Calamity Jane 10

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Are you sure there are anarchists involved, Colonel?’ Ballinger asked, knowing the local politicians who were supporting “Father Devlin” had no such inclinations.

  ‘All the performers in the show are anarchists,’ the Rebel Spy pointed out. ‘And, if the English can relax formalities, I don’t see why we Americans have to keep using one another’s ranks, Ed?

  ‘Anything the Limey can do, we can do better, Belle,’ Ballinger concurred with a grin. Then it faded and he went on, ‘You’re not saying Father Devlin’s one, are you?’

  ‘If he is, we’ve never heard about it and it’s likely we would have,’ the girl replied. ‘As they considered that religion is used by governments to help control the lower classes, anarchists generally profess to be atheists or agnostics. So a priest who became one would almost certainly be talked about.’

  ‘Whether he is, or he’s not, he’s hand in glove with them,’ Ballinger declared. ‘That showed in the way he kept backing Miss Gorr-Kauphin up in trying to mislead me at the theater. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s an anarchist himself. He might be so dedicated to seeing the British run out of Ireland that he’d be willing to go to any lengths, even lying to the police, to help anybody who’s trying to do it.’

  ‘That could be so, old chap,’ the Kid admitted. ‘Although, speaking from my personal experiences, I’ve found that your local Irish supporters of independence for Ireland tend to be somewhat insular in their outlook and look askance upon everyone who isn’t Irish becoming involved in their affairs. The reaction of the audience tonight when I pointed out that dear Vera was British and of the class she was reviling was a good example of that.’

  ‘I wondered what you were doing in the theater,’ Ballinger said. ‘Anyway, I’m not gainsaying what you said. The men behind Branigan and his buckoes wouldn’t take kindly to the notion of having a bunch of foreigners taking the credit for fund raising, but they’d do it if a priest suggested they should.’

  ‘From what I’ve seen of him and been told,’ Belle put in, ‘Father Devlin isn’t the kind to be fooled by anybody. So, whatever else his motives might be, he wasn’t just being used by Vera Gorr-Kauphin.’

  ‘I got the feeling they were close,’ Ballinger remarked pensively. ‘Not friendly, but at least working together. The thing is, did they know Fourmies was coming to kill her brother?’

  ‘He’d never dare do it without their approval,’ Belle stated. ‘And, even with it, I’m surprised he had the courage to do it.’

  ‘Maybe he’s done it without them knowing, though,’ the lieutenant objected. ‘It could be him and that Tinville feller they were so eager to have blamed, but didn’t want me to find are in cahoots and planning to double-cross them. Even if they’re not and he was sent by the Father and Miss Gorr-Kauphin, how do we prove it? We can’t even prove the feller we shot upstairs is Fourmies. I don’t suppose anybody, except the Gorr-Kauphins and Tinville maybe, has seen him with his hair cut short and beard shaved off. At least, nobody we can lay our hands on in a hurry.’

  ‘The most obvious solution would be to go and confront dear Vera and the good Father with a demand to be told why they tried to pull the wool over your official eyes, old chap,’ the Kid commented. ‘But I can appreciate how doing it might be somewhat impolitic under the circumstances.’

  ‘That’s one name for it,’ Ballinger answered dryly. ‘In this part of town particularly you don’t even suggest that a priest might be doing something underhand unless you’ve got certain proof of it. And I haven’t. All they’d need to do is say that Fourmies was called out of town suddenly, so he couldn’t have killed young Gorr-Kauphin and that whoever did is a stranger to them. Having those two jaspers with him, who sure as hell aren’t city boys and don’t even look to be all white would help them make it stick.’

  ‘Father Devlin hasn’t been here for long, has he?’ Belle put in.

  ‘About eight days,’ Ballinger replied. ‘He was brought down from Green Bay, Wisconsin, when old Father O’Keefe retired.’

  ‘Did anybody here know him before he came?’ the girl went on.

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Ballinger confessed. ‘Are you saying he might be an impostor?’

  ‘If he is, it would answer a lot of questions,’ Belle replied.

  ‘He’d have to know all the right things to get away with it,’ the detective objected, but he agreed with the Rebel Spy’s comment.

  ‘You could always try sending for information about him to Green Bay,’ the Kid suggested and raised a hand in a placatory gesture as Ballinger was about to speak. ‘I know, old sport, you’ve already decided to do that. But getting the answer is going to take time and I’m willing to bet that, when the man who escaped tells them what’s happened here, they’ll be leaving Chicago before you receive it.’

  ‘You mean they’ll give up whatever it is they have in mind?’ the detective asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to count on that,’ Belle replied, before the Kid could make a similar response. ‘Neither Vera Gorr-Kauphin nor Father Devlin are the kind to give up anything they set their mind to that easily. So what we’d better decide is how do we deal with them?’

  ‘And how to find out what the scheme is in case they escape,’ the Englishman supplemented. ‘The fact that those two chappies we had to kill in the entrance hall might be French Canadians, or Metis, suggests that there’s something more involved than just collecting money to send arms to Ireland.’

  ‘Tinville might know the answer,’ Belle suggested. ‘Why don’t we go and ask him?’

  ‘I’d be the first to say yes to that,’ Ballinger replied. ‘But finding him’s the problem. He wasn’t at the County Clare Hotel when we got there and, unless he’s come back and Sergeant Damon’s put the arm on him, he’s got the whole city to hide in.’

  ‘There’s just one chance, though,’ Belle stated and quickly described her association with the missing actor, concluding, ‘The money I gave him was only the advance payment and he’s got the same amount after we’ve pulled off the robbery in exchange for telling us where Vera Gorr-Kauphin keeps her jewelry hidden while she’s at the theater.’

  ‘I’ve got much the same arrangement, dear girl,’ the Kid declared. ‘We’re to meet tomorrow morning and he’ll let me into the secret.’

  ‘He must think my “gentleman friend” and I are better prospects than you,’ Belle said with a smile, stroking the handle of her re-assembled parasol. ‘We’re to meet him at midnight tonight.’

  ‘All right then,’ Ballinger said, rising from the desk and donning his hat. ‘Tell me where you’re meeting him and I’ll do my best to get you there on time.’

  Ten – I Know How They Were Damaged

  ‘What is this?’ Ernst Kramer growled indignantly, glaring at the discolored and partially melted coins which he had poured from the second of the canvas bags on to the table in front of him. Raising his eyes, he scowled at his visitors and the Germanic timbre of his harsh voice became even more pronounced as he went on, ‘You’re not expecting me to accept these, are you?’

  ‘What’s wrong with them?’ “Father Matthew Devlin” demanded, with well simulated innocence, although he knew the answer. ‘They might be disfigured, but they’re still acceptable legal tender.’

  ‘And they’ll be noticed anywhere I pass them,’ Kramer countered. ‘I’m not accepting them!’

  The time was just after half past eleven. Having arrived to keep an appointment of great importance, Vera Gorr-Kauphin and the bogus priest were finding themselves faced with the problem they had anticipated.

  On receiving the message sent by the surviving member of the trio who had accompanied Raoul Fourmies to the Streeterville Municipal Hospital, the couple had held a council of war. They had been compelled to do so by the alarm Phineas Branigan had displayed over the news, particularly that Lieutenant Edward Ballinger was at the hospital. Having questioned the driver of the fringe-top Surrey, they had concluded that either the artist’s disguise had be
en penetrated or—considering the amount of time that had elapsed between him entering and the commencement of the shooting—that his purpose had become suspected. Taking into account the behavior of his escort, they were inclined to assume it was the latter contingency. The comment about Fourmies having to take his chances had implied that the survivor was unable to see what had happened to him. If he had been arrested, or shot, the man would have mentioned it. The general consensus of opinion—including that of the actress, despite the victim being her brother—or rather the hope was that Fourmies had carried out his task successfully before being discovered, but had not been taken alive.

  It had been apparent that Branigan and his men had no intention of waiting at O’Malley’s Grand Emerald Isle Theater until the survivor returned. Vera and “Devlin” had agreed with him that there was an urgent need to depart. Not only had they much to do that evening, they realized that the theater was the first place Ballinger would come to look for them if Fourmies, Gorr-Kauphin, or even Marcel Tinville—who still had not been located by Branigan’s men—had fallen into his hands.

  Of the three, the actress and the impostor had been least concerned over the possibility of Tinville being apprehended by the police. While he knew something of their plans, he had not been present when the real Father Devlin was murdered. Nor had he taken part in the disposal of the body. Knowing the artist and Gorr-Kauphin, the couple felt sure that neither would have told him about the incident. They would have no wish for him to possess such incriminating knowledge, as it would give him a powerful hold over them. So Tinville would be unable to supply Ballinger with any details of the crime. Nothing else the couple had done left them open to such serious legal repercussions. They could deny all knowledge of the reason for the artist’s visit to the hospital. Nor would many people believe that a woman would authorize the murder of her own brother, much less that a priest would condone the act. On the other hand, if arrested, Fourmies might turn state evidence in the hope of saving himself from hanging. Or, should the attempted murder have been foiled, Gorr-Kauphin was just as likely to do the same out of a desire for revenge when he learned what had brought the artist to the hospital.

  In spite of the possibility that they might be betrayed to a member of the Chicago Police Department who would not allow himself to be dissuaded from carrying out his duty by the danger of antagonizing influential political and religious factions in the city, the couple had not considered abandoning their scheme and fleeing. As Belle Boyd had deduced, they were made of sterner stuff than their three associates and, while aware of the danger, had refused to be driven off before they were sure they had no other choice but to escape. They already possessed the necessities for flight, including having placed sufficient money and the documents required to leave the United States in a place known only to themselves.

  Having arranged that any message from the survivor would be delivered to them, Vera and “Devlin” had gone with Branigan to a hideout which he swore was safe as the police were not aware of its existence. On arriving, they had made their preparation for what they had guessed would be an anything but easy interview. Vera had restricted herself to changing her cloak for a black Kerry coat and partially concealing her face with the hood. Discarding his priestly attire, the impostor had donned garments which conveyed the impression that he was a well-to-do businessman. Then they had taken the fringe-top Surrey and set off unescorted towards the high rent north eastern area of the city in which, without any of his neighbors suspecting how he actually earned his living, the man so essential to the continuation of their plans had his home.

  Equaling “Devlin” in height and considerably heavier, although much of the extra bulk was fat, Ernst Kramer was in his late fifties. He had on stylish clothes which did little to flatter his appearance, nor to distract from his corpulence. Close cropped, his iron grey hair emphasized the bullet shape of his head. His florid features and well fed look contributed to his nickname, ‘die Fleischer’—the Butcher—as much as did his use of that trade as a means of concealing his actual line of business.

  Nothing about Kramer gave the suggestion that he was a highly successful dealer in illicit firearms. Certainly none of his neighbors, including several who would have objected strongly and were sufficiently influential to make their disapproval effective, were aware of how he earned his living. Yet such had been his occupation for many years. Regardless of who wanted the death-dealing merchandise, or for what purpose, he could supply it. Nor did he restrict himself to rifles, revolvers, and ammunition of all kinds and in larger quantities than any of his competitors could offer. If the price was right, he would also procure pieces of artillery and even more sophisticated weapons although his means of obtaining the latter were very rarely legal.

  Being a cautious man, a not unnatural state of mind for one in his line of business, Kramer had little faith in the honesty or reliability of his customers. Although circumstances had compelled him to interview the couple at his home instead of some more desirable rendezvous, he clearly was not taking any chances. In spite of them having arrived with excellent references and notwithstanding that one was a woman, he had taken precautions against treachery. A Colt ‘Storekeeper Model’ Pacemaker revolver 35 lay cocked on the table close to his right hand. In addition, there were two exceptionally husky, well dressed, blond haired young men of Teutonic appearance, each with a revolver displayed openly in his waistband, standing in opposite corners of the large and comfortably furnished library of his palatial home.

  ‘I haven’t tried to cheat you,’ “Devlin” protested. ‘I kept the coins separate from the rest instead of mixing them and hoping they wouldn’t be noticed.’

  ‘That was real kind of you,’ Kramer answered sardonically, knowing there were too many damaged coins to have passed unnoticed. ‘Is the full amount we arranged here?’

  ‘No,’ “Devlin” admitted. ‘There’s some missing, but I brought this as a sign of good faith—’

  ‘You know my terms,’ Kramer interrupted. ‘Cash on the barrelhead is the only way I do business, as I told you from the beginning. I’ve got to admire your gall, though, coming here without the full purchase price and half of that in damaged coins.’

  ‘I brought them as a deposit,’ the impostor growled, knowing the deal must be concluded before he left or there would be complications which could ruin the scheme he and the actress were engaged upon. ‘I can get the balance—’

  ‘Damaged coins are of no use to me,’ Kramer persisted. ‘So—’

  ‘We’re willing to pay you a bonus if you accept them,’ Vera offered, so annoyed by “Devlin”s’ continued use of the word I rather than we that she spoke before the arms salesman could suggest a similar arrangement.

  ‘How much of a bonus?’ Kramer inquired, delighted at having the proposal come from one of his customers instead of having made it himself.

  ‘That depends,’ the impostor put in and, not for the first time that evening, silently cursing the actress for interfering. He had what he felt sure was the means of ensuring Kramer’s cooperation on the matter of payment without offering the inducement of a bonus, but was just as sure that something extra would have to be handed over now the offer had been made. ‘We might ask you to get us something else.’

  ‘Such as?’ the arms salesman asked.

  ‘An Agar Coffee-Mill gun,’ 36 “Devlin” replied, ignoring Vera as she looked at him in amazement and opened her mouth.

  ‘An Agar Coffee-Mill gun?’ Kramer repeated, frowning in puzzlement. ‘Hell, I haven’t seen one of them in—’

  ‘There’s no statute of limitations for murder!’ the impostor interrupted, sotto voce, but with grim intensity. He saw a suggestion of alarm creep across the other man’s florid features as he continued, ‘And I doubt whether certain members of the 18th Ohio Volunteers will have forgotten—’

  ‘How do you know about that?’ Kramer asked in normal tones.

  During the War Between The States, one of die Fleisch
er’s commissions had come from a group of liberal intellectuals serving in the Union Army. They had required rifles and an Agar Coffee-Mill gun for a scheme they were hatching. Two sentries of the 18th Ohio Volunteers, the members of which had contributed to purchase such a weapon, had been killed as a preliminary to stealing it. Although the scheme had failed and all the consignment was destroyed, 37 his part in the affair had never been mentioned. However, he knew that he could still be arrested and tried for the crime.

  ‘I know and that’s sufficient,’ “Devlin” answered, having no intention of mentioning he was one of the conspirators as to do so would weaken his position.

  ‘It’s also dangerous knowledge for an unarmed man to have,’ Kramer warned, his right hand moving closer to the butt of the revolver.

  ‘I’d put that idea out of your head straight away if I was you,’ the impostor stated, showing no alarm, although he had been searched on his arrival and had been compelled to leave the revolver he was carrying in the fringe-top Surrey. However, he did not underestimate the danger. That Kramer had not offered to hold his voice down implied he could trust the two men in the corners of the room. ‘Killing me won’t do you any good. I’ve left a signed deposition outlining the whole affair and, if anything happens to me, it will be forwarded to the Ohio State Legislature. The Governor was the Volunteers’ colonel and it was at his suggestion they all chipped in to buy the—’

  ‘All right, you’ve made your point,’ Kramer growled and, although he moved his hand away from the Colt, he continued—so as to show he had not made an unconditional surrender—‘The lady said something about a bonus.’

  ‘I didn’t!’ “Devlin” snapped.

  ‘Look at it from my point of view, Mr. Caldicott,’ Kramer requested, the brief worried expression having been replaced by a look of cold calculation as he laid great emphasis on the name he had been given by the impostor. ‘I’ll have to send all the damaged coins out of the country to dispose of them and, even then, I’ll have to let them go at a discount. So I don’t see why I should stand the loss.’