Act Four, Part Two

"You know what, Jim?" Artie said a little later as they entered the kitchen. "Jamie brought up a good point a few minutes ago: will we really need to move Mrs Anders back into the attic, now that Devon Ramsey is dead?"

"We still don't know who hired him."

"True." Artie stepped into the pantry, then frowned. "All right, Jim, have I gone blind, or wasn't there a smoked ham hanging up in here earlier? I was going to cut some slices from it and fry 'em along with some cubed potatoes and turnips from the cellar, but…" He waved a hand at the rafters.

"No ham," Jim confirmed.

Artie gave a loud, exasperated sigh. "You know, I bet Hargill took it! I saw him sneak a bunch of food out of here yesterday while I was tending to Frank's forehead. And I mean a lot of food, not just a little snack! It's almost as if he's been…" Artie broke off, his eyes widening.

"…almost as if he's been feeding someone on the sly, you mean?"

"Yeah! You… Hey, Jim, you don't suppose Hargill's been making off with the food to feed Ramsey, do you?"

"Only if he hired Ramsey in the first place."

"Yeah." Both men fell silent, each one lost in his own ruminations for a while. Then, "Artie, do you still have that will? We never did look through it for clues."

"I did read part of it," said Artie, searching in his pockets. "I was about halfway through when… Oh! When Hargill showed up, looking for Mrs Mills - or should I say, looking for her absence. Curious thing, isn't it, how desperately he wanted that woman gone from Las Flores? Wait, here we go," he added a moment later as he pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. "Oops. Sorry, no, not this after all." He tossed the paper onto the table and continued his search.

"What is it?" Jim asked. He took up the paper and unfolded it.

"That? Oh, Rose Petal gave it to me. She's got, oh, scores of 'em up in that small trunk in the attic, all of 'em showing the same scene."

"Her father's death," said Jim, gazing at the drawing.

"Right. I'd hazard that she's been drawing it over and over again ever since he died. And gotten better, too. Her style and attention to detail have certainly improved. Ah!" And he produced another folded paper. "Here's the will, Jim. Ah… Jim?"

For Jim was frowning at the drawing. "Artie, this picture. It's not just showing her father's death. It shows his murder."

"What? How do you get that?" Artie slid the will back into his pocket and bent over the table where Jim spread out the drawing.

"To begin with, how many people are in this picture?"

"Two: Mr Anders and whoever pulled the tree off him after they found the body. Hargill, I presume. See?" He pointed at a bushy scribble at the upright man's chin. "A bearded man."

"But how many people were there when the body was found, Artie? What did Jamie tell you?"

"Well, he, uh, he said Rose came running into the house, and they… yeah, they all followed her out into the woods. He wasn't specific about who the 'all' included - and we hadn't met Hargill yet - but he did say 'all.' "

"So if this is when they all found him, why aren't the others shown here? Where are her mother and sister and brother?"

Artie met Jim's eyes as he saw what Jim was getting at. "She didn't draw the others because they weren't there yet. That's what you're saying, isn't it? That this scene, the one she keeps drawing, is from before that, and shows what she saw that day that sent her running for the house!"

"Right. This isn't someone taking the tree off her father. What she saw - what she's drawn - was someone placing the tree on her father to make his death look like an accident. And then there's this." Jim tapped another part of the drawing, pointing at something just beyond the wide end of the tree. A fat cylindrical shape stood there, something with a ragged top.

"Oh sure, that's the stump," said Artie. "Funny thing, but she didn't always include that in her earlier efforts that she showed me."

"Yes, but look at what she's drawn propped up next to it."

Artie peered closer, then let out a whistle. "That's… that's the ax! She drew the ax propped against the stump, even though…"

"Right. Even though it couldn't possibly have been placed there if the tree in fact fell over on Anders while he was chopping it down."

"Yeah, he would have dropped the ax where he stood or even flung it from him as he tried to get out of the way! There's no way he would have calmly propped the ax against the stump, then gotten into the way of the falling tree." He paused, then added quietly, "Well… not unless he intended for the tree to fall on him." He cut his eyes at Jim.

"But if that had been his intention, he would never have brought his little girl along with him to witness it," Jim pointed out.

"I should hope not!" said Artie fervently. He looked at the drawing again. "So David Anders was murdered, and Rose Petal's been living with the memory of it ever since! We ought to show this to Sheriff Mills and explain its significance."

"I agree, but what sort of evidence is a child's drawing?"

"Yeah, you're right. We need Rose to identify the murderer."

"Which means she needs to talk." Jim gave it some thought for a few seconds. "Artie, you have your disguise kit with you, don't you?"

"Of course I do. What do you have in mind?"

"Suppose we present Rose with the sight of the man she saw kill her father arguing with someone else? Arguing, even threatening?"

Artie winced. "After what she just went through this morning, seeing Ramsey try to kill her ma? James!"

"I know. But if it snaps her out of her silence, it'll be good for her in the long run - and it will catch the man who killed her pa and hired Ramsey against her ma."

Slowly Artie nodded. "All right. Let's do it then. Where do you want to meet, in the parlor?"

"That'll do. In fifteen minutes?"

Artie nodded his agreement and set off for their room where he had left the disguise kit. Both the prospect of lunch and the will in his pocket were forgotten for the nonce.

…

A few minutes later a figure appeared at the door to Liliana's room. "Jamie's gone to fetch the doctor," Jim reported. "How are you feeling now?"

"A great deal better, thank you," said Mrs Anders. "It's so good to know that vicious man won't bother us anyone!" She paused, then added, "Oh dear, I suppose that's a bit, well, vicious of me. But knowing that my children are safe and that… that no one's going to shoot me again. That's worth a lot to me." She took Rose's hand and gripped it.

From his chair by the dressing table, Gabe said ruefully, "For my part, I'm feeling mighty foolish, let me tell you. If I'd've just been keeping an eye out for that gunman as I headed for the attic, I wouldn't have this knot on my head now, and I might've even been able to help you men stop him!"

"Oh but, Gabe!" cried Liliana, "Who would have expected that man to be here in the house with us? You just stop right now beating yourself up over it. Why, if he hadn't gone after you, he'd have picked me or Jamie or Rose! He was obviously waiting for someone to lead him to Ma; it just so happened that it turned out to be you!" She laid a hand on his shoulder.

Jim frowned. Why had Ramsey needed Gabe to show him where Mrs Anders was, when the gunman had plainly planted that morbid scene in Rose's room earlier to send her running for her ma? Something didn't add up here.

Still, Artie would be ready shortly. "Rose," said Jim, "Uncle Artie was telling me that you're quite a good artist. I'd like you to come downstairs and make a drawing for me. Would you do that?"

The girl regarded him for a long moment from behind her curtain of hair. Finally she turned and looked up at her mother.

Mrs Anders smiled. "Oh, that's fine, that's fine. You go ahead, Rosie. Make Mr West a lovely picture, not… not the sort of thing that…" She faltered, then pasted on a smile. "Oh, just make him a nice drawing, sweetheart."

Rose slid off the bed and followed James West down to the parlor.