“I didn’t know anything about Kilkenny’s involvement,” White said.
“You’re supposed to know things like that, Donny,” Roper said. “Maybe you messed up, too.”
“Maybe I did.”
“You know what?” Roper said. “I think I’ll have that drink now.”
White got up, went to a sideboard, opened it, and poured out two snifters of brandy.
“I thought you said a drink,” Roper said, accepting the glass.
“Here on Capital Hill we drink brandy,” White said, seating himself behind his desk again.
“All the more reason I should stay away from Washington,” Roper said, but he drank it.
“So they’re all dead?” White said.
“All of them,” Roper said. “There was a lot of lead flying around. Prince was lucky he just got winged.”
“Not a very satisfying ending, is it?” White asked.
“No,” Roper said. “I still don’t know why I had to end up killing three men who fought in the war on the same side I did.”
“You never get all the answers, Tal,” White said. “You should know that in your business.”
“I do know that,” Roper said. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Even the best can still learn something.”
Roper stood up.
“Want to have a steak tonight?” White asked.
“I’m leaving on the next train,” Roper said. “I’ve had enough of Washington to last me awhile.”
“Well, it was good to see you.”
“Hopefully, it’ll be a long time before we see each other again, Donny,” Roper said, then added, “No offense.”
White laughed. “None taken.”
At the door Roper stopped and asked, “How’s it look for the colonel to get that third bird?”
“Not good,” White said. “The old gent died last week.”
“Too bad,” Roper said, even though he and the colonel were never more than cordial with each other. “So he never had a part in any of this?”
“No, no,” White said, “we were just trying to keep him out of trouble. According to Captain Morressy, the old man heard you were in town and just wanted to act like he still had some authority. I heard you went easy on him.”
“I never liked him,” Roper said, “but I always respected him. And he wasn’t that aggressive. It was just kind of…sad.”
“Well,” White said, “hopefully we won’t end up like that when we get old.”
“Nothing worse than an old soldier without a war,” Roper said.
“Amen,” White said as Roper went out the door.
Outside Roper found Lieutenant Prince waiting for him, his left arm in a sling.
“How you feeling, son?” Roper asked.
“I’m fine, sir. I wanted to thank you for bringing me back here.”
“And we owe you thanks for dragging yourself back into that house. You pretty much saved all our asses.”
“It was sort of insulting to be ignored that way, sir.”
“Well, you made damn sure you weren’t ignored for very long,” Roper said. “Good luck with your next assignment, whatever it is.”
“Before you go, I thought this might interest you sir,” Prince said.
He handed Roper a rolled-up file.
“What is it?”
“It’s the file on an investigation that took place at the end of the war,” Prince said. “Might be some interesting reading on the train back to Denver. Just don’t tell anyone where you got it.”
Roper watched the young man walk away, wondering if in his hand he was holding his answers after all.
Epilogue
Two months later…
The Westover case still left a bad taste in Roper’s mouth. That was why he found his present job more palatable, a simple manhunt. No secrets here. He was tracking John Sender again, as he had been months before the Westover case. He’d returned Sender to the custody of the Colorado State Penitentiary, and had promptly forgotten about him until, a month after he’d returned from Washington, D.C., he was notified that Sender had once again escaped…
He was in his office at the time, trying to show another of Mrs. Batchelder’s girls how to file. This one’s name was Holly. She was a tall, willowy brunette who had the biggest doe eyes he’d ever seen, and the smallest waist.
The door opened and a man stepped into the office.
“Roper.”
Roper and Holly both turned from their filing and looked at him.
“What do you want, Evans? Why’d they let you out of the pen?”
“I’m the assistant warden, Roper,” Mike Evans said. “I can leave anytime I want.”
“I was hoping maybe they’d gotten smart and decided to keep you inside. Holly, this is Mike Evans. If he ever comes by again, tell him I’m not in.”
“Uh, yes, sir.”
“All right, Evans,” Roper said. “Let’s go into my office.”
He turned and went in, leaving Evans to follow him.
Roper didn’t like Evans. The man had come up through the ranks, having been a deputy sheriff and a deputy marshal, and now, in his early forties, he was next in line to be the warden at the penitentiary, when the current warden retired in a year or so. But as far as Roper was concerned, he’d never been a good lawman. Rather, Evans was a politician and knew the right palms to grease and asses to kiss. He even dressed like a politician, in an expensive charcoal gray suit that was cut perfectly to fit.
“I’m not going to offer you a drink,” Roper said. “I sense you won’t be here long. In fact, don’t even sit down.”
“You’re right,” Evans said. “I’m only here to tell you that Sender’s out.”
“You let him out?” Roper asked incredulously.
“No,” Evans said, “we didn’t let him out. He escaped.”
“Again?”
“Look,” Evans said, “he had help. He was assigned to the laundry—never mind. The details don’t matter. We need you to bring him back.”
“You’ve got marshals for that.”
“You know him better than anyone. You’ve already caught him twice.”
“I don’t work for free, Evans.”
“The state won’t pay you, Roper, you know that,” Evans said.
“Well then—”
“But I will.”
“You?”
“Just send me the bill when you get back.”
“Wait a minute,” Roper said. “You made a mess of this, didn’t you? He escaped on your watch.”
“I need you to bring him back, Roper,” Evans said. “What’s it gonna take?”
“Well,” Roper said, “for starters, double my usual fee…up front, of course…”
He’d been tracking Sender for a couple of weeks and was closing in once again. Third time is the charm, he thought. Maybe this time when he put him away, he’d stay put. Or maybe this time he’d have to kill him.
He’d already tracked the two men who had helped Sender escape. He’d had to kill one—Charlie Wills—and he’d turned the other one—Larry Billings—over to the law. By now, Billings was in the pen himself, waiting for his buddy Sender to come back. Roper was doing his best to make that happen.
Billings had spilled to Roper that Sender was heading for Saint Joe, Missouri. Roper had been in Saint Joe during the Westover thing, so when he arrived, he stopped in to see Sheriff Parnell.
“What brings you back here?” Parnell asked as they shook hands.
“I’m tracking a man who escaped from the Denver pen,” Roper said. “John Sender.”
“I never heard of him. What’s he look like?”
Roper described Sender—tall, broad-shouldered, forty, with black hair—but didn’t know if he’d have his silver-plated Peacemaker with him this time.
“He might just be wearing a gun he managed to put his hands on.”
“Well, that description matches a lot of men, but I haven’t seen any strangers a
round here in the past few days.”
“Well, I was tracking him and the men who broke him out. One of them told me he was headed here.”
“Maybe you beat him.”
Roper remembered Bill Tilghman saying the same thing to him the last time he’d tracked Sender, but this time he didn’t think Sender was hiding in the cell blocks.
“Well, I’m going to take a look around town,” Roper told him. “And I’ll probably spend the night.”
“Better spend a few days, if you’re expecting him,” Parnell said.
“You’re probably right.”
“Wanna get a steak later?”
“Add a beer and you got a deal.”
“I’ll meet you at Billy Joe’s Café in two hours, down the street. Best steak in town. That should give you time to look around.”
“Okay.”
Roper headed for the door, then stopped and turned back.
“How’s Tina?”
“McCord’s woman? Still around. How did that go anyway?”
“Turned out to be a mess, with a lot of dead people,” Roper said.
“What was it all about?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Roper said, “over that steak.”
Roper stopped at the livery to put up his palomino and make sure he got the right treatment. He also talked to the livery man about strangers in town.
“Ain’t seen nobody looks like that,” the old man said. “Fact is, you’re the first stranger to stop here with a horse in a few days.”
“Okay, thanks. I’d like to leave my rifle, saddle, and saddlebags here until I get a room. That okay?”
“Sure thing, mister. I ain’t never seen a saddle like that, with a holster sewed to it.”
“Comes in handy sometimes.”
Roper started his walk around town. It was probably too much to hope for that he’d run into Sender on the street. He poked his head into some of the stores, the cafés, stopped in saloons to talk to bartenders. Nobody knew more than they did when it came to strangers in town.
In a little saloon called the Corral, a bartender named Benny said, “I know John Sender.”
“You know him?”
“Well,” the man said, “I mean, I heard of him.”
“You know him on sight?”
“I guess,” Benny said. “I saw him a few years ago. Yeah, I guess I’d know him.”
“And you haven’t see him?”
“Not in Saint Joe.”
“Well, I’m going to be staying in town. If you see him, find me or Sheriff Parnell as soon as possible.”
“What hotel you gonna be in?”
“Recommend one.”
“The Parker. Ain’t the best, but it ain’t the worst either.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Benny.”
Roper left the Corral and walked to the Parker Hotel to get his room.
“What’d you find out today?” Parnell asked.
“Nothing,” Roper said. “I walked around town, talked to some people, and came up empty. Sender’s not in town.”
“I told you that.”
“I did find a bartender who knew him on sight,” Roper said. “If he shows up, at least I have another pair of eyes.”
“Who was that?”
“Benny, over at the Corral?”
“Ah, Benny.”
“What’s wrong with Benny?”
“I just wouldn’t trust everything he says, Roper,” Parnell said. “Just be careful around him.”
“Yeah, okay, I will.”
Their steaks came and Roper discovered Parnell was right. The steak was excellent.
“You were gonna tell me about your case,” Parnell reminded him. “What was his name?”
“Westover.”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Not my finest hour,” Roper said. “I should have stayed away from that one. They were lying to me from the start.”
“About what?”
Roper really hadn’t discussed the case with anyone since he’d gotten back to Denver. He didn’t have any friends in town that he had those kinds of discussions with. He had some close friends around the country, but hadn’t seen any of them in some time. Maybe this was the time to talk it over with a lawman.
“Westover and his ‘friends,’ ” he started, “McCord, Quinn, Wilkins, Hampstead, and Templeton, were separated from their unit. It was near the end of the war. In fact, this incident might have taken place after Lee surrendered.” Roper was telling Parnell things he’d read in the file Lieutenant Prince had given him.
“They came across a group of Confederate soldiers in a similar situation, but these soldiers had something with them. They had a wagonload of gold bars they’d apparently stolen from the Union. Well, there was a skirmish, Westover and his men won. They killed all the Johnny Rebs and recovered the gold.”
“And got a medal for it?”
“Well, only Westover got the Medal of Honor because he was the ranking soldier.”
“So the others were mad they didn’t get a medal?” Parnell asked. “That’s what it was all about?”
“Not quite,” Roper said. “The United States government decided that only half the missing gold was recovered.”
“Decided?”
“Decided, claimed, whatever,” Roper said. “Anyway, they suspected that Westover and his buddies hid half the gold and recovered it after the war.”
“Did they?”
“I don’t know,” Roper said. “They’re all dead. If they did, and they each got away with a share, they sure did different things with it. Westover—or his wife—parlayed his into a fortune. The others seemed to have wasted it. Except for McCord.”
“Why McCord?”
“Well, you said he was killed soon after he got back from the war,” Roper said. “I’m assuming he didn’t have time to spend his share. In fact…” Roper paused as something occurred to him.
“In fact, what?”
“When I was here last time and you took me to see Tina, I noticed she had good furniture in her house. Old, but good. And the same with her rifle. Somebody—her or Vince McCord—bought that stuff when they had money.”
“And you think the money came from the gold?” Parnell asked.
“Maybe he kept the gold behind for her.”
“Does she look like she had a fortune in gold?”
“If she did, it looks like she spent it well,” Roper said.
“It looks to me like she didn’t spend it at all.”
“Or spent it smartly, so that people wouldn’t know.”
Parnell frowned, then asked, “Do you think she’d have any of it left?”
“I don’t know,” Roper said. “I don’t really know how much they each got.”
“Or if they got any,” Parnell said. “You don’t know for sure, do you?”
“Well, they fell out over something,” Roper said. “What, if not gold?”
“You know,” Parnell said, “after the bank robbery that got McCord killed, they never did recover that twenty thousand.”
“So you’re thinking Tina had the money?”
“Makes as much sense to me as her having the gold.”
“Maybe,” Roper said, “we should go and ask her.”
Just as last time Tina greeted them at the door with her rifle.
“Whatcha want?” she demanded.
“Tina, remember me?” Roper asked. “A couple of months ago maybe?”
She didn’t answer.
“Twenty dollars?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, lowering the rifle. “Come on in.”
Roper and Parnell approached the house as Tina turned and walked inside. As they entered, she was putting on a pot of coffee.
“Tina,” Roper said, “I want to ask you about the gold.”
Parnell looked shocked at Roper’s bluntness, but the detective didn’t want to beat around the bush. He still had John Sender to find.
She turned to look at him and asked, “What gold?”
“The gold Vince came home with from the war.”
She stared at Roper for a few seconds, then turned back to the stove.
“Siddown,” she said. “I’ll bring the coffee.”
Roper and Parnell sat at the table and waited. Tina came over with three mugs of coffee. She set one carefully in front of each of them, and then sat down across the table.
“Vince came back from the war with gold,” she said. “Ill-gotten gold. And then he got killed.”
“And what happened to the gold?”
“I buried it.”
“Where?” Parnell asked.
“With him,” she said.
“What?”
“It’s in his coffin?” Roper asked.
She nodded.
“Why?”
“I told you,” she said. “It was ill-gotten.”
“Tina, what bought this furniture, and that rifle?” Roper asked.
“Vince bought it all, before he died. After that I never touched any of the money, or the gold.”
“I find that hard to believe, Tina,” Parnell said.
“I don’t,” Roper said. “Look around you.”
“Then what have you been livin’ on, Tina?” Parnell asked. “The twenty thousand?”
Tina looked away.
“Wait a minute,” Roper said. “McCord’s gold was ill-gotten gains, but not the twenty thousand that came from the bank?”
“These people,” she said, “the fine townspeople, my neighbors, they looked down on me for years. Why should I worry about their money?”
“Must be almost gone by now, though,” Roper said. “After all, twenty thousand can’t last forever.”
“I was careful,” she said, “spent no more than a thousand a year. But yeah, it’s gone.”
Parnell sat back in his chair, looked at Roper.
“How much gold is in the coffin, Tina?” Roper asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Most of Vince’s share.”
“And you’ve never dug any of it up?”
“No,” she said, squirming. “I thought about it, but I can’t go into a cemetery and dig up a grave.”
Roper wondered if, given more time, she might have gotten brave enough. But now it was too late.
“Okay, Tina,” Roper said. “Thanks.”
He and Parnell walked outside and headed back to town.
“There’s gold in Vince McCord’s grave,” Parnell said. “Are we just gonna leave it there?”
Bullets & Lies (Talbot Roper 01) Page 20
