Hidden Motive (15 page)

“Against the wishes of the family? Craig—”

“Remember it was Bobby Ray's son who was with me when…when I had that wreck that got me into such hot water. Bobby Ray knew about Boswell's blackmail of Dad, and since then he's never trusted Boswell, either. We agreed it might be helpful to just see why the Freemont coroner had insisted on a closed casket. I mean, I've practically been a member of this family, and I didn't feel everything was just right, you know?”

“Why were you suspicious?”

“I knew Josiah wanted to talk to Dad about contacting the legislators in Oklahoma about some mining discrepancies.”

“Discrepancies?”

“Ground pollution. Contamination from the mine tailings. Right now there isn't a lot of legislation to control the mining companies, and the unethical drillers tend to swoop in, tear up the land, swoop back out, leaving millions of dollars worth of cleanup that they don't have to answer for. You can bet Boswell would take advantage of that loophole if he could.”

“Grandpa was worried about this pollution?”

Craig nodded. “You know if Boswell found out Josiah talked to Dad, he pitched a fit.”

“Craig, are you suggesting he killed Grandpa to stop—”

“Josiah's body didn't have a mark on it, no bruises, no blood. Does that sound like he died in a car wreck? Why manipulate to have a closed casket when there was no reason for it? But Bobby Ray had his orders, and he could get into big trouble for taking the risk he did.”

“That's why he didn't say anything to any of the family at the funeral.”

“Sable, a body doesn't bruise after it's dead, isn't that right? And your grandfather was in a wreck. So, it means he was already dead when the wreck happened. Looks to me like the wreck was staged to cover up that somebody killed Josiah. I'm betting Boswell was in on it. Josiah thought he'd gotten such a good deal when he and his buddy Noah bought into the mine in Freemont.” Craig sat down beside her. “Now are you going to tell me what's going on around—”

The door flew open and Murph strode into the room, eyes blazing fury. “Get away from her.”

I
t had been a long time since Murph had felt such an urge to punch someone. Apparently, his face reflected his feelings, because as he started across the room at Craig, Sable scrambled from the bed.

“Murph, what are you doing?”

“I said, get away from her.” When Craig didn't move, Murph reached beneath his shirt.

“No!” Sable cried. “Murph, please, what are you doing?”

Murph didn't take his gaze from Craig. “Why did you leave Bryce alone in that passage?”

Craig groaned and rolled his eyes. “Bryce told you about that? Look, it was no big deal, okay?”

“What did you do with the watch?”

“What are you talking about?” Sable asked.

“That's what I'd like to know,” Craig said. “You're losing it, pal. I mean, you're really losing it here.”

“Our attacker took the watch and chain from Sable's neck.”

Confusion filled Craig's face. “That old thing? Why?”

“Good question,” Murph said. “Sable told you just before we separated down in the cave that her watch didn't run.”

“And that's supposed to make me want to steal it?”

“If you knew
why
it didn't work,” Murph said.

“Like I should care? I knew it was a sentimental thing for her. It was Josiah's watch. Besides how am I supposed to have attacked you and taken Sable's watch when I was halfway on the other side of the whole cave system?”

“You left Bryce alone in that passage,” Murph said. “You know the cave as well as anyone. If there's a shortcut to the crystal cavern—”

“You're trying to say you think I pushed you?” Craig exclaimed.

“We were the only four down there.”

“Man, you're crazy!”

“Why did you leave Bryce alone in that passage?” Murph asked again.

“We were looking for the sinkhole Josiah fell into last fall, right? Naturally, when the fog thickened, I thought for sure there was an opening nearby—you know, dry, cold air mingled with warmer, moist air from the cave.” He glanced at Sable, and in spite of Murph's current grilling, Craig's eyes glinted with triumph. “I found it.”

“What?” Sable exclaimed. “The sinkhole?”

Craig shrugged. “Doesn't amount to much, and I couldn't get out because the hole was about four feet above my head.” He looked back at Murph. “Are you satisfied?”

“Why couldn't you have told Bryce that?” Sable asked.

“Oh, come on, Sable, if I'd have told Bryce, he'd have blabbed it to you, and—”

“Stop with the silly games,” Murph said. “You left a kid alone in the cave.”

“Bryce laughed when we told him our stories,” Craig said. “I thought he'd get a kick out of it, and then I'd get to tease Sable for months, because I knew something about the cave that she didn't know.”

Murph leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. Craig Holt was a big kid. A goof.

Right now Murph was beginning to feel like a goof, himself. So much for logical conclusions.

Sable sank back onto the bed and picked up the ice pack. “Craig, would you mind filling this with ice again?”

“Um, sure, no problem. Are you sure you're safe with this lunatic?”

“I'll be fine.”

Murph sank onto the chest when Craig walked out. “Sorry. It was too great a coincidence to ignore.”

Sable chuckled.

“It isn't funny,” he said.

She laughed out loud, then immediately groaned and reached for her head. “I wish I'd had a camera. My brothers will love hearing about this.”

He knew he shouldn't allow his masculine pride to be offended. “I nearly pulled my gun. I don't think it's funny.”

“I'm sorry.” She made an obvious effort to adjust her expression. “Okay, granted, you don't know Craig the way I do, but it's just like him to look for that sinkhole and then try to keep it a secret.”

Murph had to agree with her. Craig had never grown up.

She got up from the bed and closed the door, then sat back down. “Murph, I don't believe in ghosts.”

He blinked, mystified.

“But I don't know how else to explain what happened down there,” she said. “How does anyone see without any kind of light?”

“Ah, the ghost eyes. I thought your head injury might be severe when you said that. It scared me. But the ‘ghost' took your watch.”

“There was no flashlight, nothing but this sort of intermittent green glow. I thought I was going to be strangled, but the attacker just broke the chain, took the watch and left.”

Murph reached for the flashlight on her dresser. “Could you have had some kind of temporary blindness?”

“A reaction to the concussion? I suppose. I don't know any other way to explain it.”

“Are you having any trouble with your vision now?”

“None. Why would anyone take my watch?”

“I don't know, unless the attacker had a reason to believe there was something important in it. The only person who knows it doesn't work, aside from you and me, is Craig.”

“And Bryce. A couple of kids. But also, the map had a drawing of the watch face next to the etching of the sinkhole, and someone took that map. Maybe someone made the connection.”

He shone a beam into her right eye, then her left. “Pupils equal and reactive. Do you know what day it is?”

“Sunday.”

“Your age?”

“I'll be thirty-one on Tuesday.”

“Where are we?”

“Missouri Ozarks. I can see you, I'm alert and oriented.”

He put the flashlight back on the dresser.

“Grandpa was murdered,” Sable said quietly.

Murph frowned at her. “Well, we had considered that, of course, but what makes you think it's true?”

“Craig told me.”

“
Craig?
How would he know?”

“He saw Grandpa's body after it arrived back here for burial.”

“And he saw something suspicious?”

“Our family was advised to have a closed casket,” Sable explained, “but Craig said there wasn't a mark on the body.” She leaned forward. “Murph, we can trust Craig. I believe him.”

There was a knock at the door. Murph stiffened. “Yes?”

“Room service, with the ice the lady ordered.”

Murph opened the door, and Craig brought in two plastic zipper bags filled with broken pieces of ice from outside. He presented them to Sable with a flourish.

Sable took them and nodded to Murph. “Close the door. He needs to know what's going on. Craig, we need to talk.”

 

Sable let Murph feed Craig information in sound bites. Craig's dark brows drew closer with each revelation, until they formed a slash across his forehead. She knew that look well.

“So you're wanted by the police,” he said to Sable when Murph had finished his story. “They're blaming you for the murder of Murph's uncle?”

“That's right,” Sable said.

“Morons,” he muttered. “You should tell the others.”

“One of those others obviously followed us from Freemont,” Murph said.

“But the rest didn't. Shouldn't they be warned?”

“About what?” Murph asked. “Only Sable and I are being stalked.”

“Look, all I'm saying here is that I'm sure glad you told
me,
okay? Don't you think the others would appreciate it, too? They've got to know something's going on, anyway, with all the so-called accidents happening around here.”

“Let's wait,” Sable said. “The situation could get even further out of hand.”

Craig shrugged and stood. “Fine with me, but I think you need more people to watch your backside, if you know what I mean. I'm going downstairs to check the fire.”

When he left, Murph gestured to Sable. “Come to the attic with me? We need to find out what's in that safe. We must have missed a clue in Josiah's note.”

Sable retrieved the note from the pocket of her discarded slacks. “I'm with you.”

 

“Read the note to me again,” Murph said. They were missing something, but he thought they were on the right track.

As she read it to him, he dialed the combination, convinced that the note referred to something more sinister than Josiah's involvement with the Seitz mine.

Why would anyone salt the crystal cavern? It didn't make sense. It wasn't as if Josiah was going to sell it as a mining site. Why would he have had those chunks of galena, sphalerite and silver analyzed?

Murph tried the handle. Nothing.

“Okay,” Sable said, “Try again, but this time only spin the dial once after fifteen. He might not have realized he was suggesting twice.”

Murph followed her directions. This time the metal handle slid up stiffly.

“It worked!” He swung the thick door open.

The shelves were crammed with papers—birth certificates, marriage licenses, property titles.

Sable pulled out a folder marked Photographs. She thumbed through the first few, holding them up to the glow from Murph's flashlight.

“It looks like the crystal cavern,” Murph said. “Why would he have photographed that?”

She turned the snapshot over. Josiah had written “Seitz mine” in his flamboyant script on the back.

She held up the next photo. “
This
one is the crystal cavern.”

“Then what's this?” Murph asked, picking up the next one on the stack. He read it and whistled again. “That's Number Three, one of the working mines outside of Freemont. It looks as if he was comparing the places.”

She held the three photos up together. “These are all dated in January this year. What do you think about this, Murph? He checked the Seitz mine that Boswell had convinced him and Noah to purchase. Maybe he had the ore from there analyzed, compared it to an existing analysis of Number Three, and found them to be too similar. Then he came home and figured out how to salt the cavern below, just to see if it looked similar to the Seitz mine. That's something Grandpa would do.”

Murph was impressed. “I think that sounds like a plausible explanation, and much more acceptable than taking this note at face value.”

They sorted through more papers, then pulled out a thick manila folder labeled Boswell Enterprises, Inc.

Murph peered over her shoulder. “I didn't know Boswell had another corporation.”

She opened the folder and found a stack of photocopies.

Murph recognized the form—it was the workers' compensation report, prepared by the clinic doctors. There was a sticky note at the bottom of each copy.
Not filed. Not filed. Not filed.

Sable shuffled through the pages until she came to a sheet with her signature at the bottom.

“So these weren't turned in,” Murph said.

“You asked me about that,” Sable said. “You were right.”

He had never been less pleased to have his instincts validated. “The workers must have been paid by the company, or there'd have been an outcry for lost wages.”

Sable thumbed through several other pages with notes jotted in Josiah's distinctive handwriting. “Craig told me Boswell has resorted to blackmail in the past. This looks like Grandpa was tracking everything in Boswell's dealings that wasn't kosher.” She handed the copy to Murph and held the next page to the light. “Look at this.”

“It's a list of people who died from accidents in the past six years.”

“Mining accidents?” she asked.

“No. There's a record of an automobile accident and a fall into a grain elevator.”

“Here's the name of a friend of mine who worked in Boswell's office,” Sable said. “She was supposed to have died in a car wreck.”

Murph looked at the next stack of stapled pages, topped by a ledger sheet. Scrawled across the upper margin in Josiah's writing were the words
Special Ops.

“Sable, this is why your grandfather and Noah died,” Murph said softly. “Boswell must have learned Josiah was collecting information. I heard a rumor about a week after I started working at the clinic, but since it was from someone who was known as a notorious gossip, I dismissed it.”

“Something else about Grandpa?”

“No. Did you ever meet the doctor you replaced at the clinic?”

“Heidlage? I was told he retired.”

“Who told you?”