MICHAEL SHAYNE followed, alone, behind the procession carrying the body of Nora Carson to the village. His head was bowed in thought, hands thrust deep into his pockets, rangy body inclined backward from the waist to give him balance down the precipitous path.
The death of the girl had hit him hard. She was so young, had been so vibrantly full of life a few hours previous. Screwloose Pete was an old man with lots of living behind him. A cantankerous old man, it appeared, who hadn’t wanted to share his new-found wealth with the daughter whom he had deserted ten years before.
It wasn’t difficult to find a motive for the old man’s death. Men had been murdered for gold since Biblical days, had fought to their deaths for the yellow stuff. Let three men share in a million-dollar discovery and there you were. The wonder of it was that any of the three were still alive.
But how did Nora Carson’s death fit into a coldly calculated scheme of murder for profit? He had all the portions of the puzzle in his hands, but none of them seemed to fit together. At the moment, Joe Meade appeared to be the key to the whole thing. Was his wound self-inflicted, or was it, too, part of the murder plan?
What was he doing at Pete’s cabin, either shooting himself or getting shot?
You had to start with the premise that Joe Meade was not a normally balanced young man. The bitterness of defeat had warped an otherwise brilliant mentality, had grown to be an obsession with him. An obsession that might easily have developed to such a point that getting rid of Nora Carson to insure Christine’s success in the theater would seem a logical step.
All right. Granting that premise, what would be his logical reaction to Christine’s flat and emphatic statement that she did not want success to come that way?
The hell of it was, you couldn’t apply rules of logic to an unbalanced mentality. When Joe boasted to Christine that he was responsible for Nora’s absence, did he know she was already dead? Or had he, with some reason to suspect the truth, slyly turned the knowledge to what he believed was his own benefit by pretending to Christine that she was indebted to him for getting her chance tonight?
Shayne was sure of only one thing about Joe Meade. The young man possessed some guilty knowledge. But what could the actor have had to do with the death of Screwloose Pete? Was it conceivable that he had discovered the relationship, had murdered the old man in cold blood just prior to the performance — thinking thus to strike Nora such a blow that she would be unable to go on? Then, finding his first plan foiled by Nora’s strength which refused to give way to grief, had he felt impelled to carry on the plot by getting rid of Nora also? Later, after Christine had clearly indicated her repugnance and horror of the very thought, had he slipped up here to commit suicide as the only way out for him?
Shayne turned his speculations from Meade to Jasper Windrow with a feeling of relief. Windrow was the sort of man the detective understood. He was ruthless and mercenary, more than normally intelligent. Shayne could easily visualize Windrow cold-bloodedly planning Pete’s death to obtain a greater share of the rich mine for himself, but not if he realized Pete was leaving a legal heir to claim his portion.