The Lady Doctor's Alibi

by J. R. Roberts

  “Rufus!” she yelled as he entered. “Where you been, you? When you don’t eat here, my business goes down.”

  “Hello, Auntie.”

  Rufus knew a lot of hard men from the docks, and they all loved Auntie. This woman did not have any enemies that he knew of. It was amazing to him that someone could be liked by everybody—including him.

  “I’m lookin’ for Franco. Have you seen him today?”

  “Not yet,” she said, “but he eats here five days a week, and so far he only been here four.”

  Franco Colon was death for hire. Rufus enjoyed hurting people, but when you needed someone killed, you looked for Franco. They had worked together many times before, but even though they were friends, Franco was the only man Rufus Holmes was afraid of. He could kill with a knife, a gun, or his hands.

  And he had other friends.

  “If you see Franco,” he told Auntie, “let him know that I’m lookin’ for him. I got work for him.”

  “I don’t want to hear about your business,” she said, shaking her head, “but I tell him if I see him.”

  “Tell him if he sits still for at least an hour, I’ll find him,” Rufus said. “Tell him that.”

  “I tell him, but that boy, he don’t sit still for long.”

  Franco knew he had a lot of enemies, and sitting still would make him a target.

  “I’ll find ’im,” he told Auntie. “Just give him the message.”

  “I’ll give it to him. You gonna stay and eat?”

  “Not today, Auntie,” he said, “but soon.”

  “Yeah, soon,” she said, “if I don’t go out of business, me.”

  “Auntie,” he said, “you ain’t never goin’ out of business. Not the way you cook.”

  “You better be right,” she told him, “or I’m gonna blame you.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “I just need a few days to handle some business, and I’ll be eatin’ here.”

  “You be careful, Rufus,” she said.

  “I’m always careful, Auntie.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Clint walked Josephina back to her place, where she had to prepare to open for business that day. He promised to see her later.

  “What are you going to be doing today, hombre?” she asked.

  “Like I told you,” he said, “I’ve got to find out who killed the doctor.”

  “So you are going to see your lady doctor, eh?” She gave him a stern look.

  “She’s not my lady doctor,” Clint said, “but yes, I have to go and check on her.”

  “Well, you just remember what last night was like with Josephina when you see her,” she said. “You think of me, eh?”

  “I’ll be thinking of you all day, but you think about . . . this,” he said, kissing her soundly and then releasing her.

  “Cabrón!” she said, pushing him away.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  He started away, then turned while she was unlocking her door.

  “Clint?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “Josephina, tell me something.”

  “Sí?”

  “Do you know a man named Rufus?”

  “A big gringo, who likes to hurt people,” she said. “Sí, I know him.”

  “Well?”

  “I know him when I see him,” she said, “but I do not know him. Comprendes?”

  “I understand,” he said. “So what do you know about him?”

  “Just what I said. He likes to hurt people, and he is paid to do it.”

  “What about murder?”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, looking puzzled. “What about it?”

  “Have you heard any word that he does murder for hire?”

  “No,” she said, very definite about it. “I have never heard about him killing people. Hurt, yes, but kill, no.”

  “And how well do you know what goes on down on the docks?”

  “I know what I hear,” she said, shrugging, eyeing him curiously. “Why?”

  “If you were going to have somebody killed,” he said, “who would you hire?”

  “A man or a woman?” she asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Who and why matter to me, hombre. If it was a man who cheated on me, or a puta who stole my man, I would want to kill them myself.”

  “Okay, but let’s just say you don’t want to do it yourself. Who would you hire?”

  “There is only name I can think of,” she said. “The thing he enjoys the most is killing. Rufus, he likes to hurt people, but . . .”

  “What’s his name?”

  She turned, looked at him, and said, “You must be very careful of this man. He is not like Rufus. He does not kill for pleasure. It is his business, and he is very good at it.”

  “I’m always careful, Josephina,” he said. “What’s the name?”

  She sighed and said, “Franco.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  When Clint arrived at the doctor’s office, he could see the relief on both Lissa and Marietta’s faces.

  “Are you all right?” he asked Lissa.

  “Yes, yes,” she said, “just glad to see you. With you here, I know I won’t have to shoot anyone.”

  “What about Boone?”

  “He’s fine,” she said. “He doesn’t talk very much, though.”

  “That’s okay,” Clint said, “he’s not here to talk. He’s here to protect you.”

  “Doctor?” Marietta called from the doorway. “Buenos días, Clint.”

  “Good morning, Marietta.”

  “Coming, Marietta,” Lissa said. She touched Clint’s arm and followed Marietta into the other room. Clint took the opportunity to talk to Boone.

  “Boone, you want to go and get some breakfast?” he asked.

  “The ladies and me went out and ate,” Boone said. “But thanks.”

  “Well, if you want to go home for a few hours—”

  “I got nothin’ goin’ on at home, Clint,” Boone said. “I’ll just stay.”

  “Okay,” Clint said. “Listen, what do you know about a man named Franco?”

  “Franco?” Boone asked, surprised. “How’d you hear about him?”

  “I asked who the murder for hire man was in town and got his name.”

  “Well, yeah, he does murder for hire—or that’s what we hear. We’ve never caught him in the act, which is about the only way we’d be able to get him. Why are you getting’ mixed up with him? You have enough trouble with Rufus Holmes.”

  “Yeah, but I heard that Rufus Holmes is not a killer,” Clint said, “and we’re looking for a killer.”

  “So you pick Franco?”

  “If Lillian Graham goes to Rufus and wants someone killed, who would Rufus go to?”

  Boone paused, then shrugged and said, “Probably Franco. We know they’ve worked together.”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “I better go and talk to the sheriff.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I’m not sure,” Clint said. “I did have plans just to ask more questions, but maybe we should go and find Franco and have a talk.”

  “You think the sheriff is gonna go with you?” Boone asked.

  “I don’t know him that well,” Clint said. “Do you?”

  Boone thought a moment before speaking.

  “The sheriff don’t like to push,” Boone said. “You do. It’ll be interesting.”

  “Would you rather I wait so that Rufus and Franco come here together?”

  “Hey,” Boone said, raising his shotgun, “I got two barrels.”

  Clint liked that Boone didn’t scare.

  “I’ll talk to the sheriff and let you know what happens.”

  “Like I said,” Boone replied. “Interesting.”

  “I’ll say good-bye to the ladies before I leave,” Clint said.

  “By the way,” Boone said, “are you and the lady doctor . . . ?”

  “No,” Clint said. “Why, you interested?”

 
“No,” Boone said, “curious. My days with the ladies are over. It’s just me and my shotgun now.”

  “I hope you’re very happy.”

  Boone grinned, rubbed the shotgun’s barrel, and said, “Oh, we are.”

  Clint went to the doorway of the other room, watched Lissa and Marietta moving around the beds. Lissa stopped to lean over the little girl, touch her face, and smile.

  “How’s she doing?” Clint asked when Lissa came over to him.

  “She’s doing well,” Lissa said, “and so am I. I saved the leg.”

  “You must be a hell of a doctor,” Clint said. “First my foot, then her leg.”

  “Oh yes,” Lissa said, “you were definitely in danger of losing that foot.”

  “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll be back later. By the way, I think the deputy might be interested in you—if you can woo him away from his shotgun.”

  She smiled and said, “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Clint went to the sheriff’s office and found the man there, apparently brooding over a cup of coffee.

  “Problems?” he asked.

  “I had to let the kid go.”

  “Wasn’t working out?”

  “The badge went to his head,” Brown said.

  “That happens.”

  “Get yerself a cup.”

  Clint went to the stove, poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat opposite the sheriff.

  “What’s on your mind?” the lawman asked.

  “A man named Franco.”

  “A bad man,” Brown said. “Boone was after him when he was sheriff, and I’ve been after him since I got to wear the star. What’s your interest in him?”

  “His specialty is murder.”

  “I thought you were figurin’ on Rufus doin’ that for the widow?”

  “I’m getting’ the word that Rufus doesn’t kill,” Clint said.

  “Anybody kills,” Brown said.

  “So you don’t believe it?” Clint asked. “You think he hires out for murder?”

  Brown shrugged.

  “Well, when I asked who does hire out, Franco was the name I got. And Boone says Franco and Rufus have worked together.”

  “He’s right, they have. But that don’t mean they are this time.”

  “Well, I’d like to ask him.”

  “Rufus? Go ahead, I ain’t stoppin’ you.”

  “Not Rufus. Franco.”

  “How do you intend to do that?”

  “Find him, and ask him,” Clint said. “I was hoping you’d help me with the first part.”

  “To find him, you’d have to go down to the docks,” Brown said. “You want me to go with you? You know what kind of target I’d be with this tin on my chest?”

  “Take it off.”

  “They’d still know who I am.”

  “Fine,” Clint said. “Don’t come with me. Just tell me where to look.”

  Brown gave it some thought.

  “If you want to find anybody on the docks, there’s only one person to ask.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “She has a business down there,” Brown said.

  “A woman?”

  Brown nodded.

  “They call her ‘Auntie.’ ”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  When Clint entered Auntie’s later that afternoon, most of the tables were empty. The woman’s face betrayed surprise when he walked in.

  “You came back already?” she asked. “My cookin’ was that good, me?”

  “Your cooking was excellent, Auntie,” he said, “but that’s not why I’m here. I want to talk.”

  “Talk?” she asked. “You want some chicory coffee while we talk?”

  He didn’t like anything mixed in with his coffee, but he said, “Sure.”

  “You go to that back table and wait,” she said.

  He walked to the table and sat down. Only two other tables were taken, one by a man, the other by a man and a woman, and they ignored him.

  Auntie returned carrying a tray with a pot and two mugs. She sat and poured coffee for both of them, then stared at him across the table.

  “So? What you want to talk about?”

  “I’m told you know everybody on the docks,” Clint said, “and that if I’m looking for someone, I should come here and ask you.”

  “That depends,” Auntie said. “Who are you lookin’ for?”

  “A man named Franco,” Clint said. “And another one named Rufus Holmes.”

  She sat back. “Whatchoo lookin’ for them boys for?” she asked.

  “I want to talk to them.”

  She laughed.

  “Those boys don’t talk.”

  “I know,” Clint said. “One of them hurts people, and the other one kills them.”

  “One of them likes hurtin’ people,” she corrected. “That makes him real good at it. The other one kills for a livin’. If he don’t kill, he don’t eat, so when he gets a job, he gets it done.”

  “And do both of those boys eat here, Auntie?”

  “They been known to,” she said honestly.

  “Uh-huh, and do you take messages for them?”

  She squinted at him then smiled.

  “Lots of people eat here,” she said, “and once in a while they’ll leave a message for each other.”

  “Now, I’m not asking you to betray any confidences, Auntie.”

  “That’s good,” she said, “ ’cause I don’t do that. Somebody tells me somethin’ in confidence, I take it to the grave, me.”

  Clint was starting to wonder if the Cajun accent was put on for the benefit of others, so they wouldn’t realize what a smart woman Auntie was.

  “So you won’t tell me where to find them, right?” Clint asked. “Like, if I wanted to hire them?”

  “You don’t want to hire them,” she said. “You strike me as a man who does his own dirty work.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  “And you got dirty work in mind for those boys.”

  “Only if they had something to do with the murder of Dr. Graham.”

  Her face became sad.

  “That doctor, he was a good man,” she said. “It wasn’t right he was killed, and it wasn’t right the way he was killed.”

  “I know.”

  “But you know what I think?” she asked.

  “No, Auntie,” he said, “I don’t know what you think.”

  “I think maybe you lookin’ in the wrong place,” she said. “I think you lettin’ certain reputations taint your thinkin’.” She pointed a finger at him. “And you know about reputations, huh?”

  He knew she’d recognized his name when they first met.

  “I know,” he said. “Are you telling me neither of them killed the doctor? And if you’re telling me that, do you know who did?”

  “I don’t know nothin’ about no murder,” she said. “I’m just sayin’ be careful how you think and where you look. These are rough boys, and even if they didn’t kill that doctor, if they hear you’re lookin’ for them, you’ll have to deal with them.”

  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll accept that. You pass the word that I’m looking for them.”

  “I can do that,” she said, “but my girl, Josephina, gon’ be real mad at me if I get you killed.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Auntie,” he said. “I’m not going to get killed.”

  “Uh-huh. Which of them boys you wanna see first? ’Cause you don’t wanna see them together.”

  “Either way,” Clint said. “I just want to see them. If they didn’t have anything to do with killing the doctor, all they’ve got to do is tell me.”

  “Like I said,” she told him, “those boys don’t talk.”

  “Will you give them my message?”

  She sat back and looked unconcerned.

  “If they happen to come in here to eat,” she said, “I guess I could mention somethin’ about it.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

&nbs
p; Rufus found Franco sitting at a back table in a small cantina filled with dockworkers. They all steered clear of the man, and did the same with Rufus as he crossed the room. It was the size of Rufus that deterred most men, but with Franco it was more than mere size. For one thing, he was not even six feet tall, but anyone who looked into his eyes knew they were looking at a killer. In point of fact, Franco was feared much more than Rufus was.

  But Rufus had no problem approaching Franco. He was used to that dead-eye stare the other man gave everyone. He pulled out a chair and sat opposite the killer.

  “Auntie told me you were lookin’ for me,” Franco said, his English only slightly accented. He had spent a lot of time north of the border, but he preferred the confines of his own country. “I do not like to stay in one place for too long, so speak quickly.”

  Rufus wanted to tell Franco to try that stare on someone else, but decided not to.

  “I have a job for you,” Rufus said.

  “You have a job for me?” Franco asked with interest. “We usually do jobs together. Or you do your own alone. Why would you need to hire me?”

  “It’s not me,” Rufus said, “it’s my woman.”

  “The ugly gringa with all the money?” Franco asked. “The one with the dead doctor husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “She has money?”

  “Lots of money.”

  “And who does she want killed?”

  “She wants a couple of people killed,” Rufus said, “but one of them is Clint Adams.”

  “Clint Adams?” Now Franco was real interested. “You mean the Gunsmith?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What is he doing in Veracruz?”

  “Well, right now he’s makin’ my woman mad enough to want him killed.”

  “Who else?”

  “The lady doctor who has taken over her husband’s office.”

  “Is she taking care of his patients?”

  “Yeah,” Rufus said. “The sheriff asked her.”

  “Who will take care of them if I kill her?” Franco asked.

  “Why does that matter?” the big man asked.

  “It doesn’t,” Franco said, “but I am curious.”