Destiny was horrified. “The clothes she—”
“Yes. Dr. Sun says he needs to examine them.”
“Then why didn’t he take them to his place?”
“He’ll be here for them tomorrow, I guess.”
“Harry Stout doesn’t burn incense. He probably doesn’t even know what it is.”
“I think Lillian Burke may have visited an opium den before she was murdered,” Jess said.
“Or Dr. Sun’s place,” Destiny said. She rose elegantly from her chair. “One more thing, General Custer, thank you for saving Kurt’s life tonight.”
“I’d have done the same for my worst enemy,” Jess said.
The woman smiled. “Sheriff, Kurt Koenig is not your worst enemy, not by a long shot.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Jess Casey could never have explained why he returned to the graveyard the next morning but he felt drawn, as though there was a clue he’d missed, something vital he’d overlooked.
He carried his breakfast in his hand, a fried bacon sandwich made with excellent sourdough bread. The wind talked in the trees and the early birds greeted the new aborning day with an endless variety of songs. A cobalt blue sky promised no rain, only sun and heat.
The cross was standing again and the crucified Jesus was back in place. Jess stared up at the carved, aesthetic face and saw only suffering, sadness maybe, but no indication that the Savior was about to impart some essential information.
Jess sat on the flat tombstone, finished his breakfast and then built and lit a cigarette. How hushed and tranquil were the dead. He took the brooch from his short pocket and studied it, as though it could impart the information he needed. You and No Other. Four little words packed with a wealth of meaning. Was Horny Harry Stout capable of such a sentiment?
Jess rose and searched the ground around the cross again. Perhaps he hoped to find a note that read, Yes, I done it, signed Harry Stout. But he saw nothing, only a thin layer of mud, covered here and there by blown leaves. The sun was beginning its climb into the drowsy morning and a short ways off a covey of bobwhite quail exploded from a patch of creosote bush. Jess Casey hit the ground in a flat dive.
Boom!
He heard the authoritative bellow of the big-bore rifle and rolled to his left behind a granite headstone.
Boom!
Jess tried to make himself small, curling his body into a tight ball as the second bullet chipped the top of the stone and then shattered a glass vase into a thousand shards. Drawing his Colt, Jess stuck it around the side of the headstone and thumbed off two quick shots, firing blind.
There was no answering fire.
Jess rubbed his suddenly dry lips with the back of his gun hand. Where was the rifleman? Was he even now on the move, seeking a better firing position? But all seemed still as Jess looked around him. Nothing moved but the restless wind in the trees. His palms sweaty, he wiped his gun hand on his shirt and took up the Colt again. He had to move. He was too exposed where he was.
Ten yards to Jess’s left was a roughly built dry-stone wall about four feet high. At the base of the wall grew thick brush and a thin strip of shadow where a man could lose himself. Ten yards was a long way, but he had to do it. Jess got his legs under him and ran.
He dived into the brush at the base of the dry stone, and then rolled, trying to lose himself in shade.
“Well, that move was about as useless as teats on a boar hog.”
Luke Short stood at the gravestone Jess had so recently left. He had a gun in his hand and a scowl on his face. “How the hell have you managed to live this long, cowboy?”
“He’s gone?” Jess said from the cover of the brush.
“Yeah, he’s gone. Wilson Tucker is an ambush killer and he don’t stick around when things turn bad.”
Jess got to his feet and stepped into sunlight. “I fired at him,” he said. “Did I scare him off?”
“Hell, no. He saw me coming up the hill, hoping to do you a favor, and decided this wasn’t his day.” Luke turned his upper body and pointed north. “He went thataway.” He grinned. “See that tomb over yonder. I reckon Wilson planned to set there and nail you as soon as you ran like a scared rabbit from this here headstone. You should’ve stayed right where you were at and let him come to you.”
Jess holstered his gun and said, “I guess I just called in the favor I owe you.”
“Hell no, you didn’t, more is the pity. All I did was leave my breakfast and follow you up the hill and that wasn’t a favor. Truth is if I’d known it was Wilson up here with a hunting rifle I would have stayed home.”
“It was him who tried to kill Kurt Koenig last night, huh?” Jess said.
“Wilson wasn’t trying to kill Koenig, Sheriff. It was you he wanted. Kurt was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he got in the way.”
Jess shook his head. “They say Wilson Tucker is the best there is. Somebody must want to kill me real bad.”
“Seems like,” Luke said. “Well, you can cross them three young fellers you locked up in your jail off your list. They’re already on a train bound for the New Mexico Territory, thanks to their rich folks. Seems like their fathers weren’t happy about a certain nosy sheriff walking around asking questions.”
“Then they got away with murder,” Jess said.
“Those three have criminal tendencies and they’re rich-kid arrogant,” Luke said. “Boys like that don’t last on the frontier. Some tough lawman who doesn’t take any sass will plant them in boot hill before too long.”
“Luke, who is giving Wilson Tucker orders?” Jess said.
“I don’t know.”
“Could it be Mayor Stout?”
Luke shrugged, an expressive gesture of his. “Why would Harry want you dead?”
“Maybe he’s heard that I suspect him of murdering Lillian Burke,” Jess said.
“He’d certainly screw her, but murder? I don’t see Harry doing that.”
“Then who?”
“Sheriff, I owe you a favor. I don’t owe you my opinion. But I’ll say this, I have no idea who wants you dead and I don’t much care. You’re not one of my favorite people and owing you a favor is aging me rapidly.”
“I think you may have saved my hide this morning, so thank you anyway,” Jess said.
“Casey, take my advice and go back to cowboying,” Luke said. “You just ain’t cut out for this kind of life.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Dr. Sun came by the sheriff’s office in the early afternoon to pick up Lillian Burke’s clothes. “They may tell us something, but more likely they will remain silent,” he said.
“I guess you heard what happened this morning, Doc,” Jess said.
“It’s all over the Acre, mostly because Luke Short was involved. He’s a desperate man.”
“I reckon Luke saved my life,” Jess said.
“But he won’t always be around to save you,” Dr. Sun said. “That is what worries me.”
“I can take care of myself, Doc,” Jess said.
“As I told you before, there is evil afoot, and it is directed at you, Jess. You are too good a man to remain here any longer.”
“What are you telling me?” Jess said.
“That you should leave and leave now,” Dr. Sun said. “Don’t linger here another day, Jess. Your life is in danger.”
“Do you think Harry Stout is behind all this?”
“I don’t know for sure, not yet,” Dr. Sun said. “But you must get out of this town and leave the investigation to me.” The physician’s smile was sympathetic. “You lingered in Fort Worth because you want to earn enough money to buy your own ranch, is that not so?”
“That is my intention, Doc.”
“I am not a rich man, Jess, but I can advance you the money to buy a place.”
Jess opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Sun held up a silencing hand. “No, it’s not charity, Jess. If you wish, you may make me a partner in the enterprise. I can’t ride a horse or herd cows,
but I am very good with books, you know, profit and loss.”
“Doc, that’s very kind of you,” Jess said, “but I have a job to do in the Acre and I’ll see it through.”
Suddenly Dr. Sun seemed angry. “No! You must leave. You can make a life for yourself away from Fort Worth. Don’t be a fool, Jess, listen to what I tell you before it’s too late.”
Jess smiled. “Doc, don’t worry about me so much. I’ll be just fine.”
“You won’t be fine. You’ll die, Jess, shot down in the street.”
Jess shivered. “Hell, Doc, now you’re scaring me.”
“I’m trying to scare you.” Then, in a high-pitched tone, “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
With that, Doc Sun turned on his heel, picked up the bundle of clothes and charged out of the door.
Jess was stunned. What had gotten into the man? Or was Dr. Sun himself scared. Was the evil he’d talked about also directed at him?
Suddenly Jess was angry, angry at Horny Harry Stout, whose unbridled lust had brought all this trouble upon him. The man had to be brought to justice and soon. Jess wanted to see his fat carcass swing from a noose.
* * *
The little old lady was distraught over her lost Pekingese.
“She’s so tiny, Sheriff, just an itty-bitty thing. I’m so worried that a ferocious stray dog will get her. Please help me find her.”
“Calm yourself, ma’am. Where did you lose her?” Jess said.
“In an alley down the street a ways. Something frightened her and she jumped out of my arms and ran down the alley. It was so dark I couldn’t find her.” The old lady burst into tears. “If I can’t find my Lucy-Lu I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Jess rose from his desk and patted the woman on the shoulder. “I’ll help you find her.” He grabbed a hurricane lantern from the shelf and said, “Now show me where you lost her.”
The old lady led him to an alley just half a dozen storefronts from his office. Separating Bell’s bakery and the New York Hat Shop, the alley was only about ten feet wide and completely dark.
“Lucy-Lu,” the old woman yelled. “Lucy-Lu!” She listened and said, “Was that a bark I heard, Sheriff?”
“Could have been,” Jess said. “I’ll go look. You stay right here, ma’am.”
“Oh, be careful, Sheriff,” the woman said. “It’s so dark.”
Jess stepped into the alley, orange lantern light bobbing along the walls. The ground was treacherous underfoot, littered with empty bottles and other debris Jess didn’t want to put a name to.
“Lucy-Lu,” he said in the most dog-friendly voice he could muster. “Where are you, little girl?”
From ahead of him he thought he heard a whimper. “Lucy-Lu, are you there?” He raised the lantern above his head. “Lucy-Lu! Are you there?”
From behind him, faintly, he heard the old lady say, “Oh, do be careful, Sheriff . . .”
Jess moved deeper into the alley. “Lucy-Lu . . . Lucy-Lu . . .” There! He heard it just ahead of him and to his left, the whimper of a scared dog. “Lucy-Lu . . .”
A furry bundle jumped up from where she had been lying and promptly bit Jess on the ankle. “Lucy-Lu?” He laid the lantern aside and bent to pick up the dog. The little Pekingese growled and bit his hand, growled again and bit his other hand.
“Sheriff,” the old lady said, “you’re not hurting my precious, are you?”
“No, ma’am,” Jess said, trying to shake the savage animal off his hand. “She seems quite excited.”
“Hold her, Sheriff,” the woman said. “I’ll come. You’ve scared her.”
Jess picked up the growling, snapping Peke and he was pretty sure Lucy-Lu was doing her best to tear his throat out. To his relief the old woman appeared at his elbow, lamplight casting most of her face in shadow. She grabbed the dog and it calmed down immediately.
“There, there, precious,” she said. “Did the bad man scare you?”
“She bit me,” Jess said. He showed her the blood running from a gash on the back of his hand. “The little . . . little . . .”
“Come, Lucy-Lu,” the old woman said. “I won’t let the nasty sheriff scare you again.”
She turned and toddled back down the alley. The Pekingese had its head on her shoulder and it glared at Jess with glittering eyes.
“You’re very welcome, ma’am,” Jess called out.
But the little old lady kept on toddling and didn’t turn around.
Jess bent to pick up the lantern and saw the place where the Pekingese had been lying. It was a pile of clothes, thrown haphazardly against a wall of the alley. He leaned closer and smelled the faint odor of incense.
They were Lillian Burke’s clothes.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Dr. Sun had thrown the clothes away. He’d had no intention of examining them. But why pretend that he would? Sleepless, Jess lay in his cot and stared at the ceiling. What was he missing here?
Could Dr. Sun be the one who murdered Lillian Burke? The incense on her clothing indicated that she’d been in a Chinese opium den—or the physician’s home. And why was Dr. Sun so anxious to get him out of the Acre, even to the point of buying him a spread?
No, it was impossible, Jess decided. The little physician had stood by him and had used his sword to defend him at the Alamo. It was hardly the act of someone who wanted him dead.
You and No Other.
Harry Stout was not the kind of man to compose such a sentiment. By all accounts he was a whoremaster and a buffoon. But Dr. Sun, a physician and a sophisticated man of the world, could. And he knew the properties of opium. Had he discovered a potent derivative of opium that could make him rich?
If that was the case, Kurt Koenig stood in Dr. Sun’s way and he was marked for death. Jess wondered if Luke Short could have been wrong and the assassin’s bullet was really intended for Kurt Koenig, not for him. His mind racing, Jess rolled off the bed and built a cigarette. Wilson Tucker had failed to kill him that morning, but he knew he was very much a secondary target after Kurt Koenig. Could that be why Dr. Sun decided to give him an easy out and had thrown in a ranch to sweeten the pot?
It was time to find answers. Jess drew smoke deep into his lungs and made his decision. He was going to toss the dice. By this hour tomorrow night the moon might rise and look for Jess Casey and he wouldn’t be there.
No matter. It was time to do what had to be done.
* * *
Next morning Nate Levy met Jess at the door of the sheriff’s office.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Nate,” Jess said.
“Damned Panther City Boys were holding a shindig in the next room,” Nate said. “Kept me awake the whole night, them and their gals. I decided it was high time I got up and around.”
“What can I do for you, Nate?” Jess said. “I’m headed for the White Elephant, Luke Short’s place.”
“Then I’ll walk with you for a ways.”
After awhile Nate said, “You look tired, Jess.” Jess smiled. “Yeah, and I feel tired.”
“I’m here if you need any help. Look.” Nate took a Remington derringer from his pocket. “I bought this at a gun store and a box of ammunition for it. If you want to make a play, I’ll back you up.”
“You keep the belly gun in your pocket, Nate,” Jess said. “What I have to do is no concern of yours.”
“Zeus wasn’t a concern of mine?”
“Sorry, Nate. Yes, I know he was,” Jess said.
“Jess, your enemy isn’t Luke Short. I hope you know that.”
“He isn’t my friend, that’s for sure.”
“How well do you know that Dr. Sun feller?” Nate said.
Suddenly Jess was guarded. “Not real well, I guess.”
“There’s something strange about him, but I can’t put my finger on what it is, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, he’s Chinese for a start,” Jess said. “White folks can never figure out the Chinese. They do and say things we don’t.”
“I don’t trust him,” Nate said. “And neither should you.”
“I’ve got to the stage in this town where I don’t trust anybody,” Jess said.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yeah, Nate, I’d say I do.”
“They say eyes are the window of the soul, Jess. You ever hear that?”
“No, but I guess it makes sense.”
“When he was treating me, I looked into Dr. Sun’s eyes and couldn’t see anything. Only blackness that went on forever and ever, deeper and deeper. I saw nothing, no soul.” Nate smiled. “Ah, listen to me. What I don’t see with my eyes I must not invent with my mouth. Maybe I’m mistaken.”
“Have you ever been mistaken about a man before?” Jess said.
“Not that I can remember. And here I must leave you. I’m tired now.”
“Thanks for the company,” Jess said. “And keep that gun close, Nate.”
“And you take good care of yourself, Jess. Remember that worries go down better with soup than without.”
* * *
Like all sporting gentlemen Luke Short was not an easy man to rouse in the morning. But Jess Casey roused him anyway, even in the face of Luke’s threat to gun him right where he stood.
“You’re calling in your favor,” Luke said when he finally laid aside his gun and sat up in bed and allowed hope to gleam in his eyes.
Jess studied the opulent bedroom and said, “You do yourself well, Luke.”
“The damned White Elephant was built around my bedroom,” Luke said. “Now what do you want? And I warn you, I’m still considering whether or not to shoot you.”
“Can I shade Wilson Tucker on the draw and shoot?” Jess said.
Luke blinked a time or two then said. “This is it. Here’s the favor I owe you. I’ll escort you back to the jail and put you to bed with a sedative.”
“Can I shade Wilson Tucker?” Jess said.
“Listen up,” Luke said. “You ain’t got a hope in hell. You ain’t got a prayer. You drawing down on Wilson Tucker is as hopeless as whipping a dead horse . . . as trying to put out a barn fire with a shot glass full of water . . . as arguing with the angel of death. Catch my drift? Now for God’s sake go sleep it off and leave me the hell alone.”
Hell's Half Acre Page 19
