Bullets & Lies (Talbot Roper 01)

by Randisi, Robert J.

  “Did you ever tell Polly about me going to Washington?”

  “I don’t talk to that one much.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t like her.”

  “Why not?”

  Miriam sniffed and said, “She’s uppity.”

  Roper looked at the tray. There were three pieces of pie on it, one apple, and two that looked like peach.

  “Which pie is better?” he asked.

  “My peach is my best pie,” Miriam said.

  “Then if nobody minds,” he said, “I’ll have one of the peach slices.”

  “Of course, Mr. Roper,” Victoria said. “Miriam?”

  The cook doled out the coffee and served the pie.

  “Anything else, mum?”

  “Mr. Roper?”

  “I have nothing further.”

  “Not right now, Miriam. Thank you.”

  The cook nodded, sniffed again in Roper’s direction, and went back to the kitchen. He assumed that she did not like him either.

  “I didn’t mean to insult her.”

  “She’s very proud. Would you like to speak to Polly now?”

  “In a while,” he said. “Let’s eat, and I’ll tell you what I found out…”

  20

  “I spoke to someone in the government who has knowledge of the Medal of Honor situation,” he told her. He did not reveal Donald White’s name, however.

  “Are they taking Howard’s medal away?”

  “That hasn’t been decided yet,” Roper said. “I asked to look at his war record, but somehow those records are missing.”

  “What? How could that be? Why?”

  “I can’t answer any of those questions.”

  “Then when will the decision be made?”

  “I’ve been given the opportunity to determine if his medal should be taken or not.”

  “How?”

  “I need to speak with some of his colleagues from the war,” Roper said. “If I can get some affidavits signed, testifying to the fact that his medal was well earned, it will influence the decision.”

  “I can probably give you what you need,” Victoria said when he’d completed his story. The pie was also gone, but they were each having a second cup of coffee.

  “I need names and locations.”

  “How many?”

  He thought a moment, then said, “Three or four should be enough. Five, to be on the safe side. In case I can’t find a couple.”

  “Or they’re dead,” Harwick said. It was the first time he’d spoken in some time.

  “Good point,” Roper said.

  “I’ll make you a list,” Victoria said.

  “I’d like to talk to Polly while you do that,” Roper said.

  “Of course. I’ll take you upstairs.”

  They both looked at the lawyer.

  “I’ll wait here,” he said, waving his hand. “Maybe Miriam can give me another slice of pie.”

  “Come with me, then,” she said to Roper.

  In the upstairs hall he asked her again, “How well can your husband speak?”

  “Sometimes,” she said. “It depends on how well he’s breathing.”

  He remembered the man had said only two words to him when they first met.

  “Should I talk to Polly in the hall, or in front of him?”

  “In front of him is fine,” she said. “If he has something important to say, he’ll say it.”

  Roper nodded.

  They stopped in front of a closed door, and he waited for her to open it. When she did, he followed her inside.

  Her husband was in bed, lying flat on his back. The nurse, Polly, was standing beside the bed.

  “How is he this morning, Polly?” Victoria asked.

  “His breathing is labored,” the woman said. “I didn’t want to risk getting him out of bed.”

  “All right.”

  Victoria walked to the bed and put her hand on her husband, over his heart. She kept it there, as if checking to see if he was breathing. Then she turned to the nurse.

  “Polly, Mr. Roper has some questions for you,” she said. “I’d like you to answer them honestly.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she told both of them, and left.

  “Yes, sir?” Polly said to Roper.

  “Relax, Polly,” Roper said. “You don’t have to call me sir.”

  “I was a nurse in the Army,” she said. “It’s an old habit.”

  “Well…at ease,” he told her.

  She smiled but didn’t seem to relax much beyond that.

  “Polly, do you know who I am?”

  “Well yes, si—yes. You were here only a couple of days ago.”

  “And do you know where I went after I left here?”

  “I understood you were going to Washington.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “I believe it had something to do with Mr. Westover’s medal.”

  “Yes. Polly, did you tell anyone I was going to Washington?”

  “No, sir.” They were back to that.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t really leave here, Mr. Roper,” she said. “Mr. Westover needs constant attention. I don’t see very many people.”

  “No days off?”

  “No, sir.”

  “That’s a tough job.”

  “I understood that when I took the job, Mr. Roper.” She looked down at her patient. “I am totally devoted to Mr. Westover.”

  “I see. So you don’t speak to anyone but Mr. and Mrs. Westover, and Miriam?”

  Polly smiled. “Miriam doesn’t speak to me.”

  “Why not?”

  “She thinks I’m uppity.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  Roper liked the woman and believed her. She hadn’t spoken to anyone.

  “Does Mr. Westover speak to you, Polly?”

  “He does, when he can.”

  “Has he spoken to you about his medal?”

  “No.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “So when he speaks, what does he talk about?”

  “This and that. What he wants to eat, he talks about Mrs. Westover—”

  He asked her a question he had never thought to ask the lawyer, or Victoria.

  “Do they have any children?”

  “No,” she said. “They never had children before he went to war, and when he came back, they couldn’t. So it has only been the two of them.”

  “And you and Miriam.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay,” he said, “okay. Thank you, Polly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He looked over at the bed.

  “Can he speak today?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “His breathing is too labored.”

  “I understand,” Roper said. “I’ll wait for Mrs. Westover to return out in the hall.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Roper nodded and went out. He was at a loss, for the moment, as to who had passed the word that he’d gone to Washington. If, indeed, anyone had. There was still that fifty-fifty chance that the shot had been meant for Donald White. In fact, it would be better for Roper if that was the case. But it seemed he was going to have an itchy spot in the center of his back for the rest of this job.

  He turned as a door opened farther down the hall and Victoria stepped out.

  “Oh, Mr. Roper,” she said. “Would you come in here, please?”

  “Of course.”

  She went in, and he followed, closing the door behind him. He found himself in what was once a bedroom, but was now a room lined with books. There was a writing desk, a wooden chair, and an armchair.

  “I spend a lot of time in this room, so that I can be close to Howard,” she said. “But I do need my own privacy as well, so it serves a dual purpose.”

  “I understand.”

  “Here is a list of names an
d the last locations I have for them,” she said. “These are the men I believe will give you the affirmation that we need.”

  Roper accepted the list and gave it a cursory glance.

  “Victoria, this is going to require quite a bit of travel,” he said.

  “I understand that.”

  “It will be expensive.”

  “I understand that, too,” she said. “We can agree on your fee, and then I will cover your travel expenses. I will also have Edward draw up a paper for these gentlemen to sign, legal affidavits that you can take back to Washington.”

  “That’s fine,” Roper said. “If he can have those affidavits for me in the morning, I’ll get started.”

  “Very well, then,” she said. “If you’ll have a seat, we can settle on your fee.”

  21

  Roper rode back to town without Harwick, who stayed behind to discuss the paperwork with Victoria. When he got to town, he returned his horse to the stable, then walked to the nearest bank. He deposited the check Victoria had given him for his fee and an advance on expenses, arranged to have the money transferred to his own bank, and walked out with some cash in his pocket. After that he went back to his hotel to work out a schedule for himself. The men whose names Victoria had given him all lived in points west, so he was going to have to map out a plan of action.

  Victoria’s handwriting was very flowery, but he could make it out well enough:

  Vincent McCord, Saint Joseph, Missouri

  Gerald Quinn, Vega, Texas

  Henry Wilkins, Jerome, Arizona

  David Hampstead, Helena, Montana

  Zack Templeton, Pierre, South Dakota

  The list had not been written alphabetically, either by name or by state. He stared at it, wondering why she had written it in that order, but then he got it.

  It was the perfect order for him to travel. A southerly route across the country, then north.

  It made sense.

  Now all he needed were the affidavits from Harwick. He folded the paper, put it in his pocket, and went downstairs to find some lunch.

  “I think I’ve got the wording,” Harwick said to Victoria.

  “Good,” she said. “Then you can go back to your office and draw them up.”

  “Yes.”

  He stood up. They were in her study, down the hall from her husband’s bedroom. He knew that she slept in her own room. He’d never seen it, though he had high hopes.

  “I’ll walk you out, Edward,” she said, taking his arm in both hands.

  They went downstairs that way, with her holding on to his arm. He found himself hoping the walk would never end.

  When they got to the door, she released his arm. He looked at her. He often wondered if she knew, if she could tell by looking at him, how he felt about her.

  “Victoria.”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes, Edward,” she said, “I’m sure. I know you have your doubts, but I need to make sure Howard doesn’t lose his medal. And I need for those men to get what’s coming to them. The government couldn’t do it, and the law couldn’t do it. So I am going to see that it gets done. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I appreciate all your help.”

  “That’s my jo—it’s all right. I’ll make an extra copy for you to go over.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she said, patting him on the arm. “I trust you to do it correctly.”

  He smiled and said, “I’ll bring you one anyway. You can file it.”

  “Very well.”

  He stood there a moment, wondering what she would do if he took her into his arms. Would she stiffen and pull away, or would she melt into him?

  “All right, then,” he said. “I’ll get the affidavits to Mr. Roper in the morning.”

  “Excellent, Edward,” she said. “Thank you.”

  He went out the door, down the stairs, and climbed into his buggy. When he looked back, he thought he might see her standing there, watching him, but she was gone.

  Victoria closed the door, feeling sorry for Edward Harwick. She knew he was in love with her. My God, it was written all over his face whenever he looked at her. She wondered if anyone else could tell. Certainly Talbot Roper. After all, he was a detective. He must have been able to see it. Hopefully not Polly and Miriam, though.

  She went back upstairs, walked to her husband’s room, and entered. Polly was sitting by Howard’s bed, reading to him. She did that quite often.

  “Poor Richard’s Almanac,” she said to Victoria, smiling.

  “He likes Dickens,” Victoria said.

  “Yes.”

  She walked to the bed, put her hand over his heart again. It helped her to feel his chest rising and falling. There were days when he was strong enough to sit up, smile at her, speak to her. Not today, though.

  “Polly, I’ll be in my study.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll see you at supper time.”

  Polly took all her meals in that room, brought to her either by Victoria or Miriam.

  “All right.”

  She left the room, closed the door, and leaned back against it. She wondered if she should have told Talbot Roper more. No, if he was aware of her real plan, he never would have gone along with it. He had a reputation for being a hard, capable man, but also an honest one. There wasn’t enough money in the world to corrupt a truly honest man.

  22

  Roper was having breakfast in the morning when Harwick entered the dining room. He was glad to be leaving Hurricane that morning. He was looking forward to meals in other places, even on the trail. He enjoyed eating over open campfires, and there were a lot of them in his future. Also, after Hurricane and Washington, he found himself longing for open spaces.

  “Breakfast?” he asked Harwick.

  “No, thank you. I just came to give you these.” He held out a large brown envelope.

  “Don’t be impolite, Edward,” Roper said. “At least sit and have some coffee.”

  “Yes, all right.”

  “Pour yourself some.”

  As the lawyer sat and poured, Roper wiped his hands on a cloth napkin, slid the papers out of the envelope, and looked them over. Five single pages, all the same, stating that the signer swears to the fact that the conditions under which Howard Westover earned his Medal of Honor were, in fact, honorable.

  He put the papers back into the envelope and set it on the chair next to him, then picked up his utensils again.

  “Is that satisfactory?” Harwick asked.

  “Thank you, it’s fine.”

  “Will you be leaving today?”

  “As soon as I finish my breakfast,” Roper said. “I’ll keep in contact through telegrams.”

  “To me?”

  “Yes, to you, and to Victoria.”

  “That’s acceptable.”

  “I’m glad.”

  The lawyer nodded and started to get up.

  “You love her, don’t you?”

  Harwick stopped, sat back down.

  “I wouldn’t bother denying it,” Roper said. “After all, I’m a detective.”

  Harwick looked crestfallen.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “To me, yes.”

  “Do you think she knows?”

  “Actually,” Roper said, “I think she probably does. Women seem to know those things.”

  Harwick looked across the table, his expression hopeful, as if Roper might have some advice for him on how to handle his feelings.

  “So what do I do?”

  Roper studied the man for a few moments, then shrugged and said, “Wait it out.”

  “You mean…just wait for her husband to die?” Harwick asked. “That seems…I don’t know…wrong somehow.”

  “Would it be more right to tell her you love her while her husband’s still…around?” Roper asked him.

  “I don’t know,” Harwick said, frowning,
shaking his head. “Oh, none of this seems right.”

  “No, I guess not,” Roper said, wondering if Harwick was still referring to his feelings for his employer’s wife.

  Harwick finally stood up.

  “I’ll await your reports, Mr. Roper.”

  “I’ll send then along, Mr. Harwick.”

  The lawyer nodded, turned, and left. Roper felt sorry for the man.

  Roper arrived at the railroad station minutes before the train was to leave. He handed his saddle to a man in the baggage car, then got on board, carrying his one carpetbag. Most of what he needed for this job he would have to purchase along the way. Some of the trip would be made by rail, the rest of it on horseback. He could rent horses along the way, then return them. Or maybe what he ought to do was buy a good horse and keep it with him when he took the train each time. Horse and saddle could go in the stock car each time. He would have to consider that option.

  He found himself a seat, stowed his bag in the compartment overhead, and sat down. The young couple across from him smiled and nodded their heads. They were so young they must have been newlyweds and not experienced travelers. He would not strike up a conversation with them. He preferred to keep to himself when he was traveling for a job. Of course, if they spoke to him, he’d respond politely. So for now he just smiled, nodded back, and then buried his nose in his book. Perhaps, during this train ride, he’d get a chance to finish it.

  23

  It was days later when Roper rode into the first town on his list, Saint Joseph, Missouri. Best known as the place the pony express had sprung from, Saint Joe had many of the trappings of a modern city, a place in the center of the country where East met West. That meant he saw—as he rode down the main street—a sheriff’s office and a police station, a saloon and a steak house, a general store and an apothecary. He was comfortably clad once again in Western clothes, with the gun more comfortably placed on his hip rather than beneath his shoulder.

  The first things he needed to find for himself were a livery stable and a hotel, or perhaps a combination of the two, before he started looking for Vincent McCord. When he spotted the Harrison House Hotel, he felt sure he’d found what he was looking for. There was a stable right next to it. He reined in his horse in front of the hotel and dismounted.

  When he’d gotten off the train in Saint Louis, he had decided to go ahead and use some of his expense money to buy a horse. He liked the rented Appaloosa he’d ridden in West Virginia, so when he saw one in Saint Louis, he bought it. The animal was small but surefooted. During the three-day ride from Saint Louis to Saint Joe, they had gotten to know each other a bit. Roper knew the animal’s idiosyncrasies, and the horse responded well to his touch on the reins.