The Frighteners (41 page)

“Yes, sir.”

He started for the door and turned. “It occurred to me that you might want to know a little more about the young woman who was killed at the Black Rocks, so I ordered an investigation.”

Just about the time you decide you’re working for a ruthlessly programmed robot he goes and turns human on you.

“What did you find out?” I asked.

“Nothing. So far we have discovered no record of her before she appeared in Guaymas associated with Jorge Medina de Campo. If you wish, we can continue . . ."

“No.” It was better to remember her as a little warrior girl who came out of nowhere, unexplained. “But thank you, sir.”

He nodded and left the room. Later in the day I had two more visitors. Horace Hosmer Cody held himself very straight and showed few effects of his wound or his age; he was wearing boots, jeans, a double-breasted gray shirt with snaps instead of buttons, a bolo tie that I recognized—apparently Jo had given him back his lucky piece—and a big hat, which he took off in deference to the sickroom atmosphere. His companion was wearing high-heeled white sandals, yellow linen slacks, and a yellow satin blouse with a blue silk scarf at the throat. I’d forgotten how lovely and adult she could look with her makeup intact and her golden hair smoothly pinned and sprayed into place. When she saw me in the bed, she gave a little gasp of pity and came hurrying forward on her high heels to kiss me lightly on the mouth. I was aware that Jo was standing in the doorway, looking amused.

“Oh, you poor man, what have they been doing to you?” Gloria breathed.

“Shooting me, mostly,” I said. “It’s practically a national pastime. Hi, Gloria.”

“Well, you seem to be in good hands.” There was a faint, how-could-you-forget-me-so-soon sharpness to her voice, but it was the mechanical reaction of the truly beautiful woman who expects all men to remain at her feet until dismissed. There had been nothing in the kiss, and we both knew that the little fire that had burned for a moment one night in the mountains had long since flickered out. She straightened up. “Well, I hope you get well soon, Matt. My . . . my husband wants to talk to you.”

I watched her go out of the room, followed by Jo. Horace Hosmer Cody came forward.

“Looks like they’ve been giving you a rough time, son.”

“It’s a rough life,” I said. I glanced at the empty doorway. ‘‘Husband? I thought that wedding had been rigged so it wouldn’t take.”

“That’s what the man told her when he was setting me up, but he never bothered to fix it. Just as well; otherwise we’d have to go through the damn ceremony again.” He grinned at me. “Still think I’m all kinds of a villain, don’t you, boy?”

“Well, half a villain, or maybe just a quarter. You’re not an arms smuggler, and you didn’t have Pierce and Millicent Charles killed, and I don’t think you have any designs on Gloria’s life or money, but there seems to be no doubt that you did send the frighteners after her to scare her into marrying you.”

“That’s right, and it’s a big joke between us.” The old man reached out and pulled a chair close so he could sit down. “Ah, that’s better. It’s hell on a man my age, still a little short of red corpuscles, keeping up with a young wife. What money?”

“What?”

“That little gal’s got no money at all, mister. That vampire woman, Millie, got Will Pierce to clean it all out, even the trust funds left to Glory by her mother. He was executor; he could do it, and he did. And lost it all, the damn woman-crazy fool. ” Cody drew a long breath. “I’m a dirty old man, son. I’ve loved that little gal since she was old enough to start walking. Don’t ask me to explain it. Your headshrinker lady friend might know. Never took a step out of line though, all the time she was growing up, that would have spoiled it. I knew, I just knew, son, that sooner or later the time would come when she’d need me, and I’d be right there.”

“And the time came?’ I said.

“What was she going to do without money, the way she’d been brought up? Marry some rich slob who’d make her unhappy? Can you see her working a supermarket checkout counter or selling real estate? And here’s old Buff Cody with money running out his ears. . . . What was I going to do? I was good old Uncle Buffy to her. She’d have thought I was joking if I asked her to marry me. Should I have told her she was flat broke penniless, and here was a million, two million, five million, and all she had to do was . . . I couldn’t goddamn buy her, could I? So, what the hell, I scared her. I knew she’d come to me in trouble, she always had when she was frightened or worried. Not a nice thing to do, but who ever said Buff Cody was nice? Anyway, it worked, and she’s forgiven me, and we laugh about it now.”

“Have you forgiven her?”

He frowned. “What are you driving at?”

I licked my lips. “If I’d known a girl since she was a baby, and she’d known me, I wouldn’t feel too damn happy if she suddenly decided I was capable of murdering her for her money, just on the word of a two-bit thug bribed or intimidated into lying by a two-bit bureaucrat.”

The old man looked at me for a moment; then he smiled thinly. ‘‘I guess you’re younger than you look in those whiskers, putting the ladies on pedestals, like plaster saints. There ain’t much of that kind of loyalty around, boy. I’d given Glory plenty cause for suspicion; how can I blame her for buying the whole package?” He cleared his throat, rising. “Incidentally, she’s likely to be a rich woman sooner than she thinks. Had a few problems before and seems like running around with a bullet in the back didn’t help them none. But no need for her to know that, yet. Well, take care of yourself, son. Like they say, you’d better, nobody else is going to.”

We shook hands, and he started for the door. I spoke to his retreating back: “I hate to contradict an old man, but you seem to be a pretty nice guy, actually.”

He didn’t turn his head. “Don’t tell anybody, son, or it’ll cost me money.”

Then it was evening, and Jo brought in my liquid diet. I wouldn’t want to flatter it by calling it a dinner. She’d eaten in the kitchen and brought a cup of coffee to keep me company. She was wearing blue jeans and a loose white shirt with the tails out. No silver. She sat there studying me for a while, and I thought she was evaluating the situation. She was thinking that Gloria was beautiful but meaningless; any woman who let the lovely Glorias of the world bother her was a fool. There had been another girl who could have been much more significant, but she was dead. That left only the two of us, and the question of whether a civilized woman like her could, or should, find any kind of satisfactory relationship with an uncivilized gent like me.

“We’ll have that intravenous apparatus out of there in a couple of days,” she said. “Easier to get the antibiotics into you that way than stuffing them down your throat. Mean as you are, a girl could lose a couple of fingers. . . . I saw it, you know. The way you teased that man into grabbing the gun, standing there looking as if you were half-asleep, and let him fumble with it awhile, and then shot him.”

“I told you to take a walk.”

She spoke calmly: “You’re a dreadful man, darling. One of these days I’ll undoubtedly start disapproving of you very strongly, the way any decent woman would. That’s assuming that I’m a decent woman. In any case, professional pride compels me to get you well, first. After that, well, we’ll just have to see see how it goes, won’t we?”