Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Vol. 133, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 811 & 812, March/April 2009

A few wilted travelers were rehydrating inside with pop and ice cream as I stalked up to the cash register. I flashed my badge at the shift manager, demanding to know where they got their dairy products. The startled woman didn’t know offhand, the owner handled the detail work like that, but a quick check of the freezer turned up a stencil on the side of one of the big brown cardboard ice cream tubs that named an Apple Valley dairy.

With an extra-thick cherry milkshake cooling me down, I made use of the cafe’s public telephone and made a couple of calls. The first, to directory assistance, got me the number of the dairy. The second got me the dairy itself.

All the people at the dairy had to do was answer two questions. They did.

I tossed off the last of my milkshake and made a third call to the San Bernardino County sheriff’s station in Barstow.

And that, my man, is how I ended up sitting in the john of a tourist cabin in Devlin, California, waiting for a murderer, and/or murderers, to show up.

Well, maybe murderer was kinda strong. They hadn’t actually killed anybody yet, but like “A for effort,” you know?

Out in the still darkness I heard a screen door open and close, not by any sharp honest bang but by the faint creak of springs stretching and relaxing. It sounded like it came from the main building. I settled the .45 in my hand and waited.

Footfalls on gravel, light, and coming closer. More than one set. The steps came to the cabin’s front steps, and the doorknob turned, the cabin door easing open.

It had been left unlocked, of course, so Sue Kelton could come in and check on her husband during the night.

Between Lisette and me, Rupe Kelton had been checked on real good up until bedtime. Doc Purcell had come by to have another long look at him as well, and had hung around for some time. What with one thing and another, Kelton hadn’t been left alone for a second until the old-timer had rather testily run us all out with the request that we kindly let him get some sleep.

His loving wife had wanted to stay in the cabin with him, but he’d told her not to be silly. He’d be just fine if everybody would just quit fussing over him.

Silently I stood up. I’d already checked the bathroom’s floorboards out for creaks. Two silhouettes stood just inside the cabin’s doorway. One of them took a stealthy step toward the bed, holding up something bulky.

I snaked my free hand around the doorframe and hit the light switch for the main room. “You should have done the job yourself, lady. Your kid would have only taken the fall for accessory then.”

Sue Kelton and her son blinked in the light of the single overhead bulb, the boy still holding the pillow he’d planned on smothering his stepfather with.

Only there wasn’t anybody to smother. The lumpy shape under the sheet had been artistically made up out of the wadded blankets taken from my cabin.

Sue Kelton’s mouth worked, trying to shape the first instinctive denial, and Teddy Kelton dropped the pillow and took a step toward me, fists clenching. I didn’t actually aim the Commander at him, I just lifted it a little, giving the kid the word that he was about to do something really stupid.

Outside, there were more running footfalls as Lisette and the two San Bernardino deputies came tearing across from next-door, responding to the cabin’s light coming on.

Rupe Kelton looked almost as bad as when we’d hauled him out of the wreck that afternoon. Now, his stepfamily was under arrest for his attempted murder. He didn’t much want to believe it and who could blame him?

We’d smuggled the old guy into Lisette’s cabin after lights-out and Doc Purcell had managed him while we’d set up the bushwhack. I’d called the doc back to help us keep Kelton covered that evening. After he’d left for the second time, Purcell had parked down the highway and had walked back with the men from the Barstow sheriff’s station.

“Sue wouldn’t do that,” Kelton mumbled, staring down at his sheet-covered knees. “I knew she wasn’t all that happy, but she wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kelton, but your wife’s already copped to it.” I stood at the foot of the iron-framed bed, my thumbs hooked in my belt. “She’s taking responsibility for the whole thing. I guess she wants to keep as much of the heat off her son as she can, although he was in on the deal all the way.”

“But why?”

“An old story. She wanted to move back to what she figured was civilization and you were the one holding her back.”

“Didn’t know it was getting that bad,” he said dully. “If I’d known, I’d have sold out. I would. Or I’d have given her a divorce, if that’s what she really wanted.”

I could only shrug. “It wasn’t just that. She figured any alimony you could pay wouldn’t be worth it, and the only disposable asset you possessed was Devlin station. Only to dispose of it, she first had to dispose of you.”