The Devil's Cold Dish Read Online Free Page B

“And we all know what you is capable of. Your own brother-in-law…” Rees took an involuntary step forward. Farley jumped back.
    â€œI’m sure there are others who hated this man,” Caldwell said, his words clipped.
    Farley did not reply, his gaze fixed balefully upon Rees and his hand clutched tightly about the little bag upon his chest.
    â€œI’ll go down,” Rees said to the constable, “and wait for you below.” He wanted to examine the hill nearby anyway. Caldwell nodded, his expression sympathetic.
    â€œI’ll speak with you later,” he said.
    *   *   *
    Annoyance sent Rees running down the slope, jumping over rocks and careening around trees. He did not slow down until he slipped on a patch of damp granite and had to grab a tree trunk for support. Then he paused, breathing hard, and took stock. Farley was an idiot and many people in Dugard thought Rees a brawler, so why should Farley’s opinion matter? Because Rees was already tired of the quick looks and veiled accusations he’d met every day in town since his return from Salem. And now Farley clutched at his amulet and looked at Rees as though he were a devil. Infuriating, but not worth breaking a leg because of it. Rees inhaled a deep breath and proceeded more slowly down the slope. He cut through the woods toward the other hill, crossing a small stream that was more mud than water and climbing through the litter of downed trees and leaves toward Bald Knob’s summit.
    Rees stood at the bottom of the hill for a moment, panting from exertion as he consciously pushed his anger aside. Philip, the Indian guide Rees had known during the war, had shown him how to look for signs of someone’s passage through the woods. Rees looked up the slope before him, trying to identify broken branches and vegetation crushed by unwary feet. The marks were there and, once he looked for them, easy to see.
    Rees began to follow the pale splintered twigs laboring upward until he reached the granite dome that formed the top. Breathless, his calves on fire, he paused to catch his breath. Saplings and underbrush clung to the small patches of soil on this rocky hill. Except for the whine of insects, it was silent and peaceful.
    He followed the rocky path under the lacy veil of green until he could see Caldwell standing by the body on the promontory below. Rees could clearly hear the constable’s argument with Farley, who wanted no part of carrying the body down to Rees’s wagon. Clinging to the small bag at his throat with such force Rees wondered that the cord did not break, Farley cried, “No, no, I won’t touch death. His ghost will come after me, it will.”
    With a derisive snort, Rees knelt on the granite and looked around. Trees and low shrubs grew thickly here; no one below could see a man hiding even if they should look. A cairn of small stones with a hollow in the center sat upon the rock slab. Rees thought the murderer had probably rested his rifle barrel on this support. To test his theory, he found a fairly straight branch and lay prone upon the ground, positioning the stick as though it were a gun. He stared down directly at the back of Caldwell’s head, close enough to see his bald spot. Ward hadn’t had a chance.
    Although Rees scoured the area, he found nothing that identified Ward’s murderer. Finally, he descended the slope, following the killer’s trail all the way to the bottom. He examined the ground carefully but did not see any horse tracks or the grooves of wagon wheels. Had the murderer walked? Since this area was only ten miles out of town walking was possible. Or had Ward and his killer driven here together? Rees considered that possibility, realizing he’d seen no horse or wagon at the foot of the other hill. If Ward had ridden out here on his own, his horse or buggy would have still been there. Unless the murderer had taken it? Of course he