The Last Legal Hanging

by Mae Berry

  “That seems capricious to suddenly say, ‘Well, you messed up one too many times so you are out of heaven, mister.’” Sam tilted her head to one side.

  “No, no. You keep trying to fault God in this, lass, that’s not the case. He’s not kicking people out for their actions. He is sadly looking at people who refuse, for whatever reason, to accept Him, and leaving them the way they choose to be. It’s the only thing He can do short of forcing someone.”

  “Forcing someone to what?” Sam shifted to face him more fully. Finn smiled.

  “Well, love Him. He’s Lord of the universe. He could force us to love Him, accept Him, but He longs for us to want to be with Him. That’s all anyone wants, to be loved for yourself and not because the other person has no choice.”

  “So,” Sam intoned, “that’s where Gittin was? He thought God had turned His back on him because of his choices?”

  Finn nodded.

  “And because he believed he’d reached that point, he ended the life of his family so they wouldn’t be left in this ‘sinful world’?” Sam’s voice rose. “The man was insane! No wonder I couldn’t figure out his motive. He was a selfish—” She gasped and her eyes lost focus.

  Finn narrowed his gaze and straightened. “Waat is it lassie? Waat be wrong?” He grabbed her upper arms and peered into her face. When she didn’t respond he shook her. “Sam? Ye be scarin’ me, lass.”

  The color drained from her face as her focus returned to Finn. “There is a time, we know not when; A place we know not where…” she sang under her breath. “I heard it. Not that long ago. It was a man in the alley behind Pendergast’s. A big man. He was singing it, humming it. It was familiar. I must have remembered the note. I—” Her eyes widened, and she grabbed his arm, horror on her face. “Finn,” she whispered, “I saw him, Gittin. Oh Lord please no! I think I know where the boy is. Henry. I think he’s… dead.”

  Chapter 27

  May 3, 1891

  Kansas City, Missouri

  Thunder grumbled in the distance as the rain tapered to intermittent drops. Cloud cover fought descending dusk for dominance. Finn sighed and slowed his steps. He removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. He stared at Sam’s front door then moved to thump it twice.

  She appeared in the doorway anxiously chewing her bottom lip. Her large brown eyes stared at him. Hope gleamed in their depths. Hope he was here to shatter. He stood a moment and inhaled her. This case had wrung him. He wanted to forget it all and think only of her. She was so delicate, so beautiful, so strong.

  She placed a finger over her lips and tipped her head over her shoulder. He nodded, she grabbed his hand and silently hurried them to a wrought-iron bench between the two rows of houses. A high hedge blocked them from the view of most of the properties. He sat, and she settled beside him. He took her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. She searched his face.

  “You found him, didn’t you?”

  Finn nodded. “We,” he cleared his throat, “we found him. Henry. Right where you said he’d be.”

  Sam’s shoulders slumped as she pulled her hand from Finn’s grasp. “Tell me.”

  Finn sighed. “Someone buried him in the back of the Richards’ property, probably the man you saw.”

  “Gittin.”

  “We think so.”

  “But Henry was missing for a few days by then. Why was he there?”

  “Maybe he didn’t kill Henry right away or he could have been checking the site. The day you followed him was after a heavy rain. We may never know for sure. The doctor’s estimate based on decomposition—”

  Sam closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “I’m sorry, lass.” Finn rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms.

  “I kept hoping I was wrong. Kept hoping we’d find him. Alive.” She bowed her head as Finn’s arms circled her waist. “He was just a small boy.” Her voice cracked.

  Finn shifted. “Sam, you realize it was too late? There is nothing we could have done to save Henry? He was dead before we were even on the case.”

  Sam lifted her head, her unfocused eyes fixed on the hedge. “Perhaps.” She drew her lower lip between her teeth and chewed it.

  Finn gently pressed on her lip with his finger to remove it from the abuse. “No perhaps. There is nothing. Nothing.”

  She pushed him, putting distance between them and sighed. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I can’t help but think… if way back… I’d stuck by my instincts and pushed the case, things might have turned out differently.”

  Finn grabbed her chin forcing her to look at him. His heart ached. Holding yourself responsible for something that wasn’t your fault was a form of hell in his opinion. One he was intimately familiar with.

  “What could you possibly have done? The Pinks fired you. You had no recourse, no resources and no legal standing. There was nothing you could do. Nothing.” Finn pulled her into his arms but she remained stiff. “If you hadn’t kept up with it we never would have realized Richards was Gittin. Now when we find him we’ll be able to make sure he pays for every one of his victims.”

  She relaxed against him. Finn rested his chin on her head. He wanted to stay like this forever.

  After a few moments Sam shrugged off his embrace. “Any leads on where Gittin may be?” She smoothed the fabric of her skirt.

  Finn sat back, his eyes on her face. “Actually yes, I gave Father Seamus your description. Several folks have reported seeing him. Some of them are even legitimate.” His lips quirked, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re setting things up now. If it goes as planned, by this time tomorrow he’ll be well and truly behind bars. We’ll need you to identify him as the man you saw.”

  Sam nodded and continued to play with her skirt. “Thank you for coming and telling me. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.” She hesitated. “How are you holding up? After finding him? You said before cases like this effect you.”

  Finn sighed. “It brings up bad memories.”

  “You never told me… about what happened to your brother?”

  Finn stood and faced away. “Me da was a sorry sot. Drunk mor’n not.”

  Sam moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek into his back. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want to upset you.”

  Finn placed his hands on top of hers and sighed. “Aye, I know. But it be a part o’ me. T’ere come a time…” Finn cleared his throat and took in a deep breath. “When I was a big as he was. He were… was always lashin’ out. I got big enough to stop him. Got to the point where he left off if I was around. I came in one night from workin’ ‘n he were layin’… laying in to me ma. He was trying to get the rent money from her. I lit inta him worse ‘n ever afore. I think I would o’ kilt ‘em if she…” Finn swallowed. “Well, he took off and I sent ma and the littles over to my aunt’s. Then I went lookin’ fer ‘em. I found were he’d bin. His bar cronies said he was talking big about taking care of me for good. I went back ta the house.” His voice turned hoarse. “Killian moost o’ come back fer somethin’. He… he were dead on the floor. In a pool a blood. Me da’s knife next ta ‘em.” Sam gasped and squeezed him tighter. “Funny thing, me da died the next day. Some kinda aneurysm we think.” Finn gave a mirthless chuckle. “I like ta tink it were from the beatin’ I give him.” He clenched her hands. “Waat kinda man do that make me?”

  “One who is ferociously protective of the ones he loves.” Sam placed a kiss in the middle of his back.

  Finn turned and cupped her face. “Sam, I don’t care what my boss be sayin’. You deserve to be wit’ me when we take ‘em. I want you wit’ me.”

  Sam scrutinized his face. “Finn, I want to be there. More than I can say.” She closed her eyes and sagged. “You can’t even understand how much. But I won’t do anything that might jeopardize this animal being caged. It’s not about being right or cracking the case.” She stared at him, the tears dampening her lashes. “I want justice for
his poor children, his poor wife. They deserve to have him punished.” She shook her head. “No, I need to stay out of this.”

  Finn cocked his head. “So ye trust me lassie to do the job?”

  “Yes, you arrogant Irishman. Just don’t mess it up.” She pushed on his chest as he tried to gather her into his arms. He finally succeeded and ended the conversation with a kiss.

  Bates

  May 3, 1891

  Kansas City, Missouri

  I stand in the shadows and take shallow breaths. My persistence has paid off. It was so easy. Laughable really. People assume so much and take so little care. They are so helpful. A few well-placed discrete questions and here I am, on her block. I’ve watched her coming and going. Interacting with her mother - that I certainly understand. Still, it is so accommodating, the two of them holding their tête-à-tête out in the open. Tête-à-tête. I savor the word. It is French. Maybe I should study a foreign language? Quite the accomplishment for someone barely smart enough to run a farm. I allow myself a slow smile.

  I shift position to better hear the conversation. I am rewarded. He is ready to move. The marshal. I know who he is, what he thinks. He thinks he will nab me tonight. My smile widens. I have set my plans for Samantha Lawton. I know her name. But that does not matter. What matters is she is a miserable soul. She lives with a parent who is belligerent and thoughtless. Uncaring. Unloving. I know how that makes her feel. Less than. Not enough. I understand her pain. The marshal will not be her salvation. He will use her help and discard her. Leave her hurt and confused. He only needs her to make an identification. People are fickle. They take what they need. Never a concern about another. Her misery will only compound. Build. It will be a mercy for her to be out of it. To be free.

  Chapter 28

  Sam paced the floor of her sitting room. Finn left hours ago and she had expected to hear from him by now. What was happening? She threw herself into her chair, arm over her eyes. Sleep impossible. Should have gone with him. Could have been in on this. Everything she’d struggled with over the last few years. Right there for her to take. She jiggled her foot. A sharp rapping sounded on the front door. She jerked upright. What in the world? Finn! She flew down the steps and threw open the door.

  Ernest Spotwood stood on the stoop. Sam took in the bruises on his face and red bandanna sling around his right arm. A cane raised in his left hand explained the rapping.

  “Ernest!” She grabbed his good arm as he hobbled into the entry.

  “Miss Lawton.” He leaned on his cane and tapped his way across the hall. Sam hovered behind him to the parlor where he sat down heavily on the brocade chair. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead.

  Sam took in his pale face and fidgeting fingers. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, thank you.”

  “You appear as if you should still be recuperating.”

  He frowned and nodded. “Yes, yes I would be but something came up.”

  Sam settled on the settee opposite him and leaned forward. “Can’t it wait, you don’t look at all well.”

  “I assure you I am not. Only the direst matter could draw me from my bed.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his sling.

  Sam resisted the urge to roll her eyes. At least he was a distraction.

  He smoothed his vest with his good hand. “I have been contacted by one of my informants.”

  Sam almost groaned. Ernest’s “informants” consisted of Martin O’Brennen. A sorry excuse for a man that would sell his own mother for a bottle of whiskey. Scratch that, he would do it for a glass. “Oh?” Sam tried to keep her tone light.

  Spotwood nodded and looked down his nose. “Yes, I need you to check into it since I am obviously indisposed.” He tilted his head toward his sling.

  Sam shifted and ran her hands down her skirt. “Check what, exactly?”

  “O’Brennen has stated that the man responsible for the Pendergast leaks and the attempt on my life will be at the Climax saloon tonight at midnight.”

  She had been right, O’Brennen was Spotwood’s source. “How do you know his information is reliable?”

  “Well, the information didn’t come from O’Brennen. It was in a note that was given to him. The direction on it was to me.”

  “Given to him by whom?”

  Spotwood shrugged. “He didn’t know. A big man with a beard. Some kind of laborer he thought.”

  “So we have no idea who this information came from?” Sam tapped her finger against her chin.

  “That is not the point,” Spotwood raised his voice, “we need to follow up on it.”

  “It makes no sense, why would the informant be there tonight? It’s Sunday. Pendergast keeps his place closed on Sundays. His concession to being a good Catholic.”

  “I am not ignorant, Samantha, I asked that question.” Spotwood looked down his nose and shook his head. “The note said it is to pass on information to one of Pendergast’s men.”

  “Did you bring the note?” She reached out her hand.

  Spotwood glared at her and extracted a crumpled paper from his pocket.

  Sam unfolded the sheet and examined the writing. It was a scrawl, poorly written, poorly spelled, and poorly formed as if whomever had written it was uneducated. She placed the note on the end table then sighed and rubbed her forehead. The gesture reminded her of Finn. Where was the man when you needed him?

  “See right there,” Spotwood waved at the note, “Pendergast’s back room. Tonight. Midnight. The man you want.”

  “I’m not sure about this. Why don’t you turn it over to someone at the precinct? This could be a dangerous situation.”

  His eyes blazed as he smacked his hand on the arm of the chair. “Think, Miss Lawton! That is the whole reason you and I are investigating. If the informant is someone from the precinct, which is highly likely given what happened to me, then we will be tipping them off and the meeting will not take place.”

  Sam bit her lower lip. “This could be a trap or something else entirely.”

  “This is our chance to see Pendergast put in his place. This is our chance for the acclaim we both deserve!” His pitch rose by degrees as his face reddened. “I thought you were committed to this case. All the hours of hard work, this is our pay off! This is important. And it must be done tonight! Who knows if we will ever get a break like this again? This is your chance to prove yourself. That you are competent to take on real cases. REAL CASES, Miss Lawton!”

  Real cases. Spotwood had never thought what she did was important. That what she did mattered. Sam felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach as she reluctantly nodded her head. “Fine,” she said in a low tone, “I will investigate and see what is going on.”

  He sat forward in his chair and grabbed his cane. “Good. Though, you best leave now, that way you can get in position before the meeting. You can get back with me in the morning.” He stifled a yawn. “I need to return home and rest.” Sam nodded again and helped him to the door.

  She gathered up her pistol and grabbed her cloak. How was it that Mr. Spotwood was capable of making it to her house but incapable of accompanying her to Pendergast’s?

  ✽✽✽

  Finn hurried up the steps to Sam’s front door. After ensuring all his men were in place to apprehend Gittin when he returned, Finn had one thought. It wasn’t right for Sam to not be there. He didn’t care if it got him fired. This was her case, her call. She needed to be there to see it to the end. He knocked on the front door and waited. Nothing happened. He knocked harder and the door swung open.

  “Sam? Sam are you here?” He slowly entered the foyer. “Sam? Mrs. Lawton?” Though he really hoped he didn’t run into Hattie. Where could Sam be? He climbed halfway up the stairs and called again. The house seemed too still, too quiet. A frown settled on his face as he came back down. It was late. Almost midnight. If she wasn’t here, where was she? He looked into the parlor. No one.

  The hair on the back of his neck stirred, a faint itch
just starting as if he had a rash. He stood in the entry and scanned the area. His eyes fell on a crumpled piece of paper laying on the hall tree bench. He grabbed it but couldn’t see the writing in the low light of the hall. He went into the parlor and stirred the embers. Finn angled the paper to catch the orange glow of the coals in the grate. As he read, his breath stuttered to a stop and his eyes widened. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Finn bolted out of the house slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 29

  Sam exited the street car stop closest to the Climax saloon and made her way across the road. Even though not all saloon keepers and gaming halls closed on Sunday, the streets were more deserted than a normal work day. She tried to scan everywhere at once as she moved down the center of the boardwalk. The death smell of the stockyards oozed into all the corners and crevices as the rain-damp air slipped under her jacket. What was she thinking? Coming to the West Bottoms? Alone? After dark? Looking for a suspect? Her spine clenched and unclenched as she shivered. She felt eyes on her. She looked around, but except for puddles the street was deserted.

  She turned on St. Louis Avenue. Now, how to get into Pendergast’s? Wait. Of course. The dreaded, cursed alley that seemed the fulcrum of her existence. The back door had been unlocked before, maybe it was kept that way?

  Every inch of her body screamed at her to turn around. And run. She paused before ducking into the even darker alley. Just as the sun didn’t penetrate during the day, the street lights were equally ineffective at night. She kept one hand pressed to the wall and inched forward. She remembered the debris from the other day and had no desire to trip and land in the sludge she felt under her shoes. She counted doors then paused at Pendergast’s backroom. She grasped the handle and tugged. It opened without a sound. Perfect for a clandestine meeting. Or a trap for a really idiotic investigator.