Murder at Thumb Butte (A Steve Dancy Tale)

by James D. Best

  “I’ll do what I can, but I think we’d both better work on it.” After another quick swallow, I added, “Mrs. Cunningham agrees with you, by the way.”

  “What the hell’s she got against my daughter?”

  Not the reaction I expected. “Nothing. She just thinks they’re both too young.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Not sure. Sixteen, seventeen.”

  “Damn it, Maggie’s only fourteen.”

  “Fifteen. She had a birthday. They come around regular, I hear.”

  “Damn it, I know when she has a birthday.” He waved Davis over for another round. “I remember birthdays; I just can’t count.”

  He was taking this much more seriously than I had expected. McAllen was the most solid man I had ever met. In danger, he was deadly calm; in work, coldly calculating; and in moments of relaxation, generally humorless. McAllen was a man of control, and I realized I was less concerned with what was right for Maggie than I was in sheltering my friend from a situation he couldn’t control.

  Davis brought over two beers, and McAllen growled, “When are those two barmen gonna get here? I got another problem to take care of.”

  “Maybe you ought to go look after your other problem and come back later.” Davis spoke evenly. Angry customers on the other side of the bar didn’t intimidate him. “It’s your fault I’m so busy.”

  “Fault? That’s an odd word to use for someone defendin’ himself.”

  “Poor choice of words. Mr. Brow and I are grateful for the business and pleased that both of you survived this dastardly assault.”

  “Damn it, don’t smooth-talk me.” McAllen, a man who never showed emotion, looked heated. “We’ll wait. What I got to ask won’t take but a minute.”

  Davis looked at the door. “Okay. They both just came in, so let me get them started, and I’ll be right with you.”

  After Davis left to get his barmen working, I asked McAllen, “How do we find out who met at that old barn?”

  “The liveryman can tell us who regularly took out a horse at night.”

  “Joseph, it’s less than a twenty-minute walk.”

  “Thought about that. The murderer had a horse the night he killed Campbell—needed it to drag the body away from the old barn. Perhaps he always used a horse.”

  “Could’ve been privately boarded.”

  “Someone on a ranch or workin’ a mine maybe. But all of our suspects live in town, so they probably boarded or rented their horses at one of the liveries. We need to check it out, anyway.”

  “What about the four dead outside?”

  “First, we talk to Davis and the liverymen. Then I’ll check with the judge and get permission to ride down to Wickenburg. Maggie’s goin’ with me.”

  “Wickenburg’s a full day’s ride, and nobody’s been out of town.” I didn’t like McAllen being away for two or three days, especially since I suspected he just wanted to get Maggie out of Prescott.

  “You and the Schmidts work Prescott. I’ll give you a list before I leave. If those hired men got loose lipped, it was in Wickenburg, not here. We gotta find out who met at that barn or who hired those killers. Those are our two clues.”

  Davis walked over as he took off his apron, which he threw into a box behind the bar. “There’s a small room in back. Grab your beers and we can talk in there.”

  The Palace saloon was L-shaped. We followed Davis around the end of the bar to a door. He opened it to display a small room that could accommodate about ten men in captain chairs around a rectangular table. Davis held the door open and allowed us to go in first.

  “What’s this room used for?” McAllen asked.

  “All sorts of private meetings, including political committees that prefer to do their work where there’s a ready supply of whiskey and food. Some big deals have been struck in this room.”

  “No need to sit,” McAllen said. “All I want to know is who paid for Jeff Sharp’s drinks two nights ago.”

  “That would be me, Doc Holliday, and Mr. Brow.”

  “Mr. Brow? He bought after the first two rounds?”

  “Yep. When he saw men gather round to hear about Campbell being knocked off his feet, he told me to make Mr. Sharp free for the night. Your friend was drawing in business. Just like you boys are today.”

  “Why did you buy Sharp that first drink?” I asked.

  “Are you serious? He did what I had wanted to do for months. I was so happy to see that son of a bitch on the floor, I would’ve bought him more drinks if Mr. Brow hadn’t stepped in.”

  “Why didn’t you ever hit him?” McAllen asked.

  Davis rubbed his chin. “I might have if I had met him away from the Palace. Mr. Brow would fire me if I just up and hit a customer in here. That man stole money from me, but I wasn’t gonna allow him to take my job as well.”

  “Did you want him dead?” McAllen asked.

  “Did I want him dead?” He rubbed his chin again. “I sure wasn’t sorry to hear that he was dead, but I don’t recall wanting him dead before he was. What I wanted was my money, and next best would be to flatten him out.” Davis smiled. “I know what you’re asking, so here’s a direct answer: I didn’t kill Elisha Campbell.”

  Chapter 34

  There were two liveries in Prescott, and neither could recall anyone taking a horse out on the night of the murder. The Gurley Street livery had a night watchman, but the Granite Street livery did not. McAllen doubted that anyone would risk the accusation of being a horse thief, so if the murderer took a horse from the Granite Street livery, it was probably his own. For a two-dollar tip, the liveryman agreed to get us a list of all the owners by the next morning.

  Disappointed with our lack of progress, we went over to Mrs. Potter’s to meet the Schmidts and Maggie for lunch. The café was crowded, but the Schmidts had already secured a table.

  Carl Schmidt stood as we approached. “Good afternoon, Mr. McAllen, Mr. Dancy. We’re happy to see you come out of that shooting unscathed. We were also relieved to hear the judge didn’t order you held.”

  “Thank you, Carl, but it’ll be Captain McAllen from now on. Also, from this point forward, Maggie is my daughter.”

  She instantly beamed.

  “I’ll be taking a room at the Palace, but she’ll continue to stay in her room at Prescott House,” McAllen added.

  “Pa!”

  “It would be unseemly for you to stay in my room. Remember, we’ve been foolin’ people. They may not immediately accept the truth. Besides, it’s only for sleepin’. The rest of the time, I want you with me.” He looked directly at Mary Schmidt. “Soon, the two of us will be taking a short trip to Wickenburg.”

  “Wickenburg?” Carl Schmidt looked unnerved. “Captain, the investigation is here, and we don’t have much time. I spoke with Mr. Blanchet this morning, and he’s planning to start the trial next week, possibly Monday.”

  “Those killers came from Wickenburg. I want to find out who hired them.”

  Carl looked at his wife for support, but she was intently watching McAllen.

  “None of the suspects have left town,” Carl scratched under his arm and looked nervous. “Captain, we’d know if any of them had been gone for several days.”

  “They could have sent a go-between, probably for the reason you just gave. It would be suspicious if they up and left town for an extended period.”

  “Then let me go to Wickenburg,” Carl said. “You’re much more valuable here. Besides, I have a knack. People open up to me.”

  McAllen looked at Maggie. I knew he wanted to get her away from John Cunningham. My guess was that when he thought about it, a couple of days wouldn’t make much of a difference.

  “Maggie?” he asked.

  “I want to stay here … with you.”

  “Wickenburg’s a rough town, more of a minin’ camp and way station.” McAllen seemed to be considering the idea. “Do you think you can handle it?” he asked Carl Schmidt.

  “I’ve met the
town marshal. He’s a competent man. If I need help, I can rely on him.”

  McAllen weighed the subject a while longer, before saying, “I’d want you back here in three days, before the trial starts. It’s a full-day’s coach ride, so you’ll have only one day to investigate.”

  “If there’s something to be found, I’ll find it in a day.”

  McAllen looked at me. I nodded agreement.

  “Okay. Carl, take tomorrow morning’s stage. This afternoon, I want you to talk to the troublemakers and good-for-nothings around town. Try to discover if any of their friends left for Wickenburg or disappeared for a couple days. If you can get a name, then when you get to Wickenburg, see if they met with those four gunmen. After you return, we’ll work on findin’ out who hired the go-between. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. What about Mary?”

  “First, let me catch you both up on what we’ve discovered.” Between ordering and the delivery of our meal, McAllen explained to the Schmidts everything we had done since the prior afternoon. At the end, he said, “Mary, I want you to ride around town and look for private stables. If you see any, find out whose horses are boarded there. It may not be just the homeowner’s. People with barns take in other animals to make extra cash.”

  “That sounds like a pleasant afternoon,” she said. “Horseback riding and snooping. Two things I love.”

  “We have another problem,” Carl said. “Blanchet isn’t going to bring up the stock swindles, so Winslow is protected through the prosecution phase. But Castle says he intends to make the swindles a key defense issue and refuses to keep Jonathon Winslow’s name out of the proceedings. Worse, the editor over at the Arizona Daily Miner insists that he’s going to publish the entire trial transcript.”

  Evidently, Carl was unaware that Winslow was McAllen’s primary suspect, and that the captain had sought the Pinkerton reengagement so he could stay close to Winslow. Then I stopped thinking along this line. Captain McAllen was the most reputable man I had ever met. If his agency had been engaged to protect Winslow’s reputation, he would fulfill the contract—unless he developed proof that Winslow was the guilty party.

  “What do you suggest, Carl?”

  “Sharp is your friend. Ask him to convince Castle he should leave our client out of this unless hard evidence is discovered.”

  McAllen looked uncertain. I could guess what was going through his mind. Did he have greater allegiance to his employer or his friend? In the end, he just said, “I’ll think about it.”

  It was an awkward moment, but Maggie helped us get past it by asking her father, “What are we going to do?”

  “Right after lunch, Carl’s gonna introduce us to the editor of the Arizona Daily Miner.”

  “He won’t change his mind about printing the transcript,” Carl said.

  “I don’t intend to try. At least, not today. I’m gonna give him an exclusive story about the four of us. The three Pinkertons and my daughter.”

  “Why, for God’s sake?” Carl asked.

  “I want people to know that Maggie is my daughter, and a personal ad doesn’t seem like the correct way to do it. Second, we have a criminal to catch, and laying the Pinkerton National Detective Agency on the table might make the culprit nervous and cause him to make a mistake. Third, it’s a damn good story, and the editor will be beholden to me.”

  “You can’t tell him that the Winslow family hired us.”

  “No. A Mr. Steven Dancy of New York City hired us to chase Campbell.”

  I had to smile. “Me?”

  “You were defrauded in New York and hired us to track down this scoundrel. Keeps the Winslows out and accounts for all of us being here.”

  “You’ll tell Castle, I hope. He already believes that I’m a violent, wronged man, out for revenge.”

  “Of course.” The closed-mouth smile told me he’d enjoy seeing me twist in the wind a bit.

  I signaled the waitress over because I wasn’t leaving without a piece of Mrs. Potter’s lemon cake. After she left, I said, “Everyone has an assignment but me.”

  “I want you to see Castle. Tell him everything. I not only want him informed, I want to know what he sees in all of this. Any ideas or reservations. Then find out how he intends to defend Sharp.”

  “No difficulties with most of that, but I believe Castle keeps his courtroom strategy close to the vest.”

  “Then ask him what we can do to help. Hell, we’re the best detective agency in the world. If he relies solely on legal maneuvers, Sharp may end up stretching a rope.”

  I nodded agreement but worried that Castle was more comfortable using legal maneuvers than catching bad men.

  “Do you want to meet up this evening?” Carl asked.

  McAllen gave Carl Schmidt a flat look. “Six o’clock at the Palace. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to talk to Steve alone. Carl, I’ll meet you outside, and we can walk over to the newspaper office. Mary, you might as well go change into your riding clothes.”

  The Schmidts stood and looked uncomfortable at being excluded from our conversation, but they left the café without protest.

  I waited. I waited a long time because McAllen just sat there looking off into the distance. Suddenly, he grabbed his fork and took a bite of my cake. Maggie had ordered a piece of cake as well, but she had already finished hers.

  “Pretty good.” McAllen waved at a waitress until he got her attention, then pointed at my cake, and then himself. She nodded to let him know she understood the pantomime. McAllen remained silent until he was served and had taken two bites. Then he shoved the plate over to Maggie, who dug into the rest of the slice with relish.

  “Instead of making progress, we’re going backward,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He means we haven’t eliminated any of our suspects,” Maggie said. “In fact, we haven’t even elevated one or two as prime suspects.”

  McAllen looked proud of his daughter’s pronouncements. “Correct, and now we have two more.”

  “Two more?” Maggie and I spoke almost together.

  “The Schmidts.”

  “Did I miss something?” I asked.

  “You did,” Maggie said, excited. “Carl doesn’t go anywhere or do anything without Mary. And he was too quick to volunteer to run down to Wickenburg. Especially since he isn’t an investigator. He’s half of a decoy team that lures in crooks.” She glanced at her father for confirmation. “He was scared what Pa would find there.”

  Unbelievably, McAllen looked prouder. “Maggie has it exactly right. I’ve known those two for years. That was odd behavior for both of them. So odd that I don’t trust them to find the go-between. Later this afternoon, Maggie and I will see Virgil Earp. He’ll know the ne’er-do-wells in town.”

  “What could be the motive?” I asked.

  “Money,” Maggie shot back immediately. “Those two love money. But it would have to be a lot of money for them to go this far. Enough money for a lifetime of leisure.”

  “Yep,” McAllen said. “Those two have the highest expenses of any agents in the entire nation. I’m constantly trading telegrams with the Washington office to justify their expenses.”

  The idea of big money was unsettling, because it might mean that they had taken possession of the stock certificate. I decided to go in another direction. “How was it odd behavior for Mary?” I asked.

  “Mary is the senior partner, both officially and by nature. She outranks Carl, and she jealously guards her position. She never raised an eyebrow when he volunteered to run off to a mining camp for three days.”

  “Wait. If they hired those men, that means they tried to have you killed.”

  McAllen gave me another of his rare closed-mouth smiles. “That irritated me a bit, but I got riled when I remembered they also meant to kill you.”

  I smiled back because I knew he was joking. “Thank you for the concern, but it may have been only you. I just happened to be standing next to you. At times, you can be a da
ngerous man to hang around.”

  McAllen turned serious. “No. The Schmidts are careful … planners. If they had wanted only me, they would have waited until I was alone.” He gave me a long, flat look before asking, “Steve, why would Campbell’s murderer want you dead?”

  Chapter 35

  The mood at the table was tense. McAllen stared at me, and his daughter mimicked his behavior. I stared back, because many things were going through my mind, and I didn’t like the conclusions I was drawing. The Schmidts were trying to expose a fraud by Campbell. Campbell had been notified that the New York City investigation had been dropped. He wanted to go home, but he was broke. He would have gone for the Schmidts’ bait. Did they somehow stumble upon the fact that he possessed a real stock certificate? The Schmidts had to be savvy about investments as part of their work, and they would have instantly known the value of shares in the company that owned Edison’s inventions.

  But the Schmidts were Pinkertons. They liked the chase. They may have lived well on client money, but they weren’t looking for a life of leisure. They enjoyed the game far too much. Just like me, they had left the East for the adventure and novelty of the frontier. And if they had stolen the stock, why would they want McAllen or me dead? That made no sense. If a few months from now they showed up in New York City with the certificate, what could either of us do about it with no evidence of wrongdoing? Unless we found something damning, there was no way they could be extradited back to the territory. Could there be another reason they would fear McAllen going to Wickenburg? Something completely unrelated?

  In the last few days, they had had many opportunities to kill me. Why wait and risk going after both McAllen and me at the same time? Then I felt a chill. I remembered the supposed highwayman on the night of my return from Virgil Earp’s.

  I had never told McAllen about the Edison Electric Light Company. Why was I keeping this secret? I had told Castle. Then a thought struck me. The Schmidts had warned Castle not to involve Winslow in his defense case for Sharp. Could he have told them about the certificate? If he had, the Schmidts discovered that someone else knew about Campbell’s possession of the certificate. They might view me as a threat, as someone who could ascribe motive for them to kill Campbell. Then I shook off the thought, because if these men came from Wickenburg, the arrangements would have taken days.