Stone of Vengeance (13 page)

He wore a tan shirt and a rugged suede jacket that spanned his broad shoulders in a tailored fit. Denim jeans and cowboy boots made his legs look long and lean.

‘Kate, can I persuade you to go with me tonight? To the annual chili cook-off. A chili-making contest, a tradition here in Rock Creek. The whole county usually shows up. What do you say?’

Jeff’s warning words echoed into the stillness. Even though she mustn’t trust Ty, she couldn’t pass up the
opportunity
to mingle with the suspects and maybe in doing so, uncover the truth.

‘The park’s not far. We’ll just walk.’

Kate fell into step beside him. Ty guided her toward the festive crowd that overflowed Rock Creek’s park. Lights glowed brilliantly from bulbs draped across trees. About twelve booths, representing tonight’s chefs, had set up around a huge space filled with picnic tables where, in the centre blazed a huge bonfire. Just beyond that, music drifted from a cement platform, already crammed with dancers. Encircled by brilliant bulbs draped across poles and trees, they looked like wind-up toys on a stage.

‘We’ll have to try Swen’s chili first,’ Ty said. ‘Otherwise, he’ll be insulted.’

‘Glad you could make it tonight, Kate,’ Swen said,
obviously
in a good mood. He stirred the reddish-brown bubbling contents of a large pot as he spoke. ‘Mine’s an old family recipe handed down from generation to generation. You haven’t tasted anything,’ he boasted, ‘until you’ve tried this.’

He heaped a generous amount of his chili into their bowls. Kate ate a spoonful and nearly choked.

Ty sampled it and said with pride, ‘It’s a sure winner.’

‘I won last year, but only by a small margin. So don’t forget to vote. Early and often,’ he called as they wandered off.

‘What’s his secret ingredient?’ Kate asked, eyes watering and her mouth still burning. ‘Cayenne pepper?’

‘It’s not too strong. You’re just too weak.’ Ty took her bowl
from her and finished that off too, all done without a grimace.

‘How can you do that?’ Kate asked.

‘Professional loyalty.’ Ty grinned. ‘But, just to be fair, we’ll have to try some of the others, too. There’s Jennie Kingsley. Maybe a lady cook will be more to your liking.’

They strolled toward her booth. Like Swen, she wore a long apron, but hers was marked Rocking C. She swept at the blonde hair that had spilled across her forehead as she said with enthusiasm, ‘I’ve made some cornbread, too.’ She added in a lower tone. ‘That’s the only chance I have of beating Swen.’

Her chili, more to Kate’s liking, consisted of a perfect balance of meat, tomatoes, and sauce. After trying several more entries, Kate said finally, ‘This is too confusing. I don’t think I’ll vote.’

‘I insist,’ Ty said. ‘May the best man, or woman win!’ His eyes sparkled as they each wrote a name and placed it into the huge, makeshift ballot box.

‘Would you look at that swarm of people around Swen’s booth,’ Ty said. ‘I’d better give him a hand.’

After a while, feeling lonely without Ty, Kate spotted Mary Ellen seated on a park bench away from the others. Gold barrettes clipped the sides of hair that matched the streaks of light shimmering through it. The style of her dress, soft blue with a flowing skirt, made her look like a young girl.

Kate approached her, trying hard to catch the party spirit. ‘Who’s going to win?’

‘Swen,’ she said. ‘He always does. But last year he only
beat Uncle Charles by twelve votes.’ Mary Ellen’s wan smile added to her girlish look. ‘You should have heard him raging. He claimed that Swen had cheated, that his ranch hands had voted more than once.’

‘What’s the prize?’ Kate asked lightly. ‘Is it worth an under-the-table deal?’

‘Every merchant donates a gift,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘The Tumbleweed Café gives the winner a free meal.’

‘I should have set up my own stand.’

‘Not much at stake, but enough for a battle between Swen and my uncle. I smile about it, but it’s not funny the way they hated each other.’ Mary Ellen fell silent, her gaze
skimming
the crowd.

‘Are you waiting for someone?’

‘Jake Pierson, who I work with at the museum. He said he’d be here tonight,’ Mary Ellen added, almost blushing. ‘He told me to save my first dance for him.’

‘He knows so much about Wyoming history. This must be a great interest of yours, too.’

‘Not really. I only volunteer to help him out. I actually don’t understand why people get so caught up in the past. That’s what Uncle Charles always did. Shouldn’t people live for now, think more about today than yesterday?’

‘Yesterday keeps coming back in different forms,’ Kate remarked. Mary Ellen’s reaction, an apparent shrinking away, surprised Kate. She hadn’t intended her offhand comment to spark unpleasant memories. Kate cast her a quick glance. Her words must have caused Mary Ellen to think of her own past, of the boy she had lost so long ago that
had been the love of her life. Hard, Kate thought, to let go and move on, but this was what Mary Ellen was attempting to do. That’s why she had shown up here tonight.

‘Isn’t that him now?’ Kate asked.

Jake Pierson once again brought to Kate’s mind images of Buffalo Bill Cody, the fringed jacket he wore, the way his longish hair was pulled back and knotted with a buckskin tie. His eyes lit up when they fell upon Mary Ellen. ‘Ready for that dance?’

‘Excuse us,’ Mary Ellen said politely, rising and taking his offered hand.

Mary Ellen had placed herself away from the others, not wanting to be the centre of attention. Now all eyes seemed fastened on the two as they made their way through the crowd and a little awkwardly, like teenagers at a first dance, joined the whirling couples. Kate idly watched as they attempted to keep up with the too-fast music, then her gaze shifted to the trees along the north side of the platform. The glint of pale blond hair, illuminated the low-hanging bulbs, almost brought a gasp to her lips.

Slim Barton stood huddling from the chill, thin shoulders hunched, eyes burning as he stared at Mary Ellen. Burning with what: jealousy? One fact became clear, Slim Barton was either very close to Mary Ellen or else he wanted to be.

Kate glanced back at Mary Ellen just in time to see her look towards Barton, then turn her head quickly away, as if pretending not to see him. Riff-raff, low-life; Charles Kingsley’s words described Barton perfectly. The thought struck Kate with great force: Slim Barton could be Mary
Ellen’s old boyfriend, the one her uncle had refused to let her marry. Astounded, Kate stared at him, noticing the way his bold, defiant eyes remained locked on Mary Ellen. He was probably about two or three years older than her and that meant that Barton and Mary Ellen could have met years ago when he was around eighteen and she sixteen. If so, Kate could sympathize with Charles Kingsley’s stand on the matter. In his place, she would have done exactly as he had, tried any way he could to protect Mary Ellen from a man like him.

All assumption, Kate reminded herself, leaning back against the bench; after all, Mary Ellen was gazing up at Pierson as if no other man existed. Kate couldn’t base a whole theory on a stranger who just happened to find Mary Ellen attractive. Yet suddenly, it seemed very important to her to find out whom Mary Ellen had loved and probably still did. If he had come back to Rock Creek, expecting that Mary Ellen would inherit a fortune from her uncle, this might make a big difference to her investigation into Kingsley’s death.

The music stopped. The bandleader announced a short intermission. The couples left the floor, mingling with the swarm of people still eating. Kate looked for Slim Barton, but he had disappeared into the crowd.

Ty had left Swen’s booth. As she rose to search for him she spotted Lem, still in uniform, cutting across the park. He stopped at Swen’s booth for some chili and ambled on. Lem had been in Rock Creek all his life. If anyone would know the name of Mary Ellen’s old boyfriend, it would be him.

He took a seat close to Jennie’s stand. Hal Barkley, wearing a long apron like Jennie’s, dipped large helpings of chili into paper bowls. Jennie, with pleasant talk and banter, stood beside him offering cornbread.

‘Didn’t think you’d be here.’ Kate slipped into the seat across from Lem.

‘Doing my duty,’ Lem told her. He sampled Swen’s chili, but didn’t take a second spoonful, just stirred the thick soup. ‘To tell you the truth,’ he said in a confidential tone, ‘this stuff gives me heartburn.’

Kate laughed.

‘We found the car,’ Lem said. ‘It belonged to Hal Barkley, who claims someone hot-wired it and stole it from his
property
. It had been dumped in some pasture on the road to Downing. The boys went over it, and you can guess the results.’

‘The usual dead end. Lem, did you ever meet Mary Ellen’s boyfriend, the one Mr Kingsley wouldn’t let her marry?’

The question or the abrupt change of subject took him by surprise. ‘Why do you ask that?’

‘I think it may be important.’

‘That was a long time ago.’ Lem cautiously took another taste of Swen’s chili and gave a shuddering headshake. ‘Kingsley was always berating and condemning the boy to everyone who would listen. But he didn’t use any name that I recall beyond punk, rascal, or deadbeat.’

‘Who would know him?’

‘From what I hear Mary Ellen and he did a lot of sneaking around. Maybe no one.’

‘Someone will,’ Kate declared. ‘I need to locate Mary Ellen’s old boyfriend. One way or another, I’m going to find him.’

A rush of people had converged upon Jennie’s stand. One brushing close to Kate, caused her to look up, right into Slim Barton’s cold eyes. Slim stood just behind Jake Pierson, who was saying affably to Jennie, ‘I hear your chili is making a big hit tonight.’

Kate glanced over her shoulder and skimmed the crowd for Mary Ellen. She found her just beyond Swen’s booth, talking to Ty. They both looked very serious.

‘Garrison could be your man,’ Lem said, pointing his spoon in the direction Kate was looking. ‘He was working for Swen at about that time and would be the right age.’

‘But her boyfriend was employed by Kingsley.’

‘You have no idea how many hands those two ranches employ. So many extras are hired during branding and roundup even the employers have trouble recognizing them. Often, when offered higher wages the men jumped ship and went to the rival ranch, which was a bone of contention between them.’ Lem leaned closer to her, his voice dropping an octave lower. ‘The Double S and the Rocking C were really locking horns at the time. Swen probably sent Garrison to court Mary Ellen.’

‘Why?’

‘To torment Kingsley, why else? That’s the game the two men played.’

Kate looked toward Ty again. This time her gaze met his, and both he and Mary Ellen started toward them.

‘Been looking all over for you,’ Ty said. ‘Thought you had given me the slip and went home. You ready to dance?’

The music had started again. Ty and Kate stopped beside the bonfire for a while, then joined the dancers. Bright stars, Ty smiling down at her: tonight could have been perfect. The slow tune soon changed to a fast beat. Kate, spinning and laughing, momentarily forgot Lem’s words. They ended their dance breathless. During the next, ‘The Waltz of the Wind,’ Kate thought of Jeff. She felt relief that he wasn’t here to see her dancing with Ty, to see the way Ty’s eyes shone when they looked into hers.

An important-looking man who reminded her of Ben came up on stage. He gestured to the band, who stopped playing, and took the microphone from the stand. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have our vote!’

Everyone clapped.

‘The winner of the Rock Creek chili cook-off is.… Wait, first I want all the contestants to join me on stage.’

Representatives from the twelve booths complied; Swen, stopping to remove his apron and put on his Stetson. He looked very tall and strong standing next to Jennie.

‘The winner tonight – would you believe this – we have a winner by only one vote! A near tie: Jennie Kingsley, 78; Sam Swen, 77.’

Amid the uproar of applause, Swen stepped closer to the microphone. He slanted a look back at the beaming Jennie, and said with a smile, ‘Maybe I had better demand a recount.’

‘Votes were counted twice,’ the master of ceremonies assured him.

‘Could be an error,’ Swen declared.

‘You’re such an old spoilsport,’ Jennie spoke up, also with laughter in her voice. ‘l guess I’ll have to let you share the crown with me.’

‘No, lady.’ Swen took off his hat. ‘I’ll just concede.’

More applause.

‘It’s time Swen faced the truth,’ Ty called out merrily. ‘There’s a new cook in town.’

‘There’s always next year,’ Swen returned, then said to Jennie, ‘If this chili is better than mine, then I want to try some.’

They left the platform together, Ty and Kate trailing after them to Jennie’s booth. Jennie put a modest amount of chili into a bowl and watched Swen as he sampled it.

‘What do you think?’

‘I know when I’ve been beaten,’ Swen said, but the look in his eyes was warm and admiring.

Ty’s hand slipped around Kate’s as they walked back towards her apartment, basking in the after-effects of the outcome that hinted at a kind of truce between the two rival ranches. When they reached the door Ty said, ‘Poor Swen, to lose by so slight a margin.’ He gave Kate an amused,
sideways
glance. ‘You must have cast the deciding vote. Tell me, which one did you vote for?’

‘For Swen,’ Kate confessed, ‘but I don’t know why.’

Ty smiled. ‘I do. I’m loyal to Swen, and you’re loyal to me.’ Ty drew her into his arms and kissed her. In a soft, gentle voice, he said, ‘Good night, darling. I’ll call you soon.’

K
ate sat by the mirror, brushing dark curls, seeing a new glow in her eyes as she thought of Ty’s kiss and of his arms around her. Even the ringing of the phone, which often annoyed her, sounded happy. Ty had told her he’d call soon, hadn’t he? Smiling, Kate lifted the receiver in anticipation.

The muffled words jolted her. ‘You’ve had your last warning. If you don’t quit poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, you’re going to end up just like Kingsley. Dead.’

A click sounded, followed by a dial tone. Kate stared at the black receiver, repulsed by it, as if it had turned into some deadly snake. The caller had disguised his voice, but she was convinced he was the same man who had set a trap for her this afternoon.

‘… your last warning.’ the exact words Swen had spoken the day he had found her stranded along the road on the way back from Pauley’s Auction Barn.

Kate set to work at once, calling close neighbours to the Rocking C. They all remembered that Mary Ellen had an early tragic love encounter, remembered that she was barely
sixteen at the time and was devastated when the boy left town, but no one could recall ever hearing his name. Determined to find him, Kate decided to confront Mary Ellen with the question.

Mary Ellen, looking scared and alone, much as she had when Kate had first seen her, opened the door a crack. ‘If you’re looking for Jennie,’ she said, ‘she’s not here.’

‘It’s you I want to see. May I come in?’

Reluctantly Mary Ellen stepped aside. The study looked different today washed in sunlight streaming in from the wide-open curtains. Despite the brightness, the polished cases filled with Wild West displays, Kate thought only of Charles Kingsley lying dead on the floor near his desk.

Mary Ellen sank down in her uncle’s chair. Kate found her gaze roaming as it always did when she entered this room to the invitation to Tom Horn’s hanging.

‘Why do you want to talk to me?’

Kate didn’t answer her question, instead she asked, ‘Where did Jennie go?’

‘Business, or so she said.’

The bitterness in Mary Ellen’s tone discredited any
reference
to business. ‘She didn’t mention where she were going?’

‘No, she barely talks to me. I hear rumours that she’s always run around with a lot of men. I don’t think my uncle should have … married her.’ Mary Ellen’s large eyes lifted to Kate’s. ‘You know what I told you about her and Swen?’

‘I heard they dated at one time, but that was back in the past.’

‘They’ve never stopped seeing each other.’

‘You know that for a fact? Maybe they are just long-time friends.’

‘They sneak around,’ Mary Ellen said dully, ‘I’ve seen them.’

Kate turned away from the girl, stepping closer to the framed invitation and looking at it absently as she talked. ‘I understand you had a boyfriend that your uncle didn’t approve of. I need to know his name.’ Kate’s gaze flickered to Mary Ellen, taking note of her pale, stricken face. She couldn’t have looked more stunned if Kate had struck her a hard, physical blow.

‘Why is that important? I’m twenty-eight years old. I haven’t lain eyes on him for over twelve years.’

‘Mary Ellen, I think he may have come back here. He tried to rob your uncle once. He might have attempted the same thing again.’

‘That was so many years ago. He just got drunk one night, a boyish act. Now he’s a man. He wouldn’t still be doing things like that.’

‘If you haven’t seen him for so long,’ Kate asked, “how do you know? He could have turned into an alcoholic and a big time thief as well. Besides that, he would bear a grudge against your uncle, which might explain the stone placed under his head.’

Mary Ellen, too upset for more denials, made no reply.

‘Tell me his name. I’ll check him out and if I find he was somewhere else when the crime was committed, that will be the end of it.’

Kate had expected Mary Ellen to refuse to cooperate, but
after a long, heavy silence, she said, ‘His name is David Glenwood Colbert. After David left here, he went to Denver. I never saw him again. He didn’t even write or try to call me.’

The moment Kate returned to her apartment, she phoned the sheriff’s office. Luckily Lem answered. ‘I need for you to run a check on a David Glenwood Colbert. His middle name was probably his mother’s maiden name so it should be no problem sorting him out from other Colberts. This is very important, Lem, can you do it right away?’

‘I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’

Glad that she merited Lem’s continual support, Kate waited impatiently by the phone. When it finally rang again, she grabbed the receiver anxiously.

‘Kate, nothing’s turned up on any man by that name. No criminal record.’

‘I knew Kingsley hadn’t brought charges against him, but I thought he was the type to have eventually built up a rap sheet. Were you able to trace him through his social security number?’

‘No one’s listed by that name. He either died before he got a social security number, or he’s got himself an alias.’

Or Mary Ellen had simply made up a name because she didn’t want to reveal his real one. Another dead end, unless Kate had been on the right track and she had seen Mary Ellen’s boyfriend face to face at last night’s cook-off. ‘Have you found out anything else about Slim Barton?’

‘His real name’s Dean Barton, but everyone knows him as Slim. He owns his own ranch, the Bar 8, just south of here near the Colorado border.’

‘Swen says he’s buying up land. How big is his operation?’

‘Very small. He doesn’t have enough acreage to run too many head of cattle.’

‘Do you know the brand he uses?’

‘Sure. A simple bar and an eight.’

‘Thanks, Lem.’

After she hung up the phone, Kate sketched Kingsley’s brand on a notepad, then drew an eight with a bar beneath it. By adding a couple of loops, the Rocking C without any problem at all could be transformed into an eight. In the same way Swen’s Double S could be changed into Barton’s brand. Perhaps Barton had for many years been stealing from both ranches. He had probably set up his operation with the Bar 8 name for exactly this purpose.

No wonder she hadn’t been able to trace the sales. Slim Barton had stolen from both ranches with impunity, certain one would blame the other. He had altered both brands to the Bar 8 before they were consigned. Since Slim Barton was a rancher himself, no one would even be suspicious.

Kate began calling all of the area’s livestock auctions telling them she was interested in purchasing Bar 8 cattle from Slim Barton. She went through the entire list, the results being the same: he had dealt with none of them.

She extended her search into Colorado. Sheffield’s Cattle Trade was located close to Barton’s ranch, just over the state line. The clerk connected her to the boss.

‘I’m Kate Jepp from the Belle County sheriff’s department and I need some information. Have you sold cattle for Charles Kingsley or for Sam Swen?’

She remained on hold for a long time.

‘We have made no sales for either of them.’

‘What about Slim Barton?’

‘Yes, he sells here occasionally.’

‘Does he have a consignment for your next auction?’

‘Not unless he’s just brought them in. The auction is tomorrow.’

‘Would you be able to fax me some records concerning his total sales for the past two years?’ Kate gave him her fax number, replaced the phone and waited. When the fax came through, she scanned the figures. Just as he had said, the Bar 8 sales were infrequent and limited as would be expected for an operation of his size.

Then what had Slim Barton done with the load of Herefords stolen from the Rocking C Sunday night? Either he had taken them to his ranch … or to Pauley’s, the only livestock auction in the area that she hadn’t just called.

Dread filled her at the prospect of confronting Pauley again. During their last ugly encounter, she had suspected him of working with the rustlers for a cut of the profit. Yet she could be wrong. He might simply resist the idea of disclosing information concerning his two major consigners, Kingsley and Swen, but he might be willing to talk about Barton.

The long stretch of isolated road to Downing gave her time to think. Kate reached the rough gully where the Landcruiser had lost a wheel. She thought of the way Sam Swen had suddenly appeared along the isolated road and had stopped supposedly to help her. The same doubt and fear
rose in her now as then. The loosened lug nuts, Swen’s timely arrival, could have been planned in advance, the same way the Chevy wreck had been set up. She might have handed over the incriminating evidence to Swen himself, concealed behind cowboy hat and ski mask.

Jeff had maintained Swen’s guilt from the beginning: Swen the brains behind the den of rustlers, the man who had ordered Kingsley’s death if he hadn’t pulled the trigger himself. Yet only one fact was certain to Kate: more than one person could be playing a major role in this highly successful swindle. Nor could she just assume Slim Barton was the head man, when it was just as likely he was taking orders from someone higher up.

Relieved to have the deserted miles behind her, Kate pulled into the near-empty lot beside Pauley’s Auction Barn. A heavy-set man in overalls stood near the cattle pens. ‘Do you work here?’

‘Sure do,’ he said, spitting out tobacco.

‘Has Slim Barton consigned any cattle for tomorrow’s auction?’

‘Usually does. Fact is, he told me yesterday he planned to sell at least a dozen head of prime Herefords. Just hasn’t brought them in yet.’

‘Do you accept them so late?’

‘Sure do. Something must have happened, though. Slim always gets his lot in early. If you’re interested, Pauley could make a call for you and check on his consignment.’

Inside, met with silence and empty bleachers, Kate’s
wariness
increased. She started down the dim, circular corridor
leading to Pauley’s office, there she paused and drew a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for another unpleasant encounter with the rude owner.

A cheery voice called out, ‘Hi.’ A woman’s face, topped with coppery hair piled high and clipped with rhinestone barrettes, appeared above the partition. She looked to be around forty, about the same age as Pauley.

‘You must be Pauley’s wife,’ Kate said in a friendly manner.

‘Yes, I’m Ruth. Hank’s around here somewhere. I can find him if you like.’

‘Maybe you can help me.’ Kate took out the ID she had failed to turn in with her badge and gun. The woman glanced at the photo, then at her, smiling pleasantly. What a break. Hank Pauley hadn’t mentioned Kate’s last visit to his wife.

‘I spoke to Mr Pauley earlier about obtaining some sales records – just a routine check for an investigation I’m doing.’

‘What records do you need? I can pull them up for you on the computer in a jiffy.’

The moment Kate told her, with quick movements of fingers, nails painted to match her hair, she called up Sam Swen’s account. His steady sales showed no inconsistencies. Kingsley’s as well revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

‘How about Slim Barton’s Bar 8?’

Kate couldn’t quite believe the huge amount of business Barton had been doing with Pauley’s Auction over the past few months. ‘What I’ll need are the figures for the year.’

Ruth pressed a few keys, generating a spreadsheet. Kate skimmed the great number of sales, realizing that he’d sold more beef than Swen and Kingsley combined, much more than his small ranch could possibly support.

‘I can make you a print-out of this,’ Ruth offered.

‘If it’s not too much trouble. Could you include the Rocking C and the Double S as well?’

The printer clicked and whirred. They waited as it spilled out pages. ‘There you go, Miss Jepp.’

As Ruth handed over the run-off copy, footsteps sounded in the hallway just outside the office. Kate stuffed the papers in her purse and swung around, face to face with Hank Pauley.

He stopped short. ‘So you’re back again?’ he growled. ‘Didn’t I make it clear enough last time?’

Ruth looked from one to the other of them, bewildered by her husband’s hostile reaction. Pauley’s gaze slid from his wife to the computer screen still displaying Swen’s records.

Kate tensed.

‘Going behind my back! I ought to throw you out of here!’

‘Hank, what’s wrong?’ Ruth asked. ‘This girl is from the sheriff’s office.’

‘Ben didn’t send her, you can count on that. Meddling, that’s what she’s doing.’ He glared at Kate. ‘You and I need to talk.’

He ushered Kate ahead of him through the door. His tight grip caused ripples of pain to shoot through her recently injured arm. He didn’t let go of her until they had reached the centre corridor.

Last time he had been angry, now he was livid. The way his eyes glittered made Kate half-afraid of him.

‘Hand over those papers she gave you.’

Kate made no move to comply.

Pauley took a step closer to her as if he planned to yank away her purse and take them by force.

‘Hank!’ Ruth’s call stopped him. She reached them in seconds. Fingers with their coppery nails clamped over his wrist. ‘Hank, what’s wrong with you?’

To Kate’s surprise, Ruth’s words calmed him. He dropped his hands to his sides and said almost docilely, ‘I have instructions. Swen told me straight out, he doesn’t want any of his records released without a court order.’

‘I’m not working for the Kingsleys,’ Kate told him. ‘The information your wife gave me will be confidential.’

‘I’ve always supported Swen.’ Pauley looked away, speaking as if he hadn’t even heard her. When his eyes settled again on Kate, he tried to change the implication of his words. ‘Kingsley was flat out crazy making all those
accusations
against him.’

‘If Swen’s innocent, he has nothing to fear from me.’

‘You’d better leave now,’ Ruth cut in. She tugged on Pauley’s arm, saying soothingly, ‘Don’t worry, Hank. I’ll call Swen. I’ll explain.’

The glitter in Pauley’s eyes returned. His words, almost a yell, rang out harsh and accusatory, ‘You don’t know what you’ve done, do you? You’ve just ruined everything!’