Mystery at Saddle Creek. Shelley Peterson

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      6

      PIERRE HALL

      Tan watched as the lights turned on, room by room, from the upstairs down. In spite of the coyote, he’d been drawn back to the farmhouse. He had to tell the girl what happened. He couldn’t trust anyone else, and he would try until he succeeded. But a man—the man from next door who neglected his horses—was making a racket at the front door. The echoes of his fist against the wood reverberated in the still night air, and Tan covered his ears to block out the sound. Thankfully, nobody had come looking for him. Yet. He was still free. And freedom was everything. The coyote wasn’t near, for the moment, and the night was young. He would be patient. He would wait.

      JUST AS BIRD had slipped under her covers, a loud banging sound got her attention. She jumped up and looked out her bedroom window at the stoop below. “Julia!” she whispered. “You’ll never guess who’s at the door!”

      “Who?”

      “Look for yourself.”

      Julia crouched down beside Bird to see. She gasped. “Pierre from next door! What’s he doing here?”

      “Let’s find out.”

      Bird and Julia waited until Paul and Hannah had hurried downstairs in their robes, then crept silently down the stairs. They hid behind the stairwell, where they could observe the action.

      Pierre Hall pounded relentlessly on the door.

      Neither girl knew Pierre well. He worked next door and lived in an apartment above the barn. They’d often seen him around, but there was something about him that they instinctively avoided. He was odd, simple as that.

      Paul opened the door. “Pierre! What can we do for you?”

      “I got something to show you.” Pierre looked blurry-eyed and dishevelled. By his demeanour and his breath, Bird figured that he’d had quite a few beers. She could smell it from all the way across the hall.

      Paul and Hannah ushered him into the kitchen and closed the hall door, probably hoping not to wake the sleeping girls. Bird and Julia crept closer to listen.

      “They left me this.” Bird heard paper crumpling. “Cowards! Didn’t dare show themselves.”

      There was a pause. Bird assumed Paul and Hannah were reading whatever Pierre was showing them.

      “It was tacked to my door. I was having a few with my pals at the bar. I found it when I came back.”

      “Have you called the police?” Paul asked.

      “No. And I’m not going to. They think I killed my ex with a tire iron! They took DNA. I didn’t do it! But I don’t have an alibi.” Pierre sounded miserable. “Let’s have a drink.”

      Bird listened to Hannah’s slippered feet cross the kitchen floor. The tap ran and a glass was filled. “This note is threatening,” she said. “The police should know about it.”

      “They wouldn’t do anything.”

      Paul’s chair creaked. “You don’t know that, Pierre.”

      The glass slid across the table with a rumble. “You have something better than this?”

      Hannah answered, “Not tonight.”

      Paul’s chair scraped. “Pierre, call the police about that note. There’s nothing we can do that the police wouldn’t do better.”

      “You could protect me!”

      “How?” asked Paul.

      “Let me stay here tonight.”

      Bird was taken aback. The idea of their smelly, drunken neighbour sleeping on the couch didn’t appeal to her at all.

      “Look, I’ll be no trouble. Where’s your can?” With no warning, Pierre pushed open the kitchen door and immediately tripped over Bird and Julia. They yelped in surprise and tried to scramble out of his way.

      “Damn kids!” he yelled.

      Lucky began to bark loudly, and he rushed along the hall to Bird and Julia. Pierre, who’d just got to his feet, was knocked over again by the dog.

      “Damn dog!” He kicked out and missed Lucky by a few inches.

      Lucky growled.

      Hannah grabbed the dog by his collar and stood between Pierre and the girls. “Pierre, you’re drunk. I don’t want you staying here tonight.”

      “You read that note! They’re coming to get me!”

      “Call the police. They’ll protect you.”

      “They think I’m guilty!”

      Paul spoke. “You’re frightening everybody, including the dog.”

      “What if Pierre stays in the barn tonight?” asked Bird helpfully. “We could give him that blow-up mattress and some blankets.”

      “The barn?” sniffed Pierre. “Like some am ... mi ... nal? Animal?”

      “It’s not so bad,” said Bird. “We sleep up there lots of times, when we’re waiting to help with a birthing—it’s actually quite nice.”

      “It’s damp and noisy, with all the snorting and farting of horses.” Pierre drew himself up from the floor. “Seems I can’t count on my neighbours. Thanks for nothing.”

      Paul opened the front door. “Pierre, don’t make us the bad guys. The choice is yours. Call the police or stay in the barn.”

      Pierre walked outside with great dignity. He turned around, shook his fist and repeated, “Thanks for nothing!” He slammed the door behind him.

      They all stood staring at the closed door.

      “Holy smoke,” said Julia.

      “That was upsetting,” added Hannah.

      “What does the note say?” Bird asked. “Is it still in the kitchen?”

      Paul nodded. “I think so. He forgot to take it.”

      Bird dashed to the kitchen and snatched up the note. She read aloud:

       “Pierre Hall, you’re a bully and a drunk. You’re going to feel what it’s like to have a tire iron across the head. Be afraid.”

      “This is awful.” Bird dropped the note and wiped her hands on her pajamas, as if it was contaminated. “We have to call the police ourselves. Pierre won’t.”

      Hannah nodded and picked up the phone. She punched in the numbers from Officer Polito’s card СКАЧАТЬ