by Joe Slade
‘Have you told the sheriff?’ Doc didn’t wait for an answer. ‘No, of course not. That’s why you’re here, why you’re skipping town. You thought, if Maggie were dead the loss of the affidavit wouldn’t matter. You could ignore its existence and save face.’
The attorney hung his head. ‘It’s more serious than that. A few nights ago, I had a few drinks with Archie Cavanaugh, told him about the affidavit. I didn’t see the harm in it at the time knowing how close Archie was to George and in view of the fact that he was the one who brought her back.’
‘Are you saying Cavanaugh’s the one that stole the affidavit?’
‘I find it hard to believe but I don’t know what else to think. He was the only one I told, the only other person I trusted with the combination to my safe.’ He passed a hand across his brow. ‘After everything else that’s happened, I’ll tell you, I’m afraid for my life, Doctor.’
Doc wanted to reassure him but how much did he really know about the detective?
‘Have you told the sheriff?’
‘I told him about the break in, said I was leaving town.’
‘And about Cavanaugh?’
He looked uneasy. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to. Not without something solid to go on. Now, I really must go.’
Doc gripped his arm. ‘Just tell me one thing. Who stands to benefit from the will without the affidavit?’
‘It was Lucille Stanford but with her dead…I don’t know. Her parents died years ago and she didn’t have any siblings. I know she had a will drawn up a few months ago but she had her own attorney do it; an out of town man.’ Philips glanced up the stairs as a board creaked overhead. ‘Who’s up there?’
‘Mrs. Peters. Go on.’ Doc said, curiosity adding roughness to his tone.
The attorney tugged free and turned for the door. ‘I’ve said enough. I just wanted to warn you. Someone doesn’t want Margaret Stanford to inherit the fortune she’s entitled to. Be very careful who you trust, Doctor.’
‘But if the affidavit is gone, Maggie doesn’t have a claim, does she?’
Philips chuckled softly. ‘George Stanford was no fool. He had me draw up two copies.’ He flung open the door and stepped outside. ‘When Miss Stanford is in a position to claim her inheritance, the sheriff will know where to find me. Good luck, Doctor.’
Doc didn’t move to stop him as he bolted off down the neat little path, almost colliding with Leo in his haste to be gone. For a few seconds afterwards, Doc stood and watched the old man disappear from sight.
‘Who was that?’ Leo asked.
‘George Stanford’s attorney,’ Doc muttered as his keen mind sorted the facts, looking for associations while at the same time something just outside his grasp nagged at his subconscious.
‘Doc!’ Martha Peters screeched. ‘She’s awake.’
He grabbed Leo by the shoulder, turning him around as the boy lunged for the stairs. ‘Go tell Rick she’s awake. If you see Cavanaugh and he asks, there’s been no change. Do you understand?’
‘No. I thought he was Maggie’s friend.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. Until we know for sure, we can’t trust him. For all we know he could be the one who killed her father and shot Maggie.’
Leo frowned. ‘I don’t think he’d do that, not after he brought her home.’
Doc shoved him out the door. ‘Well then, let’s hope I’m wrong. Now hurry.’
With Leo on his way, Doc mounted the stairs two at a time, composing himself with an air of unconcern before he entered the small room. Sipping water with help from Martha Peters, Maggie looked pale and a little dazed as her gaze met his.
She smiled weakly. ‘What happened?’
‘You were shot – again.’ He felt her pulse. It was slow and steady. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Head hurts.’ She grasped his hand feebly. ‘Have they arrested her?’
‘Who?’
‘Lucille.’ She sank back against the pillows, her energy already spent. ‘She killed my father.’
Martha Peters shot Doc a nervous glance but there was no reason to hide the truth.
‘Lucille’s dead,’ he said flatly. ‘She was shot the same night as you.’
‘What about Emma?’
‘The nurse? No, she wasn’t there, thank God.’
‘She told me to run,’ she mumbled.
‘Emma told you to run? I don’t understand.’
Maggie’s eyes closed as she fell back into a troubled sleep. Doc was tempted to rouse her, eager for answers but instead he followed Martha out. There’d be time for questions later.
Rick had spent the night and the early hours of the morning with Ruby the redhead at the Fools Gold. Now, hungry and faced with the prospect of having to tell Doc that the sheriff was no closer to finding out who had murdered the Stanfords, the undertaker or Latimer, he weaved his way through the throng that seemed to fill the streets of Flamstead Junction daily from dawn until dusk.
‘Hey, Rick, hold up.’ It was Cavanaugh.
Rick hadn’t seen him around since George Stanford’s death but now the detective strode purposefully towards him. Struggling to keep pace and looking none too happy about it was George Stanford’s nurse, Emma. As they got nearer, it was clear they were arguing about something.
‘How’s Maggie?’ Archie asked.
‘No change but Doc says that’s not unexpected.’
Archie shook his head. ‘I feel like this is my fault. If I hadn’t—’
‘She’s tough,’ Rick said, cutting him off, impatient for steak and eggs.
‘Let’s hope so because I was on my way to see you and Doc to tell you the situation isn’t getting any better.’ He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘Emma found this note amongst Lucille’s papers.’
Rick rubbed his stinging eyes and read the scrawled note.
Mrs. Stanford. Margaret Stanford dead. Pleasure doing business with you. F O’B.
Rick stared blankly at the words, read them again, unable to take them in as their meaning contradicted what he knew to be the truth. This was all wrong. Frank had told him that Maggie was Margaret. Not to mention that the note was scrawled and Rick knew for a fact that Frank had bold, clear handwriting.
‘Do you see what this means?’ Emma asked excitedly.
‘Emma!’
‘Oh shush, Archie!’
‘It doesn’t prove Maggie isn’t who she says she is,’ Rick said defensively.
‘But it gives her a reason to want Lucille dead,’ Emma opined breathlessly. ‘Don’t you see? Either Lucille paid to have her murdered or, she could have exposed her as an imposter. Take your pick of a motive for wanting Lucille dead but I say this letter gives the woman calling herself Maggie O’Bannen enough reason to commit murder.’
‘Emma, don’t,’ Archie pleaded.
She turned on him. ‘I know you believe she’s who she says she is but maybe it’s time to face facts. What if she isn’t? What if she killed George and Lucille because they knew the truth?’
Archie shook his head. ‘You were there when George saw her. He recognized her.’
They seemed to forget about Rick.
‘Did he? Some days he thought I was Margaret. He was weak and dying. He wanted to believe she was alive. After seven years and with all those scars on her face, how could he really have known?’
‘She proved it to him. They were the only ones who knew about Carlotta.’
Emma shrugged irritably. ‘I can see there’s no point arguing with you, Archie, since you’ve already made up your mind, but I want the truth. Lucille was my cousin and if Maggie O’Bannen murdered her then I want to see her hang for it.’ She grabbed the note from Rick’s grasp. ‘I think we should give this to the sheriff and let him sort it out.’
‘That’s what I’m paid to do, Miss Harris,’ a gruff voice said coming up behind her, ‘and I find it’s a sight easier if I have all the facts.’ The sheriff reached around and took the note from her. ‘What exactly is
it that you three are arguing about loud enough to raise the dead?’
Like guilty children, no one offered an explanation as he took a pair of spectacles from his pocket and squinted at the note. When he was finished, he folded the page and slipped both items inside his coat.
‘Well?’ Emma demanded. ‘What do you think?’
The sheriff chewed his lips thoughtfully. ‘I think it’s been an interesting morning, considering it’s still early.’
Emma nodded smugly. ‘So, you’ll arrest Maggie O’Bannen?’
Rick didn’t appreciate the way she relished the idea.
‘No,’ the sheriff said. ‘At least, not for now.’
The smile slid off her face laying bare a strange ugliness. ‘Why not?’
Anderson fixed her with a hard stare. ‘Because, I want to hear her side of it before I make a decision. Now if you’ll excuse us, Miss Harris, I have business with these two gentlemen that doesn’t concern you.’
Her eyes flashed with indignation but after a few seconds she turned and stomped off.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Archie said when she was gone. ‘I don’t know what’s gotten in to her.’
‘I could hazard a few guesses.’ Whatever they were, the sheriff shrugged them off. ‘I’ve got a job for you, Archie.’ He turned his ear to the Stanford Grand’s clock and listened as it struck the hour. ‘There’s a train leaving for Durango in five minutes, Andy Philips will be trying to board it. I want you to stop him. Bring him to me at the jail.’
Archie nodded and walked away but the sheriff had already shifted his attention.
‘Rick!’ It was Leo, his face beet red as he pounded towards the two men. He looked nervously between them then turned his back to the lawman and leaned in towards Rick. ‘Doc says he needs you.’
‘Breathe easy, boy,’ the sheriff advised turning Leo around as the boy gulped for air. ‘What’s so all-fired urgent?’
‘He just said—’ Leo whined.
The sheriff clapped his hand on Leo’s shoulder. ‘I doubt that man just says anything so just answer my question.’
Leo took a deep breath. ‘Maggie’s awake. Doc says Mr. Cavanaugh might be the one that tried to kill her.’
Chapter Sixteen
Latimer glanced up when the bell above the door of the Hungry Digger café tinkled. Seeing the one he had been waiting for, he folded the newssheet he had been pretending to read for the past hour and stretch as he leaned back in his seat. Behind him, a chair scraped and the new arrival ordered coffee and eggs.
‘Did you get it?’ a low voice asked.
A glance toward the handful of occupied tables assured him that they were unobserved but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he scratched his ear with one hand and with the other discreetly passed the envelope under his arm and into the hand pressed against his back.
‘Good. I need you to do something else for me.’
‘Kill the O’Bannen woman?’
‘No, she can wait. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet.’
The waitress, a fat old woman with grey hair and sallow skin shuffled past him. He waited for her to pour coffee at the table behind, declining the offer of a refill as she rubbed up against him on her way back to the kitchen.
‘Wouldn’t it make sense to make sure she doesn’t?’
‘Maybe, but right now I need you to take a train ride.’
‘Archie Cavanaugh? I don’t believe it.’ Sheriff Anderson shook Leo by the shoulder, as if it would rattle the truth out of him. ‘Why would Philips say a thing like that?’
Leo shied away, fear in his big round eyes. ‘The attorney was at the house and then Doc said if I saw Mr. Cavanaugh I was to say there’d been no change with Maggie and he said until we knew for sure, we couldn’t trust Mr. Cavanaugh.’
‘Boy, you’re not making any sense, but I don’t like the sound of it.’ He shoved Leo aside and started to run. ‘Come on, Rick. If any of what he says is true, I just committed Andy Philips to a death sentence.’
The train to Durango was waiting to board when they arrived at the station. A few dozen men, women and children were already surging forward, eager to be first on when the porter gave the word.
Rick’s gaze scanned the restless crowd. ‘I don’t see him.’
‘You go left,’ the sheriff instructed, breaking away to the right.
Rick pushed in to the crowd and started working his way towards the centre. The passengers were restless, eager to be away, didn’t appreciate an interloper trying to cut in. A man’s elbow dug in to his ribs. A woman carrying a small child screeched as he stepped on her foot. He felt himself shoved in the back, prodded in the front, kicked in the shin. He kept moving forward, following one blonde head after another but none of them were Cavanaugh.
‘All aboard!’
The crowd surged, pushing him up against the carriage so that he had to fight to keep his feet. Suddenly, he glimpsed the detective one carriage along and close behind him, the sheriff. The lawman didn’t seem to have seen him and was turning in the opposite direction.
‘Ben. Ben!’
The sheriff looked up and Rick pointed towards Cavanaugh’s position. As the crowd spilled onto the train, the lawman caught sight of his man and moved in. Rick found a gap and darted clear of the mass. He ran towards Cavanaugh. The detective was arguing with a white haired man who seemed eager to board the train, but Cavanaugh had hold of his arm. The stronger of the two, he was drawing the older man away.
‘Let him go, Archie,’ the sheriff ordered. He had one hand on his .45, the other on Philips’ arm to draw him clear.
Cavanaugh relinquished his grip. ‘Sheriff, what’s going on?’
‘We’re all going back to the office.’
‘Why are you holding a gun on me?’
The sheriff shook his head regretfully. ‘It’s just a precaution. I’ll explain everything when we get back to my office. Hand your gun to Rick. Nice and easy.’
‘I don’t know what’s going on, Sheriff, but…’ Slowly, Cavanaugh reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a Sharps 4-shot Pepperbox Derringer. ‘I trust you know what you’re doing.’
‘I’m glad one of us does.’
Rick took the hideaway gun and tucked it in his own waistband.
‘I need to be on that train, Ben,’ Philips implored. ‘I don’t know what all this is about but it’s not safe for me here. You know that.’
‘You’ll be fine, Andy. Just walk.’
The small group set off back towards Main Street with Archie leading, Rick close on his heels. A few feet behind them, Philips argued with the sheriff as he was hustled onward like an ornery steer. They were almost to the office when a shrill whistle heralded the train’s departure.
Philips stumbled, going down on his knees with a red stain blossoming across his upper arm. The whistle had helped to mask the sound of the first shot but the second was clear enough. It kicked up a puff of dirt near the attorney’s feet and he fell against the sheriff’s knees, unbalancing the lawman as the whole street seemed to erupt in a stampede for cover.
‘Do you see the shooter?’ the sheriff shouted.
He wrapped his left hand around Philips’ collar and started to drag the groaning man to safety. Another shot showered him with splinters as the plank walk took a slug beneath his boots.
Rick had taken cover behind a water trough. With the street almost deserted, his gaze swept the buildings opposite and fifty yards in either direction. He heard Ben swear and chanced a look over his shoulder to see the lawman shoving Philips inside the jailhouse. Another shot thunked into the wall and the door rattled as it slammed shut behind them.
‘Over there,’ Archie shouted. Crouched a few feet away behind a hastily abandoned wagon, he was pointing across the street, up at the rooftop.
The shooting had stopped but following the direction of Archie’s extended arm, Rick glimpsed movement above the mercantile. Behind him the door of the law office creaked as it eased open.
<
br /> ‘Do you see him?’ Anderson asked from inside. ‘He’s there, on the roof.’
The shooter’s face appeared briefly above the parapet and a shot smashed through the office window driving the sheriff back. Rick fired his .45, saw the man drop but knew the bullet had gone wild as a window below smashed and a woman screamed.
‘Don’t let him get away, Rick. Go! I’ll cover you.’
Behind him a rifle barked. On the roof, the man’s dark hair showed briefly as he turned and ran.
Rick dropped to a low crouch and cut a zigzag across the street. Archie Cavanaugh went with him, despite the sheriff’s calls for him to ‘get the hell back’. As Rick crashed into the alley beside the mercantile, the assailant was just starting down the fire escape. The man in black fired off a couple of shots, forcing Rick back behind the corner. Blindly, Rick fired in to the alley and heard a scream. When the exchange died, he risked a look and saw the man stumble on the bottom step, his pants’ leg bloody from the thigh down.
Rick broke cover but the man wasn’t ready to surrender. Balancing precariously on one leg, he brought up his gun and aimed.
‘This is for almost blinding me, you bastard,’ he shouted.
Rick, already running headlong towards him, saw the black barrel turning on him, and the smile that spread across the scabby face behind it. He fired wild as he threw himself off to one side expecting to feel the burn of hot lead as a pile of trash broke his fall. As he floundered, the side door of the mercantile swung open. Archie Cavanaugh burst out. Carried by his own momentum, he slammed into the shooter and they went down together in a tangle of arms and legs.
‘Stay down,’ he said, landing a punch to the man’s jaw that knocked him out cold.
‘Nice work, Archie,’ the sheriff said, breathing hard behind them. ‘You too, Rick.’
Archie pushed to his feet and brushed the dust from his crumpled grey suit. ‘Thanks. Now, do you care to tell me what the hell’s going on?’
Chapter Seventeen
‘This looks friendly,’ Doc said, pushing open the law office door and seeing Archie Cavanaugh sitting behind a desk.
