by Barbara Goss
They tried three more saloons before discovering a bit of information. They entered the fourth dark and lonely saloon and met with an elderly barkeeper who was busy sweeping the floor.
“Do you know a man named Silas Martin?” Mary asked.
“Martin? I remember that name Martin…” He leaned on the handle of his broom, as he seemed to be thinking. “There was an Oliver, and the other brother, his name might have been Silas. They lived in a big mansion up on the hill, and when the father died, they donated house to the city to use as a library. As I recall, one brother, the one who might be Silas, left town. Oliver, though, I think he still may be around. At one time he use to come in here a lot, but he hasn’t been here in quite a while, now.”
Cassie touched Mary’s arm and whispered, “Oliver is Silas’s brother.”
Mary nodded and then asked the barkeeper, “Do you know where we can find Oliver?”
“No. I never ask customers where they live, but I would guess he lives close by in town as he always walked here.”
Cassie asked him, “Do you know a woman named Belinda Rogers? Her father owns a livery here in town?”
“Yes! I certainly do!” The barkeeper exclaimed, “Joe Rogers was a friend of mine.”
“Was?” Cassie asked.
“Yes,” the barkeeper said, “he’s dead. Hey, now I remember the connection! It happened at the Martin mansion! He and his daughter were found dead one night. It caused a lot of commotion around town.”
Cassie paled. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes, I remember it clearly, now.”
“Do you remember who killed them?” Cassie asked with an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
“I don’t think they ever found out for sure.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” Mary said, and she escorted Cassie out to the street.
“Are you all right? You look a bit pale,” Mary said.
“I’m fine. Just a bit overwhelmed.”
“Well,” Mary said, “I think that jailer we talked to knows more than he was telling us. If there was a murder here in the last few years, the sheriff’s office is the one place you can be sure would know that name.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Cassie admitted. “Silas didn’t know about those murders or he’d have told me. He came here to get an annulment.”
“I need to speak with the sheriff, himself, but I can’t remember his name,” Mary said. “We’ll find your Silas,” she assured Cassie.
“Let’s go back to the jail and tell that man that he must know the Martin name because of the murders, maybe then, he’ll be forced to tell us more,” Cassie said.
“You may be right. It’s worth a try.” Mary led the way back to the jailhouse.
Oliver sat across from Silas, “I hear you’ll soon be cleared and released, he said.”
“I hope so,” Silas said. “By the way, where were you when Joe and Belinda were murdered?”
“Thank you for the clothes and the invitation,” Silas said. He reached over and slapped Oliver on the back, “I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Oliver called to Clark to open the cell.
Oliver was standing at the front desk chatting with Clark, when Mary and Cassie walked in. “Are you the sheriff?” Mary asked Oliver.
“No Ma’am,” Oliver chuckled. “I’m just a visitor.”
Oliver went around them to leave, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Mary asking Clark a question that stunned him: “Are you sure you never heard of Silas Martin? We heard he was involved in a murder case a few years ago and we find it highly unlikely that you don’t know him.”
Clark glanced at Oliver. “Maybe this man can help you,” he said, pointing to Oliver.
“And who might you be?” Mary asked.
“I might ask the same question.”
“I’m Mary Banner and this is Cassandra Collins. We are searching for Silas Martin. Now, who are you?”
Oliver stared at them for several seconds before admitting, “I’m Oliver Martin.”
Chapter 9
“You’re Oliver?” Cassie asked. It was then she noticed that his hazel eyes and facial features that were similar to Silas’s. Oliver’s hair was a little darker than Silas's, and his chin and cheeks were a little sharper where Silas’s were round and soft. Sensing she was close to finding Silas, Cassie’s heart began to thump harder in her chest.
“Why are you looking for my brother?” Oliver asked.
“He’s my…” Cassie started to say fiancé, then corrected herself, She took a deep breath and swallowed, hard. “He's my best friend.”
“Then, I think we need to talk. Will you both accompany me to the diner around the corner? The coffee's my treat.”
They followed him to the diner. When they were seated comfortably, after they'd been served cups of hot coffee, Oliver told them Silas was in jail.
“In jail?” Cassie asked. “For what?”
“Murder,” he said, without emotion.
“Murder? Silas?” Cassie let out a sarcastic laugh, “Silas wouldn’t even kill a coyote when it attacked our goat—he chased him away with a broom! He doesn’t even carry a gun.” Cassie knew Silas could never hurt anyone.
“I believe he’s innocent, " Oliver said, "but I didn’t not at first. I know I didn’t kill her, but since the murder occurred in our house…well, naturally, we were both under suspicion. Seeing as I had an alibi and Silas had left town, naturally, everyone assumed he was the guilty party, so they locked him up.”
Cassie pushed her cup away. “I want to see him.”
“I’ll take you to see him, but I wanted to explain the situation first. Drink your coffee. You’ll need it when you see Silas.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” she asked. She now felt panicky.
“He’s lost weight, and he’s somewhat depressed from being locked up in a dismal cell for months.”
While they finished their coffee, Oliver explained the murder scenario. He told them about Joe and Edna, and how he’d fallen in love with Belinda.
“So who do you think murdered her, and possibly him?” Cassie asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” Oliver admitted. He studied her intently. “You’re in love with Silas, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Cassie answered boldly. “Silas came here to Kansas City to get an annulment so he could marry me.”
“So,” Oliver surmised, “he really didn’t have a clue Belinda and Joe were dead?”
“No, he didn’t.”
They left the diner, and Mary bid farewell to Cassie with a hug. “Good luck with your man,” she said. “If you need anything, you know where my cottage is.” Mary then addressed Oliver, “And you’ll escort her back to my place later?”
Oliver nodded. “Yes, I’ll see that she get’s there safely.”
Cassie, escorted by Oliver, walked back to the jailhouse to see Silas.
When they entered the jailhouse, Oliver said, “Wait here. I need to prepare Silas for your visit.”
Cassie nodded. She now had butterflies in her stomach. She felt glad and nervous all at once.
Oliver stood at the bars of Silas’s cell. “I need to prepare you for a very special visitor. You need to tuck in your shirt, and comb your hair.”
Silas obeyed, curious and nervous as to who Oliver would be bringing him.
Oliver put his hand up. “Stand there, just like that. I’ll show your visitor in.”
Silas obeyed filled with growing suspicion—what could his brother be up to now? Then, he saw her. She walked in, eagerly searching the dark room for a glimpse of him. He ran up to the bars and reached for her, holding her trembling hands through the bars. “Cassie!”
Oliver left them.
“Silas, I missed you so much. When you didn’t come back, I just knew something had to be wrong.” She pulled his head closer to the bars and kissed him on the lips. His lips felt like coming home after you’ve been away for a long time—familiar and c
omforting.
Silas held her gently through the bars. “I didn’t kill anyone.” He kissed her face from chin to forehead.
“I know that. But, we have to get you out of here.”
“My attorney’s working on it.”
“I want to talk to him, and everyone else involved. I'm not leaving Kansas City without you.”
Cassie spent the night at Mary’s. In the morning, she went back to the saloon where the barkeeper had claimed to be friends with Joe Rogers.
The bartender recognized her, and greeted her warmly when she entered.
“Yesterday you said you knew Joe Rogers,” Cassie began.
“That’s right.”
“Can you give me directions to his house?”
“Sure. It’s 127 Cherry Street. I’m sure of that because my sister lives next door and that’s how Joe and I became friends.” He smiled. “We miss him. They closed his livery after he killed himself, but if you’re interested it’s located on the corner of Oak and 55th Street, but it’s boarded up. It’s sad, really.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said with a smile. “And can you give me directions to Cherry Street?”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.” He dropped his rag on the bar, went to the back, and returned with a piece of yellowed paper. “I’ll write the directions down for you.”
Directions in hand, Cassie walked to Cherry Street. The homes were large and beautiful on that street, with wrap-around porches and beautiful flower gardens, so when she came to 127, she wasn’t surprised to see a similiar home. The house was white, with square pillars holding up the “L” shaped front porch on both levels. Gray rocker chairs graced the otherwise empty porch. Cassie climbed the few steps to the front door and used the gold knocker. As she waited for an answer, she looked at the windows and noticed the neat, perfectly hung swag curtains in each one. Mrs. Rogers was an immaculate housekeeper, she could tell even from where she was standing on the porch.
The door opened a crack and a middle-aged woman a bit older than her mother peered out. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’d like to see Edna Rogers, please,” Cassie said clearly.
She opened the door a bit wider. “What about?”
“My name is Cassandra Collins. I’m a friend of Silas Martin. May I come in?” Cassie asked.
The woman opened the door a bit wider and stepped back to allow Cassie to enter. “I’m Edna. How can I help you, Miss Collins?”
“May we sit?” Cassie asked, looking past her to an immaculate sitting area.
“Of course.” She led Cassie to a living room that hardly looked lived in. From the beautiful, brocade sofa with its large, wooden, carved legs to the lamps with silk shades. The room appeared luxurious and spotless. Cassie wondered if they’d ever used the room. The wooden floor around the area carpet was almost shiny enough to see a person’s reflection in it. Cassie sat gingerly on the sofa, while Edna sat in a Queen Victoria wing chair with thick wooden legs.
“You know that I support Silas, because I’m sure he's innocent. I’ve always been fond of Silas.” She smiled at Cassie. “I would have loved having him for a son-in-law.” Edna brought out her handkerchief and wiped a few tears away.
“I like him too, and want him out of jail, and I think that’s going to happen soon,” Cassie said. “But to clear his name completely, I need to find out who did this horrible thing to your daughter and husband. Please accept my condolences. I’m sorry for your losses.”
“She meant the world to me, my Belinda.” Edna began to weep more vigorously. “My only child, you know? Her father died when she was a only a few weeks old, killed in a saloon fight.” She frowned. “My mother used to tell me, ‘if you marry a man that you met in a saloon, that’s where he’ll be after the wedding too.’”
Cassie smiled. “But you didn’t listen?”
“No.” She smiled slightly, while still wiping tears away. “Then I married Joe, and he treated us well enough, and we wanted for nothing. He adopted Belinda and…” she broke off, and shrugged. “We got along all right, I guess.”
“Who do you think killed Belinda?” Cassie asked.
“Oliver Martin. I’m sure of it,” she said firmly.
“He has an alibi, he was playing cards with the sheriff at the time of the murders,” Cassie reminded her.
“Oh that!” Edna slapped the arm of her chair. “He and Cal are friends so of course he’d cover for him.” She changed the subject abruptly, “Would you like to see an image of my beautiful Belinda?”
Cassie nodded.
Edna left the room briefly, and returned carrying a round picture frame against her chest. She looked at the photo and began crying again. “Look, how lovely! My sweet baby!” She handed the frame to Cassie. “She didn’t deserve…She had her whole life before her.”
“Cassie saw a young woman with dark hair and large, expressive eyes. “She was very lovely.” She handed the photo back to Edna.
“I miss her so much!” Edna wept anew and again wiped away tears with her handkerchief.
“I’m so sorry.” Cassie didn’t know what else to say. Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder why Edna hadn’t shed any tears for the husband she’d lost?
Edna Rogers was still weeping dramatically when Cassie left her to head back to the jail to see Silas. When she arrived, he was sitting on the bed, talking to a tall man in a suit who was occupying the chair across from him. She hesitated behind Mr. Smith who was standing in the doorway leading to Silas’s cell, wondering if she should enter or come back later.
“C’mon in, Cassie,” Silas said, motioning for her to enter.
Will Smith smiled at her as he unlocked Silas’s cell. “Call me when you’re ready to leave.“
Silas patted the bed beside him. “Mr. Bancroft, Miss Collins,” he introduced them, and each nodded and smiled to the other. Mr. Bancroft is my attorney. He tells me I can leave on Monday. The paperwork will take a few days and then—I’m free to go!” He smiled at her. “We can get on with our lives, Cassie.”
She smiled. “But I think we should clear your name completely by finding the real murderer, before we go back to Hays.”
“I want to go back and get married.” He grabbed her hand. “I don’t care who did it. It wasn’t me. As soon as I’m cleared, I’m leaving Kansas City.”
Warren Bancroft cleared his throat. “I agree with Miss Collins.”
Cassie smiled at him, “You may call me Cassie.”
“I don’t understand why we can’t leave Cassie.” Silas said.
“Because I think I know who killed Joe, and I don’t think it was suicide.” She announced.
Both Silas and Bancroft raised their eyebrows. “And who might that be?” Bancroft asked.
“Obviously Edna did it,” Cassie said with sureness.
“Edna?” Bancroft asked. “What makes you think that?”
“I visited her, and all she did was cry about her lost daughter but she never once mentioned missing her husband. My guess is she killed him, but I suppose I need more proof and a motive.”
Bancroft nodded. “You'd likely be thrown out of the courtroom if you have nothing more than your observation," he pointed out. “Though I have to admit, I’ve been having doubts about her as well.”
Silas shrugged. “I thought her a very sincere and caring person.”
“She seemed emotionally stressed to me,” Cassie said. “I realize she loved her daughter, but it’s been more than three years, and she still bawls like a baby whenever Belinda is mentioned.” Cassie squeezed Silas’s hand, “It’s so sad. She was such a lovely girl.”
“Yes, Oliver loved her,” Silas said.
“Do they think the same person shot both of them?” Cassie asked the attorney.
“I don’t know. You see, according to the crime report, two different guns were used. The sheriff ruled Joe’s death a suicide, based on there being two guns.” Bancroft stood and said, “I’ll do some further checking.”
After
the attorney left, Silas stood, pulling Cassie up with him. He hugged her. “It won’t be long now, and we’ll get married as soon as we get back.”
Cassie smiled. “I can’t wait either, Silas, but I want your named cleared, because I don’t ever want to hear rumors that Silas Martin killed someone, ever again. We have to think of our children as well.”
“But we have to make them first,” he said, and attacked her with kisses.
“Silas!” she giggled and swatted at him. “Behave! We are having a serious talk here. Do you agree that we need to find the murderer before we leave Kansas City?”
“Isn’t my being let go, enough proof of my innocence?”
“No, because some people will think you simply got away with it,” she countered.
“Finding the murderer could take months, Cassie, I want to go home now.”
“I think we’re close, Silas.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Tell me more about this Joe Rogers.”
“What’s there to tell? He was Belinda’s stepfather and he wanted her to marry me.”
“Did he seem fond of Belinda, or was he not so fond and more anxious to be rid of her through marriage?” Cassie asked.
“I thought you knew, he said.
“Knew what?”
“Belinda was four months pregnant, and Edna thinks Joe was responsible, and that would be reason enough not to mourn his death,” Silas said.
“Oh, my! Oliver never mentioned that,” Cassie said, “but thinking as a mother, I’d likely kill any man who did that to my daughter.”
Silas stared at her. “I think you may be right.” Silas sat back down on the bed and rested his arms on his knees. “So if she killed Joe, and she had a good motive, who killed Belinda?”
Cassie frowned, “I don’t know. I haven’t solved that one yet, but the only other person on the scene was Joe. Could Joe have killed Belinda and then himself?”
“Don’t forget there were two guns,” Silas said. “Could we go home with just the one murder solved?” he teased, pulling Cassie down onto the bed with him. “I want you near me and I never want to be apart from you again.” He kissed her passionately until they were both breathless.