Over Your Dead Body

by Tony Masero

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he swallowed, the words sticking in his throat. He ached for this woman and would have given anything to sweep her up in his arms at that very moment. Even as she looked, standing before him covered in dirt and tired out, still he was smitten by her.

  Belle stood up on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she said again and then turned away abruptly before he could hold her and she walked over to the window. ‘You’d best get on down, Lomas will be waiting and I want to get cleaned up,’ she said it with her back to him, looking out of the window onto the street below.

  ‘Yeah…. Right,’ he said, collecting himself slowly at memory of her soft lips on his cheek. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘You get the lady her smalls?’ Lomas asked, grinning up from the table in the diner.

  ‘It’s done,’ agreed Kirby taking a seat across from him.

  It was a small, single room eating house run by a Chinaman who was cook, server and bottle washer all at the same time and the little man was busy scrubbing dishes when Kirby arrived.

  ‘What you want?’ Lomas asked. ‘Regular breakfast? Bacon, beans and biscuits?’

  Kirby looked askance at the little yellow man, who was kowtowing and grinning at him expectantly, ‘Cup of coffee would do it, if he can make it.’

  Lomas hollered out the order to the Chinaman in pigeon as if he were both deaf and unable to speak any English, then pushed aside his own empty plate as the coffee arrived.

  ‘Reason I asked you over,’ he went on. ‘Is this Bellows fellow. As you know I’ve been poking around a spell and it don’t smell right. He’s up to something and I can’t quite get a handle on it. Now I know you’ve got a vested interest, you being all sweet on that pretty lady and all. And after last night I wondered if you might care to help me out some.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, I don’t reckon there’s much point in going in direct. The fellow will just go to ground and we won’t find out a thing, so I wondered if an indirect approach might help. Whatever he’s up to, Bellows won’t be acting alone. There’ll be other bodies involved.’

  ‘But what do you think he’s about? All I know is how he’s got it in for Belle and probably finished the opposition last night by setting her place alight.’

  ‘I think it’s bigger than some petty business feud between saloonkeepers. I reckon he’s part of a larger setup. You know I’ve done some checking and there are definite anomalies between the dust dug out of the ground here and the amount that reaches the Reserve. Somewhere along the line gold is being hiked, it’s not big but a steady stream. That’s why the Governor sent me down here to check on and that’s what I’m about.’

  ‘So what do you want me to do?’

  ‘Think on it,’ Lomas advised, sipping his coffee. ‘Who are his associates? The people he holds some sway over.’

  ‘Well,’ shrugged Kirby. ‘When Jesse Lee was around he had that town council he started up under his thumb.’

  Lomas jabbed the coffee mug, ‘That’s right. That’s where I thought a word or two from you might help. I’m going to see that assayer, what’s his name?’

  ‘The little bookish fellow, wound up with a slug in his arm the night the gambler was shot down?’

  ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Fella’s name is Ward Hill.’

  ‘I’m bound to go see him and check his records if I can, get more of a definite angle on what’s been drifting away. If you can go speak with the town council and see what you can find out, I’d be obliged.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll go see Bee Bridges; he runs the show, what there is of it. I think nowadays its mostly just old boys getting to get together to smoke cigars and sup whiskey. Funny thing is I want to see him anyway on another matter.’

  Lomas eyed him ruefully, ‘That wouldn’t be Pinkerton business, would it?’

  Kirby shook his head, ‘No, this is a personal matter.’

  ‘That lady’s going to get you into trouble,’ Lomas warned.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Kirby. ‘At least not the sort of trouble I want.’

  ‘Man, you have it bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this over the fairer sex.’

  ‘Well, a body has to try,’ Kirby said solemnly. ‘I’ve got my mind set on Belle, maybe I lost a lot of things in my life being an agent and its about time I rectified the balance.’

  ‘You sure couldn’t do no worse, partner. She is the prettiest damned woman I ever known, that’s a plain fact for all to see.’

  ‘You know what? All this talk is making me real hungry, you think that Chinaman can whip me up some fried eggs without putting any noodles in it?’

  Chapter Nine

  Kirby found Bee Bridges in his saloon.

  The Silver Dollar sat at the outskirts of Variable Breaks on the road out of town. He would have done better if he had set up on the entrance road, as not many travellers wanted a watering hole on their way out of town and as a result his custom was mostly made up of mean faced drunks and down and outs who survived on the fringes of mining society.

  It was a spit and sawdust place, the beaten earth floor stained and litter strewn, with a couple of sawhorses holding up the plank bar. There was a runnel trough running through the center of the place that was used as a urinal, it was placed conveniently so that drinkers could just turn around and piss without losing their place at the bar. Not surprisingly, the place stank to high heaven. Bee was behind the bar, arms folded and picking dreamily at his teeth with a toothpick as Kirby entered.

  Dust blew in with Kirby as there was no protective foyer from the road outside and once through the door it eddied across the floor in grainy snakes about Kirby’s ankles.

  At sight of him, Bee started up smartly, his eyes searching the opening behind as if in expectancy of some kind of trouble. He was a large, bluff man dressed in a collarless shirt and vest, with his shirtsleeves held up by a pair of silken ladies garters. A heavy gold watch chain crossed his vest front and there was a pistol hanging loosely from a holster across his private parts in front.

  ‘Help you?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘Maybe you can, Mister Mayor,’ said Kirby, crossing over to the bar.

  The saloon was occupied by a somnolent group of five dowdy looking men who sat in a group around a table and watched Kirby’s approach through half closed, red-rimmed eyes. All of them were poorly dressed in raggedy clothes and worn-down boots. Knives and guns were evident, some carried by the help of a belt made of rope around the middle of tattered overcoats.

  ‘I want to talk to you about Joe Bellows,’ said Kirby coming straight to the point as he leaned on the bar with both elbows.

  ‘Joe? Sure, what about him?’ Bee had backed off a little and watched Kirby cautiously.

  ‘You and him are close, huh?’

  Bee shrugged, ‘Not close, no. We both run bars, there’s that in common but that’s about it.’

  ‘I think there’s more,’ said Kirby coldly. ‘Now we can either do this easy or hard, but one way or the other you’re going to tell me what I want to hear.’

  Bee compressed his lips, ‘You threatening me?’ he asked, his eyes flicking over to the men at the table.

  ‘Look,’ said Kirby. ‘I’m tired and I tend to get uncommon mean at such times. So don’t go wishing those assholes on me, they ain’t up to it, I promise you. Now tell me about when you and Joe were running the council.’

  Bee shrugged, ‘We ran things for the benefit of the town, it was no big deal.’

  ‘And all them ordnances and by-laws you put up, all that town tax you imposed, that went to civic improvements. That right?’

  ‘Well, yes, sure, of course,’ Bee fumbled, his mind racing as he tried to figure out where the questioning was going.

  ‘Thing is, I don’t see much civic improvement. No road clearance, trash removal, not anything like that. Where did all that tax cash go to?’

  ‘Now look here,’ said Bee, suddenly pompous. ‘
We had overheads. It ain’t easy to organize things in a mining town. There was the Sheriff’s wages for one thing.’

  ‘You mean Joe’s hired killer?’

  ‘If he was a killer then you sure killed him,’ Bee bit back.

  Kirby stood straight, his hands resting on the bar, ‘You’re not telling me anything,’ he said, his eyes going blank.

  ‘Look, okay,’ Bee said hurriedly. ‘Alright some of that money went astray. It’s true enough. I admit it but you know how it is?’ he grinned obsequiously, by parting his lips without smiling. ‘Body’s got to make a little bit on the side.’

  Swiftly, Kirby leaned across the bar top and grasped Bee by the front of his vest and pulled him forwards. There was a rustle of sound behind and the scraping of chairs.

  ‘You want to tell them to sit down again,’ said Kirby icily, his face not inches from the saloonkeeper’s.

  ‘Okay, boys,’ Bee said hurriedly. ‘It’s alright, just a friendly chat here. That’s right, ain’t it Mister Langstrom?’

  ‘Now, tell me,’ said Kirby, still holding Bee close.

  ‘Joe had it in for The-Get-Up-and-Go, you know that,’ Bee breathed. He saw there was no escape for him and he folded quickly. ‘He saw them as a real threat to his business. That’s why he hired Jesse Lee and brought in Aloysius Barrett Browning as well, the gambler was to hustle Belle and bring her over. But it didn’t work out, Browning was shot down in that stupid argument and you put paid to Jesse Lee. That’s when he got the idea to fetch in the Lemon brothers. He set the place afire and they were supposed to shoot you down in the confusion. There, that’s all I know. Alright?’

  Kirby shook his head, ‘There’s more,’ he said, slackening off his grip. ‘What about the gold?’

  Bee paled visibly. ‘The…. The gold,’ he stuttered.

  Kirby nodded slowly.

  ‘You know about that?’ Bee was trembling now, his fingers shaking where they fumbled at straightening his vest.

  ‘I know some of it, you tell me the rest.’

  Bee looked this way and that, struggling with himself. What had started out as a normal kind of day for him was slowly turning into a nightmare.

  ‘Look,’ he said, raising placating hands. ‘What do I get out of this? I ain’t the main body involved, I’m just small fry,’ he pleaded.

  ‘Yeah, but you’ll be taking the hard fall you don’t come clean. There’s no one else standing in line but you right now,’ warned Kirby.

  The bottles clinked on the shelves behind Bee as he backed away from Kirby and Kirby knew then that they were coming for him. He stepped swiftly aside as a raggedly sleeved arm brought a broad bladed knife down and it slammed point first into the bar top. Kirby lifted his right arm and elbowed the figure behind in the face, the man ‘Oofed!’ and clutched at his nose with both hands. ‘By doze!’ he cried in a muffled voice and Kirby kicked him hard in the kneecap and he went down squirming in agony, not knowing whether to hold his smashed nose or his knee.

  Kirby had his gun out and the next one took a slug in the side, the bullet whirled him around and he fell over his fallen companion with a wailing cry of pain.

  ‘Come on then!’ snarled Kirby, facing the remaining three over the top of his smoking gun. ‘Who’s next for a taste of lead?’ He fired again, a shot above their heads and the three backed away hands raised.

  ‘The floor’s yours, Mister,’ one said. ‘We got no part in this.’

  ‘Take these two and clear out,’ Kirby ordered, waving at the fallen men. They hurried to obey and Kirby turned again to Bee.

  ‘I didn’t tell them to do that,’ he pleaded, his voice trembling and his whole body shaking.

  ‘You’re coming with me,’ Kirby growled. ‘Come on, there’s someone wants to hear your story and you can leave that thing dangling between your legs behind when you come.’

  Bee looked down dumbfounded until he realized that Kirby meant the pistol holstered there and he carefully lifted it between finger and thumb and placed it on the bar.

  Belle was fastening up her new dress when the knock came. She felt considerably better now she was washed, her hair done and her ruined clothes piled in a heap ready for disposal.

  ‘Come on in,’ she called and a frown crossed her face when she saw Bee and a stone-faced Kirby behind pushing him into the room.

  ‘What is this?’ she asked.

  ‘Bee here has something to tell you. I thought you’d best get it from the horse’s mouth because you sure as hell don’t believe me.’

  Color drained from Belle’s face, ‘Is this about Aloysius?’ she asked tentatively, sinking down into a chair.

  ‘Tell her,’ Kirby ordered.

  ‘It was Joe Bellows, Miss Belle,’ Bee began. ‘He arranged it with Barrett Browning. The gambler was to win you over; they planned to get you away from The-Get-Up-and-Go. To take some of the icing off Leatherbetter’s cake.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Belle said, her lips compressing into a straight line. ‘However it started, Aloysius came to love me. He was too honorable a man to do otherwise. Maybe Joe set him up to it but in the end his true nature showed through.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, Miss Belle,’ Bee continued awkwardly. ‘But he sure got a lot of pleasure out of telling all to the rest of us.’

  ‘Telling all?’ her voice faded.

  ‘Sure, he liked to recount how it was with you. You know? In a personal measure.’

  ‘You’re lying!’ Belle snapped. ‘Aloysius would never have done such a thing.’

  ‘The rest of it,’ urged Kirby. ‘Say it.’

  ‘He said about the mole on your…. Um, your rear portion.’

  Belle gasped. Something was collapsing inside her; the whole foundation of her belief in Aloysius was crumbling as this ugly man described the most secret of her possessions. Nobody had known about her mole other than her mother when she was a baby.

  ‘He told you that?’

  ‘Well, yes. That and a few other things too delicate to mention here. He was a womanizing sort of fellow, ma’am,’ Bee could see her distress and confronted by this truly beautiful woman it disturbed him to antagonize her and tried to ameliorate the pain it was causing. ‘That’s just the way he was. I guess he didn’t mean no real harm, it was just a job of work for him and Joe was paying him handsome for it.’

  Belle raised her hand to her mouth, her eyes fixed stonily on Bee and Kirby could see their color changing from deep blue to a washed out gray as the confession took hold.

  ‘I…. I….’ she mumbled. ‘Oh, God,’ she sobbed. ‘Aloysius did that. Oh, my God, I don’t believe it. He wrote me poetry and everything, how could he do such a thing? Share our most private moments with others? It doesn’t make sense.’ She paused a moment and then looked up quickly, her eyes far away, ‘There must have been some reason, perhaps he was confused? Maybe he needed advice of some kind.’

  Kirby lowered his head in despair. He could see that Belle would excuse the gambler in some way or other whatever evidence he produced. Her stubbornness was a stumbling block he could not overcome.

  Feeling hopeless, he butted Bee in the back and pushed him out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  ‘Goddamn it!’ Kirby muttered as he shoved Bee ahead of him down the hotel stairs.

  ‘She sure had it bad for that fella,’ observed Bee.

  ‘Shut up!’ snapped Kirby, irritated by the whole business and feeling frustrated by Belle’s obstinacy in the face of the truth.

  Lomas was waiting for him in the lobby and Kirby ushered Bee over to him.

  ‘Bee here wants to let you in on a few things,’ he said.

  ‘Is that right? Well, I’ve just been over to the Assay Office and had a few words with Ward Hill. He says that he can’t see how Joe Bellows has anything to do with any missing bullion. Fellow showed me the accounts and his bookkeeping seems in order. So, at first sight it seems that somehow the gold disappears once it leaves town. Strange thing is it
goes in ingots on a special reinforced coach and well guarded too but the amounts on arrival don’t tally. And they’re uneven quantities, not enough to equal a set of ingots.’

  ‘You think its road agents?’ asked Kirby. ‘Acting somewhere between the mines and the assayer.’

  Lomas shook his head, ‘I don’t know for definite but it sure looks that way. The miner’s office weighs it all up at the claims where every man gets a receipt for his poke. It’s packed in sacks on mule-back and brought down to the assay office, where it’s weighed again, the quality is graded and its melted down and made into gold bars. It’s watched every inch of the way, so I can’t see where the discrepancy occurs.’

  ‘What do you say Bee?’ Kirby prodded.

  Bee became agitated, chewing his lower lip and fiddling with his watch chain. ‘You got to understand, I ain’t nobody important in this,’ he begged. ‘Just somebody on the edge, you see?’

  ‘Cut to the chase,’ advised Lomas sternly.

  ‘All I know is this,’ he began nervously. ‘When that haulage guy, Caleb Mars was shot down in the shootout with the gambler, Joe took over the haulage company.’

  ‘He runs the mule train?’ Kirby asked in disbelief.

  ‘Well, its in my name,’ Bee admitted. ‘But that’s just my name on a piece of paper, Joe really runs the show. Other than that I don’t know no more.’

  ‘So somewhere along the way, Joe is syphoning off a portion but that don’t explain how Ward Hill can show a matching load?’ pondered Lomas.

  ‘Unless,’ said Kirby thoughtfully. ‘Unless he’s in on it too.’

  ‘You mean he finagles the weight somehow?’

  ‘Sure, he can write down anything he likes, there’s no one watching over him.’

  Lomas rubbed his chin, ‘Yes, everything looks fine until it arrives at the Reserve, then it’s a mystery how a regular load could be missing a few ounces each time. Never enough to cause concern originally, maybe an error in the accounting or some such. A little wastage in the refining process, something like that. It took a sharp eye by a clerk at the Governor’s to bring it up in the first place, because its only when you add up those small amounts over a year or so that you see we’re talking enough to cause concern.’