“You’re omitting the most important fact.”
I knew what he meant. “Earlier in the evening, my friend punched Campbell and threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again.” I paused. “Have I told you anything you don’t already know?”
“Not yet.”
When he offered nothing more, I told him a little about Sharp’s business interests and some of our history together—omitting the violent episodes. I then talked about Sharp’s character and why he could never commit murder.
When I finished, he asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“I would.”
He got up and left the office without another word. I sat for a moment but couldn’t resist peeking at the papers Castle had been reading when I came into his office. I actually heard the intake of my own breath. Damn. The papers were a civil complaint against Elisha Campbell for misrepresentation in the sale of Edison Electric Illumination Company stock. They were being filed for Lew Davis, the barkeep at the Palace saloon.
I flipped through the pages like a raccoon rifling through a picnic basket. It seemed that when Davis submitted the certificate through his bank to New York, he was informed that the company was valued at only a few pennies per share. Attached to the complaint was a stock certificate that looked as real as any I had ever seen. Damn. Campbell knew the value of his Edison shares, or he would never have thought to sell shares in a shell company with a similar name. I was interested in shares of the Edison Electric Light Company, not the Illumination Company.
When I heard a footfall in the hall outside, I dropped the papers back on the side table. I heard Castle tap the door with his shoe and jumped up to let him in. When he stepped through the door, his hands carried two steaming china mugs of coffee.
“Sorry it took so long. I ran down to the Palace to get these. I put cream in. If you want sugar, there’s a cone on the table over there.”
“This is fine,” I said as I took one of the mugs from him.
After we settled back in the twin chairs, he said, “Now tell me about the history between Sharp and Campbell.”
“What makes you think there’s a history?”
“You told me Sharp is a fine, upstanding citizen. Fine, upstanding citizens do not hit random customers as they saunter into a saloon. Tell me how Sharp knew Campbell.”
“I left that out on purpose.”
“Because it could be construed as motive.” It was a statement, not a question.
I shrugged. “Are you accepting Jeff Sharp as a client?”
“Does Mr. Sharp have two hundred dollars?”
“He does.”
“In that case, I’ll represent your friend if he decides to engage me.” Castle then described his legal experience. His practice involved mostly fraud and property title cases resulting from the primitive legal institutions in the Arizona territory. He had defended numerous criminals for armed robbery, assault, and murder. He told me that he had lost all but two of these cases but got fair sentences for the remainder. Castle said he had a much better record on prosecuting civil fraud cases.
“Why did you win only two criminal cases?” I asked.
“Because generally, people who are arrested are guilty. If they go to trial, the attorney general has witnesses or hard evidence. In the case of your friend, he has both.”
“There are no witnesses to the murder.”
“There are reliable witnesses to assault and battery. The threats to kill the victim are quite damaging. A rifle with his name carved into the butt at the scene of the crime is hard evidence.”
“But his door—”
He held up a hand to stop me. “Access to the weapon may have been available to others, but the rifle was owned by Sharp and last known in his possession. It puts the burden of proof on the defense, or at least the burden of building sufficient doubt. In addition, there were pine needles on the stairs leading to his room and stuck to the bottom of his boots.”
I sat back. “I never heard that. What does it mean?”
“It means he may have been at Thumb Butte last night.”
“There are pine needles all over.”
“But none in the Palace saloon. Tell me, did Sharp have his clothes and boots cleaned while he took a bath?”
“We both did.” I was starting to worry. “Do you believe Sharp’s guilty?”
“I consider it unethical to say no to get a client, but the truth is … I don’t know.”
“But you know a lot about this case. How?”
“I ate breakfast with Constable Earp.” He sipped his coffee. “But he probably doesn’t know everything, so why don’t you tell me something I don’t know?”
I hesitated. “Perhaps we should wait until after you talk to Jeff. I’d feel more comfortable sharing information if a formal attorney-client relationship were in place.”
“I won’t even bother to talk to Mr. Sharp unless you’re forthright with me. Now tell me everything.”
I had already determined that Castle was a good attorney. He had me over a barrel. We needed him more than he needed another client. I decided to tell Castle almost everything. It would all become public knowledge soon anyway. I told him about Sharp and Campbell being partners in a New York City import business. I told him about Campbell’s despicable betrayal. I told all about Sharp’s mines and alluded to my own financial well-being. I told about the violent confrontations Sharp and I had in Nevada and Colorado. I didn’t tell him about the Edison Electric Light Company.
When I finished, he picked up the two empty mugs and disappeared out the door. I didn’t want another cup of coffee, but I didn’t have a chance to say anything before he was gone. Besides, I suspected Castle used these errands to think.
After he returned, he asked, “Did you, at any time, have an association with Elisha Campbell?”
“No. Why do you ask?’
“Campbell was a swindler who made enemies wherever he went. You’re both from New York City. You’re a violent man who settles scores with a gun. You knew about Sharp’s unlocked door, and you knew his name was carved in the stock of his Winchester.” His face remained completely blank. “Mr. Dancy, you had the best opportunity to frame your friend. I want to know if you had motive.”
“I never saw Elisha Campbell before he walked into the Palace last night.”
“I’ll accept that for now, but understand that if I take Mr. Sharp as a client, I will go anywhere the evidence leads me to get him acquitted.”
I nodded. “Good, because I did not kill Campbell, nor did I frame my friend.”
“I certainly hope that’s the truth.” He picked up the brief he had been reading when I came in and waved it in my direction. “What did you think of this?”
I started to protest but then smiled as I realized he had left me alone with the brief so I would read it. “You intend to get him off by putting the blame somewhere else.”
“Delivering an actual murderer is more effective than trying to convince a jury that the evidence is too weak to convict.”
“Why did you want me to read this brief?”
Castle sat back and interlaced his fingers as he pondered me. “I wanted to gauge whether you had been a victim of the same scam. I’m aware of two other victims who bought shares in this worthless company.”
“I wasn’t a fourth.” I had to make a decision. Did I tell him we came here to buy stock from Campbell? This man was far too clever to remain ignorant of any aspect of this case. I had to trust him. I pointed to the brief. “When you worked on these cases, did you discover that Edison had a company with a different name?”
“Yes, the Edison Electric Light Company.”
“Jeff and I have reason to believe that Campbell possesses stock in this real company.”
The way Castle leaned forward told me this was news—the first real news that interested him. “How do I know you didn’t just hear about these certificates he’s been selling all over the territory?”
“Our info
rmation came from New York, not Arizona. Campbell got the shares from a consortium led by Commodore Vanderbilt’s son. It’s certain he had them at one time but uncertain if he still has them. We came to Prescott to find out.”
“How valuable would they be?”
“Not certain. But with further engineering, Edison’s lighting system could change mining. That’s our interest.”
Castle looked puzzled. “I’m confused. Or I should say, I suspect you’re lying somewhere. If Sharp wanted these shares, why would he open negotiations with a punch to the jaw?”
“I told you, Campbell had stolen Sharp’s fortune and ruined his reputation. He thought he could put that aside until after we got hold of the shares, but when he saw him for the first time, he lost his temper.” I decided I might as well tell Castle everything. “By the way, I already own those shares. Campbell ran away from New York before paying a credit line extended by Corny Vanderbilt. ” I reached into my inside coat pocket and pulled out my legal documents. “We weren’t here to buy them; we came to collect my property.”
I handed the documents to Castle. He read them quickly, then looked up with a quizzical expression. I explained that my attorneys in New York had recommended that I collect the certificates if possible to avoid someone contesting ownership.
“Yes, an innocent buyer, or holder in due course, could cause you untold difficulties, especially if they pursued their claim outside New York courts—someplace like the territory of Arizona perhaps.”
He leaned forward to hand them back to me.
“No. I’d like you to retain them. If the occasion arises, I’d like you to represent my interests.”
“Is a retainer of twenty dollars acceptable?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. But as your attorney in this matter, I must advise you not to grab the certificate if you happen upon it.” He held up my documents. “With these, I’ll have no difficulty handling the matter in a way that will never be contested. Understood?”
“Yes.” I withdrew my wallet and handed Castle twenty dollars.
After putting the money in his pocket, he interlaced his fingers again and remained silent for a long moment. Eventually, he stood up. “Have you eaten your noonday meal?”
“No.”
“Try Mrs. Potter’s on the other side of the courthouse. Food’s good and all the government people eat there. Try to eavesdrop on their conversations. My bet is they’re talking about the murder.”
“I’ll try.” He was obviously shooing me away. Before we separated company, I had to mention one more thing. “By the way, I have a detective on the way.”
“What? Who?”
“I wired Captain McAllen of the Pinkertons. He was with us in Nevada and Colorado.”
“I don’t like this. Who will he work for?”
“Me … but I’ll instruct him to share everything with you.”
“I’ll need to think about that.”
“Think about it all you want, but McAllen is going to be neck deep in this. He’s a friend of ours, and we trust him.”
“I’ll ask Mr. Sharp about him. In fact, I’m going over to the courthouse now.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Not if you want me to defend Sharp. I talk to him alone. You go over to Mrs. Potter’s.”
Castle was a smart lawyer. He wanted to verify what I had told him without my presence to influence Sharp. I bet he could spot a single lie in a one-hour conversation. I suddenly realized that I had revealed far more than I had intended. I had started the meeting by saying I was going to interview him, but in the end he had been measuring me, and I had not emerged from this initial encounter with his full confidence.
“May I write Jeff a note?” He looked hesitant, so I added, “You may read it.”
“I’ll give him your note. But I’ll decide whether to give it to him at the beginning or end of our talk.”
“Very well.” Without asking permission, I went to Castle’s rolltop desk and wrote a short message. It read, “Jeff, I strongly recommend you accept Mac Castle as your lawyer.”
I folded the piece of paper in half and handed it to Castle. He read it, then gave me a hard look he had not yet used with me. It was cold and calculating.
“Mr. Dancy, make no mistake, if I accept this case, Mr. Sharp will be my sole client in this matter. To be clear, our arrangement involves an entirely different matter. If the evidence in this case leads to you, I will use it unmercifully to defend my client. Do not get in my way or use your damn Pinkerton to misdirect this investigation. Are we clear?”
“Yes. You may also tell Jeff I believe we’ve found the right lawyer.”
Chapter 15
As soon as I opened the door to Mrs. Potter’s Café, the enticing smell of good food reminded me that it had been a long time since breakfast. The décor was more refined than I expected in a town on the frontier. I saw crocheted white tablecloths, blue willow china, and red flocked wallpaper. An American flag adorned one wall, bracketed by photographs of presidents Rutherford Hayes and George Washington. I assumed the patriotic flair meant that the owner wanted statehood for Arizona.
The place was busy and all the tables occupied. I spotted an open seat next to the young man I had encountered outside the governor’s office. I hesitated because his companions may have been closer to my age, but they were no less expensively dressed than he. I had not brought a suit from Carson City, and although I had put on fresh clothing that morning, I looked like a well-groomed trail hand. Despite my appearance, I approached their table.
“Excuse me. I was wondering if I might join you.”
One of the men responded, “I’m sorry; we’re doing some personal business. Seating should free up in just a few minutes.”
I started to leave when another gentleman stood. “Are you associated with the man that was arrested this morning?”
“I am.”
“Then why don’t you take this seat? We should get to know each other.”
“Thank you.” I extended my hand. “Steve Dancy.”
“George Blanchet. I understand the governor recommended that I represent your friend. This is Jonathon Winslow, the governor’s assistant, and Herb Locklear, a councilman in the territorial assembly. Please, take a seat.”
“We’ve met,” Winslow said with extreme disinterest.
I shook hands with everyone before I sat. Blanchet looked like the hail-fellow type who practiced law based on who he knew, not what he knew. The bearded Locklear, on the other hand, presented a solid appearance, both in physical stature and demeanor.
“Thank you,” I said, looking around the café. “This appears to be a busy place this hour of the day.”
“All the political busybodies eat here,” Locklear said.
“If the food’s good, then I’ll make a habit of eating later in the day. After the crowds.”
“Then adjust your habits my friend, because the food is as good as you’ll find in Prescott,” Locklear said, his voice loud enough for Mrs. Potter to hear wherever she was.
I turned to the young man. “Thank you for granting me access to the governor. We rekindled family ties.”
“That’s not what I hear,” Winslow said. His tone was snobbish.
“From whom?”
“From the governor. He scolded me for letting you interrupt his breakfast. He has no recollection of your family. Besides, a supposed campaign contribution to his presidential run is ancient history.”
I bit my lip and signaled for a waitress. I wasn’t about to debate with an overblown underling. “Any recommendations?” I asked to change the subject.
Locklear answered. “If you’ve never experienced it, their Mexican tamales are fantastic. If you want to stick with standard fare, order the Stockman Special. It’s a great piece of beef, with potato and peas. But whatever you order, leave room for cake. Mrs. Potter bakes like no one else in the territory.”
I had never heard of tamales, nor experienced Mex
ican food. Not being adventurous with my diet, I ordered the Stockman Special.
“Tragedy about your friend,” Blanchet said. “I’m sure he had good reason, but justice is swift and severe here in the territory. If he’ll engage me, I’m sure I can use his drunkenness to lighten his sentence—perhaps to just prison time.” Blanchet took on an expression meant to convey compassion. “We all make mistakes.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “I’ll mention your offer and the governor’s endorsement this afternoon.”
“You’ve not seen him since you talked with the governor?” Blanchet asked.
“No.”
All three men exchanged glances at my simple response.
“Are you from New York or just related to people in New York?” Winslow asked, in his haughty tone.
“I grew up in New York City. Yourself?”
“Boston. I graduated from Harvard last year. I’m out here to build a curriculum vitae.” He snickered. “Also, I guess, to kill time until I’m twenty-five years old.” He lifted an eyebrow at me. “My family’s highly connected politically. In fact, we supported Frémont’s appointment to this post. Much more recent than your contribution to his presidential run twenty-five years ago. Politicians have such short memories. That’s why my family makes broad contributions to many politicians every year.”
“It was my mistake to bring such a trivial matter to the governor’s attention. You’re right, it was ancient history.” I didn’t want to argue with Winslow, because he probably controlled the governor’s schedule, and I might need access to Frémont again. Better to butter up the narcissist. “In what district do you plan to run for Congress?”
“The eighth … Daniel Webster’s old seat. A family friend is holding it for me until I come of age.” He tilted his head at me. “Perceptive of you.”
Murder at Thumb Butte (A Steve Dancy Tale) Page 7
