The Witch's Tongue (38 page)

“No you won’t.”

Bertie’s eyes goggled. “I won’t?”

Moon’s face was hard as steel. “Not if you value your life.”

Miss Cassidy’s nephew felt a delicious surge of fear. “Do you intend some kind of physical violence to my person?”

“I did think about dropping your sorry carcass into a tub of boiling pig fat. But there’s lots better things to do with lard—and a better way to handle an ornery cuss like you.”

“That sounds very much like a threat.” Bertie assumed a lopsided Billy the Kid sneer he’d once seen on the silver screen. “Whatever happened to the Cowboy Way?”

“That is for
one hundred percent
cowboys. It is true that I raise beeves and wear a John B. Stetson hat. But deep down, I am a sure-enough redskin—the kind who will stop at nothing to get even with his enemies.” Moon grinned wickedly at the little man. “You mess with me, I will turn you over to a certain party who is not as meek and mild as myself.”

The small man stared owlishly. “Who?”

The Ute had never looked so savage. “I will tell Auntie Jane on you.”

Bertie’s skin took on a chalky-gray complexion. “Tell her
what
?”

“How you and Ralph Briggs set up the museum burglary.”

“That is utterly absurd. Why on earth would I—”

“Because your aunt made up her mind to insure the Cassidy collection.”

“You are shooting in the dark.”

“Let’s see if I hit what I’m shooting at.” He aimed a finger at Bertie, cocked it with his thumb. “You knew the insurance company would send a passel of experts to examine and appraise every piece in the museum—and find out that most of those rare old coins weren’t so rare anymore. And they weren’t even old.”

B. E. Cassidy looked as if he might faint. And fall back in it.

Moon hammered away without mercy. “They weren’t even real coins, were they, Bertram? They were junk your partner provided to replace the good stuff he’d been selling off for you.”

Bertie saw no option but to tough it out. “You are bluffing.”

“I am holding aces and kings. After your aunt fired me, I had some time to think. And I thought I’d show the stolen coins to a collector down in Santa Fe who is a world-class expert. This noted numismatist told me they were all modern castings.”

“So what if they are? That proves noth—”

“When I visited your buddy Ralph Briggs in the hospital, I told him that if Yellow Jacket’s alleged pennies, half dimes, and silver dollars turned out to be duds, I’d be able to tell Jane Cassidy that a pair of slickers had set up the museum burglary—and name names.” Moon grinned at his victim. “Do you see where I’m going?”

Bertie did see. He did not like the destination.

“I figured that if Ralph was your partner, he’d tip you off that I was onto the counterfeit scheme—and tell you to make sure Aunt Jane didn’t bring in any experts to check out the Yellow Jacket loot. And about two minutes and ten seconds after I left his hospital room, he dialed your telephone number and did just what I’d hoped he would.”

Bertie was shocked at such underhanded subterfuge. “You were listening to our conversation?”

“Not me. It was the rabbit.”

Bertie looked perplexed.

“I brought Ralph a toy rabbit to keep him company. But this was not your regular run-of-the-mill toy cottontail. This bunny had a microphone in his mouth and a tape recorder in his belly—the voice-activated kind. I’ve only got Ralph’s side of the conversation, but he mentions you by name half a dozen times.”

“Isn’t that illegal? I mean recording a conversation without permission—”

“The tape won’t have to be played in a courtroom, Bertram. But if a certain rich lady by the name of Jane happens to get a microcassette in the mail and she pops it into a player and hears Ralph Briggs talking to somebody by the name of Bertie about how Charlie Moon is onto their scam and how Bertie had better make sure his aunt don’t hire a qualified numismatist to check out the substitute coins”—Moon paused to take a breath—“because that’s what that Indian cop is hoping for, I expect that’d get the job done.”

Bertie stuck a pair of little fingers into his ears. “I absolutely refuse to hear another word of this.”

Moon pulled one of Bertie’s fingers out of a small, pinkish ear and spoke into the orifice: “Yessiree—when Auntie Jane finds out her favorite nephew has been selling off the family heirlooms, Bertram is in big, bad trouble. Even if I tell her it was Ralph Briggs that came up with the notion of arranging a burglary to get rid of the counterfeits.”

Bertie unblocked the other ear. “You think me incapable of such a clever plan? I deeply resent that.”

“Sorry if I hurt your feelings. But there’s no doubt at all it was Ralph who talked Felix Navarone into stealing the fake stuff you’d leave out of the vault.” He eyed the curator of the Cassidy collection. “Navarone was supposed to turn the loot over to Ralph for a set price. And once Ralph had his hands on the stolen goods, he would’ve made sure nobody ever saw the counterfeit coins. I expected he would’ve melted ’em down, made himself a nice pair of bookends. Then the both of you would’ve been in the clear.”

Bertie attempted a snort. “That is an uncommonly amusing theory.”

Moon grinned at his singular audience. “But no matter how hard we plan, things always go wrong. This time, just about everything turned sour. First of all, Felix took Eddie Ganado on for a partner—and Ganado was even greedier than Felix. When this fine pair of felons had a look at what they got away with, they must’ve decided that whatever Ralph Briggs had offered to pay for the loot wasn’t nearly enough. But when Felix called the antique dealer on the phone and demanded more money, Ralph was not willing. This irked Felix no little bit, so he threatened to tip off the police about how Ralph is the brains behind the burglary.” Moon shook his head. “This was a big mistake on Felix’s part. That antique dealer may not look it, but our Mr. Briggs is not an hombre to mess with. Ralph called Felix’s bluff. He’d take his chances with the law, stack his word up against the Apache’s. But just in case Felix does rat him out, Ralph tells me about the call from the burglar. He even tells me some of the truth—that when he refused to deal with the caller, the thief got all hot and threatened to tell the police that the well-known antique dealer is up to his ears in the burglary. If Felix ever tells his story to the authorities, this makes me a first-rate witness for Ralph.” Moon eyed his adversary. “Are you still with me?”

Bertie shrugged.

“Well, I’ll leave out the part about how Eddie Ganado overheard me talking to Ralph Briggs on the telephone. Figuring Ralph was going to hire me to hunt down the thieves, Ganado dropped by that night and took a pop at Ralph with Jacob Gourd Rattle’s .22. And if Miss James hadn’t yelled, Ganado might’ve nailed me too.”

“I regret that deplorable incident,” Bertie said. “I detest violence.”

“Me too. Especially when I’m on the receiving end.” Moon flipped a pebble into the stream. “You’ve been a bad boy, Bertram. And your aunt Jane is a mean and spiteful lady. If she finds out you are responsible for all this trouble and expense, she will make your life miserable. And you know I’m right.”

The white man’s mouth gaped in the manner of a hooked carp. There was a choking gurgle, but no distinguishable words emerged.

The western sky was stained with swaths of shocking pink and deep purple. The Ute watched a fat moon rise over the wide valley. “How much did you and Ralph Briggs get for the coins you’ve been selling?”

Bertie sniffed. “I have been wondering how much of my aunt’s one-million-dollar reward money you were able to keep. After Walter Price took his cut off the top.”

“You first.”

“Oh, very well. The total take for the coins was just under eight hundred thousand dollars. Ralph’s fee was thirty percent.”

Moon offered his financial report. “Walter Price took fifteen percent and some expenses.”

B. E. Cassidy did the calculations in his head. “So you netted somewhat under eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“Somewhat.” Moon had delivered quite a tidy sum to Kicks Dogs, who would never know from where the greenbacks came. The balance had gone to purchase the Big Hat Ranch. It was, he thought, money well earned and spent.

“You did quite well, Charles. I’m surprised Walter didn’t take half.”

“You ended up with quite a nice piece of change yourself, Bertram.”

“Not really.”

“What happened—you blow your whole wad in Vegas?”

“Alas, it was much worse than that. After you separated Auntie Jane from her million, the old witch was absolutely determined to insure the Cassidy collection. Ralph and I were back to square one—as you have so aptly pointed out, the appraisers would have spotted the counterfeit coins, and quite possibly exposed what Ralph and I had done.”

Please tell me that you did what I hope you did
.

He did. “Ralph and I were compelled to purchase the counterfeit coins from my aunt.”

Moon was thunderstruck with delight.

“The purchase was indirect, of course. I told Auntie Jane that Ralph Briggs had been approached by a wealthy Japanese collector. It took some time to persuade her to part with them, but I finally convinced the old hag that the coins had been more trouble than they were worth. Though it was very difficult for him, Ralph came up with almost half the purchase price. This was a great help, but I have only about ninety thousand dollars left in my account.” Bertie was close to tears. “But the question is, Where do we go from here? I have something on you, you have something on me.”

“Looks to me like your standard Mexican standoff.”

The Man Who Would Be Cowboy sized up the situation and came to a drastic conclusion. “Charles, I wish to state that I am withdrawing my threat to make trouble for you with your hateful and vengeful attorney.”

“Okay, Bertram. Then I guess I don’t have any need to tell your aunt what you and Ralph Briggs was up to.”

“Sadly, I am back where I started.” Bertie took off his jacket. “I have nothing left to live for.” He grunted as he pulled off his expensive wing-tip shoes. “In case you are mildly curious about how this shall end, I intend to throw myself into the depths of the river.”

“Bertram, the stream is running low. You won’t drown right off—you’ll get beat to death on the rocks.”

The pale man unbuttoned his canary-yellow silk shirt. “Forgive me the vulgarity—but quite frankly, I don’t give a gnat’s extraordinarily tiny excretory orifice how I shall expire.” Effecting a theatric gesture, he tossed the costly garment aside.

“Well, there’s
me
to think of.”

Bertram unlatched a mother-of-pearl belt buckle. “You?”

“Sure. I’m the poor fella who’ll have to wade in and pull your cold, blue, water-wrinkled body outta the stream. You’ll look like a prune that sprouted arms and legs.” Moon’s expression suggested an acute attack of nausea. “It’ll be so disgusting, I won’t be able to eat my supper.”

“I do regret the deleterious effect on your appetite. But there is no reason to alter my course.” Tears of self-pity filled his eyes. “Besides, no one will miss me.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

He gave the Ute a wet, squinty look. “Will you regret my passing?”

Moon nodded. “Life won’t be the same without you. I’ll be upset for several minutes.”

“That is quite touching. Nevertheless, I am obliged to jump into the river.” He stepped out of one leg of his blue suede trousers.

“Wait—hold on there!”

Bertie paused. “If you have something to say, please get on with it. I am beginning to feel unpleasantly chilly and prickly.”

“Put your pants back on.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I can’t stand to look at those shorts you’re wearing. They’ve got little baby ducks on ’em.”

“Is that all?”

“No, there’s some Teddy bears too.”

“Oh, pshaw! I mean—is that all you have to say?”

“Step back into your britches, Bertram—I’ll give you a job.”

This could be a trick
. “What kind of position do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know exactly. We’ll work something out.”

“Will I get a horse to ride?”

“Sure. You can pitch your saddle on a nice little brush-tail mare we call Sweet Alice.”
She’s already crippled up three good riders
.

Bertram Eustace Cassidy drifted off into a glassy-eyed rapture. His words were as from one lost in a lovely dream: “Charles—may I tote a .44-caliber Colt six-shooter?”

“You can tote a brace of mortars for all I care.”
With any luck at all, he’ll fall off the horse and shoot himself
.

He stepped back into the breeches. “Charles?”

“Yeah?”

The chilly man buckled his belt. “I must make a confession—I really wish I could have succeeded in blackmailing you.”

“You are a really nasty fellow, Bertram. A natural-born felon and cutthroat.”

He slipped into his shirt. “It is apparent that you agreed to hire me on because you feel sorry for me.”

“Well, if I ever did, I have got over it. As a matter of fact, if you want to strip buck naked and jump in the river, go right ahead. I won’t pull your body out—your sorry carcass can float all the way down to the
Golfo de California
.” Moon turned away. “I’m going back to the house.”

Carrying his shoes, Bertie minced along behind the Ute. “I wish I had been able to effectively carry out my threat—extort you out of something more tangible than a job. I should like to have had something that was really important to you.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Your favorite quarter horse. A perfectly balanced Winchester rifle. A section of prime grazing land. Something really
special
.”

Charlie Moon stopped in midstride. “Bertram, if you’re going to be a cowboy, you’ve got to learn how to keep your mouth shut for hours at a time. You could start practicing right now by not saying another word for a whole minute.”

“Of course. Certainly.” Bertie’s brow furrowed into a frown. “I almost forgot. There is one more thing.”

“What?”

“When you visited Ralph in the hospital, you showed him a small wooden box—which you claimed contained all of your evidence on the museum burglary. He was quite rattled by this mysterious assertion, as was I when he told me. In fact, that cursed box was a major reason I did not reveal the fact that the Yellow Jacket coins were counterfeits. I could have, you know. No one could have proven that the thieves had not made the substitution…unless…Charles—I want know what was in the box.”