Six said, “Something’s caught your eye. What is it?”
Mainwaring stabbed a name with his index finger. “This one. The others I’m not sure of—they could be acting on their own or they could be fronting for someone else; but this fellow Wyllys was one of the gents Fred Maye brought into the outfit when he went into partnership with me on a couple of bond deals. Far as I know, Wyllys has always been in Fred’s hip pocket, never jumps until Fred says frog. And three or four of these other fellows have worked with Fred at one time or another. It gives me a sinking feeling that Fred’s been in there, behind my back, pumping for all he’s worth before the well goes dry. And look here—most of the names on these lists are speculators. They obviously bought small lots and sat back to watch which way the fur would fly. But Wyllys and these other boys who work for Fred Maye, they’ve taken big positions, every one of them. It says right here that Wyllys bought ten thousand shares this morning and sold another ten thousand short. They’re coppering their bets, sure enough.”
Six glanced at Chavis. “Another thing occurs to me, now that Fred Maye’s name comes up. He’s been in and out of the Western Union office for two days now. Which could explain how the news of Mainwaring’s arrest reached the San Francisco newspapers so fast.”
“Fred Maye,” Mainwaring muttered. “I’ve always trusted that man, Jeremy. But there’s no question he’s trying to make a fortune at my expense. And not a thing illegal about it, either.”
Clarissa said, “It may be legal, but that doesn’t make it honest. I know you businessmen always talk about what a dog-eat-dog thing finance is, but it seems to me there are certain things an honest man wouldn’t do to his friends no matter what the law says.”
“You’re right,” Mainwaring told her. “And I used to think Fred Maye was that kind of man. It looks as if I was wrong there, too.” He sounded whipped and jaded.
Six’s glance shot around to Tracy Chavis; and Chavis, nodding, said, “I’ll see what I can find out,” and wheeled out of the cell.
Just after sundown, with supper heavy in his belly, Fred Maye threaded the streets of Cat Town and made his way to the back door of Stratton’s saloon. Al Hutton let him in and gave him an unpleasant glance, which Maye returned defiantly; Hutton went out to the saloon bar to fetch Stratton, and shortly thereafter Stratton came through the private card room and let Maye into the office. “What’s on your mind this time?”
Maye shut the door behind him and said evenly, “Don’t use that tone of voice on me, Sid. Save it for your hired toughs. It won’t buy you anything with me.”
“You’re edgy tonight, aren’t you? What’s up?” Stratton produced a cigar and bit the end off.
“You might offer me one of those.”
Stratton smiled a bit and tossed him a cigar; Maye sat down, snipped the tip with his teeth, extracted it with thumb and forefinger, and made a point of tossing it on the floor. Eyes lidded, he held a match to his cigar and got it going to his satisfaction before he sat down and blew a ball of smoke in the air. He said mildly, “You’ve got bad manners, Sid, which will mark you like a brand on your forehead no matter how much money you manage to steal.”
“Let’s not waste time talking about my manners.” If Stratton was offended, he gave no sign of it. Sleepy and remotely smiling, he watched Maye with speculative and secretive attention.
Maye crossed his legs and rolled the cigar in his fingers. “I think it’s about time you gave me an accounting, Sid.”
“Of what?”
“The progress you’ve been making here.”
“When the times comes for you to know, you’ll be told.”
“No. I put up half the bankroll for this operation. I’ve got a right to keep an eye on it,” Maye said.
Stratton shrugged. “Suit yourself. Hold on a minute and I’ll get the books out of the safe.”
Maye waved the cigar. “Don’t bother. Just tell it to me.”
Stratton showed mild surprise and sat back in his chair. “Now you trust me all of a sudden?”
“Not at all. But I don’t trust your books any more than I trust your word. I expect you to take some off the top without telling me, and without showing it on the books. That’s fair enough, since you’re taking the risks. But I want a general idea of where things stand.”
“And if it doesn’t suit you?” Stratton’s smile broadened. “What’ll you do, Fred, if you decide I’ve been cheating you blind—or if I just up and leave town with your money?”
Maye said softly, “Then I’ll see that a certain envelope goes to the law.”
Stratton nodded. “And if you do, I’ll turn my own envelope over to the law.”
“Which just goes to show,” Maye observed, “that it wouldn’t be too good an idea for either one of us to start thinking about double-crossing the other. Either way, we’d both end up in prison. Or maybe worse.”
“Maybe worse,” Stratton echoed thoughtfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means just this. In the deposition I’ve left in safe hands, to be turned over to the law if I get killed, there’s a statement that I talked to Earle Mainwaring that night after Krausmeier died and Earle went home. My sworn statement says Earle told me Krausmeier had won more than eight thousand dollars that night. Which would make you look just plain sick, Sid, because you and your boys were the only ones in that room with Krausmeier before he died—and there wasn’t a penny on the body.”
“That’s a lie,” Stratton said. “You never talked to Earle.”
“Didn’t I?”
“No.”
“All right,” Maye said, smiling slightly. “But you’ve got no witness to prove I admitted it to you. And it’s in my statement, signed and sworn.” He leaned forward and blew cigar smoke toward Stratton, and said, “All of which ought to make you think twice about shaving too much off the top, Sid. Now how about it? How are we doing?”
Stratton considered him expressionlessly. “I’ve had a little trouble shilling the rich ones into the game since Earle died, but were doing all right. I’m about ready to make my move. I get the big-money players on the rack, and you come to the rescue by refinancing them with loans. If you hold up your end, we’ll have enough mortgage notes on those mines to grab the lion’s share of the whole damned Mogul before we’re through.”
“When do you start cracking down?”
“Pretty soon. There are one or two mine owners I still want to get in on the game. But when I start moving, it’ll be fast. I’ll give you plenty of warning, but you’ll have to be ready with cash when I give you the word.”
Maye nodded comfortably. “That won’t be any problem. I did pretty well today on Mainwaring stock.” He grinned. “As a matter of fact, you could say I murdered Mainwaring in the market. In another couple of days it’ll be—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish; knuckles rapped on the door and when Stratton spoke, Al Hutton put his head in and said, “Fellow wants to see you.”
“Who is it?”
Hutton glanced at Maye and then said, “That Irishman from up the hill.”
“Flynn? It’s all right, Maye knows about it. Tell him to come in.”
Mike Flynn sidled into the office, red-faced and uncertain. He made sure the door was shut behind him and then said, “I want to talk to you. It’ll be private, if ye don’t mind.”
“Maye knows all about it, Flynn.”
Flynn glared at Fred Maye, then at Stratton. “Then I ain’t so sure as I’m likin’ that. You said it was just between the two o’ us.”
Stratton smiled. “Not much you can do about it, is there?”
Flynn uttered a low-voiced oath, which didn’t affect Stratton’s smile; Flynn said, “I told you I wouldn’t be repeatin’ that trumped-up yarn I told the marshal, not on the witness stand with me hand on the Book.”
“That’s right. You won’t have to testify,” Stratton said. “When the time comes, you’ll just disappear.”
“I want to do it n
ow,” Flynn said. “It’s the back of me neck, it’s gettin’ the spooks, I’m tellin’ ye.”
“A couple more days,” Fred Maye murmured. “If he clears out now, it may be enough for Six to drop the charges against Mainwaring. I want Mainwaring kept in jail another forty-eight hours. That’ll be enough to drop the bottom out of his stock. I’ll buy all I can. After that you can clear out, Flynn. Mainwaring should be able to clear his name after a while. The stock will go back up, and I’ll sell out at a handsome profit. But you stick around for two days more.”
“Agreed,” said Stratton.
Flynn shook his head. “Not a bit of it. I ain’t been able to look a man in the eye since I told that lie to the marshal. If I be stayin’ on here any longer, somebody’s sure to ask questions. I want the money ye promised me. I’ll have it and be on me way.”
“You’ll be taken care of,” Stratton said, “in two days’ time.”
“I’m tellin’ ye, man, I can’t be waitin’ that long!”
Stratton leaned forward and poked his cigar at Flynn. “You’ll wait as long as I tell you to wait, Flynn. Either that or I send you your Mexican girlfriend’s head in a sack.”
Flynn’s eyes narrowed; his fists clenched and opened.
“Ye gave me your word ye’d let her go if I told that lie to the marshal.”
“I’ll let her go just as soon as this job’s done,” Stratton said, “and not one minute before. I keep my side of the bargain, Flynn, and I expect you to keep yours. Now get the hell back up to the mine where you’re supposed to be. Come back in forty-eight hours and I’ll give you your money and tell you where to find the girl.”
“But—”
“Out,” Stratton muttered. “Out. Now.”
Fred Maye got up and went to the door and held it open. Flynn’s burly shoulders sagged. He gave Stratton a look of naked rage, whipped around and plunged through the door. Maye watched him go out the back way, then shut the office door and went back to his chair. His cigar had grown a tall ash; he tapped it in the cuspidor and leaned back. “Why pay him good money if you’ve got his girl sewed up anyway?”
“Gives him something extra to look forward to,” Stratton said. “Never leave a man hopeless.”
“You don’t really intend to pay him off and let him go free with what he knows?”
Stratton’s smile pasted the lips against his teeth. “Of course not,” he said.
Nine
Tracy Chavis marched purposefully into the Marshal’s Office and spoke without preamble:
“I think we’ve got them cold, Jeremy.”
Six gave him an inquiring glance. Chavis said, “I kept a close eye on Stratton’s place for two hours, and I had luck. Fred Maye walked in the back door about half an hour ago. Then Mike Flynn went in, stayed ten minutes and came out. Maye’s still there, or was when I left.” Six’s eyes became slits; he sat back and steepled his fingers. “Just so,” he breathed. “Just so.”
“It’s enough for me,” Chavis said.
“Not enough for the law,” Six said, “but enough to get started. All right. It’s been a while since I made the rounds of this town, but I don’t imagine anybody’s changed habits much.” He craned his neck to look around at the Seth Thomas clock. Nine o’clock. “Al Hutton usually goes out to supper about now. Walks down to Robles’ Cafe and takes his time eating. If you can do me one more favor, that’ll be it, Tracy—get Hutton over here without Stratton knowing about it.”
“That’ll be a pleasure,” Chavis said grimly. “I take it you want him in one piece?”
“I want him to be able to talk,” Six answered. “He’s the weakest link in Stratton’s chain and maybe we can pry him open and bust the chain altogether. I think we’ve got enough information now to bluff the truth out of him.”
Chavis went outside and decided to forego his horse this time; he walked back into Cat Town, not bothering to conceal himself, going along the boardwalks from one splash of lamplight to the next. The heat had dissipated for the night; activity was picking up. Pedestrians cruised the walks by twos and threes; the clatter of honky-tonk pianos and Mexican guitars came out of dance-halls and saloons along the route, and Fat Annie’s girls sat on the porch swinging their legs. Chavis went into Robles’ Cafe and stood just within the door, measuring the late-dining patrons; Al Hutton’s plank-narrow shape was nowhere to be seen, and that was good: it indicated Hutton hadn’t arrived yet, and could be intercepted on his way up here from the Tres Candelas. Chavis whipped back outside, glanced up the street, and assured himself Hutton was not yet in sight. He stepped up-street half a block and turned in at the black mouth of a narrow alley between an adobe cantina and an apothecary shop, closed for the night. In the pitch-dark shadows, Chavis waited gun-in-hand.
It wasn’t long before Hutton came along, swinging his long bony arms in stride. Chavis let him get close before he stepped out of the alley, displayed his gun and said, “Keep quiet, Al, and pass me the gun left-handed.”
It took Hutton a moment to get over the paralysis of startlement. While he was standing there making up his mind, Chavis boosted him:
“Never fight the drop, Al. You wouldn’t have a prayer.”
“I guess not,” Hutton said, and gave Chavis an amazed look while he passed his gun across, gingerly held in the forefinger and thumb of his left hand. “What the hell is this all about?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. We’ll take a walk up to the Marshal’s Office now. Stay off the main streets and don’t make a play. I’d hate to bust your kneecap with a bullet but I will if I have to.”
“Ain’t no call for shootin’,” Hutton complained. “I don’t know what the hell you’re up to but I’ll come along. You didn’t have to pull a gun on me, for Christ’s sake.”
“Just making sure,” Chavis murmured. “Come on, now. You first.”
They went back by way of shadowed alleys and back streets; they reached the Marshal’s Office without incident. Chavis turned him over to Six, who sat behind the desk scowling at Hutton until Hutton began to fidget. Six said abruptly, “All right, Tracy. Thanks for rounding him up. Now see if you can get hold of Mike Flynn and Fred Maye and bring them in too.”
Chavis gave him a puzzled glance, not sure whether Six really meant that or was just trying to impress Hutton by hinting that Six knew all about everything. But Six nodded briskly to Chavis, confirming that he really did want Maye and Flynn brought in, and so Chavis stifled his curiosity and went out on the new errand.
When Chavis had left, Six picked up Hutton’s gun, which Chavis had left on the desk. He bounced it thoughtfully in his hand and allowed the silence to stretch to a brittle limit that increased Al Hutton’s agitation until he exploded. “What the hell kind of goddamn railroad is this? You just aim to sit there all night and not open your goddamn mouth?”
“Simmer down,” Six said. He studied the gun with close care. “I guess this isn’t the one you used on Krausmeier.”
“Hell, you trying to pin that one on me?” Hutton began to regain his swaggering self-confidence. “You can’t prove a goddamn thing.”
“Can’t I?” Six murmured. He leaned forward and slammed the gun down on the desk top. It startled Hutton, as it was supposed to. Six said in a sudden harsh tone, “I’ve got the goods on you, Al. I’ve got evidence to prove Krausmeier was ahead a small fortune when he quit that card game. You and Stratton were the only ones with him before he died. But there was no money on him when we picked up the body, and by your own admission nobody else was with him in that back room long enough to roll him for his winnings. You killed him, Al—you or Stratton, to get back the money Krausmeier’d won. You or Stratton. Which one was it?”
“You’re bluffin’,” Hutton muttered, but he shifted his feet as he spoke.
“No,” Six said. “If I was bluffing I wouldn’t have bothered to haul you in here. You’re under arrest, Al, for the murder and robbery of Amos Krausmeier.”
His bravado leaking out, Hutton tried
to shrug it off. “Hell, go ahead and arrest me. You can’t prove nothing.”
“Before I’m through with you in court, I’ll have you up to your ears, Al. You’ve been in on the whole thing right from the start. You know all about the deal Stratton made with Fred Maye to frame Mainwaring and drive the stock prices down. That makes you an accessory to a conspiracy. You were part of it when they brought Mike Flynn into it, too. It’s quicksand, Al, and you’re in it far too deep to get out unless somebody throws you a rope. And I’m the only one who can do that.”
Hutton had been staring at him, unblinking, all the time. Now he swallowed. “How?”
“Turn State’s evidence and I’ll see you get off light.”
Hutton’s lip curled. “Stab my boss in the back, you mean?”
Six shrugged. “It’s the only way you’ll escape hanging. Make a deal with the prosecution, testify to everything you know, and they’ll probably charge you with nothing more than conspiracy. Otherwise, it’ll be a murder charge—for Krausmeier. You’re the one who killed him, but you may get away without hanging for it if you’ll turn State’s evidence.”
“Why do me any favors?”
“Because it’s Stratton I want. Stratton and Maye. The rest of you don’t count.”
“You know how to flatter a man,” Hutton said dryly. “But I still say you’re bluffing.”
Six reached for the key ring. “All right. You can think it over in a cell. The charge is first-degree murder, don’t forget.”
Six got out of his chair with a grunt; the sixgun was in his fist all the time, which dissuaded Hutton from making a break. Hutton chewed his lip. Six opened the cell-block door and looked at him. “Ready?”
“Wait a minute,” Hutton said, and Six pushed the door shut and went back to the desk. Hutton took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.
Marshal Jeremy Six #7 Page 13
