Десмонд Бэгли - Landslide

I looked at the low chair, smiled slightly and remained standing. The old man was up to all the psychological tricks. His head twitched impatiently. ‘Sit down, Boyd. That is your name, isn’t it?’

‘That’s my name,’ I agreed. ‘And I’d rather stand. I don’t anticipate staying long.’

‘As you wish,’ he said distantly. ‘I’ve asked you up here for a reason.’

‘I hope so,’ I said.

A glimmer of a smile broke the iron face. ‘It was a damn silly thing to say,’ he agreed. ‘But don’t worry; I’m not senile yet. I want to know what you’re doing in Fort Farrell.’

‘So does everyone else,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what business it is of yours, Mr Matterson.’

‘Don’t you? A man comes fossicking on my land and you think it’s not my business?’

‘Crown land,’ I corrected.

He waved the distinction aside irritably. ‘What are you doing here, Boyd?’

‘Just trying to make a living.’

He regarded me thoughtfully. ‘You’ll get nowhere blackmailing me, young man. Better men than you have tried it and I’ve broken them.’

I lifted my eyebrows. ‘Blackmail! I haven’t asked anything from you, Mr Matterson, and I don’t intend to. Where does the blackmail come in? You might have your secrets to hide, Matterson, but I’m not in the money market where they’re concerned.’

‘What’s your interest in John Trinavant?’ he asked bluntly.

‘Why should you care?’

He thumped his fist and the solid desk shivered. ‘Don’t fence with me, you young whippersnapper.’

I leaned over the desk. ‘Who, in God’s name, do you think you are? And who do you think I am?’ He suddenly sat very still. ‘I’m not one of the townsfolk of Fort Farrell whom you’ve whipped into silence. You think I’m going to stand by when you burn out an old man’s home?’

His face purpled. ‘Are you accusing me of arson, young man?’

‘Let’s amend it to attempted arson,’ I said. ‘It didn’t work.’

He leaned back. ‘Whose house am I supposed to have attempted to burn?’

‘Not content with firing McDougall just because you thought he was making friends with the wrong people, you—’

He held up his hand. ‘When was this so-called arson attempt made?’

‘Last night.’

He flicked a switch. ‘Send my daughter to me,’ he said brusquely to a hidden microphone. ‘Mr Boyd, I assure you that I don’t burn down houses. If I did, they’d get burned to the ground; there wouldn’t be any half-assed attempts. Now, then: let us get back to the subject. What’s your interest in John Trinavant?’

I said, ‘Maybe I’m interested in the background of the woman I’m going to marry.’ I said it on the spur of the moment, but on second thoughts it didn’t seem a half bad idea.

He snorted. ‘Oh — a fortune-hunter.’

I grinned at him. ‘If I were a fortune-hunter I’d set my sights on your daughter,’ I pointed out. ‘But it would take a stronger stomach than mine.’

I didn’t find out what he would have said to that because just then Lucy Atherton came into the room. Matterson swung round and looked at her. ‘An attempt was made to burn out McDougall’s place last night,’ he said. ‘Who did it?’

‘How should I know?’ she said petulantly.

‘Don’t lie to me, Lucy,’ he said gratingly. ‘You’ve never been good at it.’

She cast a look of dislike at me and shrugged. ‘I tell you I don’t know.’

‘So you don’t know,’ said Matterson. ‘All right: who gave the order — you or Howard? And don’t worry about Boyd being here. You tell me the truth, d’you hear?’

‘All right, I did,’ she burst out. ‘I thought it was a good idea at the time. I knew you wanted Boyd out of here.’

Matterson looked at her incredulously. ‘And you thought you’d get him out by burning old Mac’s cabin? I’ve fathered an imbecile. Of all the stupid things I ever heard!’ He swung out his arm and pointed at me. ‘Take a look at this man. He’s taken on the job of bucking the Matterson Corporation and already he’s been running rings round Howard. Do you think that the burning of a cabin is going to make him just go away?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Father, this man hit me.’

I grinned. ‘Not before she hit me.’

Matterson ignored me. ‘You’re not too old for me to give you a good lathering, Lucy. Maybe I should have done it sooner. Now get the hell out of here.’ He waited until she reached the door. ‘And remember — no more tricks. I’ll do this my way.’

The door slammed.

I said, ‘Your way is legal, of course.’

He stared at me with suffused eyes. ‘Everything I do is legal.’ He simmered down and took a cheque-book from a drawer. ‘I’m sorry about McDougall’s cabin — that’s not my style. What’s the damage?’

I reflected that I was the one who had lectured Clare on sentimentality. Besides, it was Mac’s dough, anyway. I said, ‘A thousand bucks should cover it,’ and added, ‘There’s also the question of a wrecked Land-Rover that belongs to me.’

He looked up at me under grey eyebrows. ‘Don’t try to shake me down,’ he said acidly. ‘What story is this?’

I told him what had happened on the Kinoxi road. ‘Howard told Waystrand to bounce me, and Waystrand did it the hard way,’ I said.

‘I seem to have fathered a family of thugs,’ he muttered and scribbled out the cheque, which he tossed across the desk. It was for $3,000.

I said, ‘You’ve given your daughter a warning; what about doing the same for Howard? Any more tricks on his part and he’ll lose his beauty — I’ll see to that.’

Matterson looked at me appraisingly. ‘You could take him at that — it wouldn’t be too hard.’ There was contempt in his voice for his own son, and for a moment I was on the verge of feeling sorry for him. He picked up the telephone. ‘Get me Howard’s office at the Matterson Building.’

He put his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘I’m not doing this for Howard’s sake, Boyd. I’m going to get rid of you, but when I do it’ll be legal and there’ll be no kickback.’

A squawk came from the telephone. ‘Howard? Now get this. Leave Boyd alone. Don’t do a damn’ thing — I’ll handle it. Sure, he’ll go up to the dam — he’s legally entitled to walk on that land — but what the hell can he do when he gets there? Just leave him alone, d’you hear? And, say, did you have anything to do with that business at McDougall’s cabin last night? You don’t know — well, ask your fool sister.’

He slammed down the telephone and glared at me. ‘Does that satisfy you?’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’m not looking for trouble.’

‘You’ll get it,’ he promised. ‘Unless you leave Fort Farrell. With your record it wouldn’t be too much trouble to get you tossed in the can.’

I leaned over the desk. ‘What record, Mr Matterson?’ I asked softly.

‘I know who you are,’ he said in a voice like gravel. ‘Your new face doesn’t fool me any, Grant. You have a police record as long as my arm — delinquency, theft, drug-peddling, assault — and if you step out of line just once while you’re in Fort Farrell you’ll be put away fast. Don’t stir anything up here, Grant. Just leave things alone and you’ll be safe.’

I took a deep breath. ‘You lay it on the line, don’t you?’

‘That’s always been my policy — and I warn a man only once,’ he said uncompromisingly.

‘So you’ve bought Sergeant Gibbons.’

‘Don’t be a fool,’ said Matterson. ‘I don’t have to buy policemen — they’re on my side anyway. Gibbons will go by the book and you are recorded on the wrong page.’

I wondered how he knew I had been Grant, and then suddenly I knew who had employed a private investigator to check on me. But he wouldn’t have done that unless he had been worried about something; he was still hiding something and that gave me the confidence to say, ‘To hell with you, Matterson. I’ll go my own way.’