Chapter 17

Late that afternoon, Pat Riley came back from town and went straight to Maggie's cottage.

He looked rather glum, and Maggie knew he expected her to fail in her quest.

"Well, have you figured out who did the dirty deed?" he asked kindly.

"Indeed, I have," Maggie replied blithely.

Pat sat down and regarded her somberly. "Oh, really?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I know who. I don't know why. Yet."

Pat reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed it lightly to his forehead. "Suppose, you tell me all about it," he said, his manner hushed.

"I sent for Bradford. I think he has the answers I need to wrap it up. Actually, it's quite simple. I knew that Andrea didn't do it. She still loved Duncan. Which doesn't mean much, I guess. Lovers kill each other all the time. More importantly, she's inherently incapable of killing anyone, and she had no motive. Emma didn't do it. She's a coward. And she has an alibi."

"How so?"

"She really was in the woods for a long time that morning. Waiting for Bradford, I think, who slept late. She came here that afternoon, simply chewed up by chiggers."

"Maybe she was there the day before?"

"No, the itching would have stopped by the time she came to me for help. She didn't go into the woods that afternoon because she was in the house with the rest of us. Trying to wear out the floor with her pacing.

"That leaves Bradford and Tyson Smithfield. And Andrea. You still haven't solved the problem of her ring."

"Yes, I have," Maggie said.

She felt a momentary flash of regret. Her evidence, her words, would send a fellow creature down that long and ignominious road that always ends so tragically.

Pat sensed her feeling. "You can't help the poor wretch now," he said. "Remember the old saying: If you can't do the time, don't do the crime."

"Oh, I know," Maggie said sadly. She looked at her right hand-the hand that held the pen. "Still, writing about murder isn't the same as facing it in real life, is it?" She lifted her head when the knock came on the door and said, "Come in."

Bradford entered and looked uncertainly at her and the reporter. "You wanted to see me, Maggie?" he said.

"Yes, Bradford," Maggie replied. "You owed Duncan Crane and Tyson Smithfield money, didn't you?"

"How did you know?" said Bradford.

"It came up in conversations I've had in the past couple of days. I know you used the house as collateral for the note you gave Tyson. What was your collateral for Duncan's note?"

"The house," Bradford said sheepishly.

"I see," Maggie said slowly. "Whose note was dated first?"

He stared at her defiantly. "Duncan's. I had some bad debts-gambling markers. I had to have cash in a hurry so they wouldn't break my knees."

"And Tyson's note?"

"Commodities trading. I sold some cattle futures short, and they went up. I couldn't cover the margin call.

Maggie felt curiously cold. Andrea's brother had betrayed her. "So, Duncan and Tyson thought they owned the house? When actually, neither of them did."

"Well, yes.. .if you want to put it that way."

Pat rose and began to pace silently. The extent of Maggie's digging surprised him.

"And neither knew that you don't own the collateral. Andrea merely lets you live here out of the goodness of her heart. And you betrayed her trust. Emma probably knows about Duncan's dealings with you. She probably thinks she will inherit the estate now."

"I don't know," Bradford replied. "I never thought of that."

Pat started to speak, and Maggie silenced him. "No, he really didn't think of it," she said wearily. "He didn't kill Duncan. If he had, he would also have had to kill Tyson. Tyson also owed Duncan money. I'm guessing now, but I think Tyson was manipulating the commodities futures trading. He assigned losses to Bradford and Duncan, and pocketed the profits. Bradford was a babe in the woods. He didn't know that he was being swindled.

"Duncan knew. He came here to have it out with Tyson. Tyson didn't have the money to repay Duncan for his losses, and couldn't let him go to the authorities. Ergo, Tyson had no choice but to kill Duncan. Bradford probably let slip that he had also used the estate as collateral on a note to Duncan. By killing Duncan, he killed two birds with one stone, so to speak."

"What about all the records of trades?" Pat asked. "Surely Tyson knew they would be found after Duncan's death and convict him of fraud."

"Duncan told me that he was going to get Tyson, and had all the proof he needed in his briefcase," Bradford said. "I thought he was just blowing smoke. He and Tyson have never liked each other. Duncan thought Tyson and Andrea were lovers, and he hated the idea."

"Tyson took charge after I 'discovered' Duncan's body," Maggie said. "He was upstairs, downstairs, and all around the house. He probably simply took Duncan's briefcase and hid it. The sheriff's men didn't find it." She turned a level gaze on Bradford. "Unless you did it for him, Bradford. Did he offer you a deal? You hide the evidence, and he would lend you more money?"

The color rose in Bradford's face. "No! I didn't know anything about his affairs with Duncan."

Maggie frowned. "I wonder how Tyson knew what to look for."

"If Duncan came here to have it out with Tyson, he probably threatened Tyson. He would have to at least allude to the evidence to make his threat credible. His briefcase was the obvious place to look."

"Maybe I told him," Bradford said reluctantly. "Duncan told me that he had my note in his briefcase and I told Tyson."

"If Duncan or Tyson tried to record those notes, they would have known that Bradford didn't own the collateral," Pat mused.

"I asked them to keep it quiet," Bradford said, flushing. "I was going to convince Andrea to put my name on the deed."

Maggie looked at Bradford's miserable young face. "I wonder how Tyson expected to silence you."

Pat said, "Since we're making a lot of suppositions, let's suppose that Tyson knew that Bradford's name wasn't on the deed. Tyson and Andrea were close. Perhaps she said something that alerted him. In that case, he had all he needed to guarantee Bradford's silence."

"Of course," Maggie agreed. "Bradford was guilty of fraud. In this case, probably a federal case, since it involved commodities trading."

"Well, I've learned my lesson," Bradford said dully.

"The authorities will decide that," Maggie said.

"If Tyson destroyed the evidence, how are you going to prove all this?" Bradford asked.

"By your testimony," said Maggie. "And the ring."

"Ring?" Bradford said. Pat stopped pacing and perked up his ears. "So, we're back to Andrea? She's in this after all, isn't she?"

"No!" Maggie said quickly. "Duncan was reading the newspaper when Tyson shot him. The drapes were closed, so the lamp by his chair had to be on. It wasn't burning when I entered the library. Tyson had to turn it off. And, ever since then, he has been very careful to avoid artificial light."

"What are you talking about?" Bradford said. "You aren't making sense."

"I'm making perfect sense," Maggie said. "Tyson wasn't wearing the ring the night he arrived. Maybe he thought the red color would clash with his green tie. He made a point of showing George the ring after we found Duncan, and asking if it was the ring that George saw. Of course George said no. The ring he saw was red, and the ring Tyson showed him was green. Tyson made the mistake of lighting a cigarette for me this morning, and suddenly everything fell into place."

"Stop talking in riddles, for God's sake!" Bradford exploded. "First, you say that Tyson's ring is green, then you say it's red. It's an emerald, and emeralds are green."

"It isn't an emerald," Maggie said firmly. "It's an alexandrite."

"What the hell is an alexandrite?" Bradford said impatiently.

"A variety of chrysoberyl," Maggie said. "Named after Alexander II, Czar of Russia. "Emerald-green by daylight, and deep red by artificial light."

"Well, I'll be damned," Pat muttered. "George saw a ruby, and we saw an emerald. When George misidentified the color of the wisteria, it didn't mean a thing."

"Exactly," Maggie said. "Something kept nibbling at my brain, but I couldn't pin it down until Tyson lit my cigarette and I saw the stone change color in the flame of his lighter. I've read about such a stone, but I've never seen one. They're quite rare, and very expensive."

"I'll say," Pat agreed. "Tyson's just might cost him his life. At the very least, he's going to be in prison for a long, long time."