Calamity Jane 10

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Why should you need to send them out of the country?’ “Devlin” queried, realizing that the arms salesman was less perturbed than he had anticipated.

  ‘Because I know how they were damaged,’ Kramer replied. ‘And who is investigating the fire at O’Malley’s.’

  ‘You know?’ Vera gasped, showing less control over her emotions than the bogus priest who stiffened slightly but said nothing.

  ‘I know, Mrs. Caldicott,’ Kramer confirmed, once again speaking in a way which indicated he was aware the name was an alias, but his gaze remained on “Devlin”. ‘We’ve been keeping a—fatherly—eye on you and your—husband—ever since you contacted me and that includes tonight. There are those in Chicago who might consider a married couple with your religious convictions shouldn’t be doing anything so unchristian as buying guns which will be used to kill people, even if they will be people who aren’t of your faith.’

  ‘What I know about would make things far worse for you than anything you might know can make them for me,’ the impostor answered, but he appreciated the implications of the latest development and tried to sound more confident than he was feeling. ‘I’ve nothing to fear from the people I’m working with.’

  ‘Nor from Lieutenant Ballinger?’ Kramer challenged. ‘I’ve heard he’s not the kind to be scared off an investigation because, if he keeps going, he might hurt somebody’s political—or religious—feelings.’

  There, “Devlin” told himself bitterly, die Fleischer had touched the pivotal point of their negotiations. Kramer was in a position to create serious difficulties for him almost immediately. On the other hand, at present he could not betray Kramer without ruining the scheme for which he had worked so long. Even if he should do so anonymously, he did not doubt that Kramer would expose his adopted identity and present Ballinger with an excellent reason for investigating him.

  ‘I can see your point about sending the money out of the country,’ the imposter conceded, hoping the other man had not thought of one aspect of the affair. ‘How much of a bonus do you want?’

  ‘Three thousand dollars,’ Kramer suggested.

  ‘Three thousand?’ Vera yelped, having failed to comprehend that her companion no longer controlled the situation as completely as his earlier comments had implied and annoyed by his behavior.

  ‘One thousand!’ “Devlin” countered, silencing the actress with a glare of concentrated fury.

  ‘Fifteen hundred,’ Kramer replied, in tones of finality. ‘That’s my last offer. To be delivered with the balance of the payment by this time tomorrow.’

  ‘I can’t get it by then,’ the impostor protested. Although he and Vera each had a sum sufficient to complete the deal in their possession, extracted from the donations they had gathered, he did not intend using his own money unless there was no other choice and he felt sure she would be equally disinclined to make the sacrifice. However, he was confident that he could persuade his local backers to make good the deficit. ‘But I’ll have it for you in two days.’

  ‘Two days it is then,’ Kramer assented.

  ‘How soon can we take possession of the weapons?’ Vera demanded, indignant that neither man had sought her opinion and approval before reaching the agreement.

  ‘You can have the order for the city on the day after I’ve been paid in full,’ the arms salesman promised. ‘But it’ll take two weeks for everything to be ready up at Stokeley.’

  ‘And, of course, under the circumstances,’ Vera said, her annoyance causing her to be indiscreet, ‘we know that we’ll find everything—’

  ‘Everything will be satisfactory!’ “Devlin” put in quickly, scowling at the actress. He had no wish for die Fleischer to learn they were going to Stokeley instead of remaining in Chicago. Such knowledge would reveal the weak spot which Kramer had overlooked in their respective positions. While he could not betray the other as long as he needed to remain in the city, there was nothing to stop him once he left and ceased to be “Father Matthew Devlin”. ‘Mr. Kramer’s never failed to make a delivery yet. That’s why we came to him. If you’d like to count the money and give us a receipt, sir, we’ll be on our way.’

  If the Rebel Spy had been able to overhear the conversation, she would have discovered she was correct in her assumption that there would be reluctance on the part of the arms salesman to accept the damaged money. However, the impostor had contrived to overcome the obstacle and would soon have the means to put his scheme into operation.

  Despite the Chicago River 38 having been explored in 1673 by Louis Joillet and Jacques Marquette, and then becoming an important portage route for voyageurs on passage to the lower Illinois country, the French had not made any attempts to settle in the area. Nor, when the city of Chicago had begun to grow, did they take up residence in numbers which came anywhere near to equaling those of the Irish, German, Italian or Mid-European populations. However, there was a small enclave of them on the fringes of the Irish district of Streeterville in which O’Malley’s Grand Emerald Isle was situated.

  It was to Frog Town, as the French quarter was inelegantly referred to by its neighbors of non-Gallic origin that Lieutenant Edward Ballinger was escorting Belle Boyd and Captain Patrick Reeder. They were approaching their destination at about the time that Vera Gorr-Kauphin and the bogus priest were leaving Ernst Kramer’s residence.

  As Ballinger had put the buggy he and his subordinates were using at Sergeant Damon’s disposal, he and his companions were on foot. Although they had decided upon their strategy while walking, none of them realized that they had been kept under surveillance ever since leaving the hospital. The lieutenant had heard about the fringe-top Surrey leaving hurriedly, but nobody had noticed the surviving member of the trio lurking in the alley from which it emerged. So the possibility that they might be followed had not occurred to any of them. Even if they had envisaged the contingency, the man might have evaded their experienced attempts to catch him.

  Born of a French father and an Assiniboine Indian mother, Arnaud Cavallier was—as the Remittance Kid had suggested—a Metis. He had acquired the sobriquet, le Loup-Garou, “the Werewolf”, by virtue of his skill as a woodsman and his ruthless nature. What was more, he had received a university education which had done nothing to dispel the training he had been given in such matters as silent moving and stalking. Considerable experience at both made him equally capable of exploiting his talents on the streets of a city as in the backwoods of his homeland.

  Close to six foot in height, le Loup-Garou—as he preferred to be called—had light brown, almost yellowish, hair and deeply tanned, handsome aquiline features which were indicative of his Indian blood. He looked somewhat younger than his actual age of thirty-five. Unlike the companions he had deserted, he was bare-headed and kept his hair cut short. After leaving them, he had buttoned up his vest and, apart from the moccasins on his feet, there was nothing to set him apart from the other members of the crowd attracted by the shooting. He would not have worn the moccasins, but he always put them on when in the company of his fellow Metis as a sign that—for all his rise from humble beginnings—he was one of them at heart.

  The arrival of Cavallier and his two companions at the theater had been a mixed blessing for “Father Devlin”. As they had brought their contribution to the purchase price of the arms and ammunition, he would have preferred that they remained in ignorance of the evening’s events in case it should have an adverse effect upon his future dealings with them. On the other hand, although Cavallier had refused to consider the suggestion that they killed Colin Gorr-Kauphin, they had offered a means of ensuring Raoul Fourmies carried out the task.

  When the affair had gone wrong, le Loup-Garou had not felt the slightest compunction over deserting his companions. He had realized that he could do little to help them and considered his own life was too important to be squandered. So he had retreated and, when he had decided he could do so without attracting attention to himself, had joined the crowd outside the hospital to see w
hat he could find out.

  When Ballinger had emerged in the company of the man and woman who had rushed out of the office with him, Cavallier had concluded that it might be worthwhile to learn more about them. He had heard enough from members of the hospital staff to know that Fourmies and Gorr-Kauphin were dead, but there was no mention of the couple’s participation. Instead, it appeared that the lieutenant was claiming credit for killing the artist and the two Metis for himself and the detective sergeant who had also lost his life.

  Knowing who and what Ballinger was, le Loup-Garou was no longer sure of the Kid’s status. At first, he had thought the Englishman was merely another detective. The fact that his participation had been concealed suggested this could not be the case. There would have been no need to keep him out of it if that was his official capacity.

  Puzzled as he was by the Kid, Cavallier had found Belle even more intriguing. Everything he had seen ruled out the possibility that she was no more than a member of the hospital’s staff, or a close acquaintance of one or other man and there by chance. So he wondered what her exact status might be. Being more concerned with her male companions, he had formed no more than a fleeting impression of her looks and build as she was running across the entrance hall to the stairs. He had not even noticed the dismantling of the parasol. Nor, as she had raised the hood of the Kerry coat, had he been able to see her face as she left the hospital and went by on the other side of the street.

  Le Loup-Garou still had not reached any conclusions regarding Belle and the Kid by the time they were passing through the streets of Frog Town. Then the way in which they started to behave implied that they were near to their destination. Realizing what it must be, he decided that his decision to follow them might produce positive and useful information.

  Eleven – I’ll Only Deal With Him

  With the time almost midnight, the streets of the French quarter were practically deserted; a factor which had done nothing to lessen Arnaud Cavallier’s difficulties in keeping Belle Boyd, Captain Patrick Reeder and Lieutenant Edward Ballinger under observation while they were walking from the Streeterville Municipal Hospital. However, one establishment in the business section was still open. At least, although its front door was closed, lights showed through the windows of the rendezvous nominated by Marcel Tinville for transacting further business with the Rebel Spy and her non-existent criminal accomplice.

  Unaware of the unseen watcher’s interest in their doings, but inadvertently keeping her back to him and still denying him an opportunity to see her face, Belle removed and handed the Kerry coat to the Remittance Kid. As Tinville had already met the Englishman and might recognize Ballinger or be warned of his official status, they had consented—somewhat reluctantly on the latter’s part—to her entering the Bistro le Marseillaise unescorted. Although they would be ready to rush in if the need should arise, they could not wait too close in case any of the occupants were keeping watch on the street. So, as she might be compelled to defend herself prior to their arrival, she had no intention of being encumbered by the garment which had inadvertently served to conceal her features from le Loup-Garou. However, in the interests of self-protection, she was retaining her harmless-looking parasol.

  In spite of its name, the Bistro le Marseillaise was a medium-sized and moderately luxurious tavern very little different in outwards appearance from similar establishments owned by the same brewery in districts dominated by other racial groups. Internally, with the emphasis being on French wines and brandy as the main source of liquid refreshment—rather than beer, schnapps, Chianti, whiskey or other appropriate ethnically orientated potables—there were further indications that the proprietor and the majority of his clientele had their origins in the country in honor of whose national anthem it was named. 39

  Studying the barroom through the window as she went by, Belle could see only two occupants. Seated at a table in the center, facing the front door, Tinville was now clean shaven and had a worried, furtive look.

  Behind the bar, the proprietor—Henri ‘Papa’ Champlain—was a typical stout, florid, blue-joweled and heavily mustached Frenchman of the Midi. 40 A black beret tilted at a rakish angle on his head of grey-streaked black hair and seemed frivolous when compared with the hard, unsmiling gravity of his features. Of full habit, he had on a tight-fitting blue and white striped shirt from the short sleeves of which emerged hairy and powerfully muscled arms. His appearance and bearing was that of the kind of savage martinet non-commissioned officer whose discipline brought terror to the enlisted men of the French Army. Whatever he had been in the past, Ballinger had told Belle he was now acknowledged as a leader of the French community in Chicago and was also among other criminal activities, suspected of being a receiver of stolen goods, drawing his business from those members of the underworld who were disinclined to deal with Phineas Branigan.

  Not until the Rebel Spy had entered did she discover there were two more men present and she realized that her companions would have been detected if they had come any closer.

  Standing on either side of the door, the pair were tall and burly. Despite being clad in a fashion which would not have distinguished them as members of any particular racial group, their faces had sufficient of a family resemblance to suggest that they were closely related to the proprietor. They were, in fact, his sons, André and Claude.

  Walking onwards, knowing she would almost certainly be prevented from leaving, Belle kept a watch on the brothers via the mirror behind the bar. After a glance out of the window through which she had looked in passing, André gave a nod and his younger brother stepped across to turn the key and lock the door. Showing not the slightest sign of being aware of what was happening behind her, she approached the man she had come to see. She was, however, relieved to notice that André was no longer keeping the street under observation. Instead, he and Claude were starting to follow her in a slow, yet significantly silent and cautious fashion.

  In addition to keeping the brothers under observation, the Rebel Spy studied Tinville. There was an air of tension about him and, as she approached, he threw a worried glance at Papa Champlain to receive what was clearly a threatening scowl in reply. Making no attempt to rise as she came to a halt at the opposite side of the table, the actor’s attitude was suggestive of a readiness to take flight at a moment’s notice rather than that he was hoping to receive a promised sum of money for supplying bogus information to her.

  ‘Hello, Mr. Lebrun,’ Belle greeted, using the name by which Tinville had introduced himself. Still nothing in her demeanor, not even the casual seeming way in which her left hand went to the waistband of the skirt, hinted that she was maintaining her surveillance of the Champlain brothers as they came to a halt a few feet to the rear and on either side of her. Employing the poorly educated Southron’s accent, she continued, ‘My “ friend” surely thanks you-all for what you told us. He had a lil mite of trouble, but nothing that amounted to nothing. And the money was right where you-all said ’n’ he got clean away with it.’

  ‘Hasn’t he come with you?’ the actor inquired, while Papa Champlain darted an interrogative glance at Andre and received a shake of the head to indicate a negative answer to the unspoken question.

  ‘Land’s sakes, no!’ Belle replied, watching the exchange between father and son. She was relieved by the evidence that her companions’ presence in the vicinity remained unsuspected. ‘He just sent me along with the money and said for you-all to tell me where that fancy English acting woman’s got all her jewelry hid.’

  ‘That’s not good enough!’ Tinville objected, as he had been instructed, concluding from the direct way in which his visitor was speaking that she knew of Papa Champlain’s illicit activities. Although he wondered whether the as yet unseen “ friend” really existed, as the girl had been alone when he had opened the back door of O’Malley’s Grand Emerald Isle Theater in answer to the signal knock they had decided upon, he continued sounding more frightened than determined, ‘I’ll only dea
l with him’

  ‘Why I declare my loving man wouldn’t like that one lil bit at all!’ Belle warned, standing as tense as the compressed coil spring of her parasol’s billy for all her apparent relaxation. ‘He’s kind of shy and retiring when it comes to “sociable-ising” with strangers, like I’ve already told you-all.’

  ‘That’s the only way I’ll do any more business with him!’ Tinville stated, after throwing another worried look at the grim-faced man behind the counter and being given another nod of command. ‘So you’re going to take us to him.’

  ‘Us?’ Belle repeated, sounding more puzzled than was the case. Then, as if realizing the import of the word, she went on with a mixture of well simulated alarm and indignation. ‘You-all surely don’t mean you want lil ole me to take you and somebody else to meet him?’

  ‘That’s just what he means, mademoiselle,’ Papa Champlain confirmed huskily, his English heavily accented in the French fashion. ‘My two fine sons will accompany you.’

  ‘Why sir, there’s only one thing I can say to that’ Belle answered mildly. Giving a sharp tug at the strap of her waistband so that it opened and allowed the top of the skirt to expand, she raised her voice to yell, ‘HELP!’

  Having been told by their father how they should act, their talents laying more on brawn than creative thinking, André and Claude Champlain had kept a short distance away from the young woman so as to avoid arousing her suspicions. Realizing that the need for caution was ended now Papa had delivered his pronouncement, they began to converge upon her. It was their intention to grab her by the arms and prevent her from raising an alarm that might frighten away her boy friend if he was near by. Just as they were moving forward, they heard her yell and saw the skirt starting to slide down.