by Jake Logan
Of course, considering that he’d walked right into an ambush, neither was he.
“Kick it clear,” said the voice.
Kiefer did. And waited for the worst.
But the next words he heard were, “You wanted to talk? I’m listenin’.”
Inwardly, Kiefer heaved a sigh, and then began. “I talked to Miss Lil. She admits she busted you out. I also took a look at that window. You were right, Slocum. Your shot hit the glass, and hit meat, too. There was blood. But I went down to the undertaker’s place and had a closer look at Chambers’s body. The shot that killed him came from your direction.”
Kiefer half expected to be cut down where he stood, considering Slocum’s reputation, but instead, Slocum suddenly came into view as he casually flicked a match and lit a quirley. Kiefer noticed the gun in his other hand, though. It was aimed at his heart.
“Sit down,” he said, and Kiefer didn’t argue.
Slocum held his match to a bit of kindling material at the edge of the fire, and soon they had a small blaze going. Kiefer noted that Slocum had made himself a small, homey camp for a man on the run.
“All right,” Slocum said. “I fired once. How’d my slug land in Chandler’s head and the window at the same time?”
Kiefer sniffed. “That’s exactly what I was wondering.”
17
“You know, Slocum,” Kiefer said as they jogged back toward town, “I don’t know if I should be the one to talk to Miss Lily. After what you told me, I’m of half a mind to wring her pretty neck.”
Slocum hadn’t told him all of it, not by a long shot, and he was glad he hadn’t, if this was Kiefer’s reaction to the little bit he’d let slip. Lil was a con artist and crooked as a corkscrew, but no women with a neck—and everything else—that pretty deserved killing. Period.
“I wouldn’t go getting too charged up, Kiefer,” Slocum said. “She’s a creature of habit, that’s all. The possibility does exist though. Thought you should know.”
“That mayhap it was some poor cheated galoot out after her? Somebody out of her past?” Kiefer shook his head. “I highly doubt it. If there’d been a stranger in town, I’d’a known it. But there’s something lunatic about this whole business.”
Slocum blew air out threw his lips. “Kiefer, seems to me your town’s been full of nothin’ but strangers ever since Lil showed up.”
“I meant suspicious ones,” Kiefer snapped. “Don’t take me for an idiot.”
“I surely didn’t,” Slocum said. Kiefer was touchier than he’d thought. “Not for one minute. I was just pointin’ out that one sheriff can’t get a close look at every gaslight Johnny who wanders into his town to see the show. Especially if that feller don’t want to be seen.”
There was a pause, and then Kiefer said, “Oh. See what you mean. Sorry, Slocum.”
“And your Mr. Chandler might have had more enemies than you know about,” Slocum went on.
The sheriff grunted. “You know about that Dave Young business?”
“Huh?”
“Name he went by, back in Ohio. Wanted back there for murder and robbery.”
“And you knew it?”
Kiefer shrugged. “You know how jurisdictions are out here, Slocum.”
“Yeah. I knew him as Felix Hamilton,” Slocum said. “Gambler. He killed my partner.”
“Busy lad.”
“Yeah.”
They rode into town, and left their mounts at the livery, with the surprised Jess. “You sure you know what you’re doin’, Miles?” he whispered to the sheriff, just loud enough for Slocum to overhear.
“Pretty sure, Jess,” Kiefer answered, and tossed his reins over. “Just put ’em up, all right?”
“All right,” the stableman answered, but he slid Slocum a look that said, I don’t trust you any farther than I could toss this building.
Slocum understood. He supposed.
Alongside Miles Kiefer, he left the livery and started up toward the hotel and saloon. In the early morning light he could only make out the toothy smile on the big poster of Tiger Lil and the whites of her eyes. He supposed he’d be able to make out the rest of her when he saw her in person, in just a few minutes.
And Christ, he had a hard-on just thinking about it! Damn her, anyway!
Over Jess’s head, in the stable loft, Bill Messenger slept on in the hay. He moved a little when Jess dropped a bucket but otherwise was undisturbed.
He didn’t know it, but this was likely the last good night’s sleep he’d ever get.
Out on the Circle C spread, Charlie Townsend had fallen asleep in his rocking chair in front of the window. He slept more fitfully than Messenger, but he slumbered still. And he dreamt of what would come, when he owned the ranch again outright, when he could spend his days doing what he pleased and when every moment of the day wasn’t dependent on David Chandler’s whim.
Despite the unaccustomed and clumsy sleeping position, he slept pretty damned well, with a smile on his lips.
No one could have been more surprised than Tiger Lil Kirkland when she answered the rap on her door, only to find the sheriff and Slocum standing in the hall!
Her jaw dropped, and she found herself bereft of words. But the sheriff said, “You don’t mind if we come in and talk for a spell, Miss Lil?” and moved on past her, right inside, without waiting for so much as a by-your-leave.
There was nothing she could do but step aside as the two men filed past her and pulled out chairs. Eventually, she closed the door and joined them, sitting primly on the edge of her mattress, her negligee pulled tight around her.
“Well?” she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Well, it’s like this, Miss Lil,” the sheriff started. “I mean, Mrs. Chandler.”
Slocum sniffed at that, she noted.
“What I mean to say, Mrs. Chandler, is . . . we’re thinking that maybe the shooter wasn’t . . . wasn’t exactly aiming for Mr. Chandler.”
Lil cocked a brow. “And who, pray tell, was he aiming at?”
“Had the feeling he might have been aiming at . . . at you, ma’am,” the sheriff said softly, while staring at the floor.
Lil rolled her eyes, but then Slocum spoke up. “Somebody from your checkered past, Lil. Somebody with a grudge.”
She slid a quick glance to make certain the sheriff was still fascinated by the floor planks, then shot Slocum a look that should have withered any other man into abject silence.
But he didn’t take the hint. He continued, “Did you see any familiar faces around Poleaxe, Lil? Besides mine, I mean.”
Her eyes narrowed and she hissed, “Slocum!”
“He already told me some of your story, Mrs. Chandler,” the sheriff said, finally looking up and right into her eyes. “We’ve got a murder to figure out, and it’s not going to be any easier with some parties . . . hiding things. Things that might be important, I mean.”
Lil didn’t say anything, just nodded. She was too angry to say much of anything. The first chance she had, though, she was going to get Slocum alone, and she was going to give him an earful, all right!
“So did you notice anybody you knew in the crowd, Mrs. Chandler?” the sheriff continued. “Even just a glimpse, somebody you thought you saw. On the streets, in the saloon, in the hotel . . . anything?”
“No,” she managed to bark out. “No one. May I go out to my ranch tomorrow?”
“Don’t see why not,” the sheriff said, then looked at Slocum.
“She’s probably safer out there than in town,” he drawled.
The sheriff nodded. “I agree. Mrs. Chandler, you go on out to the Circle C in the morning, then, and get settled in. But if you should remember anybody or anything at all, you tell me or Slocum. You understand?”
“I do, Sheriff,” she said as she rose, giving them a not-so-subtle hint to leave.
Slocum was already on his feet, and the sheriff joined him. Slocum opened the door, but before the sheriff followed him out into the hall, he t
urned back and said, “Mrs. Chandler? I’m not so sure about you being safe anywhere at the moment. I’d like to ask Slocum to go on out there with you and stay on for a bit, until we get this thing settled. If you wouldn’t mind, Slocum?”
Slocum nodded. “Fine by me.”
Flatly, Lil said, “Certainly, Sheriff. Anything you say.” That low bastard! If he thought he was going to come out to her ranch and live off the fat of the land, he was in for a surprise!
She added, “I’m sure I can find something to take up his spare time.”
Slocum sent her a short but cocky grin, which she didn’t return. She’d have him out all day fixing fences or breaking horses or whatever it was they did on ranches!
“Good enough,” the sheriff said and quickly touched his hat brim. “I’ll be in touch, ma’am.” He walked through the door and down the hall, in step with Slocum. The two were deep in conversation as they turned to go down the stairs.
Men! she thought with a huff as she closed the door again. Someone trying to kill her? Madness! David Chandler surely had plenty of enemies to choose from!
Her lips tightened into a hard little line, she walked stiffly back to her bed, moistened her fingertips, and snuffed out her candle.
Crazy, that’s what they were. Crazy!
“You sure I wouldn’t be more help in town?” Slocum asked once they hit the sidewalk. He liked Kiefer, despite that badge on his chest, and frankly, he thought it was pretty far-fetched that Lil would come to any harm tucked away on the ranch. In fact, Kiefer was handing him a holiday on a platter! But still, he didn’t take to the idea of just letting the killer roam free.
“No,” Kiefer said. “But you can stay around till morning and leave with Miss Lil. Mrs. Chandler. I want you to go with me while I talk to those boys who were at the wedding. It’s awful early. They’ll still be tucked in for the night.”
Slocum leaned against a porch post. “So, wake ’em up.”
“I gotta be sheriff here later, too,” said Kiefer.
“Right,” replied Slocum, even though he was loath to admit it. “Don’t suppose it’d do much good to go pokin’ snakes when you don’t have to.”
Kiefer nodded, then pulled his hat brim down low over his forehead. “Care to have a beer with me before we start wakin’ up people? They got a breakfast special. Not much, just all the free toast you can eat, but it’s with jellies and such.”
“Be pleased.”
The two walked the short distance to the saloon, which was certainly a whole lot calmer than it had been when Lil was performing. Isolated little clumps and clots of men gathered at the bar and at a few of the tables. They spoke quietly, so the only sound in the place was a sort of wordless murmuring hum. Kiefer picked a table in the corner and signaled to the barman.
“Here’s one we can talk to right now,” Kiefer said as the bartender brought them a couple of beers.
Slocum recognized the man. He’d been at the wedding, too.
Slocum leaned back in his chair. “Go ahead, Kiefer,” he said. “Amaze me.”
The bartender looked up and frowned. “Hey! Ain’t you the feller—?”
“Yes, Harry,” Kiefer said with a wave of his hand. “But he didn’t do it. I’ve come to ask you if you saw anybody standing behind him, or up on the stairs.”
Harry made a face and scratched the back of his head. “There was a shot, and I turned around, and he—” He pointed a finger at Slocum. “—was the only man I saw.”
“Thanks, Harry,” said Slocum, and reached for his beer. “You been a lot of help.”
“You see anybody before that, Harry?” asked the sheriff.
“Didn’t look. Hell, I was too busy lookin’ at Miss Lil. Reckon everybody was.”
“You see anybody at the window across from Slocum?”
Harry knotted the bar towel in his fingers. “I told you, Kiefer. All I seen was Miss Lil.”
Harry went back to the bar, and Slocum said, “That’s the trouble with pretty women. They blind all men.”
Kiefer had no reply.
18
Slocum made the rounds of the wedding guests with a stoic Kiefer and a rattled Deputy Childers. Seemed that Childers still thought Slocum was the culprit and made no bones about it.
He was way too happy to mention this fact to anyone who would listen, to the point where Kiefer finally said, “Josh, either you shut up right now, and no more about your theory, or you’re going to be cleaning spittoons your whole life. You got a handle on what I’m saying?”
The boy had the courtesy to look a bit chagrined and spoke of it no more. But he still eyed Slocum in a most suspicious way, and behind the sheriff’s back, glowered at Slocum outright.
Not that Slocum much cared. Oh, it irritated him some, but he wasn’t about to coldcock a kid just for having the wrong idea. Even if he was being a horse’s butt about it.
When they’d interviewed all the guests and each one, to a man, had said that he hadn’t been looking at the doorway or the window, only Miss Lil, Slocum wasn’t surprised. That’s what they got for not having any female guests at the wedding. A woman would have had the sense to look around a little. And then he had an idea.
“Kiefer,” he said as they left the last attendee’s place of business, “wasn’t there a single woman in the place? I can’t remember for the life of me.”
Kiefer stopped walking. “A woman? Why a woman?”
“Because a female wouldn’t have been so . . . enchanted with Lily’s charms. A woman would have paid more attention to her surroundings,” Slocum explained. “Leastwise, I think so.”
“The mayor’s wife!” Josh practically shouted in a fit of epiphany. “I was pretty sure the mayor and his wife were gonna go!”
Kiefer cocked a brow, and even Slocum tipped his head and put an arm around Josh’s shoulders, saying, “Maybe you’re not such a rattlebrained idiot after all, boy.”
Josh wiggled out from beneath his arm and shot him a look meant to wither, but Slocum just laughed.
“Let’s go,” Kiefer announced, and the three of them set off for the mayor’s house.
Mayor Tinny lived in a modest adobe at the edge of town, and his wife—a broom in her hand and an apron tucked round her ample waist—answered the door.
She looked surprised to see who her callers were.
“Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, Mrs. Tinny,” Kiefer began, “but we wanted to ask you a few questions about yesterday. At the wedding?”
She only had eyes for Slocum, and she appeared terrified, as if she thought he would murder her at any moment. “Why . . . why . . . why is he out of jail? On the streets!” she asked, and gripped that broom like a weapon.
“Calm down, ma’am,” Kiefer soothed. “The evidence I scrounged up after proves he didn’t do it. What I’m here to ask is whether you saw any strangers that day, in the hotel. Maybe back behind Slocum in the lobby, or on the steps.”
A flicker of understanding passed over her face. “The upstairs steps?” she asked. “I mean, the ones to the second floor, not the outside ones?”
Kiefer nodded patiently. “Yes, ma’am. Those’d be the ones.”
Her grip on the broom became less deathlike. “Well, as a matter of fact . . .” She pursed her lips and squinted, as if she were trying to recall.
“It’s real important,” interjected Josh, attempting to get back in the men’s good graces.
“Hush,” she said, shooting him a look that said he was still in the “seen but not heard” category so far as she was concerned, then said to Kiefer, “I believe so. I wasn’t looking there at the moment the shot was fired, but just before, I did see a man standing at the base of the stairs, behind Mr. Slocum.”
Slocum spoke for the first time. “Could you describe him, Mrs. Tinny?”
“Not well,” she replied, although she said it to the sheriff, not Slocum. “He was a stranger to me. But he was wearing clothes with trail dust on them. I remember thinking that he was terri
bly dirty to come to a wedding! He was tall, but not as tall as Mr. Slocum. Perhaps about your height, Sheriff.”
“Any scars?” Kiefer asked, visibly excited. “What color clothing? Or hair?”
“No, no scars that I recall,” she said. “Rather pleasant looking in the face. Tan pants and a checkered shirt, I think. A red checkered shirt. And light brown hair. Sort of sandy colored. He was wearing a gun on his hip, but I didn’t see it in his hand.”
The sheriff doffed his hat. “Mrs. Tinny, I can’t tell you how much help you’ve been. Thank you.”
“I’ll tell Frank that you called, Sheriff.”
“Give him my regards. And by the way . . . have you seen this man anywhere else around town? Before or since the shooting?”
“Can’t say that I have. But Sheriff?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“When the shot was fired . . .” She smiled uncharacteristically. “Well, maybe it was just my imagination, but I remember thinking that it took a lot longer than it should have.”
“Ma’am?”
“I’m probably being silly, but it seemed to me that there was some sort of echo to it. I mean, the report just seemed to go on for a very long time, even considering that he fired in a closed room.” She shot Slocum a nasty look. “And I heard glass breaking, too. Of course, that may have been someone dropping his wineglass to the floor . . .”
Bill Messenger pushed back from the table at the same café where he’d eaten the night before. He was full of scrambled eggs and toast and ham and fried potatoes, and he’d gotten them all at a reasonable price. The crowd for breakfast had been somewhat smaller than that the night before, and also mercifully less talkative. Nobody had said a word to him except the waiter. He was grateful for this.
He stepped away from the table, nodded his thanks to the waiter, then went outside. It was cool for a June morning—which meant that it was bearable—and he took up residence in a chair just outside the front windows, in the shade. Up the street, he had a good view of the hotel and the saloon.
