve spoken to him and some of his workers. I wanted to do a good deed and have him get some benefit too. I’ve always preferred to give quietly. I have family money. I can afford it.’

‘The cashier’s check came from Butte, Montana,’ said Ren. ‘Are you from Butte?’

She smiled. ‘I’m from here.’

Why would you say otherwise?

‘Why did you go all the way to Williston for your protest?’ said Ren.

‘Prostitution is wrong,’ said Delores. ‘The camps there are filled with men who traveled there to make their fortune, just like during the Gold Rush. It perpetuates the notion that women can be bought, and treated like dirt, and disease can be spread, and they put these women’s lives and health at risk. It’s an injustice and it’s like a step back in time. I wanted to stop that terrible, damaging cycle.’

‘What brought you to Evergreen Abbey?’ said Ren. Fleeing a life of prostitution?

‘It’s an old and sorry tale,’ said Delores. ‘A man broke my heart...’

See, love is a nightmare.

‘Not before he had taken my family away from me,’ said Delores. ‘Christmas Day. So I was left with no one.’

Yikes .

‘You don’t have to talk about this,’ said Ren.

But, please, carry on.

She didn’t.

‘Sit down,’ said Ren. ‘Let me get you some water.’

‘Thank you,’ said Delores.

They sat in silence.

‘Delores, do you know a man called Robert Prince?’ said Ren.

Delores frowned. ‘No. I can’t say that I do. Who is he?’

‘He’s a very successful businessman,’ said Ren. ‘He’s based in New York, he’s got businesses here in Colorado, but his family are originally from Butte, Montana.’

‘I have no family connections there,’ said Delores.

Damn you! Little old lady...

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Laura Flynn, the victim of the shooting... she was his housekeeper.’

Something flashed across Delores’ face.

What was that?

‘Would you know anything about that?’ said Ren.

Delores shook her head. ‘No.’

Silence descended once more.

‘Are you OK?’ said Ren, eventually.

‘Yes,’ said Delores. ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘If you need to be somewhere, you go ahead.’

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

Delores nodded. She moved to stand up.

‘Stay where you are,’ said Ren.

‘No, no,’ said Delores. ‘I can at least walk you to the door.’

Ren gave her a hug before she left. Delores flinched.

Ooh... I didn’t think that through. Poor impulse control.

But Delores smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

Ren sat in the Jeep and started the engine. Her phone rang. It was Janine.

Ren picked up. ‘Hey, girl.’