Legacy (46 page)

'Saw the name on one of the bank's official reports - Justin McKay. And it's the same one, too. I wrote the bank, askin' for his address, and they wrote back that he lived in Grampian.'

'Well, I shall certainly speak to him about Mr. Elliot . . .' My voice trailed off. It began to dawn on me that Philadelphia First could hardly have avoided consulting Justin about any business transactions it planned in Grampian. For a bank to ignore one of its directors ...

'Billy Joe, did you find out if any of the other directors of Philadelphia First live in Grampian, or anywhere near here?'

'No, ma'am. But none of the other names looked familiar. You want me to check?'

We were stopping in front of Justin's clinic, where I would have to go in and face Red Campbell. 'I don't know yet, Billy Joe,' I said, feeling suddenly tired. 'I think I've got enough on my mind as it is. Ask me later, would you? Remind me.'

I had not been inside the clinic for months, but the familiar reception area had not changed. Behind the desk, Mrs. Martin still had that same dedicated loyalty in her gaze, though her eyes did look a bit less saintly when they recognized me. 'Oh, hello, Miss Rawlings,' she said. 'We certainly haven't seen you here in a long time.'

'How are you, Mrs. Martin? I'd like to see Dr. McKay, and a patient here named...'

I hesitated, but Billy Joe supplied the name. 'Bell. He's over there in 1-C.'

'Oh, yes. That's the man you were talking to early this morning, isn't it? I'm sorry to tell you that he's not to have any visitors. Those are Dr. McKay's orders. I'd let you speak to Dr. McKay about it, but I'm afraid he's not here just now. Perhaps you'd care to wait?'

At the top of the stairs, a patient in a robe recognized us. 'Hey, Billy Joe!' he called. Then, turning away from us for a moment, he called out, 'Hey, Pete, guess who's here? You remember Billy Joe and that Miss Rawlings, the one who used to come in afternoons?'

I could hear a hubbub of voices upstairs coming from the men's ward. Soon two other familiar faces appeared at the railing overhead and waved down at us, much to the exasperation of Mrs. Martin.

'They're supposed to be resting!' she fumed. 'Where's that day nurse? Do I have to go quiet them down myself?'

She got up from her desk and headed up the stairs. 'Goodbye, ma'am,' called Billy Joe. Then, as soon as she was out of sight, he led me quickly to the door of 1-C.

A single wood-frame bed stood in the centre of the little room. Behind the headboard, a window with partially opened curtains let in the light, illuminating the hunched figure that lay under the sheets.

I drew in my breath at the sight of him. Billy Joe had understated Campbell's appearance. The red hair and beard had almost completely vanished. All that remained of them were a few tufts, unkempt, on the left side. The right was a mass of scars, barely recognizable as a human face. Only one eye remained; the other was completely encrusted, a depression amid the maze of destroyed tissue.

The one eye opened as we came in. The mouth, a gaping slit, whispered with laughter. 'Ya brought her good and quick, didn't ya? Bust your ass to see ole Red now?'

Again, that hideous whistling laugh came forth. I forced myself to come closer to the bed. 'You said you had something to say about why you were in Eagles Mere. Who was paying you, Campbell? Who were you working for? Was it Brad Graybar?'

That horrible head, the scars purplish and yellow, barely moved. 'Said I'd tell you, didn't I?' The voice was a whispered sneer. 'But I didn't say I'd tell him. Tell him to go.'

'That's absurd. What difference does it make?'

'Tell him to go, or ole Red don't say nothin'.'

'I'll wait outside, ma'am. And don't worry, I'll keep the desk lady occupied.'

The door closed behind him and I was alone in the room with this horribly deformed creature, all that remained of the man on whom I had sworn to get revenge. And in that revenge I had certainly succeeded, I thought. I could scarcely imagine a fate more horrible than what Campbell must have gone through these past months.

I forced myself to speak. I had to get this over with. 'All right, Campbell, I've done as you asked.'

He remained silent, except for a slight rasping noise that I realized was his breathing.

'Campbell, who was it? Who were you working for?'

The voice was petulant whining. 'Come closer.'

I advanced a few steps and stopped. The head did not move, but the one eye, which faced my side of the bed, opened a bit wider.

'Now, take my hand.'

I spoke firmly. 'This is as close as I'm coming. Who was it?'

'Take my hand, I said.' Beneath the sheet there was movement. Blackened stumps of fingers appeared, groped, and reached out.

I stepped back. 'There's nothing you could ever say that’s worth touching you, Campbell.'

My harsh words brought a response. 'Why, you bitch!' He tried to lift himself up on one elbow. 'Did you think I was gonna tell you anything? Goddamned dumb bitch! I just wanted to get you in here so I could spit in your eye! I wanted to show you what you done to me!' The hand fumbled with the sheet. 'Look at this arm, hey? Ain't it pretty? And my chest - ya wanna see a real . . .'

His words froze in mid-sentence as the door opened behind me. 'No!' he yelled, his voice cracking, terrified.

I turned. In the doorway stood Justin. His face was a mask of cold anger.

And from behind me came that horrid whisper of Campbell's voice. 'No, Doc! I didn't tell her! I didn't tell her nothin'!'

And suddenly I knew. And those cool blue eyes of Justin's looked through me and saw that I knew.

I stood silent for a moment, trying to get over the shock. The thoughts raced through my mind. Justin had known that I could bid one hundred and fifty-thousand dollars, and Elliot had come with one hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars. Brad Graybar had fired Campbell after Shaw had died. Justin had taken time out from his busy schedule to come up to the mountains with Father. And that first night we had seen Campbell. And the next day Justin had gone back to Grampian.

Justin was closing the door behind him now.

'Billy Joe!' I called. 'Come in here!'

Justin smiled slightly as he turned the key in the lock. 'I wouldn't look for him for another hour if I were you, Catherine. Your loyal security man is off doing what he thinks is his duty. We sent in a message that there was trouble at your hotel.'

'You knew we were here!'

'I couldn't help overhearing all that commotion upstairs, could I? Of course, I'd told Mrs. Martin I wasn't available for visitors. She may have been a bit over-zealous, I'm afraid, thinking of my fiancee as a visitor.'

Already I had taken off his ring. 'Surely you don't still think of me as your fiancée. I . . .'

He interrupted me, the voice impenetrably professional, the doctor to the patient. 'You're upset now, Catherine. You think that something terrible has happened, but it hasn't. You'll see that nothing's really changed.'

He turned away from me to some bottles on the medicine table beside him as he spoke. 'You think that this man killed your father on my orders. Well, that's not true at all. I sent him to look at Eagles Mere, yes, I admit that. But . . .'

'But why? How could you . . .'

'He came to me for work. It was the day after his bullet had nearly fractured my skull, but, of course, I didn't recognize him. I thought he might be useful. Your father was concerned about sabotage of his properties, and Campbell said he knew them well.'

'You were hiring him to sabotage Father's property?'

'No. I hired him to give me a report. I wanted him to look things over and give me an opinion, in case I wanted to invest. Your father wanted to sell me a percentage of that hotel, you know.'

'I didn't know. He never said anything of the kind.'

'Well, it's true, all the same. And what Campbell did to you and your father at Eagles Mere was completely his own idea. I told him only to look over the grounds for security. Isn't that right, Campbell?'

The figure on the bed lay silent and still. The sheets were motionless.

'He's dead!' I whispered the words hoarsely, suddenly numb with fear. 'Let me out, Justin! Let me out!'

He was coming closer, the face and blue eyes eerily serene. 'Just as soon as you understand, Catherine, that I had nothing to do with your father's death.'

'You sent Elliot, though. You told him to go against me, and when that didn't work, you . . .' I looked at the ring in my hand and suddenly the anger rose up inside of me. 'You're disgusting!' I flung the ring at him. It bounced off his white shirt and clattered to the floor, but he paid it no attention.

'You're imagining things, Catherine. You've no way to prove that. It's just been a trying time for you to see this man again. Now I'm going to give you something that will quiet your nerves . . . '

He came towards me with the bottle of brownish fluid in his hand.

'You'll not give me anything! Let me out!'

'It's only a sedative, darling, only a mild sedative to quiet . . .'

'Like the ones you gave Elaine!' The image of that woman's vacant smile and her dazed, semi-conscious manner was suddenly in my mind. Horrified at what this man could do, I made a rush past him for the door. The knob would not turn. I felt Justin's strong hands grip my shoulders.

'No!' I screamed as loudly as I could. 'No!' I kicked frantically at the door and had the satisfaction of hearing the wood crack on one side of the lower panel. If I could break through . . . but he was pulling me away, the power of his tall, lean frame too strong for me.

I screamed again, and then he choked off my cry as the palm of his hand clamped firmly across my mouth, pinching my nostrils shut, so that I could not breathe. 'Now, Catherine, you've got to be quiet and listen to me.'

I knocked the bottle of opium from his hand, sending it hard against the wall. There was a crash as it hit the floor, and then, as Justin released me, a pungent, sweet odor of alcohol began to fill the room.

He pushed me aside and was at the medicine table again, opening another bottle. Then from a canister he quickly grabbed a large wad of cotton-wool. I raced to the door and kicked out again with my thin-soled riding boot. I kicked once, then again, until my foot pained me terribly. There was a splintering noise and my boot nearly went through the door. From the other side of the door came the sound of voices. If only the men from upstairs could hear me!

I opened my mouth to cry out again, but before I could utter a sound he was upon me from behind. Cold, wet cotton-wool was clapped across my mouth and nose. The grip of his arm across my chest was like a steel trap. Vaguely I recalled that fluid, that odor that was making dizzy. The surgeons used ether to put patients to sleep . . .

And what would Justin do to me? I held my breath, determined to fight. Fear and anger welled up inside me. In a great, violent outburst of strength I never knew I possessed, I shifted my weight and lashed out savagely with the heel of my boot, catching him across the shin bone with a resounding crack.

He drew in his breath at the pain. And then he tightened his grip. 'Why, you little vixen.' The voice was low and hard, just behind my ear. 'You're a real little fighter, aren't you?'

Then suddenly there was a voice outside the door. 'Dr. McKay!' It was a woman's voice - Mrs. Martin's. 'Do you need help in there?'