Site Unseen (34 page)

My thoughts were interrupted by the wind picking up again, roaring along the river. The heavy pine boughs
swayed, and in the distance dead branches cracked, and the rain regained its former intensity. I decided that it was time to find Sheriff Stannard and see if he could help me make some sense of all this. I turned to leave.

Brian will be so pleased with my good sense, I thought wryly, as another limb splintered nearby. If I hustled, it was even remotely possible I could catch a later flight, but at any rate I had to get out of here before I froze to death. The rain came down harder now, colder because of our proximity to the frigid river. Even during the summer no one wanted to swim in such cold water, and now that fall was well under way...

Against the background noise of the storm, a noise caught my attention. Suddenly it occurred to me that the last sound that I had heard wasn't cracking branches and wasn't snapping lines. It was the sound of someone removing the safety and drawing back the trigger on the pistol that was now pointed at my head.

"I'll thank you to hand over the film please. Just pull it out of the camera so that it is quite exposed, thank you."

I knew that voice.

I turned and stared, slack-jawed, too wasted from cold and shock to react immediately. Tony Markham waggled the pistol meaningfully, and slowly I complied, dropping the roll of film to the ground. I drooped; I didn't even bother to close the door to the camera dangling from the strap on my wrist, unprotected against the elements.

"Very good. Now it seems we have a few things to decide," Tony Markham drawled politely. He looked composed in spite of the weather, like he was taking strength from it even as it left me weak. "Well, I'll be doing most of the deciding, won't I? By the way, I would appreciate it if you would drop the camera as well. I wouldn't want to take the chance of getting clobbered with so solid a piece of technology as that."

I complied woodenly. "What's going on, Tony? I can't figure out if you're a murderer and a site robber or just a moody bastard. I'm really very confused." The words came
out in a naked monotone, with barely a scrap of sarcasm to cover them. Damn it, I was right! But I couldn't figure out what was going on now, and I couldn't take my eyes off that gun. Oh Jesus, Brian--!

Markham, of all things, seemed concerned with my lethargy. "Now Emma, that's really been your problem all along, hasn't it? No confidence in your theories. I will admit, that worried me about your taking the position at Caldwell in the first place. You were just too young, for all your experience. I warned Kellerman it would come to no good--"

He smiled, and while any other time I would have been fascinated to know about the process that got me my job, I certainly wasn't in the mood for it now.

"--I could tell just by looking that you were busy revamping all of your previous assumptions as soon as you saw Billy out there. I suppose given a bit more time, you might have reached the correct conclusion, though perhaps not with all the details filled in. If it makes you feel any better, I believed that you were a threat to my little enterprise from the beginning. It's just my bad luck that we were only able to finally locate the wreck yesterday. Still, it's all part of the fun. Quite profitable fun."

Fun? He can't be serious. I shivered; the water that soaked me seemed to be forming icicles against my skin. I thought briefly about trying to dodge away, but there was just no way.

He nodded his head in the direction of the barn, and we moved up toward the shelter of the dilapidated building that had been used for tool storage during another life. I was unsurprised to see that the hasp of the padlock had been cut through. The familiarity of the place seemed incongruous with the situation. Rain dripped in through the failing roof, echoing wetly through the dark of the room, but at least we were out of the wind. The last gray light of the afternoon filtered in through the cracks in the walls.

"You look like pure hell, Emma," Tony offered, concerned.

Resentment proved a stronger motivation than I might
have expected. "I don't need any pity, not from the likes of you!

"And just what is 'the likes of me'?" His curiosity was genuine.

The door was not ten feet away, but the gun remained unnaturally large in my vision. "Well, to start with you killed Grahame Tichnor. And Pauline!"

"Oh, come now, think about that, would you?" Tony scoffed, his pride wounded. "Were there any similarities at all between those two deaths?"

"No," I admitted. "But you might have wanted it to look that way. No one who would think of something as ... as
Borgian
as poisoning a stew would be associated with something as brutish as a bashing in someone's head with a shovel! And making it look like an accident might be right up your alley!"

It was only my anger that let me say the words out loud for the first time and keep my emotional distance. His arm had to get tired sometime, didn't it? I licked my lips and tried to think.

Tony considered my reasoning carefully. "Touche. But let me first assure you, I had nothing to do with your friend's murder. That was entirely Tichnor's stupidity. He got out of hand much sooner than I anticipated and I was forced to take drastic steps to cover up his indiscretions. Though you're correct. The 'accident'
was
my idea.

"That's the problem with working with sociopaths." Markham sighed. "He couldn't keep his mind on the task at hand and nearly blew things all to hell when he wouldn't leave your site alone. I should have known how unstable he was as soon as he told me about that first one."

"First one?" I asked, puzzled. "First one what?"

"Friend Tichnor had killed someone even before the advent of our ... association. A former chum who got too nosy about his interest in the eighteenth-century fort, Fort Archer. Quite an unanticipated turn of events, as I understand it, but his luck was bound to run out sooner or later. I just didn't think he would melt down so quickly."

My thoughts hurtled back to my second week on the site, and my happening upon poor old Augie Brooks. Somehow the logic of the discussion was keeping me going. It wasn't much, but I tried to keep that flicker of hope burning. "Why the hell would you take up with Tichnor?"

How did the bastard manage to look so calm? Why wasn't his heart pounding like mine?

"After I recognized the location of Fort Archer--and really I was quite surprised to find you out at Fort Providence so soon, I thought you weren't due out there for another year--I started thinking about how to handle this. No, you're right my dear, Tichnor was not someone I would have considered for my first pick of companions. But neither was he entirely without virtue. Tichnor was the perfect shield, a well-known troublemaker with dangerous tendencies. Who better to use as a cat's paw?"

No one's anything but a tool to you, I thought, remembering our conversation at the bar. I wondered how much he believed or whether he created his fictions especially for me. His capacity for manipulation was incredible.

I kept my eyes carefully on Tony and tried to think of what I might use as a weapon. There was nothing. I would have given my eyeteeth for one of the steel probes that we'd stored here during the summer, a pickax, a machete, anything.

"Not a bad choice, really." Tony looked like he was considering how to make inferior ingredients into a gourmet meal, intrigued by the challenge. "As soon as I heard of his exploits on your site, I knew that he would serve my purposes admirably. Once I'd seen his picture, it was easy enough to find him. He was cagey, but lacked ... subtlety. A little flattery, a little careful handling, and of course the lure of the gold-- isn't it funny, by the way, how every visitor on every site ever excavated asks if we've found any gold, and on this one, it just happens to be true?"

He was impressed with the irony of it, but I could only mutter, "Yeah. Funny."

Tony paused a moment, almost daintily considering his next words. "The other thing about Tichnor was that I knew, I just knew that, eventually, I would have to kill him. That made dealing with him bearable and ... how can I put it?"

He looked at me directly. "Rather thrilling."

I shuddered, not able to think of murder as an existential treat and trying not to think of Tony turning his considerable intellect to murder. An almost sexual eagerness radiated from him.

He went on. "I'm certain he and Billy had the same plans for me, but I don't think he was as capable of the philosophical and aesthetic appreciation of the act as I. . . So you see, it worked out for the best."

"What about Billy?" I had to keep him talking while I figured out a way out of this. My God, the door was
right
there!

"An unfortunate situation for me." Tony shook his head regretfully. "Next time I shan't allow for the possibility of partners. I only found out about Billy after Tichnor's sudden decease. Apparently those two--friends for years--were cooking up some ill-conceived scheme to do me out of my share of the goodies. When Tichnor, ah, left this vale of tears, Billy took it upon himself to blackmail his way into my life. Speaking of which, there's the second reason for you to be grateful to me."

"You'll forgive me if I can't even think of a first." Be interesting, Emma, be a puzzle. Don't let him get bored with you, the man likes a challenge.

"I'm hurt--I've always had your best interests at heart," Tony protested.

"Bullshit!"

Tony frowned, either at my disbelief or my expletive, then explained. "We knew that there was a chance that you would thread things together, and Billy wanted to be the one waiting for you. Seems he did not appreciate waking up in the drunk tank again. Our chum there wanted to renew an old
acquaintance with you, I understand--rather strong feelings about you, has our Mr. Griggs."

Oh God. I all but wilted inside. I'd forgotten that Billy was still down at the river and he wouldn't be as eager to talk as Tony. No, don't give up yet, keep thinking. "It's not the first time we met."

He nodded. "So I understand. But as far as Tichnor goes, you can't possibly believe that it was only my anger with his idiotic blunder and a needless cover-up that led me to kill him?"

"I have no idea, Tony."

Tony surprised me by sounding genuinely aggrieved. "I was outraged on your behalf. Ever since last summer, when I discovered the French report, I've been discreetly investigating this area, trying on the idea for size. I thought I recognized the layout from your interview lectures at Caldwell. And I was right. So, from a distance, of course, I'd had the chance to learn a little about your Pauline."

"She was no one's Pauline but her own," I said, but I felt ill. I had led them both to Pauline, however indirectly.

Tony nodded. "Pauline Westlake," he said, "as anybody could see, was an admirable woman and did not deserve so ignominious a death. Tichnor was a fool and a wastrel. When the idiot was finished crowing about how he had recovered such wonderful things from your site and then murdered Miss Westlake, I was forced to cover up his impetuousness by attempting to make her death look like an accident.

"He just couldn't leave well enough alone--imagine being distracted from the search for a fortune in gold by petty site robbery. He was drawing attention to us.

"I have to admit that I rather charmed myself with the solution: I'd noticed the lilies of the valley near the house. It was a shockingly sentimental gesture, but one that I couldn't resist. After I got done arranging the 'gas leak' at Greycliff, I returned to join Tichnor for a late, celebratory dinner. Only he started eating before I did and suddenly began to feel rather poorly. Very quickly."

Markham paused. "I watched him die, Emma. He did not die prettily or well. You may consider your friend appropriately avenged. I'm sure that you would have done the same, had you been presented with the opportunity; I mean, we all saw Allan Crabtree's thesis. I thought you would appreciate my action."

Dear God, I thought. He really is waiting for me to thank him. I tried to keep my legs from buckling, thinking about Tony calmly, interestedly watching a man die in convulsions. Just like he's watching me now, I thought. He wouldn't have any trouble pulling that trigger when it came down to it. I only had a chance as long as I amused him, gave him something to think about.

"He deserved it," I managed to sputter.

Tony looked gratified by that. "It was a simple matter to blur my trail a little," he said. "Unfortunately, it was my one slipup where you were concerned: I was so eager to compare one of the details of my copy of the French map with your topographic maps in the storage room that I didn't wait long enough for everyone to leave. It was funny; that day in the storeroom you thought it was odd that Chuck had already left, that he usually waited until the rest of us had gone before he left. Well, he saw the light on in the storeroom on his way out, and I didn't have time to do anything but shove my map in with yours before he came in to check. I told him I was finished and we closed up the room as we left. But then
you
stopped by on your way out--you weren't the only one to be surprised that day! My impatience was regrettable, but really, it is a fascinating thing to watch in oneself under such a situation."

I shuddered.