“What’s this ‘Mr.’ stuff, Peg? I’ve known you for years.”
She forced herself up straight and said with immense dignity, “Because this is business, and business has its own language.” I heard the echo of Hank in that statement.
“All right, Mrs. Pinster. What can I do for you?”
“I want you to find my husband and clear his name. He did not set fire to the stable, either accidentally or on purpose.”
“I know,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her how.
“There’s already talk. Nobody’s seen him since before the fire, and people mutter about arson after I walk past with the children. The ashes aren’t even cold yet.”
“Okay. But I need to ask you some questions about last night. And I need you to be honest with me.”
“Of course.”
“What happened just before the fire started?”
“We were eating a late dinner, just Hank and I. I’d fed the kids earlier and put them to bed. Someone knocked at the door. That happens fairly often; people get into town late and need to put up their horses. So Hank went to the door and answered it.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t see from where I was. Hank talked to them for a minute, then excused himself to go with them. He was gone a long time, and I dozed off. Then Cornelius, our middle son, woke up because he smelled smoke.”
“Any idea how much time had passed?”
She shook her head. “I would assume not long. But I can’t say for certain. I tried to get into the stable, but the fire was already out of control. I had to take care of the kids; I didn’t have time to find Hank.” New tears filled her battered eyes. “He was always so careful.
…”
I went around the desk, sat on the edge and took her hand. “Somebody set the fire, Peg. I could smell it when I went in. You couldn’t have helped; it spread too fast.”
She nodded, and dabbed at her eyes.
“Did Hank seem anxious before the person arrived? Like he was expecting someone?”
She shook her head. “No. In fact, he looked surprised when he opened the door.”
“Did he look up, like the person was taller than him?”
She frowned in concentration. “I don’t think so. I can’t say for sure.”
“That’s okay. Did you overhear anything that they talked about, or did Hank react in any way that seemed strange?”
“He shook his head a lot, like he was answering questions ‘no.’ ”
“Did he seem to be talking to more than one person?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
I nodded. This was about to get really uncomfortable for a whole lot of reasons, not least because I knew for certain her husband was dead and she apparently didn’t. “Peg, I hate to ask this, but have you and Hank been having any trouble lately? Money problems, or, ah… personal issues?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No. I swear to you. The stable was doing fine; we were doing fine. We’d even talked about having another…” Her lower lip trembled as she tried to get the word out. “… child.”
There was no sense in prolonging this. I stood, made sure both the outer and inner doors were closed, then knelt in front of her. I took her hands. “Peg, I have to tell you something. Right now only Liz, Gary Bunson and Angelina downstairs know about it.”
She looked up at me with a mix of hope and dread that could easily break a heart much harder than mine.
“Hank’s dead,” I said, sharp and clear. “He was in the barn when Gary and I went in. He was already dead when we found him. And the fire didn’t kill him; he’d been murdered.”
She showed absolutely no reaction for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was normal. “That large man, the one who works for the officer from the capital, said he checked the stable before the fire got so bad. He said no one was in there.”
“He told me the same thing. He’s either blind or a liar.”
She nodded. Again, it was as if I’d reported nothing more important than a new coat of paint. She said, “Then I’d like to hire you to find out who killed my husband, and why. And bring that person to justice.”
“So noted.” I stood and went back around my desk. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll help myself to a drink. My throat’s still sore from all the smoke.”
That was true, but it wasn’t why I wanted a drink. While I fished the bottle from its hiding place in the bottom drawer, Peg said, “And I suppose we should discuss your fee.”
When I looked up, she was naked to the waist and in the process of undoing her underskirt. Her hair fell loose past her shoulders and made her look young and wild. I jumped to my feet. “Whoa, Peg, what are you doing?”
In the same mechanical, normal-sounding voice she said, “I have no money, Mr. LaCrosse. I’ll pay with what I do have.”
I turned away and looked out the window, not before realizing that a less scrupulous sword jockey would’ve hit the jackpot. Peg was round in all the right places, and all those kids had left very few traces on her body. But there was no way, even if I’d been unattached, that I’d jump even a willing widow the very day after her husband died. “Put your clothes on, Peg. You should know me better than that. You don’t have to pay me; Hank was my friend.”
“Yes, I do. Hank always insisted we pay as we go. Except for his bar tab here, he didn’t owe anyone anything.”
“All right, you can pay me, but not that way.” She was silent and still behind me. “I’m serious, Peg. Put your clothes on.”
In a small voice she said, “I’d never tell Liz. No one would ever know.”
“I’d know. And so would you. I understand Hank’s rules, admire him for them actually, but they don’t apply here.”
Another silent moment passed. Then fabric rustled as she began dressing. When she’d had time to finish, I turned and faced her. She was lacing up the last bit of her dress front. I said, “Most of your livestock got out okay, right?”
“Yes. They’re a bit scattered, but except for one colt so badly burned we had to put him down this morning, they’re all safe.”
“Well, here’s how you can pay me, then. I need a new horse.”
ELEVEN
I should’ve seen it coming. Anyone else would’ve.
Hank’s eldest son, Bruce, who now looked suddenly much older than his fifteen years, delivered the beast to me at the tavern an hour after I spoke to his mom. Somewhere he’d acquired a beat-up old saddle, as mine had also burned up in the stable. The creature regarded me with the same animosity I felt toward her.
“She’s a little contrary,” Bruce said. “But since you’ve borrowed her before, you already know that.” He held out a folded piece of vellum. “Here’s her papers.”
“Thanks,” I said with all the considerable cynicism I could muster. I had no one to blame but myself for not being specific. “Tell me, didn’t you have any other horses? Maybe a three-legged one with a missing eye or something?”
He looked at me with the same vaguely perplexed expression my sarcasm always elicited from his late father. “No, this is the only one left. Mom traded the rest for a farm outside of town. She says we’re never coming back to Neceda again.”
“Well, tell her thank you. And that I’ll be in touch.”
He started to turn away, then stopped and faced me again. He stood to his full height. “My daddy didn’t burn down the stable.”
“I know.”
“And once I get Mom settled, I’ll be finding out who did.”
He said it with a real attempt to sound like a grown man. I said, “Before you do, come see me.”
“Why?”
I had my sword out and at his throat before he’d finished exhaling the word. My free hand grabbed the back of his hair and held him firm against the blade. Nothing he could do, even kicking me in the balls, could stop me from slitting his throat, and he knew it. His eyes were wide with a child’s terror. In the same reasonable tone I said, “Because whoever killed your dad can do this, too. And your mom doesn’t deserve to lose anyone else.”