Murder at Thumb Butte (16 page)

The steamer truck was well built, and I tried many times before I was able to force the lock with my knife. I opened the lid with a little trepidation. At first, I saw only clothing. As I threw them aside, I noticed they were summer garments. At the bottom, I found what I was looking for. Or at least I hoped so. There were papers, writing utensils, stamps, and gold foil seals. On closer inspection, I discovered that the papers were preprinted stock certificates for the Edison Electric Illumination Company. These were the phony certificates. Campbell used the stamps and seals to make them look official. I rifled through everything but couldn’t find the genuine article. Then I used my knife to slit the lining to check for a hidden certificate. No luck.

I sat on the floor, disappointed. Nothing had gone right since we rode into Prescott. The man I had come to see was dead, my friend was accused of murder, and the stock certificate for the Edison Electric Light Company was nowhere to be found. My priority had to be Sharp, but I still wanted to complete the business that had brought us here. I thought I couldn’t be more dejected, and then I saw light leaking through a hole in my coat. I got up from the floor and examined it. The hole was new, with a companion hole on the backside. I put the coat on and stuck my finger through the holes, which were to the side. Damn, a bullet had just barely missed me. I had been lucky twice.

Then a realization struck me. This shot had to be the bandit’s first attempt, the gunfire that had spooked Liberty and thrown me to the ground. The implication was undeniable. There had been no warning shot. That man had been sitting in ambush to kill me.

_{Chapter 23}

The knock was loud and authoritative. As I rolled out of bed, I noticed that the light seeping around the drawn curtains was bright. How late had I slept?

As I stumbled toward the door in my nightshirt, I yelled, “Damn it, just a minute!”

When I flung open the door, I couldn’t have been more surprised.

“
Mr. Dancy, we have work. Do you intend to sleep the morning away?”

I quickly closed the door to a crack and stuck my head in the opening. “Maggie, what are you doing here?”

“
Waking you, evidently.”

“
To what purpose?”

“
To find Mr. Campbell’s killer. Don’t you care about your friend?”

“
Of course. I was up late with your father and Constable Earp. We were discussing the case.”

“
Discussions are what men do when they sip bourbon. Mysteries are solved by investigations.”

“
And you know this from your extensive experience with the Pinkertons.”

“
I do.”

I had meant the comment sarcastically. She either didn’t notice or refused to be intimidated. Maggie was proving herself a McAllen with her every utterance. Then it occurred to me that that was exactly what she was doing. Because her mother had moved away after she remarried, Maggie saw her father only once or twice a year. She idolized him. She probably saw him as a knight of the frontier, saving the good folks from outlaws and brutes. When I first met McAllen, I considered him an employee, but we eventually became friends. Perhaps he was a paladin. He certainly had rescued me from a desperate situation more than once. Then another thought occurred to me: For nearly two months, Maggie had watched Mrs. Schmidt perform the duties of a Pinkerton agent. No wonder she thought it was appropriate for a woman to engage in this line of work.

“
Is Mrs. Cunningham still serving breakfast?”

“
She was about to put it away, but I convinced her to hold it until I woke you.”

“
Tell her I’ll be down shortly.” I closed the door with a firm snap.

I shaved, scrubbed, dressed, and ran down the stairs. The dining room was empty except for Maggie and Mrs. Cunningham. The two sat close together, their heads bent in even closer. As I entered, they straightened abruptly as if I had caught them conspiring. Perhaps I had.

Mrs. Cunningham immediately stood. “Take a seat, Mr. Dancy. You can eat a biscuit until I bring you the rest of your meal.”

“
Have you eaten, Maggie?”

“
Hours ago.”

What was I in for? I had checked my watch as I dressed, and it was half past eight o’clock. Not sunrise, but I had certainly not “slept the morning away.”

I plopped into a chair and grabbed a biscuit. Maggie slid a crystal dish of preserves in my direction. Both were superb. If this was any indication, Mrs. Cunningham knew how to cook.

In a few minutes, Mrs. Cunningham returned and distributed several bowls in front of me. One held steaming porridge, another two boiled eggs. It was the third bowl that caught my attention. “An orange?”

“
You mean, where did I find fruit way out here in the wilderness?” She looked pleased with herself. “Yuma. That’s a navel orange from Brazil. They grow quite well along the Mexican border.”

I grabbed the orange and peeled it, dropping the skin into the bowl. It was cold and juicy and sweet. I had seldom tasted anything so good. I hadn’t eaten an orange since New York City, and it was an unanticipated pleasure. Mrs. Cunningham smiled in satisfaction before retreating to her kitchen.

After I finished my meal, I looked up to see Maggie watching me with interest. I wiped my mouth with a napkin, took a sip of coffee, and looked back at her with what I hoped was an expression of disinterest.

“
I propose we start with Mr. Winslow,” she said without preamble.

“
Why?”

“
I don’t like him.”

“
This is what you learned from your extensive experience with the Pinkertons?”

She was only flustered for a moment before saying, “He thinks he’s going to be president someday. Protecting his precious reputation is motive.”

“
I’m sorry to inform you, but your father is still in charge of this investigation. He instructed me to find out what I could about George Blanchet. Since he also said we were to work together, that means you’ll accompany me today as we find out what we can about the esteemed counselor of Prescott, Arizona.”

“
What about Mr. Winslow?”

“
Your father said he would personally look into Mr. Winslow. Now, I intend to follow your father’s instructions. If you want to participate in this case with me, you need to assure me that you will do the same.”

“
How do you propose we start?”

“
Did I miss your assurance?”

“
Mr. Dancy, Captain McAllen is not only the supervisor of this investigation, he is my father. Need I say more?”

“
You do.” I sipped the last remnants of my coffee while I continued to put on an appearance of indifference.

Finally, I got a glowering response. “You seem to be a very annoying man, Mr. Dancy. Very well, if you insist. I give you my assurance that I will abide by my father’s instructions.”

“
Which includes doing what I tell you. No sleuthing on your own. Captain Joseph McAllen’s orders. Do you understand?”

For a moment, I thought she was going to argue, but then she gave me what appeared to be a genuine smile and said, “I understand.”

I was about to demand something beyond an understanding but decided it would be wasted effort. I would just need to keep her close at hand. Maybe if she felt engaged, she would be more obedient. It was worth a try.

“
Tell me what you know about Mr. Blanchet,” I asked.

“
He’s not a very good lawyer, but he knows the governor and all the moneyed interests in the territory. Let me rephrase that. Mr. Blanchet is a staunch Republican, and he serves the men behind Republican interests in the state.”

This was news to me. President Hayes was a Republican, and he had appointed Frémont, the first Republican presidential candidate. I had assumed that Republican interests dominated the territory. “Are there Democratic interests in the territory?”

Maggie gave me a look that made me feel stupid. “The southern part of the territory is Democratic. That’s why Tucson and Tombstone keep trying to get the capital moved, but Hayes will never let that happen. Tombstone mines produce ore valued at up to six thousand dollars per ton. If the capital gets moved south, with that kind of money coming out of the ground, this will be a Democratic state one day.”

I was impressed. “Very astute for a fourteen-year-old.”

“
Fifteen. I’ve had a birthday since you saw me last.” She gave me another disdainful look. “They come around regular … once a year.”

I ignored her sarcasm. “What else do you know about Blanchet?”

“
He and Campbell ate breakfast together nearly every day.”

I felt my posture straighten. “How do you know that?”

“
They ate at Mrs. Potter’s Café. Same as us.”

“
You didn’t eat at Prescott House?”

“
God, no. Worst food in town.”

“
Don’t use profanity.”

“
I apologize. A bad habit I picked up from the Schmidts.”

“
Break it. Anything else?”

She actually stuck her finger under her chin and struck a thoughtful pose. “No. Why would my father be interested in Mr. Blanchet?”

“
Not sure, but he’ll be more interested in him once he knows he regularly ate breakfast with Campbell.”

“
He already knows. I told him weeks ago.”

Of course. They probably shared a lot on those afternoon rides. Then it occurred to me that McAllen was using his daughter. She was a fixture about town and a child. Most likely, nobody gave her any notice. Because of her keen sense of observation, McAllen probably learned as much from her as from the Schmidts. Possibly more. I doubted the Schmidts would speculate, because they struck me as a couple who abhorred being in error.

“
Any suggestions on how we proceed from here?” I asked.

“
Let’s follow him.”

There was excitement in her voice, and I pretended to consider her idea. Finally, I said, “In business, the person who knows the most about someone is usually a competitor. Let’s see Mac Castle, Jeff’s lawyer. Perhaps he can give us some history on our Mr. Blanchet. Besides, I need to give him money for his services.”

“
Let’s visit Mr. Sharp first. I’d like to say hello.” She jumped out of her chair, holding up two biscuits. “I owe these to Mr. Sharp for the rock candy and jerky he gave me on the trail after rescuing me.”

Maggie had been abducted the previous year, and Sharp and I had helped rescue her. When she was free, Sharp had given her rock candy and then jerky to rebuild her strength.

“
If you remember, I was the one that brought you your horse. How will you repay me?”

“
You may ride with Pa and me this afternoon.” She stuffed the biscuits in her skirt pocket and looked anxiously at me.

“
Do you need to use the privy first?” I asked.

“
Mr. Dancy, I’ve been lollygagging around here for hours waiting for you to wake up. Then I sat and watched you linger over breakfast. My God … I mean, my gosh, you savored that orange like it was the finest chocolate. Now we’ve arrived at a course of action, and you remain seated. May we, at long last, proceed?”

“
Of course. I just need to go upstairs to get my hat and gun.”

As I sprinted up the stairs, I couldn’t help but smile. This could be fun.

_{Chapter 24}

The day was crisp, but at least the walk to the courthouse would be short. As we hunched our shoulders against the morning chill, Maggie said something that stopped me in my tracks. “One more thing about Mr. Blanchet: he wants to take me to his bed.”

“
What?”

“
Mr. Dancy, I’m fifteen and attractive. I didn’t mention it earlier because I didn’t think it relevant. Many older men make advances.”

“
What kind of advances?”

“
Men in general, or Mr. Blanchet?”

“
Mr. Blanchet.”

“
He buys me a peppermint stick whenever he runs into me at Hill’s Hardware or the Goldwater store.”

I smiled. “Perhaps he just thinks you’re a cute child.”

Her expression made clear she thought I was stupid. “He tries to hide it, but I catch him watching me suck on the peppermint stick.”

That took me aback. “You probably misunderstand.”

“
Mr. Dancy … I spend a great deal of time on my aunt’s ranch. I know all about breeding.”

“
All?”

She blushed. “Perhaps not all, but I can tell when a male is interested. Every woman can.”

I stopped myself from making a comment about her not yet being a woman. Fifteen-year-old girls might take that as a challenge. As I contemplated whether this revelation had any meaning, I heard someone angrily yell out Maggie’s name.

My hand was on my Colt as I turned to see the Schmidts marching toward us.

“
Where the hell have you been?” Mary Schmidt demanded. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“
Not all over, or you would have found me at Mrs. Cunningham’s.” Maggie remained unusually calm in the face of adult wrath.

“
Your father made us responsible for you.” Mary took a step toward Maggie. “Never leave without telling us where you’re going.”