Murder at Thumb Butte (A Steve Dancy Tale)

by James D. Best

  “Well, on that score, I have a bit of news. Lew Davis, the day manager over at the Palace, brought me a bucket of beer yesterday afternoon, an’ he said somethin’ that’s been naggin’ at me.”

  Instead of answering, I lifted an eyebrow.

  “He said he was sorry for my troubles—like he knew I didn’t do it. An’ why the hell should he be sorry? I barely met the man.”

  “Maybe he’s feeling guilty. Making amends,” Maggie said, with too much excitement.

  “Did he say anything else?” I asked.

  “Nope. Nothin’ of interest about the murder anyway.”

  “Jeff, is this your gut speaking? Because it sure seems weak.”

  “Maybe. Somethin’ just didn’t feel right.

  I thought it over. “Well, he was swindled by Campbell, and he works days, so he was free to wander about late at night.” I pushed myself away from the wall. “We’ll look into it.”

  “Yes, we will,” echoed Maggie.

  Jeff’s revelation disturbed me, but I chose to ignore it for the moment. Instead I concentrated on how to discover more about Lew Davis. First, I would talk to Bob Brow. He seemed outside our circle of suspects and, as owner of the Palace, he was Davis’s boss. Could Doc Holliday add anything? I decided to approach him as well. He could give me a read on Brow and Davis. Besides, the more I talked to Doc, the more likely I could convince him to be a character in my next book.

  “Jeff, do you need anything?” I asked.

  “Clean clothes, soap, sponge, a miner’s pan, toothbrush, bakin’ soda, an’ hairbrush.”

  “Planning on going out on the town?”

  “Grand idea. Bring along a key to this-here lock, if ya can manage it.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  He turned his attention to Maggie. “I’d like to see yer pa as well.”

  “I’ll tell him, but he’s busy getting you free.”

  “How? By kissing the derrière of Constable Earp?” Sharp seemed angry for some reason. “Tell him to bring whatever forces he can to this town. He knows I’ll pay.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him, but you’ve already got Mr. Dancy and me. We’ll solve this before any more Pinks can get here.”

  “Jeff, we also have the Schmidts. More people might get in the way.”

  “I know. I’m just pissed at everythin’. This is my second day in this dungeon. I’m gettin’ bored, a bit scared, an’ very ripe smellin’. So if it’s all the same to you, I’d like ya to get me outta here … an’ do it in a way so my feet stay solid on the ground.”

  “Then we’d better get busy. I’ll send the things over later in the day.”

  As we were leaving, I stopped by the gruff-looking jailer. “Thanks for caring for my friend,” I said, as we shook. The two silver dollars I had secreted in my palm were no longer there when I withdrew my hand.

  At the door, I turned back toward the jailer. “By the way, are you getting my friend a ration of beer on occasion?”

  “Yes, sir. As ya requested. Coffee throughout the day, beer in the afternoon.” He flipped a silver dollar in the air and caught it with a deft move. “I’ll take care of yer friend, as long as ya remain friendly.”

  “Much obliged.” I climbed the stairs back to daylight.

  Chapter 26

  “Who’s this?” Castle asked.

  “Maggie, my niece. Mary Schmidt is my sister. Perhaps you know her. She’s been staying at the Prescott House for the last couple of months.”

  “I know who she is.”

  Did that mean he knew she was a Pinkerton? I decided to let it go, and I could see he was going to do likewise. My flimsy story would never sound reasonable to someone who already knew about the Edison Electric Light Company.

  I waved Maggie into one of the opposing leather chairs. “Maggie’s also a friend of Jeff Sharp. We all spent some time together last fall in Colorado.”

  “I think she should step out into the hall. I want to ask you some sensitive questions.”

  Maggie used both hands to flair her skirt as she gracefully settled into the chair that faced the attorney. After she had folded her hands in her lap, she said, “That won’t be necessary. I can probably answer those ‘sensitive’ questions.”

  Castle looked like he was going to protest but must have decided to let it go, turning to me. “Are you wanted in any state of the union?”

  I pulled over a wooden captain’s chair and sat down. “No, I’m not wanted anywhere. Why do you ask?”

  “You have been involved in killings.”

  “Self-defense. There were never any charges.”

  “How fortunate for you.” Castle didn’t look sympathetic.

  “Not really. What was fortunate for me was that none of those outlaws were successful. We discussed this previously. Why bring it up again?”

  “I took tea at Mrs. Cunningham’s house this morning. By her accounts, you can be a much more brutal man than I had supposed.”

  I gave Maggie a reproachful look. Evidently, Mrs. Cunningham was not above gossip.

  “Not by her account, by mine,” Maggie interjected. “I fear I enlarged stories about my uncle while we waited for him to waken.” She looked down shyly. “I guess I was trying to impress her. I hope you’ll forgive a young girl’s vanity.”

  I wasn’t sure what Maggie wanted to be when she matured, but my guess was that she could find employment as a thespian.

  Castle looked dubious. “I would brush this aside except I understand you were involved in gunplay just this past night.”

  “When someone takes a potshot at you, it’s seldom referred to as gunplay. I might add that I was returning from supper at the home of Constable Earp.”

  “Someone shot at you last night?” Maggie asked with concern.

  “Just a highwayman. I’m not sure he even shot at me … probably aimed over my head.”

  “Nonetheless, you will remain on my suspect list,” Castle said.

  “Fine. Now, can we get down to business?”

  Maggie said in an authoritative voice, “As you will remain on my suspect list, Mr. Castle.”

  “Your suspect list?” He whipped around to me. “Who is this girl?”

  Before I could think of a response, Maggie said, “I’m the daughter of Carl and Mary Schmidt. Mr. Campbell was trying to purloin money from my parents.” She kept her hands folded in her lap and remained exquisitely still. “You’re well-to-do. Did Mr. Campbell steal from you?”

  “He did not.”

  “Can we get to business?” I interjected. “We just came from visiting Mr. Sharp. He says he hasn’t spoken to you since your initial interview.”

  “Nothing to talk about yet.” Castle addressed me but kept wary eyes on Maggie. She remained still while leveling a steady gaze at him. Obviously, she had unnerved him after only a few short sentences. Then I recalled that she had done the same to me on the walk over to the courthouse.

  “You’ve discovered nothing?”

  Castle reluctantly switched his eyes to me. “I discovered that Mr. Campbell was broke and desperate to raise enough money to return to New York. Evidently, the authorities in New York dropped their investigations. He was working a swindle on”—he looked at Maggie—“your parents. Unsuccessful to my knowledge.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not much. Oh, Blanchet will prosecute the case.”

  “What the hell? He asked to defend Sharp.”

  Castle shrugged. “Two sides of the same coin. Due to his relationship with the governor, he gets hired to prosecute cases all the time.”

  “What can you tell me about George Blanchet?” I asked.

  “He’s an adequate prosecutor. Usually takes on easy cases, which is not a good omen.” He added offhandedly, “He’ll disqualify any juror that has publically criticized the governor or President Hayes.”

  “How long has he lived in Prescott?”

  Castle rubbed his chin. “Maybe five, six years.”

 
“Where did he come from?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “We suspect he may have partnered up with Mr. Campbell,” Maggie interjected. “Besides, he’s a nasty man.”

  Castle chuckled. “What would you know about nasty men, young lady?”

  I didn’t want to give Maggie an opportunity to answer, so I quickly asked, “Has Blanchet had any illegal dealings since he arrived?”

  “Nothing illegal that I’m aware of, but he’s not what I would call overly ethical.”

  “And you have no idea where he may have come from.”

  “I said I didn’t know, not that I had no ideas.” He looked a bit too pleased with himself. “One time, Blanchet acted very odd when an Omaha visitor came to town. He stayed in his lodging house and seldom ventured out until the man headed down to Tombstone. As soon as the stranger was gone, Blanchet returned to his normal routines.”

  That was the best news I had heard in a while. McAllen could check with the Pinkerton Omaha office. If necessary, I’d pay for a full investigation.

  Castle went over a number of legal technicalities, all of which meant that the trial could start within two weeks, and Sharp’s chances didn’t look good. He opined that there was nothing more unsettling than an undisclosed murderer in the midst of law-abiding citizens. Everybody knew Campbell, and those who had not been subject to his avarice liked his charming ways and good humor. There might be an occasional shooting on Whiskey Row, but townsfolk could avoid those haunts if they were frightened. One of their own shot from behind was different from a saloon brawl. The territorial authorities wanted a clean, fast conviction to show that Prescott was once again safe under their leadership.

  “What about Mrs. Cunningham?” Maggie asked.

  “Mrs. Cunningham? What are you asking, child?”

  “I’m asking if you consider Mrs. Cunningham a suspect. Campbell owed her money, and she’s quite angry.”

  “My understanding,” I offered, “is that he tried to swindle her as well, which could account for the strength of her anger.”

  “He had more than a desire for her cash,” Maggie said with certainty. “He may have seduced her.”

  Castle bolted out of his chair. “That’s a bold-faced lie!”

  “Which?” Maggie asked innocently. “That he tried, or that he succeeded?”

  “Young ladies should not talk that way.” He paced the room and shook his head. “How old are you?”

  “Beside the point,” she said dismissively. “We have a murder mystery. Everyone must be considered. Was Mrs. Cunningham jilted by her lover?”

  “No!”

  Castle marched around the room in a huff. Then he stood between us with his back to Maggie. “Mr. Dancy, I shall talk to Mr. Sharp about our continued consultations. If he insists they continue, I will not countenance this girl’s presence.”

  “Mr. Castle, I—”

  Maggie interrupted me. “No, it is I who must apologize, Mr. Castle.” She stood and did a graceful curtsy. “My mother encouraged me to speak my mind, but my father tells me that I am old enough to control my tongue. I’m certain that your assessment of Mrs. Cunningham is correct. It was a desperate allegation on my part. I just wanted to help Mr. Sharp, who was extremely kind to me in a difficult situation last winter. Please forgive me. I’ll be silent in future meetings.”

  “Why would you want to attend our consultations?”

  I could tell from Castle’s calmer voice that he had been mollified to some extent.

  Maggie laid her hand on my shoulder. “My uncle rode all the way from Carson City to visit me. He needs to return in less than a week for business reasons, and I can’t allow this incident to separate us for even a few hours. I’m being sent east for schooling and probably won’t see him again for years.”

  A long silence ensued. Finally, Castle said, “Very well. Mrs. Cunningham is a dear friend and a woman of the highest standards. I’m aware that this whole affair has been unnerving for you both. I’ll do my utmost to defend Mr. Sharp, but I refuse to sully the reputation of every citizen in town to raise a maelstrom of doubt around this case.”

  “Of course, sir,” Maggie said in a contrite voice. “You will have no further interference from me.”

  “Very well.” Castle returned his attention to me. “Did Mr. Sharp have any requests?”

  “Only one … acquittal. This afternoon, if you can arrange it.”

  Castle laughed, and I knew we were back in his good graces.

  “Actually, he did have a request.” I pulled out his wallet and counted out two hundred dollars. I held the two hundred dollars in one hand and the wallet in the other. “He asked me to pay your fee, and he wants you to hold his wallet for safekeeping. You can use the money remaining if you need additional funds, but please let him know in advance.”

  “How much remains in the wallet?”

  “Four hundred and thirty dollars.”

  “He’s a trusting sort.”

  “Jeff doesn’t having a trusting bone in his body, but he believes lawyers fear disbarment.”

  Castle emptied both of my hands. “Mr. Sharp is smarter than he appears on the surface.”

  “He is, and he’s giving you that cash so you don’t skimp.”

  “I already knew that. Good day, Mr. Dancy.” He just nodded at Maggie.

  After leaving his office, we remained silent until we had walked down the steps of his building. I was about to reprimand Maggie, when she said, “Let’s go to Goldwater’s general store. You can buy everything Mr. Sharp asked for and pick up a box of chocolates for Mrs. Cunningham. We have enough time before we return to her house for the noonday meal.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Mr. Dancy, did it escape your notice that Mr. Castle is courting Mrs. Cunningham? This makes him a suspect, by the way. Now we know one of the women on our list has a suitor. I hope he’s innocent, because it would have been unwise of you to hire the murderer as defense counsel. We’ll put that aside for the moment. The important thing is for you to make your intentions known, or you’ll be left in the barn.”

  I stopped walking. “Maggie, what are talking about?”

  She exhaled in exasperation. “Mr. Castle went to Mrs. Cunningham’s for tea … and he delayed his visit until after she had completed her morning duties. This is the action of a courting man. Then his outrage at my completely reasonable inquiry confirmed my supposition.”

  I started laughing. “I think Mr. Castle and Mrs. Cunningham will make a fine couple. I wish them a grand future.”

  “Luck will have nothing to do with it, I assure you.”

  Her tone of voice made me look down at the no-longer-a-child walking beside me.

  Chapter 27

  Against my better judgment, I allowed Maggie to lead me to the Goldwater store on Cortez Street. I decided to buy chocolates, not because I intended to court Mrs. Cunningham, but because I felt guilty for shorting her on the lodging. At least, that is what I told myself.

  I couldn’t help comparing the store to ours in Leadville. Goldwater’s, a two-story brick structure with a colonnade porch all around, was the more imposing. Our building was a one-story clapboard affair in desperate need of a coat of paint. The top floor of Goldwater’s was a Masonic lodge, so the merchandise space was about the same as ours. There were no other similarities. We catered to prospectors, miners, and Indians, whereas Goldwater’s customers—politicians—used different tools to extract money from the frontier. They needed fine clothing, fine watches, fine writing materials, fine liquor, and fine tobacco. The politicos also needed to please their wives, so Goldwater’s carried the latest fashions, home furnishings, and jewelry. Goldwater’s motto was “The Best Always.” We had no motto. I’m sure all of those fancy things could be bought in Leadville, but not at our store. Our dry goods were heavy and durable, and we sold guns, ammunition, knives, and dynamite. If a prospector wanted a pickax, Spanish pack saddle, blankets, or food that wouldn’t spoil, they came to us.


  “Can I help you?”

  The thin shopkeeper was impeccably dressed and groomed. He sported a bushy mustache that completely hid his mouth. My guess was that he was about my age.

  “I’m looking around at the moment,” I said. “I’m a shopkeeper as well.”

  “Are you looking for employment?”

  “No.” I saw a flash of relief on his face. “I’m just visiting. My store is in Leadville, but nothing as grand as this.”

  “Thank you. I’m the owner.” He extended his hand. “Morris Goldwater.”

  I shook. “Steve Dancy. This is my niece, Maggie.”

  Maggie started to curtsy, but Goldwater extended his hand, so she shook it with two firm up-and-down motions.

  “I’ve seen you in the store many times,” Goldwater said to Maggie.

  “Yes, she’s been here a few months with my sister and her husband. I rode down from Carson City to visit with them.”

  “I hope you enjoy our town. Let me know if I can help with anything. Merchandise or town matters. I’m the mayor too.”

  “Actually, you can help. I brought only trail clothes with me. I never expected the sophistication of your fair city.” I tugged at my wool shirt. “How long to fit a suit?”

  He looked me up and down. “You’re tall and sturdy built, so a fitting would be a bit of a challenge. Say, about a week. Quicker if you pay an extra fee.”

  “I’m in town for only a few weeks, so I’ll pay the extra fee to get use of it while I’m here. How much for two-day delivery?”

  “Two days? That would be extraordinarily fast.” He grabbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “What quality suit were you looking for?”

  As a shopkeeper, I knew this was a polite way of asking if the sale would be large enough for a special effort.

  “The finest wool, with an eastern cut. Dark brown, preferably. I’ll also need three shirts, three silk ties, hose, garter, shoes.”

  I could see him tally the purchase in his head.

  “That would approach two hundred dollars.”