The Bridge

by Robert Knott

  “Oh, Everett,” Allie said.

  We heard footsteps on the porch followed by a musical rat-a-tat-tat rap on the door.

  Allie leaned over me and looked out the window.

  “It’s some little fellow in a checkered suit wearing a hatbox derby,” Allie said.

  Virgil got up and answered the door.

  “Might you be Marshal Virgil Cole?” the man said with a crisp British inflection.

  “I might,” Virgil said. “And you?”

  I leaned forward in my chair to have a look at the little man in the brown-checkered suit.

  “Sebastian Winthrop,” he said.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Winthrop?”

  “I was wondering if I might have a few words with you,” Sebastian said.

  “Words about what?” Virgil said.

  Sebastian leaned forward on his toes, looking past Virgil to Allie and me.

  “Well,” he said, glancing at Allie and me through the door, “it is, perhaps, a rather delicate matter.”

  “What sort of delicate matter?” Virgil said.

  “Um, well,” he said. “It’s a matter regarding the Rio Blanco Bridge project.”

  Virgil looked back to me, then opened the door for him to enter.

  “Come on in,” Virgil said.

  “Why, thank you,” he said.

  He entered and removed his derby. Virgil closed the door behind him.

  Sebastian nodded to Allie and me and smiled.

  “This here is Allison French,” Virgil said. “And my deputy marshal, Everett Hitch.”

  “Sebastian Winthrop,” he said with a click of his heels.

  —70—

  Sebastian carried a small leather satchel. He was completely bald, without even a hair on the sides of his head, though he had full eyebrows. He sported a small mustache that was curled up with a twist at each of its ends, firmly fixed with a touch of wax.

  For a little man, there was something about him that made him seem somehow larger than his size. He was strong-looking, and his eyes were curious and perceptive.

  “What matter regarding the bridge?” Virgil said.

  “Well,” Sebastian said. “Thanks to you, Marshal Cole, for reaching out to the governor. You’ve uncovered something that has alarmed him and his staff, and I’m here on the governor’s behalf. I would have been here sooner, but the trains were slowed by the weather of course and it wasn’t only until the last few days the rails were even operable to Appaloosa and this area. But, nonetheless, I’m here now.”

  He looked to a chair.

  “May I?”

  Virgil glanced at me, then nodded to Sebastian.

  “Thank you,” Sebastian said, as he sat. “I’ve been traveling for days, mind you . . . I’ve yet to even have a proper glass of water.”

  “Oh, well,” Allie said. “We do have water.”

  “Why, thank you, Miss French,” he said.

  Allie started for the kitchen.

  “Tea, I presume, is out of the question,” he said, with the tips of his fingers together just in front of his silk tie.

  Allie looked to Virgil and nodded some. Then she looked back to Sebastian and smiled.

  “We do have tea,” Allie said with an added refined inflection to her voice.

  “Well, tea would be lovely,” Sebastian said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all,” Allie said.

  “That would be superb,” Sebastian said.

  “Well, then,” she said. “Superb tea it is.”

  “Delightful,” he said.

  Allie removed my soup bowl, bread, and milk, and set them on the table in front of me, then sashayed off to the kitchen with the tray. Sebastian watched her until she disappeared into the kitchen.

  “One can never be too careful,” Sebastian said, after Allie left the room, “when one does not know who is who and what is what.”

  “What’s this about the bridge?” Virgil said.

  “Are you familiar with Lloyd’s of London,” he said.

  Virgil nodded a little and looked to me.

  “Insurance?” I said.

  “Yes,” Sebastian said. “I’m an investigator for Lloyd’s. I’m relatively new to the U.S. . . .”

  “What brings you here?” Virgil said. “What do you know about the bridge?”

  “To put it simply, there was a policy on the Rio Blanco Bridge project,” Sebastian said. “A rather hefty policy, I might add.”

  Virgil looked at me and shook his head a little.

  “Go on,” Virgil said.

  “When there is a substantial payout such as this,” he said. “We investigate to make sure there is no fraud involved.”

  “How much of a payout?” Virgil said.

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Sebastian said. “Quite substantial.”

  “I take it by the fact you are here,” I said. “You believe there is fraud?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “This have to do with Cox?” I said. “The contractor?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What’s not perhaps?” Virgil said.

  “Were you aware the Rio Blanco Bridge was to be a toll bridge?” Sebastian said.

  Virgil looked at me and shook his head.

  “No,” I said. “We weren’t aware of that.”

  Sebastian opened his satchel and pulled out a folder.

  “This is a copy of the policy,” Sebastian said. “It’s not a Lloyd’s policy, per se, but it is a policy that includes some of Lloyd’s underwriters. According to this policy, there’s more than one party with insurable interest.”

  “Someone besides Cox?” I said.

  “Actually, I’m not sure where Mr. Cox fits in here at all. The policy itself, the first name insured on the policy is the Territory Bridge Authority, the governor himself. That’s normal.”

  “What’s not normal?” I said.

  “There is a business-interruption endorsement on this policy,” Sebastian said.

  “You mean, future tolls?” I said.

  “Precisely,” he said. “The Rio Blanco was designed for both rail and standard commerce; a licensing fee for the rail carriers and individual tolls for market fare, cattle, goods and services, individuals, et cetera. We’re talking a substantial amount of future revenues, mind you.”

  “And the payout for this business interruption is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”

  “Yes,” Sebastian said.

  “Take a lot of years of toll to earn that,” I said.

  “It would indeed,” Sebastian said. “But I need to be perfectly clear, so let me reiterate. I’m looking into possible fraud here. I need to understand the business behind the endorsement.”

  “What business?” I said.

  “Well,” Sebastian said. “The right of way, the property ownership comes into engagement here.”

  “So the beneficiary of this business interruption on this contract is not Cox?” I said.

  “It’s not,” Sebastian said. “He could perhaps have some participation in this endorsement, I don’t know. That is why I’m here.”

  “But you know who’s on the contract there with the endorsement?” I said, pointing to the contract. “Who’s the beneficiary?”

  “Yes,” Sebastian said. “But how all this came about I’m still unclear on.”

  “Well,” I said. “If it’s not Cox, then who is it?”

  “The First Baptist Church of Appaloosa,” he said.

  “Tea time,” Allie said, as she came out from the kitchen carrying the tray with the tea.

  —71—

  Allie poured the tea for Sebastian.

  “There you go,” she said.

  Sebastian nodded.

  “Oh,” he said. “I thank you so very much.”

  “Well, you are so very welcome,” Allie said. “It’s not every day I get to prepare a splendid cup of tea for an English gentleman.”

  “We got some business to finish
up here with Mr. Winthrop, Allie,” Virgil said.

  “You go right ahead,” Allie said, as she took her shawl from the coat rack by the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’m late meeting Nell in town as it is. I’m helping her to distribute flyers for the opening of the show.”

  Virgil nodded.

  Allie looked to Sebastian.

  “I’m sorry I’m not available to share some proper tea with you, Mr. Winthrop, but duty calls.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” Sebastian said, as he got to his feet. “Perfectly understandable. Perhaps some other time.”

  “Perhaps,” Allie said. “That’d be wonderful.”

  “Until then, Miss French,” Sebastian said with a bow.

  “Until,” Allie said.

  She gave Virgil a kiss on the cheek and walked out the door.

  “Lovely,” Sebastian said, as he sat back in his chair. “Simply lovely.”

  “The First Baptist Church of Appaloosa?” Virgil said.

  Sebastian nodded as he picked up the teacup. He took a sip and grimaced a little.

  “Yes,” he said with a slight clearing of his throat. “The church. It seems there was a transaction between the landowner and the church.”

  Sebastian picked up the folder and thumbed through the pages.

  “The land the bridge was built on,” Virgil said. “Deeded the land over to the church?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Who’s the executor?” I said.

  “The First Baptist Church’s pastor,” Sebastian said. “A Mr. Ashley Epps.”

  Virgil looked to me.

  “Ashley got his hand in the till?” Virgil said.

  “Again,” Sebastian said. “This might all prove to be perfectly legitimate.”

  “Or perfectly planned,” Virgil said.

  “That, too,” Sebastian said.

  “The trustee as recipient of the deed would have to file this, right?” I said.

  “Yes,” Sebastian said. “The deed is filed with the county clerk at the county courthouse.”

  “That’d be Curtis Whittlesey,” I said. “I was shooting pool with him the night I received word about the bridge. He never said anything about this. Fact, he was the one who first mentioned Cox’s name to me. Telling me he was the contractor that was building the bridge.”

  “And Cox?” Virgil said. “Where’s he fit in to all this?”

  “He would have had to know about the business-interrupting endorsement on the policy, wouldn’t he?” I said.

  “Not necessarily,” Sebastian said. “The policy belongs to the Territory Bridge Authority and the church’s business-interruption endorsement is attached to that policy, you see.”

  “We asked Cox if he knew of any motives and he damn sure didn’t mention this,” Virgil said. “He could be in on it.”

  “Yes,” Sebastian said.

  “Sounds like a bunch could be in on this,” Virgil said.

  “Yes,” Sebastian said. “Precisely, and precisely why I’m here. The whole payout will go through and nothing will ever be done about it unless there is a way to link the business-interruption endorsement to the actual blowing up of the bridge. It’s that simple.”

  Sebastian opened the file and put it before us on the coffee table.

  “Here we go,” he said. “It’s all in here. The property the bridge was built on was owned by a man named Thaddeus Cotter.”

  Virgil looked at me and shook his head a little.

  “You said was owned by Thaddeus Cotter?” I said. “Was?”

  “According to the paperwork I have here,” Sebastian said. “He’s deceased.”

  “When did Thaddeus die?” I said.

  “Approximately one year prior to the beginning of the bridge’s construction,” he said. “When Thaddeus died, his will provided for the creation of the church to own the land.”

  Virgil walked around the room for a moment, thinking. He stopped in front of the fireplace and turned to face us.

  “Cotter is the name of two of the men we caught that did the dynamiting of the bridge. No doubt they are related to this Thaddeus.”

  Sebastian nodded.

  “I see where you might be going with this,” Sebastian said. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but this sort of business comes up quite a bit in my line of work. The matriarch or patriarch leaves an asset to an organization such as a charity and or church and those next in line are disgruntled and retaliate.”

  “No,” Virgil said. “They instigate.”

  I nodded.

  “The land belongs to the church,” I said. “The church collects, the preacher collects, the brothers collect, maybe Cox and maybe even Whittlesey.”

  “Yep,” Virgil said. “Them Cotter boys could have made a deal with Ashley Epps.”

  “Could have threatened him,” I said.

  “That, too,” Virgil said.

  “Hard to know how deep this goes,” I said. “The goddamn whole of Appaloosa could be in on it.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “Only one way to find out,” Virgil said. “Can you go ahead and pay this out?”

  “Certainly,” Sebastian said. “In fact, we’ll have to. Unless I can prove fraud, the company will have no choice.”

  “Turn on the lamp,” Virgil said. “And let’s see what kind of night-flying bugs we get.”

  I nodded.

  “Wire the money,” I said. “See who shows to collect.”

  “Yep,” Virgil said, looking at Sebastian. “Bug knows where it’s going by the light of the moon, but once he comes close to a bright flame he don’t know if he’s coming or going.”

  Sebastian looked at me and smiled a little.

  —72—

  After discussing the situation at length, the best plan we could come up with was to set the trap and see what happens. We didn’t know what degree of corruption there was associated with the blowing up of the bridge. What we did know was the First Baptist Church of Appaloosa would be receiving a sum of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

  Who the money would ultimately end up with, however, was uncertain.

  The request for the money to be wired to the First Territorial Bank of Appaloosa went out the very afternoon Sebastian paid us a visit. The following day, and prior to the money’s arrival, we had set up a strategy.

  We knew Ashley would be the recipient of the funds, and he did in fact make a trip to the bank the very afternoon of the transaction. He carried a large satchel.

  We didn’t alert the bank because we didn’t want to draw attention to any wrongdoing on either side. Who knew who could be involved in the scheme?

  We watched our suspects from a distance.

  Chastain kept an eye on the court clerk, Curtis Whittlesey; Virgil watched G. W. Cox; and Sebastian and I followed Appaloosa’s mayor and preacher, Ashley Epps.

  I was tender in my chest and my whole upper body was sore, but my movement was improved and I had been getting around pretty fair for the last few days.

  It was Wednesday evening, and Sebastian and I were positioned outside in the dark alley behind the First Baptist Church of Appaloosa, listening as Ashley Epps wrapped up an impassioned midweek sermon to a full congregation.

  “He sounds mad,” Sebastian said.

  “I take it you’ve not spent much time in these parts?” I said.

  “No,” he said.

  “Well, it’s just what the preachers do here,” I said.

  “Fascinating,” he said.

  “Particularly preachers with Baptist outfits,” I said. “They get after you like a cete of badgers. Want to scare the hell out of you.”

  “And for what purpose?” Sebastian said.

  “It has to do with going to Heaven or Hell and what have you,” I said.

  “No, no, I understand,” Sebastian said. “I’ve heard something about this. It’s a bit different in my country.”

  “How so?” I said.

  “Oh,” he said. “Well, it’s noth
ing like this, I assure you. It’s much more reserved.”

  I didn’t say anything, and we just listened to Ashley as his sermon became more and more impassioned.

  “In my country, one just listens, and then one makes up one’s own mind about the Lord and Savior,” Sebastian said.

  “You don’t accept Jesus into your pumper here in this program, you’re going south,” I said.

  “Yes, yes,” Sebastian said.

  “One-way-ticket kind of deal,” I said. “No leeway for nobody else, you are either part of the regiment or not. Jews, Pygmies, Indians, everybody else is on the short end of the stick.”

  “Interesting,” Sebastian said.

  “They even got their own schools,” I said. “Preachers go to school to learn how to put the fear of God in others.”

  “Why?” Sebastian said.

  “Good question,” I said. “They got some fear in them, I guess, and they’re not satisfied until everybody else gets on board.”

  “Surely there is more to it than that?” Sebastian said.

  “You’d think,” I said.

  After the sermon was over Ashley hollered to the crowd to come down to the front, get on their knees, and ask for forgiveness.

  “My word,” Sebastian said.

  “Yep,” I said.

  We waited until the service was over. We stayed in the dark near the rear of the church but were positioned where we could see everyone leaving.

  Ashley Epps stood out front on the church steps next to his wife and children until the last person was gone.

  Sebastian and I moved closer but were completely unseen. Ashley told his wife and children to go on home and that he had some praying to do and would be home shortly.

  We watched as his family walked away, and after a moment Ashley locked the doors of the church and moved off in the opposite direction carrying the satchel.

  “Like we did today, let’s have you keep him in sight and I’ll follow you,” I said. “Light the cigarette.”

  Sebastian nodded.

  “Take this,” I said, handing my dingus to him.

  “I have no need for a gun,” he said.

  “Just take it,” I said.

  Sebastian looked at the derringer I was holding out to him. He took a deep breath, took it, and put it in his pocket.