Murder at Thumb Butte (A Steve Dancy Tale)

by James D. Best

  “If your tailor is expert, and you can get it all in two days, I would find that acceptable.”

  “Excuse me,” Maggie said. “We have an appointment.” She looked at Goldwater. “A box of chocolates, please.”

  From the moment Goldwater had said he was mayor, I wanted to build a sense of confidence between us. He could be a valuable source of information about the denizens of Prescott. Besides, I felt out of place dressed in trail clothes in this territorial capital. A good suit was something I could always use.

  I ignored Maggie. “How long would a fitting take?”

  He craned his neck to look in the back of the store. “Our tailor doesn’t seem to be busy. Less than a half hour for measurements.”

  “Let’s get on with it then.” Responding to a dirty look from Maggie, I added, “Maggie, you select the chocolates and bring the box back to me. Mr. Goldwater, could you have a clerk collect a bath sponge, soap, and a prospector’s pan?”

  “Of course.”

  A few minutes later, when the tailor was measuring my waist, Maggie showed up with a red heart-shaped box of chocolates.

  “Very amusing,” I said. “Now go back and get a plain box.”

  “These are less expensive. Left over from Valentine’s Day, I suppose.”

  “I’ll pay the extra for fresh.”

  “You don’t know those are fresher. Valentine’s Day was just a month ago. Those ordinary boxes could have been around for a year.”

  “Maggie, no.” I tried for a firm voice. Why was she acting this way? A relationship with Mrs. Cunningham held complications I didn’t want to contemplate. I needed to get my friend out of jail and had no interest in a time-consuming courtship, especially with a woman tied to a town I would leave as soon as I freed Sharp and found the certificate. Mrs. Cunningham seemed too desperate for a male protector since her husband died, and I resented her using Maggie to further her ambitions.

  In short order, the tailor finished his measurements and assured me that he would put my order in before all of his other customers. I had picked a lightweight wool fabric in a lighter shade of brown than I really wanted. I had several winter suits back in Carson City, and the weather would soon be warming. In the meantime, I had extra-heavy long johns I had bought in Leadville, where it was considerably colder than Prescott.

  When I reached the front of the store, Maggie, holding a square box of chocolates, was talking to Goldwater. When I approached, she looked defiant.

  “How much do I owe today?” I asked.

  “Half the cost of the suit, a dollar for the chocolates, and six bits for the toilet items. I understand the chocolates are for Mrs. Cunningham.”

  I looked down and shook a finger at Maggie. “For someone of your ambitions, you have a loose tongue.”

  Finally, she looked chagrined. “You may be right, Uncle. I was just telling Mr. Goldwater why I exchanged the heart-shaped box. Mrs. Cunningham came up by accident.”

  “Just to be clear, Mr. Goldwater, I am not courting Mrs. Cunningham. As you know, she’s a married woman. These are a kindness for a favor she did for me. A thank you should not be diminished by buying something inappropriate, even if it’s a great bargain.”

  “I understand.” Goldwater moved behind the counter and pulled a cash box from beneath. “I presume you’ll pick the other items when the suit is finished?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then fifty dollars will keep it simple.”

  “Uncle, what about the other things Mr. Sharp requested?”

  She was enjoying the playacting a bit too much. “I’ll find the rest of the items in his belongings. They’re in my room.”

  I handed over a fifty-dollar certificate, and he wrote me a receipt.

  “May I buy you a meal?” I asked. “I’d like to discuss shop keeping and local politics.”

  “I was about to go over to Mrs. Potter’s Café. Or were you thinking of a later date?”

  “No. That’s perfect. Shall we go?”

  “Let me tell my senior clerk, and I’ll be right with you.” He stopped in his tracks. “Mr. Dancy, if you want to use my political influence to free your trail partner, I’d rather buy my own lunch.”

  Obviously, word got around this town quickly.

  “I’ll let Mr. Castle apply whatever influence is necessary and appropriate. I assure you, I have no request associated with Mr. Sharp.”

  He gave me an appraising look and said, “Okay.”

  As Goldwater went to inform his clerk, Maggie said, “We should be returning to Mrs. Cunningham’s. The meal is free.”

  “Hardly,” I answered. “You’ve placed far too high a price on eating at Mrs. Cunningham’s. Why are you so insistent on playing Cupid?”

  “She’s a beautiful woman who finds you attractive. Are you involved with another woman?”

  “No,” I answered too quickly.

  “Then I don’t see the harm. If she’s willing to entertain, why turn her down?”

  “Young girls don’t talk that way. At least proper young girls don’t. Maybe I should talk to your father.”

  “That won’t be necessary. The subject is completely out of my head. Let’s solve this murder mystery and get Mr. Sharp back on the streets.”

  Did she mean it? No, she was too headstrong, but I had found the secret of quieting her tongue. I suspected I would again need to threaten to go to her father. A thought occurred to me. Young girls wanted nothing more than to be taken as seriously as adults. That could cause them to act out the behavior of adults. I vowed to keep a sharp eye on Maggie and Mrs. Cunningham’s son.

  Chapter 28

  Mrs. Potter’s was busy, but we were led to a table ahead of other waiting guests. I supposed being mayor had privileges. The three of us took our seats, and I placed my purchases under my chair.

  Goldwater opened by asking about my experience as a shopkeeper. I told him about my gun shop in New York City and then said that I had bought the Leadville store to take advantage of the silver boom. He had no need to know that Sharp and I had bought the store as part of our plan to recapture Maggie from her abductors. As we discussed the ins and outs of shop keeping, I could see Goldwater warming up to me. Maggie looked frustrated with the meandering conversation, but I knew these preliminaries were necessary for him to be forthright when I asked questions about people that I assumed were his customers.

  After we ordered applesauce cake for dessert, I said, “Jeff Sharp did not murder Campbell.”

  “How do you know?” He didn’t seem surprised by my statement. My guess was that he had been waiting for me to broach the subject.

  “I’ve been in several dangerous situations with him, and he always acts with honor and courage. I know his character, and he’s not a murderer.”

  Maggie jumped into the conversation. “I know Mr. Sharp as well, and he would never shoot a man in the back or leave his rifle behind. I owe my life to Mr. Sharp.”

  Goldwater laughed. “Your life? That’s certainly a bit of exag­geration, young lady.”

  “It is not! I was—”

  “Maggie is indebted to Mr. Sharp, but the particulars are of little interest right now.” I saw no need to color Goldwater’s impression of Sharp by bragging about his violent escapades.

  “It’s still of interest to me.” She started to add something, but I could see her think better of it. Instead, she sat quiet and pouted.

  After a silence, Goldwater said, “Constable Earp is a fine officer. He doesn’t arrest men without good cause.”

  “I’m aware of Mr. Earp’s credentials. He had no choice in the face of the evidence. I’ll be the first to admit it looks damning, but my friend was framed.”

  “Suppose for the moment he was framed; who do you think did it?”

  “Campbell was a crook. He swindled several in town. Any one of them could have killed him for revenge.”

  Goldwater rubbed his neck. “That was months ago. Why didn’t they do something sooner?”

  “Pe
rhaps they saw Sharp hit and threaten Campbell. Or they could have just heard about it. That gave them an opportunity to blame someone else.”

  Goldwater didn’t look comfortable but said, “I presume you have questions?”

  “Did you know Elisha Campbell?”

  “Yes. Spendthrift. Went through money fast: alcohol, gambling, women, and buying gifts for his supposed friends.”

  “Purchased in your store?” I asked.

  “At first. I think he was broke at the end. I’m not sure, because he just quit coming into the store. I never extended him credit. Matter of principle. He had stolen from my friends.

  “Do you know George Blanchet?”

  “Of course.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “He trades on his connections with Frémont. To my knowledge, he was never swindled by Campbell. Why do you ask about him?”

  “He’s prosecuting the case.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Why sorry?”

  “Blanchet likes to brag that he’s never lost a case. If he’s accepted the prosecutor role, it’s because he thinks it will be easy to win.”

  I thought he might have another motive. If he were guilty of the murder, or even just had a loose partnership with Campbell, then as prosecutor, he could control the course of the trial. “Do you know anything about his background before he came to Prescott?”

  Goldwater seemed startled by the question. “You know, Blanchet’s a braggart, but now that you mention it, I can’t recall him saying anything about his past. Strange. Almost everyone talks about their upbringing and earlier life, but he’s never mentioned a word, to my knowledge.”

  “You sound like you don’t like the man.”

  Goldwater didn’t hesitate. “I don’t. Someone blackballed him when he tried to join the Masons. Everyone thinks it was me, but it wasn’t. I wanted to, but he had a case pending against me at the time—a big one, and I didn’t want him angry. It was foolish of me, because he still won through perjury. He’s sued me so many times that I now think of it as part of running my business.” He looked around to see who was in the restaurant. “A few customers order things, especially wives, and then complain that the product is shoddy or something when it comes time to pay. If I try to collect per our agreement, the obstinate go to Blanchet.” He shook his head in resignation and then smiled. “You wouldn’t be in the market for a ruby pendant … works better than a box of chocolates.”

  “No need. Do you think Campbell and Blanchet could have been partners?”

  Another long thought. “Possibly, but I don’t believe Blanchet would ever kill a man. My guess is that cowardice would hold his trigger finger more than his morals.”

  Maggie sat up straight. “Back shooting usually means a cowardly man.”

  I recognized her father’s words.

  “That’s quite a thing for a young lady to say,” Goldwater said.

  “I assume you also know Herb Locklear.” I wanted to change the subject.

  Goldwater bridled at the question. “He’s a member of my Masonic lodge, a fine, outstanding figure. I know he was swindled, but he wants to keep it quiet. Listen, our territorial legislature is made up of two branches. The assembly is the lower house and the council, the upper house. Locklear leads the Republicans in the council. If you suspect him, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “No, I don’t, especially after your comments, but his victimhood is not as quiet as he would like. What about Lew Davis?”

  “Taken by Campbell as well. Lew can be hard. Killed a man in self-defense once … or so I hear. But he does well by Brow. Keeps order during the day and doesn’t steal.” He turned thoughtful. “If someone else killed Elisha Campbell, my money would be on Lew. He has a temper, and he heard your friend threaten Campbell.”

  It was news that Davis had once killed a man. This was another piece of information for McAllen to investigate.

  “Were you aware that Mrs. Cunningham was angry with Campbell?” I asked.

  “Everyone knew. Surely, you don’t suspect a woman?”

  “Why did you bring her up?” Maggie demanded. “This is a man’s work. Perhaps a man taken with Mrs. Cunningham, but she would not be a party to it.”

  “Your mother always says women can do whatever a man can do.”

  “Well, my mother says a lot of things. I ignore most.”

  “We’ve all noticed. Now, may I ask Mr. Goldwater another question?”

  Maggie returned to her pouting. During the exchange, Goldwater had been glancing between us as if watching a tennis match. I vowed to get to the bottom of this as soon as I could get Maggie alone. I said to Goldwater, “Campbell owed her money. It still chafes. Is she a vengeful woman?”

  “No. She won’t let go of a slight, but all she does is grouse.”

  “How about Jonathan Winslow?”

  “My best customer. Full of himself but harmless. He was swindled as well, but he’s too ambitious to risk murder. The rich have other ways of taking care of these matters.”

  “Like how?”

  “During a fitting, he told me he had hired Pinkertons to build a criminal case against Campbell.”

  “Are there Pinkertons in town?” I asked, as innocently as possible.

  “Is that a serious question?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He looked at Maggie. “Winslow told me your parents were employed by Pinkerton. They were here to catch Campbell red-handed and put him in prison.”

  Should I deny it? I decided against it because I needed to know something. “Have you mentioned this to anyone?”

  “Of course not. This is a small town. News like that would spread faster than a summer forest fire.”

  “Please remain silent. My sister and her husband work secretly. They’re still engaged on the Campbell affair.”

  He looked confused. “For what purpose?”

  “I can’t say, but please don’t hamper them by disclosing their true purpose.”

  Without hesitation, Goldwater said, “You have my word.”

  “Thank you.” Even knowing him for less than two hours, I knew I could rely on his word.

  Chapter 29

  After our meal, I escorted Maggie to the Prescott House so she could change clothes. I asked her to stow the chocolates and toiletries in her room until we returned from our afternoon horseback ride. This time, McAllen met us at the livery on Gurley Street, and he had our three horses saddled and waiting. Maggie kissed him on the cheek and then threw me a nasty look. Evidently, she wanted her father to know I had displeased her.

  “Steve, I hope you had a productive mornin’,” McAllen said, by way of greeting.

  “Jeff’s still in jail, so not as productive as I would have liked.”

  I told him about our morning and what we had learned. I omitted telling him that Maggie believed Blanchet and Winslow were trying to lure her into bed. I also chose not to relay Maggie’s opinion about the Schmidts or that she was playing Cupid. The only hard pieces of news I had were that Davis had killed a man and that Blanchet was very closed mouth about his life prior to Prescott. I informed him that Blanchet would prosecute the case, which would probably start within a couple weeks, adding that the New York investigation against Campbell had been dropped.

  After I finished, Maggie said, “We wasted a great deal of time jabbering about shop keeping with Mr. Goldwater.”

  “Why?” The question was directed at me.

  “Goldwater is the mayor; I wanted to build common ground with him.”

  “Sounds reasonable. Maggie, why are you in a snit?”

  The direct question caught her unawares. “No reason.”

  “She wants me to court my landlady, and she’s displeased that I won’t cooperate.”

  “Is this true?” McAllen uncharacteristically showed surprise.

  “Not really. She expressed an interest, and I merely told Mr. Dancy. What he does is of no concern to me.”r />
  “Let’s mount up. I want to get out to Thumb Butte.”

  After we were on our way, McAllen said, “Maggie, never interfere with a person’s religion or choice of mate.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more on the subject. We have a tough task ahead of us. Steve, why didn’t you mention Jeff’s suspicions about Davis?”

  Now McAllen’s question caught me off guard. “Because his suspicion is based on Davis bringing him beer. Jeff thinks he feels guilty, but I gave money to the jailer to provide Jeff with coffee and beer.”

  “Many prisoners have people outside that do what’s necessary to get them provisions. But in the past, Davis has always sent over a boy with the beer.”

  I felt chagrined. I should have noted something so obvious on my own. “So you think it odd as well?”

  “I trust Jeff’s instincts.”

  “You saw him this morning?”

  “I did. I knew most of what you told me, except that Blanchet is secretive about his past. Davis killed a man in Tucson, but he was acquitted. Self-defense. I’ll send a telegram to our Omaha office when we finish our task this afternoon.”

  “What task?’ I asked.

  “We’re goin’ to walk the ground from the murder to town. Bit late, but maybe we can find somethin’.”

  “What are we looking for?” Maggie asked, excited.

  “Anything Mother Nature didn’t put there. If you find somethin’, shout out, but don’t touch it.”

  “This will be fun,” Maggie said.

  I didn’t think so. The trail was heavily traveled, and we were going to find all kinds of discarded items. We’d be lucky to get back to town before suppertime.

  “I’ll take the trail and the three horses,” McAllen said. “Maggie, you walk twenty feet on the right side. Steve, you take the left. Don’t walk straight. Crisscross back and forth so you cover all the area between your assigned lane and the trail.”

  “Joseph, it was dark that night. The murderer would have stayed on the trail.”

  Without glancing in my direction, McAllen said, “Steve, you ever heard of tossin’ somethin’ aside?”

  Damn. I always seemed to say dumb things around McAllen. Despite our history, I still wanted to impress him. I reminded myself to follow his example, keeping quiet unless I had something meaningful to say.