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Authors: Charlotte MacLeod
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she hurt bad?”
“I’m sorry to tell you that she’s dead.”
“Dead?”
Frank Flackley looked at them for what seemed like a long time. Then he drew a long breath.
“Looks like it’s up to me, then. Is the van busted up much?”
“It wasn’t an automobile accident, Mr. Flackley. Your aunt was the victim of a murderous assault, and the van appears to have been stolen.”
“Oh, my God! Who done it?”
“We have no idea, I’m sorry to say.”
Corbin filled in what few details he could give. Flackley kept shaking his head in obvious dismay.
“Now what the hell am I supposed to do? Aunt Martha told me we’ve never disappointed a customer, not once in a hundred and eighty-two years. I hate like hell to let the family down at a time like this, but I don’t know where I’m s’posed to be at. The schedule’s in the van.”
He appeared more disturbed about the business than about his aunt. Perhaps to a Flackley, that was a natural reaction.
“Brace up,” said Shandy. “The entire student body of Balaclava Agricultural College is out combing the hillsides right now. They may already have spotted your van. Mind if we use the telephone to check back with the college?”
“Isn’t one. Aunt Martha said they never brought the lines out here.”
“Good heavens! That’s rather unusual, isn’t it? You really are isolated, aren’t you?”
“Looks like I’m gonna be,” said Flackley with a grim attempt at a smile. “Don’t know but what I might see about having one run in, myself. I’m used to having things a little livelier than this.”
“But didn’t your aunt have any friends she’d want to call up? What about business appointments?”
“Friends, I dunno. Business she wouldn’t need a telephone for. The work was planned out on a regular schedule, see, and the schedule was posted up in the van in case some other Flackley had to take over without notice, like now.” He shook his head as if denying the fact.
“You said you were just passing through,” said Lieutenant Corbin. “Mind telling us where you came from?”
“Everywheres, just about. I was travelin’ with a rodeo, see, out through Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Colorado, Nevada, you name it. Wasn’t a big outfit. You never heard of Rudy’s Rough Riders, I don’t suppose?”
“You were a cowboy?”
“No.” Again that incredulous stare. “I was the farrier, naturally. Shod the horses, doctored the animals when they got hurt, doctored the riders, too, more often than not. Ol’ Doc Flackley, they used to call me, that and a few other things. Anyway, Rudy managed to hook himself a rich rancher’s widow down a ways out from Santa Fe, so he busted up the outfit. Well, that left me without a job, but I had a few bucks in my pocket and I’d always sort of had a hankering to see where my folks come from, so here I am. Sort of like what they’d call the workings of fate, ain’t it?”
Shandy thought of something else it might be called. An out-of-work rodeo hand could conceivably not be all that averse to taking over a prosperous family business. He could tell the same notion was running through Corbin’s mind when the lieutenant asked, “Where’s your car, Flackley?”
“Never needed none, traveling with the rodeo. I was aiming to get me some wheels when I got settled somewheres.”
“How did you get here?”
“Wrote Aunt Martha I was headin’ this way and what bus I’d be on. I figured if she wanted to meet me, she could. If not, I’d just keep ridin’. When I got to the big shopping center down there a ways, I seen the van with Flackley the Farrier on it hauled up right smack beside the bus stop, so I got off. Aunt Martha seemed real pleased to see me. Guess it’s been kind of lonesome for her since the old man died. She wanted me to stay on awhile, so I said I would.”
“When did this happen?”
“Day before yesterday, about three o’clock, I guess.”
“Yet she went out to dinner last night, leaving
“I’m sorry to tell you that she’s dead.”
“Dead?”
Frank Flackley looked at them for what seemed like a long time. Then he drew a long breath.
“Looks like it’s up to me, then. Is the van busted up much?”
“It wasn’t an automobile accident, Mr. Flackley. Your aunt was the victim of a murderous assault, and the van appears to have been stolen.”
“Oh, my God! Who done it?”
“We have no idea, I’m sorry to say.”
Corbin filled in what few details he could give. Flackley kept shaking his head in obvious dismay.
“Now what the hell am I supposed to do? Aunt Martha told me we’ve never disappointed a customer, not once in a hundred and eighty-two years. I hate like hell to let the family down at a time like this, but I don’t know where I’m s’posed to be at. The schedule’s in the van.”
He appeared more disturbed about the business than about his aunt. Perhaps to a Flackley, that was a natural reaction.
“Brace up,” said Shandy. “The entire student body of Balaclava Agricultural College is out combing the hillsides right now. They may already have spotted your van. Mind if we use the telephone to check back with the college?”
“Isn’t one. Aunt Martha said they never brought the lines out here.”
“Good heavens! That’s rather unusual, isn’t it? You really are isolated, aren’t you?”
“Looks like I’m gonna be,” said Flackley with a grim attempt at a smile. “Don’t know but what I might see about having one run in, myself. I’m used to having things a little livelier than this.”
“But didn’t your aunt have any friends she’d want to call up? What about business appointments?”
“Friends, I dunno. Business she wouldn’t need a telephone for. The work was planned out on a regular schedule, see, and the schedule was posted up in the van in case some other Flackley had to take over without notice, like now.” He shook his head as if denying the fact.
“You said you were just passing through,” said Lieutenant Corbin. “Mind telling us where you came from?”
“Everywheres, just about. I was travelin’ with a rodeo, see, out through Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Colorado, Nevada, you name it. Wasn’t a big outfit. You never heard of Rudy’s Rough Riders, I don’t suppose?”
“You were a cowboy?”
“No.” Again that incredulous stare. “I was the farrier, naturally. Shod the horses, doctored the animals when they got hurt, doctored the riders, too, more often than not. Ol’ Doc Flackley, they used to call me, that and a few other things. Anyway, Rudy managed to hook himself a rich rancher’s widow down a ways out from Santa Fe, so he busted up the outfit. Well, that left me without a job, but I had a few bucks in my pocket and I’d always sort of had a hankering to see where my folks come from, so here I am. Sort of like what they’d call the workings of fate, ain’t it?”
Shandy thought of something else it might be called. An out-of-work rodeo hand could conceivably not be all that averse to taking over a prosperous family business. He could tell the same notion was running through Corbin’s mind when the lieutenant asked, “Where’s your car, Flackley?”
“Never needed none, traveling with the rodeo. I was aiming to get me some wheels when I got settled somewheres.”
“How did you get here?”
“Wrote Aunt Martha I was headin’ this way and what bus I’d be on. I figured if she wanted to meet me, she could. If not, I’d just keep ridin’. When I got to the big shopping center down there a ways, I seen the van with Flackley the Farrier on it hauled up right smack beside the bus stop, so I got off. Aunt Martha seemed real pleased to see me. Guess it’s been kind of lonesome for her since the old man died. She wanted me to stay on awhile, so I said I would.”
“When did this happen?”
“Day before yesterday, about three o’clock, I guess.”
“Yet she went out to dinner last night, leaving
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