Diana and the Three Behrs

by Fleeta Cunningham

  Pam turned, a more serious look replacing the giddy grin. “I did go over there to see if I could lead one of your little professor-owls into a trip to Tommy Gunn’s. I admit it. I really didn’t think they’d go for it. You told me what they were like, sort of unworldly and lost in their own fantasy. But this afternoon, after we went to press, I talked to that snippy editor again, just asking if he couldn’t find some kind of assignment, even reporting on traffic court, that would let me stop answering letters about how to make John love Sally or how to keep Mary from spending all Hank’s money. He said, one more time, women just don’t understand a real news story and have no idea how to report one. ‘The newspaper game isn’t for little girls, Miss Woods. Stick to what you know.’ It was one time too many. Before I thought, I marched over to the hotel, and the next thing I knew I was telling your Trey all about the bartender at Tommy’s. I suppose I shouldn’t have, but really, Di, what harm is there? Your historian might get the information he wants, you have a chance to associate with somebody besides your academic owls—and I get an evening with the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. We go, we have dinner, spend a couple of hours at a speakeasy, and come home. We’ve had an adventure. Maybe, just possibly, Trey enjoys the evening enough to ask me out again.”

  “Maybe you get a story that will convince your editor to let you move to real news? Did you forget to mention that?”

  “No, I didn’t forget to mention it. I just don’t want to jinx the chance by talking too much about it.”

  “I didn’t think Trey’s big brown eyes were the only attraction. Good luck, Pam, on both sides of this venture. I hope I don’t regret going along such an insane idea, though I’m already having second—and third—thoughts.”

  Chapter 4

  “I feel quite daring, being out with you young things.” Dr. Pearce tugged at his stiff collar and brushed the lapel of his slightly rusty dinner jacket. He studied the city lights flickering past the window as the car rolled along Houston Street past the bustling Leonard Brothers store. “I haven’t been to a tavern—I suppose it’s called something else now—since my sister’s coming out party in ’89. Do you really think we’re going to find anything that will help Elmsford with his quest?”

  “Oh, Archie, even if we don’t, you need to get out more and see real people.” Pamina leaned over the red leather seat and patted his knee. “You’re just too sweet to spend your whole life behind a pile of books. But I think we’re going to strike gold for your Dr. El. Just wait and see.”

  Pearce peered over his glasses. “You’re too kind, Miss Pamina. Tell me more about this place we’re visiting. Is it actually part of that area they call The Acre? A den of gamblers and opium smokers?”

  Pamina twisted a little more in her seat to look back at him. “Now, there really isn’t any such place as The Acre anymore, Archie. The good folks of Fort Worth insisted it had to be shut down. It was, mostly, the opium dens, anyway. Tommy Gunn’s place, well, that’s something else. Where we’re going, it’s real respectable, at least from the front. Nice restaurant in a fancy building. All the best people, the socialites, go there for celebrations, you know, anniversaries and engagement parties. That’s the Belle of the West, and if you go right through the front door, you’ll be met by a slick fellow in a fancy suit who, if you have the right name, will take you to one of the dining rooms and see you have the most expensive steak in town.” She chuckled. “That’s not where we’re going. We’ll go around to the side and park down the hill a little bit. Then we’ll go to another entrance, one that doesn’t have so many lights, and knock. Another slick fellow in a fancy suit will open the door, and we’ll give him another name, not one of ours, but a password. If my reporter friend was able to get in touch with his friend, and if it’s the right password for tonight, that name will get us inside. Then we’ll follow this fancy suit down a long hall to a series of big rooms where there will be jazz, gambling tables, and a bar. No opium smokers. It’s a better place than that. We’ll go to the bar and ask if Charlie’s on tonight. I’m pretty sure he is because I’m told he’s most always on. We’ll get shown to a table near the bar, and Charlie will saunter over in a while. He’ll bring drinks, and if the place is fairly quiet, he’ll take a chair and talk for a while. He’ll expect some cash for his time, but he should be willing to talk.”

  Trey interrupted. “Don’t worry about giving him money, Archibald. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Do you think he’ll accept Elmsford’s invitation? Will he come to the hotel where we can have more time to examine what he knows?”

  Pam shrugged. “Don’t know, Archie. You’ll have to see how he reacts.”

  Diana opened her bag to check again that she’d tucked a small notebook and pencil inside. She hoped the place would have enough light for her to take notes. Elmsford wouldn’t be any closer to his answers if they couldn’t produce something concrete from their venture.

  “Diana, I scarcely recognized our efficient secretary in her fine feathers tonight.”

  “Borrowed finery, I’m afraid, Dr. Pearce.” Diana smoothed the short spangled skirt of the aqua evening dress. She’d admired the pretty bits of chiffon and crepe when their neighbor had brought it home from the shop where she worked. Diana herself would never have asked to borrow it, but Pamina had no such restraint.

  “Archie, my sister was actually going to wear a sad old thing she’s had for years, until one of the girls at our boarding house insisted she try on that little number. Took everybody in the house to convince her.” Pamina nodded in satisfaction. “She does need to get out of her middy blouses and gray skirts once in a while.”

  “Are we almost to the crossroad, Pam?” Diana took advantage of the moment to turn the conversation away from herself. She still didn’t feel quite right wearing someone else’s party dress.

  “Almost. Two blocks down, and turn right, Trey.”

  Ten minutes later, the long, red car was rolling along a narrow drive between arching trees. Just ahead Diana saw the white columns and amber lights of the Belle of the West. It certainly didn’t look like it concealed another, less reputable business on the premises.

  “Tommy Gunn owns the restaurant as well as the other business, or that’s what the guys at the paper say,” Pamina told them. “I suppose he can hide the profits from one in the daily receipts of the other. At least it’s enough to keep him on the right side of public opinion and the law.”

  “What about that preacher who keeps sending letters to your paper trying to get places like this closed up? Isn’t he likely to get the authorities looking in Gunn’s direction?” Diana had read the bitter exchange of letters published on the editor’s page. The strong reform movement in Fort Worth was after places like this one and showed no signs of relenting, even with Prohibition now in its sixth year.

  “Reverend Haver is always trying to close down the gambling and drinking places, but he’d probably leave a swell place like this alone. Too many of his friends come here,” Pamina answered. “Mostly he takes after the dives, the ones over in the Third Ward. Tommy Gunn and his cronies wouldn’t take those do-gooders seriously anyway. Too many people in high places frequent places like his. They don’t want their party raided or their sons in jail, so they encourage the reformers but keep them in check. I suspect some of those reform-minded citizens can be found at Tommy Gunn’s tables most nights. I know their sons come. One of them brought me here the first time I came.”

  Pamina directed Trey to the narrow road that led around the elegant front. Plantings and faint light did a lot to camouflage the second, less public, entrance. Once the car was parked at a distance, Archibald Pearce and Diana crunched behind Trey and Pamina across a graveled road and up to the sheltered doorway. Trey knocked.

  “James Maddox,” Trey said when the door opened a few inches.

  “Certainly, Mr. Maddox. We have a table for your party in the tearoom. Follow me, sir.”

  Diana bit back a nervous giggle. James Maddox, indee
d. As a password, using the name of the late Marshall, who ran on the reform ticket and won, smacked of derision and sarcasm.

  They were shown to a table in the corner of the “tearoom” near a long, polished mahogany bar. Three men worked filling glasses and passing them along the marble top.

  Trey passed a folded bill to their host. “Is Charlie on tonight?”

  “He is.” He glanced at the money in his palm, and a smile flickered across his face. “I’ll ask him to step over, if you like.”

  “Yes, please. An old friend asked us to say hello.”

  The quartet settled around the table. Diana took the small pad and pencil from her purse and put them discreetly to one side of the table.

  “Do you have enough light to take notes?” Trey asked. “I can change with you if the light is better here.”

  “It’s fine. I’m getting enough to see my page. I’m in a bit of a corner here; he shouldn’t be able to see what I’m doing.”

  She’d just managed to arrange everything when a short man with a bad toupee tossed a towel over his striped sleeve and came to the table.

  “You folks asked for me? I’m Charlie Gaines.”

  “We did, Charlie.” Trey pulled a spare chair closer. “Can you visit with us a moment?” Another sizeable bill changed hands. “We’d like to talk about some old times and old friends. A fellow named Butch.”

  Charlie Gaines took a quick look over his shoulder. “It’s kinda slow right now. I could take a minute.” He glanced around the table. “What could I bring you folks to drink? I got tea, coffee, home brewed sarsaparilla, and lemonade.”

  Pamina answered for the group. “The local thing, please. The sarsaparilla.”

  Charlie nodded. “Gotcha. All four?”

  “Right.” Pamina glanced around the group and mouthed the word “beer” to clarify the code. Charlie folded his towel and put it over the back of the chair before ambling back toward the bar.

  “Bring ’em in a sec. Leavin’ my towel here lets the guys know I’m lookin’ after you, personal.”

  Trey looked at the almost empty bar. “We chose a good time. He’ll be able to take a few minutes without making a problem.”

  Pamina glanced around casually, scanning for familiar faces, then suddenly stopped as a newcomer followed the doorman through the archway, moving self-consciously toward the room where roulette wheels and jazz competed for attention.

  “See that man who just came in, Di? The tall guy with the yellow slicker?”

  “I see him. Must be from some other place, a place where it rains in the summer. Not here. Maybe he’s a fisherman. Or works on a boat.”

  Taking a small mirrored compact from her bag, Pamina held it up as if powdering her nose and watched over her shoulder. “No, he’s local. Remember I said I’d bet that sermon-spouting reformer and his kind were only trying to put the dives out of business, and probably patronized Tommy Gunn in secret?” She tilted her head at the retreating figure. “Proof just went toward the poker table. That was Sheldon Haver himself, only son of the Rev. Haskell Haver, heir apparent to the foremost slayer of Demon Rum in the reform business.” She pursed her mouth in prim disapproval. “Do you suppose his daddy knows where he is tonight? Could that pointless raincoat be his poor attempt at a disguise?”

  Diana saw the last shadowy movement beyond the doorway. “He could have found a more convincing costume, or at least something less conspicuous than a yellow slicker.”

  “I’d give a lot to know how often he comes here and if the good reverend suspects.” Her eyes widened. “Now wouldn’t that make a dandy story for next week’s issue?”

  “You’re going to sit right here and tend to our business, Pam. Never mind what the Havers know or don’t know.” Diana shook her head at her impulsive sister. “Remember, you promised me we’d just take care of this matter for the professors and go home. No snooping.”

  Pamina bit her lip, gave Diana a pained look, but put her mirror away and folded her arms on the table. “A scoop, a genuine scoop, and you want to talk about old, dead outlaws. The things I do for you.”

  Trey put a placating hand over hers. “Never mind, Pamina. You may get more out of what Charlie has to tell us than you expect. Here he comes.”

  The bartender put a tray of tall mugs in front of them. To exterior appearances, they were exactly the same as drugstores used for fountain drinks, but the white foam topping the rims didn’t resemble sarsaparilla in the least. Trey took a sip.

  “Very fine home brewing, Charlie. Take a seat and join us.”

  “Don’t mind if I do. Thought you might offer.” He passed the mugs around, winding up with a fifth for himself, and took the empty chair. “Now how is it you come to me asking about old Butch? Was a time when folks pestered me considerable about my old sidekick, but that was a long time ago. Nobody remembers him much anymore.”

  For the first time Pearce spoke up. He’d been sampling the contents of his mug, leaving a small, white foam moustache on his upper lip. “Let’s be certain we’re speaking of the same fellow, first. We are talking about one Robert Leroy Parker, also called Butch Cassidy? Am I correct?”

  “The very same. He was Butch to most folks long before he dropped Parker. Cassidy was the name he took to keep from embarrassing his family back in Utah after he kinda strayed from the right side of the law.” Charlie took a pull at his drink. “Don’t get me wrong, friends. Butch wasn’t really a bad fellow. Just full of devilment and a little too loose with other folk’s money. Never killed a soul. Mostly didn’t wear a gun. Didn’t like the things. Never even shot at something he didn’t plan to eat.”

  “But he was an outlaw, a train robber.” Pearce leaned forward. “You’d call that mischief, I suppose?”

  “Well, they’s lots worse folks walking around free and easy. Folks who took more’n Butch and his gang ever did, and they did their robbing legal-like. Butch never put nobody out of business or left ’em where they couldn’t feed their kids. A whole bunch of high and mighty lawmakers do that most ever day. Prohibition, anybody can see it’s a joke. Keeps folks like me working for guys like Gunn.” He took a pull on his drink and returned to the subject of their concern. “Nah, Butch wasn’t a bad sort, just didn’t think much of punching cows or tilling fields.”

  Diana surreptitiously took down Charlie’s words on her small pad and hoped she could read the results.

  “You said he changed his name so his family wouldn’t be shocked? What about his family?” The professor pushed his glasses down and looked over them, blinking, more owl-like than ever in the half-light.

  “Like mine. Good Mormons, hard-workin’ farm people who got up before daylight and said prayers at bedtime. Old Butch, he tried, but he just couldn’t stay out of trouble. He’d go a long time, months even, when he’d toe the line and do what they wanted. Sooner or later he’d bust loose. Finally just gave up and lit out. He’d allus been my friend, good for a stolen smoke behind the stable or a secret swim when we were s’posed to be herdin’ some lost calf home, and I missed him. Couple of years later, I broke loose too and took up with a bunch going to Colorado. Ran into him up there, both workin’ cattle, but that’s a hard life. He found somethin’ a little easier. Just couldn’t resist the easy money from all those trains. Lost track of him for some time. Guess I’d strayed pretty far from my early teachin’, myself. Wound up here, oh, thirty years or so back, when Fort Worth was pretty wild. Tended bar one place and another, till the reformers shut things down tight.” He lifted his mug and drained it. “Lucky to come to roost here.” He showed signs of rising from the table.

  Pearce put out a restraining hand. “But you ran into Butch Cassidy here? Or did he come here with the intention of seeing you?”

  “Nah, Butch and me, we’d lost track of each other. All I knew of him was what I saw in the papers from time to time. Then one day, I looked over the bar and there he was, big as life and laughin’ like seein’ me again was one good joke. Saw something of each other,
catchin’ up and tellin’ lies about where we’d been, the little time he was here, him and Sundance. Just gettin' reacquainted when he and the boys went down to John Swartz’s place and got that fool pitcher taken. Gave John Law ever’thing needed to round ’em up and send ’em off to the hoosegow. Most of ’em, anyway. Butch and Sundance, they made it out of here. South America, or some such, I heard.” He stood up. “Good visitin’ with you folks. Nice to talk about the old days, but I gotta get back to work.”

  “Just a couple of questions, Charlie, before you go. If it wasn’t to see you, do you have any idea why Butch Cassidy came here? Did he have other ties to Fort Worth?” Trey put the question that was foremost in Dr. Elmsford’s list.

  “I have a pretty good idea.” Charlie waved his towel at the two men behind the bar. “Comin’, fellas.” He turned back to Trey. “A woman. That’s what Butch told me. Said the gal he’d wanted all along lived here, or had family, a cousin or somethin’. Butch, he didn’t chase the skirts like the rest. He’d spend a little money on a gal now and then, but he weren’t all that serious about ’em. But there was a gal, little bit of a thing, he just never got over. How-some-ever, she married the other guy.”

  Trey pressed the point. “You know who she was? Where she lived?”

  Charlie gathered up their mugs and put them on the tray. “Got to get back to work now. I’ll bring you another round.” Without answering Trey, he spread the towel over the top of the mugs and headed back to the bar.

  “I think he figured we’d had our money’s worth.” Trey watched Charlie return to the bar to fill mugs and pass them along to the customers waiting. “That’s all we’ll get from him right now.”

  Pearce puffed his cheeks and pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “Do you think we can talk him into coming to the hotel to see Elmsford?”