Never Hug a Mugger on Quadra Island (34 page)

No, Austin was right. Tim had known personal violence wouldn't be Austin's way. Yet Tim knew Austin was responsible for Derek's coma. And not by flinging words at Derek. Maybe—words to someone else? Had Austin paid someone to beat Derek up? Austin paid people to get things done. Had he—oh wow! Yes! “You wouldn't do it yourself. You'd get someone to do it.”

Slowly Austin shook his head. “Now you really are going too far, Timmy. This is completely ridiculous. You and Shane have to leave now.”

“No, not just someone.” Tim knew now. It made total sense. “Randy. You got Randy to kick the shit out of Derek. Didn't you? Didn't you!”

“Shane, take your brother and go.” He faced Kyra and Noel. “And you two as well.”

“You did, didn't you?”

Austin shook his head. “I never ever would do such a thing.” Sadness in his voice.

Tim heard the lie. “Come on, Shane, let's ride.”

Shane shuffled to his feet, held himself supported with the crutches, and turned to the door. Tim held it open and they both passed through, Kyra and Noel behind them.

Austin followed the little parade. “Shane, I'll see you tomorrow. Timmy, take care of your brother. He'll be much better very soon. And you please watch your tongue. You don't want to say slanderous things in public.”

Shane stepped outside. “So long, Austin.”

Tim thought,
if that guy uses “Timmy” one more time I'll strangle him
. But Austin said nothing. Tim couldn't stop himself from adding, “Anyway, Derek's come out of the coma and he'll tell us who beat him up. We'll know soon, Austin.” He put his arm around Shane's waist when they reached the steps and helped him down.

•  •  •

Austin closed the door and walked back to his study. He wasn't prepared to talk with Shu-li now, let alone Steve.

From bad to terrible. A dangerous accusation. That Timmy should think Austin Osborne capable of hitting someone, again and again.

Yes, he'd been angry when Shane refused to commit himself to a second fall. But that was normal. Angry because Shane didn't understand it was for his own good, for the safety of his splendid career.

Back then, a month, six weeks ago? Austin had felt thoroughly despondent. He had thought about picking up the phone, calling Shu-li. He didn't, not because someone might overhear, just . . . it wasn't the kind of conversation for the telephone. You speak face to face when worrying about plans going awry. Too much could be misunderstood if you couldn't watch the other person's expression.

He'd had no one to talk to. Need to think, need to think. He'd plucked some mint from the garden and found the cucumber in the fridge. He'd cut himself a spear, mint at the bottom of the glass, poured in the Pimms, dropped the cuke into the liquid. Randy knew how Austin liked his drink, always made sure to stock the refrigerator with fresh cucumber. He'd sat in front of the fire and let his mind wander. Shane must fall one more time, this was imperative.

When Randy had arrived Austin was into his third Pimms. “Randy, come join me, make yourself a drink.”

“Thanks, Austin.” He'd poured a Scotch and joined Austin by the fire. They talked of the projects Randy had worked on while Austin was back in Ottawa—the new flagstone walkway, the deck's roof repairs, replacement to a section of fence that kept the deer out. Randy was good at seeing what needed doing. So it seemed natural to speculate about Shane, the need for Shane to act as he was told. For his own good, of course. Sometimes one had to be taught a lesson, Austin hypothesized. “Don't you think so?”

“Yep, that's sometimes necessary.”

“Of course we have to be careful with Shane. He's a valuable person. He shouldn't come to any harm.”

“Yeah, that'd be terrible.”

“Really terrible.” A weariness to Austin's words: “He's sometimes so thick. I've warned him, if he doesn't follow my directions to the letter, someone might get hurt.”

“That'd be bad.”

“But he's doing just that.”

“Just what?”

“Not following directions.”

“Yeah. That's not good.”

“So he has to be taught a lesson. He doesn't get it when I tell him things directly.”

Randy had nodded. “Maybe he could figure it out indirectly.”

Austin sipped his Pimms. “Maybe. Yes, maybe.”

That was all. They'd each had another drink. Later Austin grilled himself a small steak and baked a sweet potato, he remembered. A couple of days later he headed back to Ottawa. Not until he'd talked to Shane a few weeks later did he learn how terribly Derek had been beaten.

And what now, with Timmy shooting off his mouth? Wild guesses. Stupid Randy. And the boy in the hospital, out of the coma. What if he figures out who hit him?

•  •  •

The four gathered at Derek's truck. Noel said, “That was a crazy, confronting Osborne, just the two of you.”

“Scary,” said Tim, “but not crazy. We learned something.”

“You learned what you should have figured before, that Austin wouldn't tell you anything, just try to frighten you off.”

“He told us why he wanted Shane to fall while competing. Before you came in.”

“He did?” Kyra asked. “Why?”

Tim glanced at Shane, who said, “He was trying to save me from Harold Arensen.”

“What do you mean, save?”

Shane repeated what Austin had told him. “And, I think, it's a kind of revenge for Austin. He wants to ruin Arensen's reputation.”

Noel said, “That makes no sense.”

“It's how Austin thinks. He makes these connections in his head and everything that follows from them is logical. In his terms.”

“I don't get it,” said Kyra.

“Tim,” said Noel, “tell me about Randy. Who is he?”

“Oh, just a guy. He works for Osborne, all kinds of jobs around the house. He worked for my dad a couple of years in the woodlot. He gives me the creeps.”

“Because of how he looks?”

“How he acts, how he moves. Sort of—stealthy, almost.”

“What's he look like?”

“Normal. Taller than Austin. Maybe thirty-five, forty.” He tried to image Randy. “He's strong, got big shoulders.”

“And you think Randy hurt Derek on Osborne's orders?”

Tim nodded. “I'd bet on it.”

Austin Osborne, standing on the top step: “Go! Leave!”

“Come on,” said Noel. “Let's reconvene at your parents' place.”

Tim and Shane drove together from the Osborne house, followed by Kyra and Noel. “Well,” she said, “that was a show.”

“Yeah, like opening Pandora 's box.”

“Dangerous for Derek?”

“Yes. But I told Jason to get a guard posted at Derek's door.” They turned onto Hyacinthe Bay Road. “You believe Tim's right, that it was Randy who beat up Derek?”

Kyra considered this. “It's a hypothesis. Maybe we've found our black hats.”

“What about that crazy reason for Shane falling?”

“It seems—I don't know. So minimal. Such a little thing causing such a mess. He wasn't even trying to fix a competition.”

Noel's cell phone buzzed. Ah, network contact. He took the phone from his pocket, read call display. “Alana.”

“You shouldn't talk on the phone while driving.”

He scowled at her and pressed Talk. “Hi.”

“Hi. I'm here just outside Derek's room. He's waking, then going back under. He's been doing it for the past couple of hours, Cindy says.”

“He saying anything?”

“Some words. Not making a lot of sense. At least not to me.”

“His parents understanding any of it?”

“They're just glad he's making sounds. Linda acts like he's back all the way.”

“How're you doing?”

“I'm fine. Shorty was here when we arrived. He just left. You two okay?”

“All in control. Should we come over?”

“Not much going on.”

“Okay. Keep in touch.” He flipped the lid closed and reported to Kyra. She seemed off somewhere inside her head. They followed Derek's truck as it turned right toward the woodlots, and down the drive to the Cooper house. A couple of hundred feet behind the now parked truck, Kyra touched Noel's arm. “Stop here.”

He squinted at her, braked and came to a halt. “What's up?”

“Randy. If he beat up Derek, who knocked Tim off the road and pushed me into the ditch? No, don't answer, I'll tell you. Randy. And Randy again beating up Zeke. The death's head mask. And Tim thought he saw a clown driving the van. Another mask.”

“And it's all Randy . . .”

“And Osborne's giving the orders.”

“But why Tim?”

“To push Shane into obeying Osborne. However ridiculous you and I think it is.”

“Derek too?”

“That's where it all began. At least for Jason and Linda.”

“And the Honda, that was because Randy or whoever thought I was in there with you. Why would Randy want to get rid of us?”

“Because Osborne thought we were learning too much about who beat up Derek.”

“He sure was wrong there. If Tim hadn't been knocked off the road, we'd be nowhere.” He sighed. “Okay, how do we test this hypothesis of yours?”

“We ask Randy.”

“To admit it?” He was not liking Kyra's tactics, not at all.

“To see how he reacts.”

“Whoever wiped out Zeke and Derek's a powerful guy. If it's Randy, I can predict how he'll react.”

“There're two of us. And I've got my Mace. Let's go talk to him.”

“You know where he lives?” Maybe they wouldn't find him.

“Tim and Shane will.”

Noel accelerated and stopped behind the truck. Tim was still helping Shane get down. Yes, Shane knew where Randy lived—in a cabin on Austin's land. A left turn as you leave the heavy wooded area, along a small dirt road. “You going to confront him?”

“We just want to talk to him,” said Noel.

Tim said, “If he's the one who wiped out Derek—”

“We'll be careful.” Kyra said. “If we're not back by nightfall, send out the dogs.”

Noel turned the car around and headed out the drive. “Back to where we came from.”

“Not quite. A new bit of the geography.”

“I don't get it. Osborne has a crazy notion about saving Shane from this guy Arensen, and it sets off a chain reaction.” They were asking for trouble, he could feel it.

•  •  •

Not stupid Randy. Dangerous Randy. Shane's little brother, too smart by half, was he going to blab? Austin didn't think so. Timmy'd be scared of making accusations he couldn't prove. Kid shouldn't be spouting out wild guesses. Next thing, he'll try to use his hypothesis to explain everything that goes wrong. Randy didn't like those detectives, Austin had seen that. Especially the man. Had Randy noticed Austin's aversion to the flaming snoop? Randy often read Austin's sense of things. Certainly had that afternoon, last time Austin was here, the two of them with the Pimms. Used the older brother to show what could happen. Except, if the older brother could identify Randy— No, Randy would never allow that to happen, it was dark, he'd have been disguised—

Then Austin heard, inside his head, Timmy shout to anybody who'd listen that Randy had driven the van that pushed the detectives' car off the road, that Randy had brought on the accident which broke Shane's leg. That Randy was responsible for Shane not making the Olympics.

Wait. Don't give credence to the kid's wild guesses. Randy wouldn't dare injure the prodigy, he knew how valuable Shane was to Austin. He wouldn't have the guts to—

Not the guts. The malice? Possibly. Malevolence. He'd seen Randy angry. Those times Austin had confronted Randy about his gambling, his fury got mean. Turned against Austin who was trying to help Randy, keep him out of trouble. Betting on a skating competition, for godsake! With a Canadian bookie, so stupid. And Randy must've known that. Too bad Austin had to find out the way he did.

Which meant Timmy's voice in Austin's head might be making a too-good guess. Randy, responsible for Shane's injuries. Not a hypothesis to be carried around without testing. He reached for the telephone and pressed in Randy's pre-set number. Randy picked up. “Would you come over to the house? . . . A drink together . . . Half an hour? Fine.” He broke the connection. Thirty minutes to explain his fears to Shu-li and Steve.

•  •  •

Noel had driven past the road taking off to the left both times he'd gone to the Osborne house without it registering. Now, there it was. He spun left onto the dirt track, smooth for the first hundred or so feet, then suddenly rutted. Forest to the left, high brush to the right, terrible road surface. Likely in the spring tires sank into mud here, leaving these indented furrows. Noel drove slowly, right tires on the verge, left on the hump in the middle of the troughed road. “Bet Randy drives a truck with big wheels.”

“Or a jeep. Or maybe he doesn't take this road at all.”

“Shane didn't suggest another way of getting in.”

“Maybe he didn't know of it.”

Noel concentrated. A raised ridge scraped at the undercoat. Just a rented vehicle, no problem. Slowly the track flattened again; a less wet area? The furrows disappeared giving place to two- and three-foot deep potholes. Now the road was relatively straight but it rose and fell twice, and again. The brush on the right crowded in, making it hard to see what lay ahead. Maybe half a mile later, around a small curve, the land opened into a large clearing. At its center stood a small cabin, cedar-sided like Osborne's house. Beside it, a Ford truck.

“As you predicted,” said Kyra.

Noel parked the Honda on the thin grass beside the truck. Beyond the truck the brush had been cut back, leaving a view of the sea below what looked like an extension of Osborne's cliffs. “We go say hello?”