“Same thing with the boyfriend.” The chief’s eyes were cold. “If he doctored the cocoa, of course he’d urge Peg to talk again to Susan. Now that the old will is still in place, you can bet he’ll try to persuade Peg to keep the money, which may have been her intent all along.”
Price grinned. “You suspicious old man, you. In any event, Cain may get an earful from her now.” Price stood with a bounce. He walked to the door, then looked back. “Hey, Sam, these tips you’re getting?”
The chief leaned back in his chair, his expression abruptly remote. “Yeah?”
“Could the horse’s mouth be a sorrel filly?” Price’s tone was light, but his eyes were hopeful.
Chief Cobb said carefully, “I haven’t seen anyone.”
Price hesitated. “If you do, maybe she’ll come by, say hello.”
I appreciated his admiration, but his hopes were doomed to disappointment.
The door closed.
“A sorrel filly? Redder hair than that. Unless I’m totally nuts.” Cobb rubbed tired eyes. “Maybe I am nuts.” He reached out for his phone. His hand fell. Finally, his face folded in a tight frown and he yanked up the receiver, punched a number. “Sam Cobb. Is Doc free?…I’ll hold.” He punched the speakerphone, turned his chair to look, eyes questioning, toward the blackboard.
“Speaking.” The contralto voice was brisk and firm, but genial.
“Hey, Janie. If you’ve got a minute, can I run something by you?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
Cobb’s face turned a dull reddish color. “I wanted to talk to you about one of my officers. Good guy, but I think maybe he’s under a strain. Now, this is between us, but he gets these messages. It’s the blackboard.” Cobb ran a finger around his collar as if it were too tight. “He sees the chalk in the air and nobody’s holding it, but there are words being written and in a minute there’s a message and it has to do with a tough case.”
“Does he hear voices?”
“Oh no. Nothing like that.” He stared at the smudged blackboard. “At least, he hasn’t heard voices yet. The message was on the blackboard and signed by an officer who had a previous connection to the department.”
I smiled, pleased for Officer M. Loy to have even that grudging recognition.
“Would he have some special reason to remember this officer?”
“Oh yes.” The chief’s response was fervent. “Is it possible he’s getting some tips, say over the phone, and he writes them on the blackboard and doesn’t remember doing it?”
“That would be one explanation. Under great stress, the mind can deliberately shut off particular memories. The signature of the former officer could reflect appreciation for previous assistance. However, the solution may be simpler. Perhaps someone in the department wants him to have the information but doesn’t want to be identified as the source. Is the officer performing rationally otherwise?”
Cobb rubbed the back of his neck. “So far as I know.”
“I’d keep a close eye on the situation. I’ll be glad to talk to him if you think that would help. Got to go, Sam.” The line clicked off.
As the chief reached for files, a frown lingering, I vowed to avoid blackboard duty in the future. I didn’t want to cause the chief further stress of mind. As his doctor said, the mind was capable of adjusting reality until it was acceptable. I’d count on time to assuage Sam Cobb’s concern.
As for time, Officer Johnny Cain should arrive at Pritchard House any minute.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The police car sat in front of Pritchard House. Johnny Cain stood next to Peg’s Honda at the foot of the drive. He bent down as she opened the window. The breeze stirred his dark hair. “Hi, Peg.” His face held a mixture of eagerness and apprehension.
“Johnny.” Peg’s wan and tired face brightened. Despite artfully applied makeup, reddened patches revealed a tearful night. She was dressed for the funeral in a black wool suit. A charcoal wool jacket was neatly folded in the front passenger seat. “I’m taking Keith to the park for a little while. I had to get out of the house. There are flowers everywhere. They’re beautiful, but I feel like I’m choking.”
In the backseat, Keith clicked a red toy car on the armrest of the car seat. “Va-room. Va-room.” His blond hair was perfectly combed. He looked bright and fresh and happy.
I was standing a little to one side of Johnny. I blew Keith a kiss.
He looked toward me and gave a quick gurgle of laughter. His face lighted. “Can you come to the park with us?”
Johnny’s face softened. “I’d like that.” He looked at Peg with a question in his eyes.
“That would be very nice.” Her voice was a little shaky.
With a whoop, Keith ran to the treehouse ladder.
Smiling and hurrying to keep up, Peg and Johnny stopped a few feet from the end of the slide.
“Hey, he’s fast.” Johnny’s tone was admiring. “Maybe he’ll go out for track.”
Peg’s smile slipped away. “I want him to grow up in a happy house and be what he wants to be. Maybe he’ll love ranching like his dad. If things”—her voice shook—“hadn’t gone wrong, Mitch would be at Burnt Creek right now. Maybe Keith will want to have a store or run for office or be a policeman like you. I want to do that for Susan. I tried to give him my share of the estate, but Wade said it would be better for me to keep the money and not give a bunch away in taxes and that would leave more for me to spend on Keith. I’m going to put the money in the bank for Keith.”
Johnny took her hands, gripped them hard. “Keith will turn out fine. Just like you.”
She clung to his hands. “I’ll do my best for him. You understand that, don’t you, Johnny?”
“I do.” His eyes were admiring. “I want you to do that. Maybe I can help. Be like a big brother to him.”
She gave his hands a squeeze, pulled free, her cheeks faintly pink. “That would be very special.” Her voice was soft.
“Peg, look at me.” Keith’s high voice was excited.
She looked up and waved. Keith sat down and scooted to the edge of the platform and started down the slide with a shout. “Here I come.”
Peg turned to Johnny. “I’m glad you came with us.” She was slightly breathless.
Johnny put a hand on her arm. “I need to talk to you for a minute.” His voice was serious, his eyes anxious.
She looked at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m a cop.” His handsome face was somber but determined.
Her eyes were admiring. “Of course you are. I’m proud of you. You graduated tops in your class at the police academy.”
“I’m here as a cop.” The words were short and hard.
The radiance in her eyes dimmed.
Johnny gazed out at the gray waters of the lake, cold and uninviting despite the vivid sunlight, then looked at her directly. “You may not have heard. It was on the radio this morning. Last night Kim Weaver was murdered.”
“Kim?” Peg’s face was stricken. She lifted a shaking hand. “I saw her yesterday at Wade’s office. She was fine. What happened?”
Quickly Johnny described the shot and the car toppling into the pit and the desperate effort to raise the car.
Peg pressed her hands against her cheeks. “I don’t understand any of this. And what does it have to do with me?”
“Chief Cobb thinks Kim was murdered because of Susan’s will.” Johnny talked fast. “Kim opened the mail yesterday morning at Wade Farrell’s office. They’re pretty sure she found a new will drawn up by Susan that left everything to her grandson.”
“Oh, Johnny.” Peg’s eyes widened, brightened. It was as if the weight of the world slipped from her shoulders. “Everything for Keith? That’s wonderful.”
Johnny shook his head. “Right now that will is missing. The chief said Kim took it to the brick factory. She was meeting someone.”