“You didn’t know she was here?”
“Why, no. I didn’t look for her until tomorrow. They’re all coming then.”
“You have no idea what time she got here?”
“No.”
“You must have fed the horses and then gone to the movies as soon as you had the hay down.”
“That’s right. I went up and put hay in the chutes and then the missus and I beat it for the first show. No sense in sticking around here all the time. You can’t make a man work both day and night.”
“You must have fed at about half past six if you made the first show?”
“I started about half past six. Guess I finished about twenty minutes of seven and then took right off.”
“It was dark in the barn by that time?”
“Sure.”
“And you switched on the lights?”
“Of course.”
“And then turned them off when you left?”
“That’s right.”
“Did she have a key to the house?”
“I suppose so. Sure. Calhoun had keys made for all members of the family.”
“Do you live in the house or...”
“No. There’s an apartment over the garage where the wife and I live.”
Logan said, “Well, we don’t know why she came to the stable, but it’s a cinch she came here, walked in, and the mare kicked her.”
Sid Rowan nodded.
“I’m not so sure,” Sheriff Eldon said.
They looked at him quizzically. “How else could it have happened, Bill?” the coroner asked.
Bill Eldon turned to Turlock.
“You heard the horses snorting?” the sheriff asked.
“That’s right. This mare was making quite a commotion. Snorting and stamping and occasionally kicking at the side of the stall. She wanted out.”
“She was tied up with a rope?”
“That’s right. A halter and a rope running through that iron ring.”
“How long had you been hearing that racket before you came over?”
“Must have been half an hour anyway. Maybe longer.”
“You called me at eight twenty-five,” the sheriff said. “I made a note of the time.”
“Well, I called you within five minutes of the time I got over here.”
“Now then, when you got here,” the sheriff said, “the stable was dark?”
“That’s right.”
“You had a flashlight and located the light switch and turned on the lights?”
“Yes.”
“And the body was lying here on the floor?”
“That’s right.”
The sheriff turned to Logan. “There you are.”
“I don’t get it,” Logan told him.
“Rowan left the place at twenty minutes to seven,” the sheriff said. “It was dark by that time. Outside there was some light but it was getting good and dark by that time. The sun sets right around six o’clock. Inside the barn it was dark as a pocket. You couldn’t see your way around without lights. Now then, if this young woman entered the barn, she naturally turned on the lights to see where she was going. Who turned off those lights?”
“Gosh, Bill, you’ve got something there,” the coroner said. “There must have been someone with her.”
“That’s right, someone who turned off the lights.”
Logan gave a low whistle.
“After this had happened,” the sheriff went on.
Logan looked at Rowan. “No chance she got in while you were feeding the horses and then when you went out...”
“Not a chance in the world,” Rowan interrupted half-angrily.
Logan motioned toward the horse’s manger. “The horse hasn’t hardly touched a bit of food... This is Lorraine Calhoun, Rowan?”
“Sure. She must have driven up right after I left. After I came down that ladder from the loft, I remember looking in at the mare. She’d just started to eat.”
The sheriff avoided the body by hugging the edge of the stall. He walked in to the manger, said, “The chute’s pretty well clogged up with hay. That mare didn’t even pull the hay away from the bottom of the chute so the rest of it could come down.”
The sheriff picked up half a dozen of the dried barley stalks and looked at the quality of hay with a professional eye. “Lots of grain on this hay,” he said. “It’s pretty good... Hello, what’s this?”
His flashlight exploring the far corner of the manger disclosed a small black leather-covered book, blending so perfectly with the shadows in the manger that it took the beam of the flashlight to disclose it.
Bill Eldon picked up the book, and turned his body so the light struck the pages. “Seems to be a diary,” he said. “Her name’s in front — Lorraine Calhoun. Logan, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll get Quinlan to take some photographs of the position of that body. Let’s try not to touch anything until he gets down here.”
The sheriff moved over directly under the light. Opening the diary, he said, “Gosh, I hate to pry into this thing. Guess we won’t read it, boys.”
He started to put it in his pocket and then said, “Well, we might take a look at the last entry in it. It may tell us something.”
The sheriff turned to the current date, opened the diary, and read, “I guess some people think I’m a fool. I’m going to have a showdown with Frank and that mealy-mouthed Betty tomorrow. Well, why wait? Why not catch...”
That ended the last entry in the diary.
The sheriff abruptly closed the book and put it in his pocket. He turned to Lew Turlock. “Where’s Betty tonight, Lew?” he asked casually.
Lew Turlock fidgeted uneasily. He glanced over toward his house, and then his eyes met the curious gaze of James Logan, Sid Rowan, and Sid Rowan’s wife.
“Sheriff,” he blurted, “could I speak with you alone — sort of private like?”
4
Over in the dark corner of the barn Lew Turlock told the sheriff the story of his daughter’s deception.
“Told you she was going out with the Mallard girl, did she?” the sheriff asked.
Turlock nodded miserably. “She and Rosemary — or Rose Marie she’s calling herself now — were supposed to be working on some stuff they’re doing in this benefit play for the Red Cross. She left right after supper.”
“What time?”
“Well, Millie had dinner early so Betty could get away. I guess Betty left the place about... well, about six. She helped her mother with the dishes. But she was all ready to go except for that. Soon as she dried the dishes she jumped in the car and drove away.”
“And Mallard hasn’t any telephone?”
“That’s right. I called up by getting Jim Thornton to signal him to come over to the phone. Betty’s a good girl. I don’t know what it’s all about. Probably some kid stuff. But if word gets around that Betty’s supposed to be there, but ain’t... well, you can look at Sid Rowan’s wife, standing over there with her ears stuck out a foot, just...”
“Come on,” the sheriff said. “Were going out to Mallard’s place right quick.”
He called back over his shoulder, “Lew Turlock and I are going out to see if his daughter saw Lorraine tonight. She’s visiting with friends who haven’t any phone. Jim, will you get in touch with George Quinlan and ask him to come down and take some pictures of that body and the stall? Make everyone keep back away from the body!”
The sheriff opened the door of the county car and Lew Turlock, miserably dejected, climbed in beside the sheriff. “Gosh, Bill,” he said, “you know how easy it is to get talk started around here. Particularly with someone like Sid Rowan’s wife. She’s all burned up with curiosity right now...”