"I didn't get any money from Marchmount, Mr. Michaels."
"And you left the state that night?" There was no shadow of blame or cynicism in Michaels' tired eyes, merely the expectation of an answer to a calm question.
"There seemed nothing left for me to do under the circumstances," I replied as calmly.
Michaels sat back a little. "Galvano underestimated both you and Marchmount, Mrs. Clery. But he was essentially a stupid man, scared enough to try anything to get the grass ring off his neck."
"Including faking his own death?" asked Rafe.
Michaels shook his head, taking another swallow of coffee. He kept the cup cradled in one hand, as if the warmth of the coffee helped.
"He didn't. The grass ring"-Michaels grimaced- "obliged. Or so Galvano assumes. Which I'll buy. The man killed was the same cousin who stood in for him at Mexico. Who felt he could borrow Galvano's Pontiac without permission. Only someone had thoughtfully drained the brake fluid. Galvano was so furious remembering the loss of the car he'd planned to use to leave the state, that I believe he's telling the truth. Of course, draining brake fluid suggests premeditation in homicide, which was why he was quite willing to confess to the second-degree-murder charge."
"Hey, just a minute," Rafe demanded, half-rising from his chair. "What do you mean, second-degree murder? And what about Pete Sankey, too? And…"
"Galvano did not kill Pete Sankey," Michaels said so firmly that Rafe was momentarily silenced. "I hope you don't think me callous, Mrs. Clery, but we had to force the truth from Galvano. He will have to stand trial for your father's murder."
I put my hand on Michaels', understanding what he was unable to come out and say. I no longer wanted a death for a death, even if Rafe was still out for vengeance for my sake. I wanted only that the trial cleared my father's name. And I did not want the trial to ruin mine. Therefore I had to practice compassion or expect none myself. "Rafe, that's what I want. That's all I want." The anger faded from my husband's face, and he nodded slowly.
"All right, how come Galvano didn't kill Pete Sankey?"
"In a moment. He did admit that he slit the girth and tried to spook the black, Mrs. Clery. He was motivated by sheer malice. He recognized the sorrel mare, found out you owned the gelding, and decided he owed you a thing or two because your father had ruined him. But he was rather… incensed… to be charged with barn-burning."
"What? Who else could it have been? And why?"
"Someone else who knew a great deal about Nialla and Russ Donnelly, Caps Galvano, and Marchmount was in Sunbury that weekend."
"You must mean Marchmount?"
"No, I don't." And the faintest suspicion of satisfaction in stumping Rafe crossed the lieutenant's face. "Remember that Galvano had to go into hiding after his 'death,' and all he had was the thousand dollars from Marchmount and the five hundred from Mrs. Clery. That wasn't enough to get him out of the country, although he was now beyond the grass ring. He had plenty on Marchmount and had those photos faked. He had Nialla's face stripped in because he felt he could use that as a further lever against Marchmount. And then, as he tells it, he got to wondering why Marchmount was so eager to clear his own name. He knew all Marchmount's haunts, and with a little discreet phoning, found out that Marchmount had been in San Fernando at the time of Russell Donnelly's murder, and not at the hotel in Tijuana as he claimed. So Galvano pretended to be his cousin, the one so conveniently murdered in his place, who had come across some photos in Galvano's effects which would give a very good motive for Russell Donnelly's death. He asked for five thousand dollars and got it so fast, he realized he could have got much more. Marchmount was scared to death. He waited a week and called again, but that was when Marchmount had the first heart attack. So Galvano was forced to wait until Marchmount was out of the hospital. By then, Marchmount had applied to the Secrest Agency, a very reputable firm, by the way."
"Urscoll!" Rafe pounded the table so hard, everything jumped but the coffee cup Michaels was holding.
"Right!"
Rafe's face went through a variety of changes, from surprise, awe, disappointment, to tight-lipped fury.
"Why, that bastard!"
"Yes, he had found a unique situation and was exploiting it all he could."
Rafe angrily waved his hand. "Pete Sankey was worth four of Marchmount. And burning a barn around horses! Bastard!"
Michaels nodded sadly. "Urscoll spotted Galvano at the fairgrounds when he was leaving the station wagon. He'd been well briefed, of course, on the case, and had seen the mug shots I showed you, Mrs. Cleary. He also knew exactly how Galvano was blackmailing Marchmount, and applied his knowledge. However, if he were going to cover his tracks, there was his chance. By getting Galvano to bear all the suspicion, he'd be blameless. So he burned the barn, an act aimed completely at you, Nialla Donnelly Clery, because it didn't take long for Urscoll to figure out why there'd been two attempts on your life. He also knew that Marchmount wouldn't last much longer. Then, when Mrs. Madison drove Marchmount down here, he followed in Marchmount's car… and gave a certain hitchhiker a ride all the way from Sunbury to Locust Valley, even pointed out the various estates to his passenger."
"How do you know this?"
Michaels looked at Rafe a long moment after the quiet, deadly question.
"Urscoll told us. We caught him." Michaels gave a sigh of justifiable satisfaction. "At the airport, during a routine preflight inspection. He had a thirty-eight on him, for which he produced his license, but he also had fifty thousand dollars in cash he couldn't explain so easily."
"But the phone call… and… those awful photos…" My hand went to my throat.
"Oh, that was Galvano, He couldn't reach Marchmount in a terminal coma-he died this morning-and he was desperate. You'd married money, he had incriminating photos. Twenty thousand dollars would set him up nicely in Canada."
"And he never knew that Urscoll had raked in all that money?"
"How would he? Urscoll had cleverly been keeping Marchmount on the move. Galvano was following, yes, because he could guess where Marchmount might go, but he didn't really catch up until Sunbury."
"God, the colossal nerve of the man!"
"Except for the airlines' nervousness, he'd have got away."
"He didn't seem that kind of a man," I said, rather horrified. Who could you trust? "I mean, he seemed honestly worried about Mr. Marchmount.".
"He was," Rafe replied sardonically. "He had a bankroll at stake."
"How can people be that way?"
Rafe cocked an eyebrow at me, a cynical expression in his eyes.
"So," he asked Michaels, "what happens now?"
"Galvano stands trial in California, and Urscoll in New York State."
"And Nialla will have to appear in both?"
Michaels nodded unhappily. "But the cases are both open-and-shut, with signed confessions. Nothing to worry about." And he meant that.
Mrs. Garrison set down a sizzling steak platter in front of the startled man. w
"My God, I thought you were joking," he said.
"Rafe rarely jokes about steaks," I told him, receiving my steak with a great deal of anticipation.
Michaels did look better when we'd finished breakfast, and he said he had to get back to Sunbury.
"Will you have a chance to rest now?" I asked, rather worried about him.
"With a little luck," he said, shaking the hand I offered him.
"You deserve a great deal."
He ducked his head with embarrassment and walked quickly toward the door, but Rafe got to it first and held it shut.
"Jim…" Rafe's hand was out, and he was displaying one of those fantastically winning smiles of his "… I have never bribed a policeman"-and the emphasis was complimentary-"before, but if a quiet cabin on a secluded lake in the Adirondacks would ensure a couple of weeks of rest and relaxation, there could be a first time."