Phillip nodded. “And what about Beth? Is there any way she could have been up there, too?”
“I don’t see how. You know as well as I do that Alan wouldn’t have let her start climbing around up there. He wouldn’t have let anybody do that, let alone his own daughter.”
“But he’d do it himself,” Phillip commented, not really expecting a reply.
“That was Alan. He wouldn’t let anyone else take a risk like that, but he’d never think about it himself.”
There was a silence, while Phillip turned it over in his mind. “What if he was already up there, and she climbed up without his permission?”
“Already thought of that,” Adcock replied. “If traces of the paint showed up on Alan’s shoes, then they would have shown up on hers, too. And they didn’t. There’s no way she was up there, and no way she had anything to do with what happened to Alan.”
Phillip felt the tension he’d been unconsciously building up in his body suddenly ease. He hadn’t yet told Carolyn about the strange words Beth had uttered when she’d finally been able to speak that afternoon, and now he wouldn’t have to. But he still didn’t understand them.
“What do you think about what she said?” he asked.
“Not my department,” Adcock replied, shrugging. “You’ll have to ask the docs about that one. But offhand, I’d say it was nothing more than shock. She was the only one there, Mr. Sturgess, and she’s a little girl.” He stood up, stretched, and once more rubbed at his shoulders. “I’d better get out there and talk to the folks. Hope I can convince them that I’m telling them the truth. And you,” he added, “might want to think about going out the back way.”
Phillip frowned, wondering what the police chief was getting at. “Why?”
“Because if you’re with me, someone’s bound to suggest that you’ve pressured me to gloss over what happened.” He smiled bitterly. “People are like that. They don’t want a simple answer. They’d rather have a scandal, and they’re about to be disappointed.” He hesitated a moment, then went on, but his tone of voice had changed slightly, become less official. “Alan was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?”
“He was,” Phillip replied. “In other circumstances, I suspect he might have been my best friend. We—well, we understood each other, Alan and I.”
Adcock’s lips pursed thoughtfully. “He was my friend, too. So I guess, in a strange sort of way, you and I should be friends, Mr. Sturgess.”
Phillip hesitated, uncertain what the chief was getting at. “Friends usually call each other by their first names,” he observed quietly. “And mine’s Phillip.”
The chief’s head bobbed. “And mine’s Norm. And if you want my opinion, I’d say you’re going to be in for some very rough times.”
“I’m not sure I follow you—”
“Beth. What do you plan to do about her?”
“Do about her?” Phillip repeated. “I’m going to take her home, and do whatever I can to help her get through all this.”
“Six weeks ago you kicked her out of your house.”
Phillip’s eyes narrowed, and he felt sudden anger make a vein in his forehead throb. But before he could speak, he realized that there had been nothing condemnatory in the chief’s voice. Adcock had spoken as if he were simply delivering information. “Is that what people have been saying?” he asked.
“That’s what they’ve been saying. And all evening I’ve been getting reports from my boys.” Briefly, he told Phillip about the gossip that was already sweeping through the town. “I can’t tell you what to do, but if Beth were my daughter, I’m not sure I’d want her to stay here. It’s not going to matter what I say, Mr.—Phillip. People are going to talk, and the stories are going to get worse and worse.”
“But Beth hasn’t done anything—”
“What about the horse?” Adcock asked bluntly. “Are you going to tell me the poison got into those oats all by itself?”
Suddenly, unbidden, a memory flashed into Phillip’s mind. A memory of his daughter, looking up at him earlier that afternoon, and asking him if Beth had killed someone.
She hadn’t cared.
He’d seen it in her eyes.
She hadn’t cared that someone had died. All she’d cared about was that once more Beth Rogers might be in trouble.
“Beth didn’t poison the oats,” he said now, the pain of the truth wrenching at him. “But I know who did.” He turned, and started out of the office, but Adcock’s voice stopped him.