“We did.”
“They’re a dangerous bunch. You must be good.”
“Lucky. They made a mistake and gave us warning.” I poured more syrup onto my hotcakes. Surprisingly, the syrup was pure maple. I couldn’t believe it had been shipped all the way from New England to this wilderness. There was a lot of money in mining camps, and merchants were always thinking about ways to get it away from the miners and into their own pockets. I might use this nifty trick if I ever got back to Leadville. It was a taste of home and I ate slow to savor it.
After swallowing, I asked, “What did you and Carl do yesterday? I saw you wander the town together.”
“Asked townsfolk if anyone had seen a stranger talking to the Cody brothers. No luck. The miners come in on weekends. Told Schmidt I’d ask around and send a telegram if I learned anything.” Lewis shoved his plate away. “Schmidt didn’t tell you anything before he climbed onto that stage this morning?”
“No, still sick. Yelled at him to go away.”
“If you two are working together, why are you on horseback while he rides the stage?”
“I don’t ride stages. The rocking makes me sick.”
“Seems you got sick anyway.”
“I sure did, but I’m sure it was from eating something in Yarnell. I don’t travel well.” I sopped up the last of the syrup with my final bite. With my fork halfway to my mouth, I asked, “Have you met Carl Schmidt before?”
“Of course.” He looked puzzled by my question. “He was here about a month ago. Visited Henry—Henry Wickenburg. Henry sold the Vulture Mine years ago and now owns a large ranch. He got swindled by some dude from New York, and Schmidt said he was investigating for the Pinkertons.”
“He was. I didn’t know if he announced himself at your office or just went out to the ranch.”
“I took him to Henry’s. That tenderfoot would never have found the ranch house.” He looked at me oddly. “You’re not telling the whole truth. You ain’t a Pinkerton, are you?”
“No, sir. I’m a friend of Captain McAllen, Schmidt’s supervisor.”
“What’re you doing here? Don’t take two men to ask a couple simple questions.”
If I was going to learn anything, I would have to trust the marshal. “I’m here for the same reason as Carl Schmidt: to find out who hired the Codys. Captain McAllen asked me to come separately to find out if there was any possibility that it was Schmidt that hired those boys.”
“Don’t trust his own man?”
“McAllen’s cautious.”
“I can’t help ya. I got my own spread, so I’m mostly in town only on the weekends. Schmidt coulda come in and out any time.”
“Could he have met the Codys when he was here a month ago?”
“Unlikely. Henry hates them boys, so they wouldn’t be anywhere about that ranch. And if the Codys saw a dude like that in town, they’d steal his pants or shave his head. Those boys did things like that to strangers who wandered away from the hotel. If it don’t get rough, I leave those boys alone, but I’d still hear ’bout it. No, nothing like that when your friend was in town.”
I had one last question. “Did he stay at this hotel?”
“No, at the ranch.”
So Schmidt had been to Wickenburg more than once. On the visit a month ago, he had stayed at the Wickenburg ranch. He must have been here again because he knew to ask for the room that the manager had said was “recently done up nice.”
Chapter 39
I left Wickenburg right after my breakfast with the marshal. My return ride was tougher because, instead of dropping three thousand feet, we had to climb as many. Even pushing Liberty a bit more than I should have, we arrived in Prescott after dark.
I found McAllen and Carl Schmidt at a back table in the Palace. I ordered a beer from the barkeep and started drinking it as I walked to their table. After a long, dusty ride, the beer was unbelievably refreshing. So refreshing, I reversed course before I got to McAllen and ordered another. The first was gone before the barkeep had drawn my second.
When I arrived at their table, McAllen looked impatient. Never one to waste words, he jumped right in without a greeting.
“What did you find in Wickenburg?”
The question was directed at me, so Schmidt must have already told him that he knew I was down there.
“I found out that Carl is a fine detective.” I sipped my beer and let McAllen take the lead in the conversation.
“Yep, he spotted you right off.”
“Is that what he said?” I looked at Carl. “You never spotted me. You found out someone was in the room you wanted, so you questioned the innkeeper about the boarder’s horse, appearance, and length of stay. That was odd. Why did you ask about the occupant in room twelve? What made you fearful that McAllen would send someone to watch you?”
Schmidt sat upright. “Fear is a strong word … and incorrect. The captain and I go back a long way. It was obvious that he was nervous about me going to Wickenburg. Guessing what he would do about it was easy.”
McAllen raised his hand. “It’s okay, Steve. We’ve talked this all out.”
“If you don’t mind, Captain, I’d like to talk out a few things.”
They glanced at each other, and McAllen said, “I think we can leave this alone now.”
“I’m not ready to leave it alone. Carl either answers my questions, or I keep investigating.”
“You’re not an investigator,” Schmidt said. “You need to—”
“Go ahead, Steve.” McAllen cut him off. “Ask your questions.”
“If you knew I was upstairs, why did you pretend I wasn’t there?”
He chuckled unpleasantly. “I wanted you to think you had outsmarted me … at least until you ran into the marshal.”
His smirk irritated me, but I tried to ignore it. “We ate breakfast together … he said you gave him my name.”
“I did.” The smirk became an unfriendly smile.
“Had you ever met any of the Cody bunch?”
“No.”
“Did you discover who hired them?”
“No.”
I watched McAllen out of the corner of my eye. Since he showed no interest in the questions or answers, I assumed that Schmidt had already told him all about the Codys and his otherwise unsuccessful trip. Maybe I knew something that Schmidt had failed to tell McAllen.
“How did you know about room twelve?”
“What?”
“How did you know that room twelve was the best in the house?”
“I’ve stayed in the room. So what? I always stay in the best room.”
“When you were there a month ago, you stayed at Henry Wickenburg’s ranch.” I let that sink in before asking, “How many times have you been to Wickenburg?”
McAllen leaned into the conversation, started to say something, and then apparently changed his mind. Instead, he took a sip of whiskey from the glass in front of him. Was this studied disinterest, or did he already know that Schmidt had been to Wickenburg more than once?
“This is none of your business, but I’ve been down there several times.”
“And in all of those visits, you never ran into one of the Cody bunch?”
“You can ask that question as many ways as you want, but the answer will always be that I never met the Codys.”
Now I was becoming convinced that McAllen knew everything. But apparently, there were things I didn’t know. I hated being in the dark. “Were you always on Pinkerton business?”
“Captain?”
McAllen took another sip before responding. “I think it would be better if Steve knew the whole story. Otherwise, he’ll just be a pest.”
“Not if you tell him to back off this line of inquiry.”
“Is that true, Steve? Would you back off if I told you to?”
“I might drop it for now, but I’d never trust Carl. It would always be in the back of my mind.”
“Bullshit,” McAllen said, but he wore his
funny closed-mouth smile to let me know he wasn’t angry. “The honest answer is hell no, I won’t back off.” He directed his next comment at Schmidt. “Steve always goes his own way. He won’t let this be. You might as well tell him. Come on, it’s only embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? Captain, it can ruin my life.”
“I said that Steve goes his own way, but he keeps his word. I know from experience. If he promises to keep it at this table, he’ll never mention it to another soul.”
What could have happened in Wickenburg that could ruin his life? Why would McAllen accept it? What was Schmidt’s life? He was a Pinkerton agent. Could he have violated some policy that would get him fired? Wait. His life was as half a Pinkerton team. Breaking up his marriage would ruin his private life and his professional life.
“Carl, you have my word. I’ll never say a word to anyone after I get up from this table. Not even to you or the captain. It dies right here.”
His lips quivered like he was about to speak, but then he closed his mouth. I might as well let him know I had already figured it out. “Carl, I know about the entertainment available in room twelve.”
“Shit.” He put his face in his hands.
“Other men have wandered,” I offered weakly.
“Other men aren’t married to Mary,” McAllen said. “She’ll put up with a lot, but not that.”
“Carl, I can’t guarantee that Mary will never find out, but I can guarantee she won’t find out from me.”
“Nor me,” McAllen said.
“I know you don’t want advice,” I said. “But stop right now, because if you don’t, sooner or later she’ll find out. The captain and I just gave you a stay of execution, not a pardon.”
Schmidt pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose as he looked around the saloon. No one was paying any attention to us. To emphasize that we had changed subjects, I got up and ordered whiskey for McAllen and Schmidt. The barkeep said he’d bring them over, so I went back to the table to find everything relatively normal.
“Steve, we had a development while you were away,” McAllen said. “Mary uncovered letters that prove Blanchet was independently workin’ for the Winslows.”
“Do they tie him to the murder?” I asked.
“No. Nothing that clear. But you were right. The Winslows hired us to get evidence on Campbell and used Blanchet for political cover. It looks like they took the third step and hired Blanchet to get rid of him permanent.”
“How did Mary get hold of these letters?” I asked.
“She’s very good with locks. But I won’t talk about this one any further. An agent doing her job is different from what we were discussing before.”
“I forget,” I said. “What were we discussing before?”
Chapter 40
The next morning after breakfast, McAllen and Maggie knocked on Mrs. Cunningham’s door. I had no plan for the day, so I was happy to see McAllen. With the trial only a couple of days away, we had to make good use of our time. I escorted them to the sitting room and closed the sliding doors with a rather loud clap.
After we sat down, McAllen said, “I believe Blanchet’s our man, and the Winslows paid him to get rid of Campbell. He probably didn’t murder anyone himself, but we can’t be sure because of his Omaha conviction for attempted murder. Steve, that night you got shot at, the supposed highwayman was probably a hired killer. He was ham-handed, just like the Cody bunch that accosted us in front of the Palace. Someone is hiring second-rate bad men, and that sounds like Blanchet.”
“I take it you no longer believe the Schmidts are part of this.”
“Carl was stupid, not criminal.”
Maggie leaned forward to ask a question but McAllen stopped it with a raised hand.
“Steve, do you have a problem with Blanchet as the key suspect?”
“Not at all. The evidence points to him, but in a way, I wish it had turned out to be Winslow. If he lives his life dream, he’ll probably harm a lot more people.”
“I take your point,” McAllen said. “But if it’s not Winslow, it’ll just be some other damn politician ruining what’s already workin’. Any coffee around?”
“I’ll check.”
I jumped up and heard Maggie’s footfall behind me. In a loud voice, she said, “I’ll help you carry.” Then in a whisper she added, “Mr. Dancy, I need to talk with you. Private. It’s personal.”
“Too personal for your pa?”
“Oh, yes.”
I stopped in the dining room. “Will it be a quick conversation?”
“A moment.” She studied her feet and then lifted her chin. “Mr. Dancy, I need you to talk to Mr. Winslow. Tell him to leave me alone or you’ll kill him.”
“What happened?”
“Two days ago, Pa and I went to the jail to see Mr. Sharp. They were bathing prisoners, so Pa told me to stay upstairs. I sat on a chair in the lobby, and Mr. Winslow saw me. His behavior was inappropriate and rude.”
I felt a sense of relief that he had only been rude. “Maggie, I normally need a better reason to kill a man.”
“He asked me to help carry a few boxes and then led me into a storage room. He closed the door and then unbuttoned. I want him to leave me alone.”
“Did he, uh—?”
“Of course not. While he was occupied unbuttoning, I shoved him against the shelves and left. He yelped, and stuff fell all over. It made a terrible racket, and everyone in the lobby stared at me. I want you to stop him. Please.”
“He’ll never bother you again. Let’s get the coffee and return before your pa wonders what’s become of us.”
We soon returned with the coffee. McAllen and I drank it black, but Maggie put enough cream and sugar in hers for the three of us.
McAllen continued as if there had been no interruption. “Everythin’ points at Blanchet. He wants us dead or gone at least, so Jeff swings for this murder. He’s too much of a coward to try it himself and too cheap to hire men that know what they’re doin’.”
“Why doesn’t he attack the Schmidts? He knows they’re Pinkertons.”
“He does now, but I’m not sure about before. He’s certainly known since that newspaper article. But if Winslow told him they were Pinkertons, he also told him they still work for him. That means they’re not a threat to Blanchet because they aren’t tryin’ to free Jeff.”
That made sense. “When is the trial going to start?” I asked.
“Two days. Castle and I have talked about the defense. He says he’s ready. He believes he can get Jeff off, but indicting Blanchet is a whole different matter. All the evidence is circumstantial.”
“What about those letters that Mary found in his room?”
“Too vague. Mary had to return them anyway.”
“Why?”
“Steve, our best chance is to surprise Blanchet in court. If the letters weren’t returned, he’d know we were on to him. The most important task is to get Jeff free. Worst case, we return Blanchet to Omaha to serve the rest of his sentence. Maggie and I are gonna tie up a few loose strings with Castle. I want you to see Sharp and keep him calm. He doesn’t know about Blanchet. Tell him, but do it calmly. Act confident and tell him he’ll be free in two days. We’ll meet at Mrs. Potter’s at one—after most of the traffic.”
I stood up. Maggie looked at me with pleading eyes. “I need to go. I have another errand at the courthouse. Did you see Jeff this morning?”
“We did. The jailers are taken care of through the trial.”
“Anything else before I go?”
“Yes. I’m dropping Maggie at Mrs. Cunningham’s after we leave Castle’s office. Pick her up for our lunch date.”
“Where are you going?”
“Castle wants me to check Winslow’s alibi. I don’t doubt it, but he wants no stone left unturned by trial date.”
This meant he was going to interview the high-priced whore. No wonder he didn’t want Maggie with him.
I gave Maggie a smile and sta
rted to leave. “Mr. Dancy?”
“Yes.”
“I need to go to Goldwater’s, so if I’m not at Mrs. Cunningham’s, don’t worry. I’ll be there by a quarter of one, latest.”
I left the house wondering why Maggie’s comment made me uneasy.
Chapter 41
As I approached Jonathon Winslow, he leaped to his feet and raised both hands, palms out.
“Stop. The governor will not see you. I have strict orders to keep you out.”
“To hell with the governor. I came to see you.”
“Guard!”
I almost punched him right there. He looked as scared as any man I had ever seen. Either he knew why I wanted to see him, or the gunfight with the Cody bunch had unnerved him. In a moment, a burly watchman approached me like a charging bull. I put my hands in my pockets, striking a casual pose. He stopped about four feet away and looked to Winslow for instructions.
“Throw him out of the building!”
I brushed the watchman’s arm off before it reached my shoulder. He looked like he was going to get forceful but calmed down when I started sauntering toward the staircase.
Without looking back, I said, “Since you won’t speak to me, Jonathon, I’m going to write to Mrs. Anna Cabot Lodge.”
“Who?”
I slowly turned and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I thought the Winslows were part of the social register in Boston. Perhaps I’ve been misled by your previous remarks.”
“The Winslows are one of the most prominent families in Boston. The oldest family, I might add.”
“Yes, I know. Your ancestors came over on the Mayflower.”
The guard allowed me to take a step toward him.
“Have you been fibbing? How can you not know Mrs. Lodge?”
“I know who Anna Lodge is. Do you?”
“She’s the wife of John Ellerton Lodge. They’re the parents of Slim … I’m sorry, Henry Cabot Lodge. John Lodge was a good friend of my father. Slim and I were friendly rivals during our sculling days.”
Murder at Thumb Butte (A Steve Dancy Tale) Page 20
