Десмонд Бэгли - Landslide

Matterson swivelled his head. ‘Very well. I don’t mind a witness for what I’m going to say.’ He fixed me with a cold blue eye and I must have been nuts ever to think he had the faded eyes of age. ‘I gave you a warning, Grant, and you have chosen to ignore it.’

Howard said, ‘Do you really think this guy is Grant — that he was in the crash?’

‘Shut up,’ said Matterson icily and without turning his head. ‘I’ll handle this. You’ve made enough mistakes already — you and your fool sister.’ He hadn’t taken his eye off me. ‘Have you anything to say, Grant?’

‘I’ve got a lot to say — but not about anything that might have happened to John Trinavant and his family. What I want to say is of more immediate impor—’

‘I’m not interested in anything else,’ Matterson cut in flatly. ‘Now put up or shut up. Do you have anything to say? If not, you can get to hell out of here, and I’ll see that you do it.’

‘Yes,’ I said deliberately. ‘I might have one or two things to say. But you won’t like it.’

‘There have been a lot of things in my life I haven’t liked,’ said Matterson stonily. ‘A few more won’t make any difference.’ He bent forward a little and his chin jutted out. ‘But be very careful about any accusations you may make — they may backfire on you.’

I saw Howard moving nervously. ‘Christ!’ he said, looking at Mac. ‘Don’t push things.’

‘I told you to shut up,’ said the old man. ‘I won’t tell you again. All right, Grant: say your piece, but bear this in mind. My name is Matterson and I own this piece of country. I own it and everyone who lives in it. Those I don’t own I can lean on — and they know it.’ A grim smile touched his lips. ‘I don’t usually go about talking this way because it’s not good politics — people don’t like hearing that kind of truth. But it is the truth and you know it.’

He squared his shoulders. ‘Now, do you think anyone is going to take your word against mine? Especially when I bring your record out. The word of a drug-pusher and a drug-addict against mine? Now, say your piece and be damned to you, Grant.’

I looked at him thoughtfully. He evidently believed I had uncovered something and was openly challenging me to reveal it, depending upon Grant’s police record to discredit me. It was a hell of a good manoeuvre if I did know something, which I didn’t — and if I were Grant.

I said, ‘You keep calling me Grant. I wonder why.’

The planes of his iron face altered fractionally. ‘What do you mean by that?’ he said harshly.

‘You ought to know,’ I said. ‘You identified the bodies.’ I smiled grimly. ‘What if I’m Frank Trinavant?’

He didn’t move but his face went a dirty grey. Then he swayed a little and tried to speak, and an indescribable choking sound burst from his lips. Before anyone could catch him he crashed to the ground like one of his own felled trees.

Howard rushed forward and stooped over him and I looked over his shoulder. The old man was still alive and breathing stertorously. Mac pulled at my sleeve and drew me away. ‘Heart-attack,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen it before. That’s why he never moved from home much.’

In the moment of truth my sword had been sharp enough — perhaps too sharp. But was it the moment of truth? I still didn’t know. I still didn’t know if I were Grant or Frank Trinavant. I was still a lost soul groping blindly in the past.

It was touch and go.

Howard and I had a yelling match over Matterson’s prostrate body. Howard did most of the yelling — I was trying to cool him off. The chauffeur came across from the Bentley at a dead run, and Mac pulled me away. He jerked his thumb at Howard. ‘He’ll be too busy with his father to attend to you — but Jimmy Waystrand won’t, if he comes up here. Howard will sick his boys on to you like dogs on to a rabbit. We’d better get out of here.’

I hesitated. The old man looked bad and I wanted to stay to see that he was all right; but I saw the force of Mac’s argument — this was no place to linger any more. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s move.’

Clarry Summerskill met us and said, ‘What happened — did you hit the old guy?’

‘For God’s sake!’ said Mac disgustedly. ‘He had a heartattack. Get into the jeep.’

‘What about the rig?’ asked Clarry.

‘We leave it,’ I said. ‘We’ve done all we can here.’ I stared across the hillside at the small group below the dam. ‘Maybe we’ve done too much.’

I drove the jeep down the hill prepared for trouble, but nothing happened as we passed the powerhouse and when we were on the road out I relaxed. Mac said speculatively, ‘It knocked the old bastard for six, didn’t it? I wonder why?’

‘I’m beginning to wonder about Bull Matterson,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t seem too bad to me.’

‘After what he said to you?’ Mac was outraged.

‘Oh, sure; he’s tough, and he’s not too particular about his methods as long as they work — but I think he’s essentially an honest man. If he had deliberately confused the identification in the auto crash he’d have known who I was. It wouldn’t have come as such a surprise as to give him a heart-attack. He’s just had a hell of a shock, Mac.’

‘That’s true.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘Neither do I,’ said Clarry. ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’

I said, ‘You can do something for me, Clarry. Take a trip to the licensing office and check if Bull Matterson registered a new Buick round about the middle of September, 1956. I heard he did.’

‘So what?’ said Mac.

‘So what happened to the old one? Matthew Waystrand told me it was only three months old. You are in the used auto business, Clarry. Is it possible to find out what happened to that car?’

His voice rose. ‘After twelve years? I should say it was impossible.’ He scratched his head. ‘But I’ll try.’

We pulled up at Mac’s cabin and Clarry went into Fort Farrell in his own car. Mac and I told Clare what had happened and she became gloomy. ‘I used to call him Uncle Bull,’ she said. Her head came up. ‘He wasn’t a bad man, you know. It was only when that man Donner came into the business that the Matterson Corporation became really tight-fisted.’

Mac was sceptical. ‘Donner isn’t the man at the top; he’s only a paid hand. It’s Bull Matterson who is reaping the profits from the finagling that was done with the Trinavant Trust.’

She smiled wanly. ‘I don’t think he considered it to be cheating. I think Bull just thought of it as a smart business deal — nothing dishonest.’

‘But goddam immoral,’ observed Mac.

‘I don’t think considerations like that ever enter his head,’ she said. ‘He’s just become a machine for making money. Is he really ill, Bob?’

‘He didn’t look too bright when I saw him last,’ I said. ‘Mac, what do we do now?’

‘What about — the Trinavant business or the dam?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t think it’s up to you this time, Bob. The ball’s in Howard’s court and he might come after you.’

‘We must do something about the dam. Perhaps I can talk to Donner.’

‘You’d never get in to see him — Howard will prime him with a suitable story. All you can do is to sit tight and wait for the breaks — or you can leave town.’

I said, ‘I wish to God I’d never heard of Fort Farrell.’ I looked up. ‘Sorry, Clare.’

‘Don’t be a fool,’ said Mac. ‘Are you turning soft just because an old man has a heart-attack? Hell, I didn’t think he had a heart in the first place. Keep fighting, Bob. Try to give them another slug while they’re off balance.’