The Desert Moon Mystery by Kay Cleaver Strahan

Miss MacDonald had thought it necessary to have Martha's body exhumed and sent to San Francisco. That is what the coroner and the undertaker had been about on their second trip to the ranch. Sam had not wanted any of us to know about it, particularly he had not wanted Mrs. Ricker to know. That had suited Miss MacDonald better, too; so they had had the men do the work while we were all at dinner that day. They had been careful to fix the grave so that it would not show that it had been disturbed; and then, being men, they had left their shovels right there in the cabin for the first person to find. As you know, the first person had been Mrs. Ricker.

We had been waiting ever since for the chemist's report. Sam's looks and actions, now, kept the question from my lips. I thought that the report must have contained some new horror. In a way, it had; but Sam's first words were reassuring.

"It is too good to be true," he said, and repeated, dazedly, "too good to be true. Miss MacDonald had her assistants trace the prescription from Doctor Roe. The powders were harmless. I didn't cause my girl's death. The report proves-Miss MacDonald says -- The report proves -- "

"Take it easy, Sam. What does the report prove?"

"Somebody gave her a deadly poison. The chemists found two traces. One they can't analyze. That's why they've kept us waiting so long for the report. They are still working on it, hoping for results. The other was nitrobenzene. Miss MacDonald says that, in small doses, induces coma and takes as long as twenty-four hours to act. But it is apt not to be deadly by itself. It was combined with this other drug-the one that must have made death certain."

Miss MacDonald came hurrying into the kitchen. She was holding the monkey charm bracelet in her hand.

"See here," she said, "this bangle thing opens. I think we can be certain that the poison she took, or was given, came out of it. There is a trace of the odor. Smell it."

She handed it to me. It smelled a little like shoe polish, with sort of a faint almond flavoring, underneath. I gave it to Sam, who had been reaching out his hand for it. He smelled it, and then knotted it up in his fist.

Remembering, I can't think of anything that he said which would do to quote. The gist of it was, that if Gaby had given Martha the poison, he was not sorry that Gaby had been killed, because justice had been done. He went on to say that, if she had not given it to Martha purposely, but only carelessly, forgetting its deadliness, he reckoned that things had turned out for the best, as far as Gaby was concerned, anyway. Not satisfied with that, he expressed, violently, his regrets that vengeance had been taken out of his hands.

"It isn't vengeance you want, Mr. Stanley," Miss MacDonald reminded him, pretty sternly, "but justice. That is within our reach. I am practically certain that the person who poisoned Martha, who strangled Miss Canneziano and her father, is right here on this place -- "

"Hold on," Sam interrupted. "Considering that this person is a poisoner and a strangler, and that he is around loose and careless, and that we may all be murdered in our beds, or out of 'em, or poisoned at our meals, it seems to me the next move is to telephone to the sheriff, and have him out here in a hurry, with some men -- "

"Nothing of the sort," Miss MacDonald snapped at him. "I have told you before, and I tell you again, that as matters stand now I am the only person on the ranch who is in the least danger. I did not say that I was certain. I said that I was practically certain. I can't be certain until I have some proof, some evidence. At present, I have not one scrap of either -- "

"Then you can't know who the guilty person is."

"Exactly what I have just said. My work from now on is to get that proof. If you would help me, instead of -- "

Sam interrupted, his whole body straining forward with his eagerness. "Tell us who he is, and where he is, and we'll help you, right enough."

"I can't tell you. Not unless you want to have still another murder on the Desert Moon Ranch. But you can help me. First, by keeping the discovery of the poison a secret. Second, by allowing everyone else on the place to suppose that I am still in a state of entire bafflement concerning the crime. Third, and most important, perhaps, by having patience with me."

"Ye'a," Sam said, "and while we are sitting around, having patience, this bird will walk off to some green hill far away. I think the boys are doing their best to guard the place, but this bird's a slicker. What's to keep him from, say, dressing in my clothes some night, and riding merrily away on Bobbie Burns or Wishbone? All he'd have to do is to give the boys a high-sign and they'd let him ride to hell, if they thought he was me. Another thing-I can't trust all my punchers. Some of them are greasers, some half-breeds. Money, and not much of it, talks pretty loud to some of those boys."

"At present, the person I suspect has no intention of leaving the place."

"When you don't know anything else, how can you know that?"

"I didn't say that I didn't know anything else."