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Authors: Connie Cook

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BOOK: Patterns of Swallows
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"It's not blackmail to want
to see simple justice done," Ruth said.

"Right! Plus a little cut
for yourself, I suppose. Well, I'll tell you right now, Missy,
you're barking up the wrong tree. There was nothing illegal about
what went on. Maybe a little irregular but not illegal. We settled
a lawsuit out of court as both parties were entitled to do. And Mrs.
Weaver had authorized her lawyer to settle terms for her. If he
agreed to let me pay her terms off over time, well, what of it?"

"What of it is the fact
that you haven't paid Mrs. Weaver anything you agreed to and that you
paid her lawyer double his fees in order to let you pay off the money
you owe her 'over time.' Which means never. That and you threatened
him if he didn't. I'd say that was more than just a little
irregular."

"Ha, ha, ha," Gus
roared in enjoyment. "Is that what that tom-fool lawyer said in
his letter? Always was one for the dramatics. Speaking of threats,
I get a threatening letter once a year from him, regular as
clockwork, crying like a whipped puppy about justice and how he's
really going to do something about it this time. That salves his
conscience for another year, and I hear no more from 'im till the
next year. Some people send annual Christmas cards. Manny Seneca
sends me an annual threatening letter. There's nothing in it, of
course. He wouldn't dare go to court with this. He's too busy
saving his own hide to worry about anyone else's. He'll never do
anything about it, don't you worry about that!"

"Maybe he wouldn't, but I
would."

Gus had an abrupt change of
tone. "Go running to tell that oldest boy of Joe's all about
it, I suppose you mean. Well, I'll tell you right now, it wouldn't
matter to 'im. Talk about whipped puppies," Gus snorted. "He
wouldn't do a thing about it. He's all for turning the other cheek
and all that kind of thing. Not that I wasn't willing to do whatever
I could for him. When he was talking of marrying my daughter, I told
him I'd give him a good position at the mill. He might've ended up
with the whole thing when I was gone. None of my own boys have shown
any interest. But he wasn't interested either. Wanted to farm, he
said. He threw over the chance I gave him, so I feel I've done what
I could for him. I don't owe him a thing. Now, listen, Ruth. Where
is this letter? I need to read it if I'm supposed to know what it is
you're all fired up about. If you've taken it, I can have you
charged. Not only with attempted blackmail but with opening private
mail not addressed to you and then stealing it."

"Really?" Ruth said.
Her voice sounded a lot more calm than she felt. She fought to keep
the shake out of it. "You're really going to have me charged
with all that? Don't you think you might have to end up explaining
what all this is about, then? I don't think you're going to have me
charged with anything. For one thing, I was authorized to open that
letter when I opened it. And I haven't taken it anywhere. It's
here, in the offices. I'm just not going to tell you where. And
lastly, I don't think it's considered blackmail unless I profit from
it, somehow. And all I want you to do is pay Rahel Weaver what you
promised to pay her. And I know what that amount is, by the way."

"Now, don't you get uppity
with me, young miss."

Gus Turnbull had definitely lost
his good humour now. His heavy face, showing the beginnings of jowls
when his mouth turned down steeply as it was at the moment, was a
deep red. There was an emphasis in his tone that Ruth knew would
have been a rise in decibel level if it hadn't been for the thin
walls of the inner office.

"You're not in a position
to tell me what I'm going to do or what I'm not going to do," he
spat out. "I agreed to pay out a certain sum to Joe Weaver's
widow when I could. I have paid her what I could, and I'll keep on
paying her. But I arranged with her lawyer so that I could pay her
over time. If I can't keep up the payments as fast as he'd like me
to, well, that's not any of your business. You might think I'm made
of money, but you don't know how much legal fees take. When I agreed
to those terms, I was hurting financially. Really hurting. I'd just
been through a costly court case. I wasn't able to pay what that
whippersnapper lawyer asked for, and that's the plain truth of it.
Don't forget there was a war on then, and the country needed lumber.
We were providing an essential service. It was my duty to keep the
mill operational. Paying out the settlement right then and there
would've broken me and the mill."

"Then why did you sign the
agreement in the first place? That's one thing I can't figure out.
If you knew the lawyer could be bought off, why agree to the terms at
all? You could have bought off the lawyer without agreeing to
anything or signing anything, couldn't you have?" Ruth asked.
It was something she'd been wondering about while lying awake the
night before.

"That idiot lawyer thought
he had me over a barrel, that's why, though he was wrong. I'd
already been acquitted of responsibility in Joe's death. The civil
case would have shown the same facts, that the death had nothing to
do with me. To this day, there's no reason I should break myself
paying out his widow. But I agreed to that lawyer's terms because if
I hadn't, he would have dragged me into court. And I couldn't afford
another costly case."

"Oh, I see," Ruth said
comprehendingly. "You knew if the case had gone to court, the
court couldn't be bought off or threatened like Manny Seneca could.
And in court, it would've come out that you weren't financially
hurting at all. So you signed the agreement in order to stay out of
court, knowing you could always put the pressure on the lawyer
afterwards to do what you wanted. Which was to get out of paying
Rahel Weaver anything. I get it now."

"Don't you get smart with
me, girl. I've told you I've paid her some, and I'm still paying.
But all this is none of your business. So if you'll have the
kindness to give me my own mail like you should've done yesterday ...
I'm a busy man. I told you I was in the middle of something."

"But I've decided to make
it my business," Ruth said. "I'm not leaving this office
without a cheque made out to Rahel Weaver for the full amount. If
you'll trust me to mail it to her, that is. If not, you can give it
to Marcie to mail. I certainly don't trust you to mail it. So I'm
not leaving here till that's all looked after."

"You must be crazy,"
Gus roared, the thin office walls forgotten. "You think I have
that kind of money just sitting around somewhere? I run a business.
I have expenses. The money's in and out of my account. It's not
just sitting idle in my chequing account, waiting to be given away to
some woman of ill-repute. Yes, and that's what she is. Little
better than a street-walker."

"I'll ignore that last
comment. We both know why she had to do what she did. As to your
first comment, if you don't have that kind of money sitting around in
your chequing account, I guess you'll have to cash something in. I
dunno, stocks, bonds. I know it's not a question of your not having
the money in some form. You can find a way. And I don't imagine
you'll even feel much of a pinch from it. But you'll have to deposit
the money into your account after you write the cheque because I'm
not leaving this office without a cheque. For the full amount. And
not to go through that lawyer, either. Made out to Rahel Weaver."

"I told you, I have paid
her. Not the full amount, yet, but I've paid some of it. Quite a
lot of it, actually. I suppose I could write out a cheque, make
another payment, if it'd get you out of here. I have other things to
do today than sit around, jawing with you, as pleasant as our little
chat has been. But I don't owe the full amount. There's no way I'm
writing a cheque like that."

Ruth took it as a hopeful sign.
He was bending. She wasn't sure how this whole thing would end if he
didn't. She had no intention of doing the same, however.

"So let's write off
whatever pittance you've already paid to her as lost interest. The
whole amount. Or I don't leave. At least not without that letter.
Either I'm leaving here with a cheque for the full amount for Rahel
Weaver, or I'm leaving here with that letter from Manny Seneca, and
you can face the the consequences. Take your pick."

"Oh, you'll leave, all
right. I can pick up this telephone right now and have you removed
from these premises under police escort. Don't think I won't do it
'cause I will, Missy. And I'll have you charged with extortion,
too."

"Okay, go ahead. But rest
assured that I'll tell my side of it to the police. And I'll have
that letter to show them. Hope you're up for another court case."

Gus had moved his hand toward
the telephone, and it rested on the receiver but made no move to pick
it up.

"Okay, how much?" he
said suddenly.

"What?"

"How much? How much do you
want?"

"What I told you. The full
amount. In a cheque made out to Rahel Weaver. Delivered to Marcie
for mailing if you don't trust me with it."

"What's really behind
this?"

"Amos 5:24."

"What's that supposed to
mean?"

"Thought you were a
church-going man. Amos 5:24. It's in the Bible. A book you might
try reading sometime."

"I knew you'd be trouble
soon as I agreed to hire you. I had a bad feeling about the whole
thing. See if I ever do anything for anyone out of the kindness of
my heart ever again. So this is how I'm repaid for trying to be
generous! If you're not after money, then I suppose this is all just
revenge because of what Lily did to you."

"You can think whatever you
want, Mr. Turnbull. I've told you I just want to see justice done.
In fact, I felt forced into this. I knew I had no choice as soon as
I read that letter. If it had just been up to me, there's no way on
earth we'd be having this conversation right now. There was nothing
in me that wanted to do this. Except, I guess, some kind of desire
to see wrongs righted. But I would have been more than happy to stay
out of this one if I could have."

"Well, you can. You can
turn around right now and walk away and we can both forget this
little talk ever happened."

"No, I can't."

"You know if you ever
mention this to anyone, what it would look like, don't you? No one
would believe you. It would look like a pathetic attempt to get back
at the Turnbull family because you couldn't hang on to your husband."

"Since when have I ever
cared what people think? I've told you the reasons I'm doing this.
You can believe me or not. And no one else needs to know about this.
At least, no one needs to know my part in it. Once you write that
cheque to Rahel Weaver, she's the only one who needs to know that
you've given her the money you owe her. If you pay her what you owe
her, I promise you, as long as you're alive, I won't tell a soul
about what's been said today in this office or about that letter from
Manny Seneca. I'll give you my word of honour on that. Though that
may not mean much to you, my word of honour is still worth
something."

The antagonists stared each
other down in silence. Ruth willed herself not to blink.

Suddenly, Gus yanked open a desk
drawer and drew out his cheque book.

"You're through here,"
he said as he scribbled out the cheque.

"That should go without
saying. I knew that as soon as I'd decided to see this through,"
Ruth said. Inside of herself, an uncontrollable quivering was taking
place. She hoped it wasn't visible.

"No,
I mean, you're
through
here. You won't work anywhere in this
town
after this. I'll see to that. I still have some influence in
Arrowhead."

"We'll see. I don't think
you have as much influence as you think you do."

"No,
you'll
see."

"Thank you very much, Mr.
Turnbull," she said, taking the cheque, and there was no trace
of sarcasm in the words. She was grateful beyond belief that it was
all over. She examined the cheque as he dashed an address off on an
envelope and licked a stamp for it.

"Do you want Marcie to mail
it?" she asked him.

"Oh,
I believe I can trust to your fine sense of
honour
to see that it gets into the right hands."

"Then, I'll take it and
mail it. Thank you. You may not believe me, but I am sorry about
all this. I would rather not have done it. It was just something
that had to be done. Oh. Here."

She quickly went back to the
outer office and pulled out from its hiding place in the office chair
the letter that had started the ball rolling. Marcie looked at her
curiously. It was almost the first emotion Ruth had seen in her
expressionless eyes.

BOOK: Patterns of Swallows
6.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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