“About your marriage, Doris — felicitations, best wishes, and a lifetime of happiness with Jack.”
I saw the cloud of something hurt and bitter pass across her face. When she spoke it was in a tone that had no life:
“Thank you, Bill.”
We talked a minute — those pointless things people will say to each other when they suddenly find themselves in two different worlds — then I went on my way.
But even after I was home I kept seeing that look on her face and I knew that her marriage with Jack was already turning into a disillusionment.
Jack came to my place a week later. We had always disliked each other but this time he was bubbling over with fake friendliness.
“Doris and I are going deer hunting,” he said, “and we want you to go with us.”
“Deer hunting?” I asked. “Since when did you become the outdoor type?”
He forced a laugh. “Never too late to change. Come on and be our guide, Bill — the three of us will have a lot of fun together.”
Yeah, I thought. The third wheel will have a ball — no doubt about it...
“What do you say, Bill?” he prompted. “Will you go with us?”
I looked at him, at the way the eagerness was showing through, and I knew beyond any doubt that he intended for someone to die on that hunting trip.
“I’ll go,” I said. “When do you want to start?”
I could almost hear him let out a big sigh of relief. “In the morning,” he said. “Early.”
Jack and Doris were at my place early the next morning in their shiny new open-top jeep, the back of it piled with brand-new camping gear.
“I’m glad you agreed to go with us, Bill,” Doris said. She was smiling and didn’t look tired and disillusioned the way she had the last time I saw her. I wondered if Jack hadn’t been putting on a little pretense of still loving her to account for the change. And she was as cute as a kitten in her new denims, cowboy boots and shirt, and a cowboy hat cocked over her red-gold curls. “Jack said he knew you would pick us out a good hunting area and—”
“I see you’re ready, Bill,” Jack interrupted, “so let’s get to moving — only three days of hunting season left.”
I got in my old four-wheel-drive pickup to lead the way, thinking, Yeah — let’s hurry. Only three days left for legal murder. After that the law would ask too many questions...
By mid-afternoon we were at the little Reese ranch which set near the top of the gentle western slope of Granite Mountain. Old Joe Reese — who was also the deputy sheriff in that area — was gone, but Mom Reese made us all welcome.
Mom was big and fat and jolly, with a heart of gold and a tongue that was never still so long as there was someone to talk to.
One of the first things she did, though, was to warn Jack and me about the danger of fire.
“We’ve had a very dry fall,” she said. “So you two be careful about smoking while hunting — Joe and I don’t want our cattle barbecued just yet.” Then, in almost the same breath, she turned to Doris and said, “You’re going to sleep in the house, honey — the nights are too chilly now for a little city girl to rough it.”
We sat around and talked with Mom until after dark. Or, rather, Jack and Mom talked while Doris and I listened. Jack sat near Doris and he made it a point to show her affectionate attention quite often. I saw her. face light up every time he touched her or called her “darling.”
He was playing his new role well — this time that of the clean-cut, all-American-boy-type who worshipped his young bride and had a special place in his heart for motherly old ladies named Mom Reese.
I left shortly after dark. Jack had already set up his cot on the back porch so I put mine out near where we had parked the pickup and jeep.
I stretched out on my cot and listened to the bits of conversation that the night breeze brought to me. Jack was working hard to make a good impression on Mom. I knew why. A deputy named Joe Reese would do the investigating if anyone got killed and having Mrs. Joe Reese to attest to the integrity of his character could be very helpful to Jack.
Doris had gone to bed and I was almost asleep when I heard Jack mention my name. I raised up, wide awake and both ears fanned out.
“... good old Bill,” he was saying to Mom. “... best friend I ever had... worried about him now, though... notice how he kept staring at Doris?... won’t forgive her for marrying me instead of him... we’re trying to show him we’re still his best friends... snap him out of that brooding... afraid he might do something desperate...”
The night wind freshened, drowning out the rest, and I considered what I had heard.
So I was brooding, about to do something desperate? Which would be what — despondently commit suicide? No — even if Jack did murder me and make it look like suicide, he would have gained nothing...
Then I saw the obvious and felt the first stab of fear. He had said of me, “... won’t forgive Doris for marrying me instead of him...”
Doris was the one he intended to kill.
Little hurt, hopeful, trusting Doris, who would do anything he asked her to do...
And, of course, he had already laid the groundwork so that I, not he, would be suspected as her murderer.
Jack was ready to go right after breakfast the next morning, his and Doris’s rifles in their twin scabbards in the jeep.
Mom beamed with approval as Jack helped Doris to the seat and gave her a kiss. He was certainly missing no opportunity to publicly display his affection for the girl he intended to kill...
In accordance with Jack’s request, I stopped once at a good vantage point to let him see the lay of the country and point out the various places — Pine Basin, Sandy Wash, Spur Canyon, Box Canyon...
We drove on toward Pine Basin and I saw why Mom was worried about fire. The grass was high and thick and dry as tinder, just waiting for a spark to touch it off.
When we stopped at the lower end of Pine Basin Jack jumped out of his jeep with a smile and a suggestion:
“Suppose we split up here? You take the middle of the basin, Doris the left side and I’ll go up the right. Like that, if there are any dear here, one of us will get a shot.”
“Fine with me,” I said, wondering how he was going to kill Doris when he would be too far away to even see her through the trees.
When we met back at the vehicles at noon — Pine Basin was not large — I still hadn’t figured it out.
And there had been no sign of deer.
I said to him, as the three of us stood beside his jeep, “It looks like the hunters before us have pretty well driven the deer up into the high country. We’ll have to go there.”
He scowled at the high ridges and peaks above us, a sour look on his face. Apparently his murder plans hadn’t included such physical exertion as mountain climbing...
Doris was busy taking some small rocks out of her pockets — quartz specimens — and laying them out on the fender of the jeep. Jack became aware of what she was doing when she reached into the glove compartment for a reading glass and began hopefully examining the specimens with it.
He turned his scowl on her and said, “So that’s why you brought that glass along? So you could waste your time looking for rocks instead of deer!”
“I did look for deer, Jack,” she protested. “But since we would be in mountain country I was hoping — I thought it would be fun — to see if I could find some rich ore like Daddy found.”
He opened his mouth to say something more to her, then the scowl faded away and a thoughtful expression replaced it. He turned to me, his tone again one of good-natured friendliness.
“It’s too late to get into the high country today, Bill. Suppose I pick some canyons on the way back home. Might have the luck on a beginner, you know.”