“Yes, so it’s valuable for that,” she said. “And also there’s something called mullite, which is pretty hot these days in the ceramics industry. Only occurs naturally on the island of Mull, in Scotland, but you can refine either kyanite or kaolin to make it. And there were small deposits of both up there. Still are, actually.”
“So there is a reason for mining companies to be snooping around on Biscuit Mountain,” I said. “Something more than just speculative exploration.”
“Maybe,” she said. “The vein of kaolin the Biscuit Mountain Works used was pretty much depleted. That’s part of what drove it out of business—not just having to buy their clay all of a sudden, but the money they spent trying to find a new vein. And they never did find one. Not one that was worth the cost of digging. Just piddly little deposits.”
“That was nearly a hundred years ago,” I said. “Technology’s come a long way. What if someone thought those piddly little deposits were worth mining?? Or at least worth checking out?”
“We did check it out about five years ago,” Annabel said. “I looked into buying the land back and trying to do something with it. Maybe start up the pottery works again. Or mine the minerals. The town could use some industry. So I got a mining geologist out here. He seemed to think the kaolin and kyanite were exploitable—his word. But he didn’t think the profit margin would be big enough for any reputable company to be interested. To get at them in sufficient quantities, you’d pretty much have to take the top off the mountain. A great big open-pit mine all up and down the side of Biscuit Mountain. The side the town can see, because the other side is in the National Park. Not a legacy I want to leave to the town.”
“But if there’s no profit in it,” I began.
“Not enough profit to be worthwhile for a legitimate operation,” Annabel said. “He warned me that it might be pretty tempting to some kind of fly-by-night outfit that would try to weasel out of every environmental and safety regulation on the books.”
“So you were worried that a mining company might try to buy it,” I said.
“The wrong mining company,” she said. “A company that wouldn’t have to live with the visual blight or the rest of the environmental impact. Mining kaolin generates a lot of dust, and refining it uses—and dirties—a lot of water. The stuff’s even got its own disease—kaolinosis. A lot like asbestosis.”
“Other people in town might not care,” Dr. Ffollett said. “Not many jobs here. If a mine brought in jobs, people might not care about how the mountain looks or whether it kills them in the long run.”
“Okay,” I said. “The kaolin and kyanite might be sufficient motive for someone from a mining company to be sniffing around Biscuit Mountain. But are they motive for murder?”
We all looked at each other for a few moments.
“Sounds plausible to me,” Annabel said. “Not hard for some scummy company to figure out we’d fight them tooth and nail and maybe cost them so much they couldn’t turn a profit.”
“Yes, Cordelia would have led the charge against any attempt to start an open-pit mine up at Biscuit Mountain,” Dr. Ffollett said. “But she can’t now.”
“That was another reason we tried to buy the place,” Annabel said. “Not just for the emus, although that was important. We were going to work on getting it declared a historical site. Maybe look into deeding it to the National Park Service when we went. Make sure the land—and the town—were protected.”
“And frankly, that was one reason Cordelia had Annabel write to Dr. Blake,” Dr. Ffollett said. “She thought if we got him up here to take care of the emus, he’d also see how beautiful and unspoiled the area was, and then if necessary we could enlist him to fight against developing the property.”
“But when you tried to buy the ranch, the bank turned you down,” I said.
“Probably because Theo Weaver was on their board of directors.” Annabel’s hands were clenched into fists. “What do you want to bet they were in league with some mining company?”
“Possibly the Smedlock Mining Company,” I said.
“What’s that?” Dr. Ffollett asked.
“Weaver was also on their board,” I said. “You didn’t know he was connected to a mining company?”
“No,” Dr. Ffollett said.
“I didn’t until you told me last night,” Annabel said.
“Yes,” I said. “When I was asking if you could think of any connection between Cordelia and mining. Was there a reason you didn’t mention your fears that a mining company might buy Biscuit Mountain last night?”