Десмонд Бэгли - Landslide

‘It will come right with the application of soap and water,’ she said.

I filled the bath and splashed happily for half an hour, then shaved and dressed. Dressed in my own clothes, too. I said, ‘How did these get here?’

‘I had them brought from Mac’s cabin,’ said Clare.

Sudden remembrance hit me. ‘How is he?’

‘He’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘He’s as tough as Bull. He seems to be bearing up under the strain, too.’

‘I want to get him in court to tell that story,’ I said grimly. ‘After that I don’t care if he drops dead on the spot.’

‘Don’t be too hard on him, Bob,’ said Clare seriously. ‘He had a hard decision to make.’

I said no more about it. ‘Have you been filled in on all the details of this caper?’ I asked.

‘Mostly, I guess — except for what you have to tell me. But that can wait, darling. We have plenty of time.’ She looked at me straightly. ‘Have you decided who you are?’

I shrugged. ‘Does it matter? No, Clare; I’m no nearer finding out. I’ve been thinking about it, though. After the Matterson family a guy like Grant, a drug-pusher, is pretty small potatoes. What’s a drug-peddler compared with a couple of multiple murderers? Maybe Grant wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. Anyway — as I said — does it matter? As far as I’m concerned I’m just Bob Boyd.’

‘Oh, darling, I told you that,’ she said. We had a pretty passionate few minutes then, and after coming out of the clinch and wiping off the lipstick, I said, ‘I’ve just thought of a funny thing. I used to have bad dreams — real shockers they were — and I’d wake up sweating and screaming. But you know what? When I was under real pressure in the Kinoxi with all those guys after my blood and Howard coming after me with his shotgun I didn’t get too much sleep. But when I did sleep I didn’t dream at all. I think that’s strange.’

She said, ‘Perhaps the fact you were in real danger destroyed the imaginary danger of the dream. What’s past is past, Bob; a dream can’t really hurt you. Let’s hope they don’t come back.’

I grinned. ‘Any nightmares I have from now on are likely to be concerned with that automatic shotgun of Howard’s. That really gave me the screaming meemies.’

We went in to see McDougall. He was still under sedation but the doctor said he was going to be all right, and he had a pretty nurse to look after him. He was conscious enough to wink at me, though, and he said drowsily, ‘For a minute there, down in that cellar, I thought you were going to let me down, son.’

I didn’t see Bull Matterson because his doctor was with him, but I saw the night nurse. I said, ‘I’m sorry I busted in on you like that, Miss... er...’

‘Smithson,’ she supplied. She smiled. ‘That’s all right, Mr Boyd.’

‘And I’m glad you turned out to be level-headed,’ I said. ‘A squawking woman rousing the house right then could have queered my pitch.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t have made a noise under any circumstances,’ said Miss Smithson primly. ‘It would have adversely affected Mr Matterson’s health.’

I looked straight-facedly at Clare who was disposed to burst into a fit of the giggles and we took our departure of the Matterson residence. As we drove away in Clare’s station-wagon I looked into the driving mirror at the over-bloated splendour of that fake castle and heartily wished I’d never see it again.

Clare said pensively, ‘Do you know how old Lucy was when she and Howard killed Uncle John, Aunt Anne and Frank?’

‘No.’

‘She was eighteen years old — just eighteen. How could anybody do anything like that at eighteen?’

I didn’t know, so I said nothing and we drove in silence through Fort Farrell and on to the road which led to Mac’s cabin. It was only just before the turn-off that I smote the driving wheel, and said, ‘My God, I must be nuts! I haven’t told anyone about the quick clay. I clean forgot.’

I suppose it wasn’t surprising that I had forgotten. I’d had other things on my mind — such as preventing myself getting killed — and Bull Matterson’s revelations had also helped to drive it out of my head. I braked to a quick stand-still and prepared to do a U-turn, then had second thoughts. ‘I’d better go on up to the dam. The police should have a check-point there to prevent anyone going up into the Kinoxi.’

‘Do you think they’ll have caught Howard yet?’

‘Not a chance,’ I said. ‘He’ll be able to run rings round them. For a while, at least.’ I put the car into gear. ‘I’ll drop you at the cabin.’

‘No you won’t,’ said Clare. ‘I’m coming up to the dam.’

I took one look at her and sighed. She had her stubborn expression all set for instant use and I had no time to argue. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘But stay out of trouble.’

We made good time on the Kinoxi road — there were no trucks to hinder progress — but we were stopped by a patrolman half a mile short of the powerhouse. He flagged us down and walked over to the car. ‘This is as far as you go,’ he said. ‘No one goes beyond this point. We don’t want any sightseers.’

‘What’s happening up there?’

‘Nothing that would interest you,’ he said patiently. ‘Just turn your car round and get going.’

I said, ‘My name’s Boyd — this is Miss Trinavant. I want to see your boss.’

He stared at me curiously. ‘You the Boyd that started all this ruckus?’

‘Me!’ I said indignantly. ‘What about Howard Matterson?’

‘I guess it’s all right,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You’ll want to see Captain Crupper — he’s up at the dam. If he’s not there you wait for him; we don’t want anything going wrong in the Kinoxi.’

‘Then you haven’t caught him yet,’ said Clare.

‘Not that I know of,’ said the patrolman. He stood back and waved us on.

Work was still going on at the powerhouse and I could see a few minuscule figures on top of the sheer concrete wall of the dam. There was still the sea of mud at the bottom of the escarpment, a slick, slimy mess churned up by the wheels of trucks. It had been too much for a couple of trucks which were bogged down to their axles. A team of sweating men had anchored a power-winch on firm ground and was hauling one of them out bodily.

I pulled up next to a big car and found myself looking at Donner, who looked back at me expressionlessly, then got out of the car. I went to meet him with Clare close behind. ‘Donner, you’re in trouble.’ I waved at the powerhouse and up at the dam.

‘Trouble!’ he said bitterly. ‘You think this is trouble?’ For a reputedly bloodless and nerveless man he was showing a hell of a lot of emotion. ‘Those goddam crazy Mattersons,’ he burst out. ‘They’ve put me in one hell of a spot.’

I knew what was wrong with him. He was one of those people who make bullets for others to shoot, but he’d never take responsibility for pulling the trigger himself; a perfect second-in-command for Bull Matterson but without Bull’s guts. Now he found himself in charge of the Matterson Empire, if only temporarily, and the strain was telling. Particularly as the whole thing was about to fall apart. Nothing could now prevent the whole story coming into the open, especially the double-dealing with the Trinavant Trust, and it was easy to see that Donner would be hunting around for ways to unload the blame on to someone else.

It wouldn’t be too hard — Bull Matterson was too sick to fight back and Howard, the murderer, was a perfect scapegoat. But it was a trying time for Donner. However, I wasn’t interested in his troubles because a bigger danger was impending.

I said, ‘This is more trouble than you think. Did you read my report on the geology of the Kinoxi Valley?’