Murder at Thumb Butte (20 page)

“
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.”

“
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.

To get by the moment, I asked, “Did you learn anything this morning?”

“
Winslow has a decent alibi. He claims he was with Elizabeth Mitchell, the highest priced whore in Prescott. Whores lie for money, but witnesses saw him eatin’ supper with her at the Hassayampa Grill. She demands a high-priced meal as well as compensation for her services. ’Spose that makes it feel more like courtship.” He paused and then added, “His parents reengaged us. Our job is to keep his name out of the trial, if possible. Out of the newspapers for sure.”

I was surprised that he talked about whores so freely in front of his daughter, but in McAllen’s line of work, whores were commonplace, so he probably thought nothing of it.

“
Does that mean we drop Winslow as a possibility?” I was not happy with my favorite suspect hiring the chief investigator.

“
Hell, no. I like him for the murder. His kind of people think they can get away with anythin’.”

I was glad to hear that McAllen still considered Winslow a suspect, but by “his kind of people,”
McAllen meant the rich. Since I fell into that category, the comment irked me. I concentrated on the good news. McAllen had turned me away from looking into Winslow, not because he was protecting a client, but because he personally wanted to investigate him. As I thought about it, keeping me away from Winslow was probably a good idea. I was beginning to dislike the man so much that I might try a Sharp’s style greeting one day, and look where hitting a man had put him.

_{Chapter 30}

After two hours of trampling along the side of the trail, we had made very little progress. Just as I had suspected, the trail was strewn with people’s discards. Every time Maggie or I yelled out that we had found something, McAllen had to come over to investigate, and we were never allowed to proceed further until he was done. The experience gave me an appreciation for what people discarded. Along with whiskey, patent medicine, and soda bottles, we found tobacco butts, tins, pouches, and juice. It seemed that when men went riding, they liked to drink and use tobacco. The only item we found from a female rider was a sweat-stained lace hankie. We found something else that I thought was interesting. Someone who frequented this trail liked to read a newspaper as he rode. After I found the third newspaper with a relatively current date, McAllen told me I could ignore any others I ran across.

I was beginning to wonder if we could finish our search in a single afternoon, when I heard Maggie yell with more enthusiasm than previously. Because McAllen was leading the three horses down the trail, one of us would usually walk over and hold the reins while he checked the other’s find. This time, Maggie seemed so excited that I looped the reins around a bush and crashed through the chaparral to see what she had discovered. When I reached the two of them, McAllen was staring at the ground, while Maggie stared at her father with an expression of pride. I approached carefully and saw a jumble of leather straps.

“
What is it?” I asked.

“
A halter,” McAllen said. He looked back to the trail, and I could see him mentally measuring the distance. Then he looked up at a tree above us. “Someone flung it from the trail, but it hit this tree and didn’t go as far as intended.” He picked it up and stretched it open with his hands. “This halter is too big for a ridin’ horse.” He turned it in different directions. “It’s for a Shire, one of the big horses used to haul logs or lumber.”

He took the halter out from under the shade of the tree and examined it inch by inch in the sunlight. He stopped, rubbed a part with his thumb, and even brought it to his nose.

He held it out for me to examine. “Steve, does that look like dried blood to you?”

I saw a dark blotch on dark leather. “Could be, but I’m not sure.”

“
Can I see it?” Maggie asked. I handed it over, and she almost immediately handed it back. “That’s blood.”

“
How can you be sure?” I asked.

“
When I geld sheep at my aunt’s ranch, I wear a leather apron. That’s what dried blood looks like on dark leather.”

“
Steve, hold up your arms.”

I did as McAllen ordered, and he slipped the halter over my head and down to my chest. When he nodded, I dropped my arms, and McAllen raised the harness to show how it had been adjusted to fit a man.

“
The murderer used this halter and a rope to drag the body out to where we found it. Then he flung it out here so nobody would see him with it.”

“
Suppose you’re right, how does that help us?”

“
Not sure.” McAllen wandered slowly back to the trail, so we followed him.

“
About two hundred yards further up this trail is an abandoned livery,” he said. “When the lumber business was boomin’, that’s where they kept the wagons, draft horses, and all the gear. It was a separate company back then. Now, the few remainin’ Shires are kept in a barn next to the Earp house.” McAllen pointed down the trail. “Campbell met his murderer late at night at that old livery.” McAllen handed the halter to his daughter like it was a prize. “Let’s go take a look.”

He mounted up and we followed suit. The livery was only about a hundred yards beyond a slight bend in the trail. We all dismounted and loosely tied the horses to low tree limbs.

The place was dilapidated, with a collapsed corral, broken windows, and gaping holes where people had ripped off siding boards. McAllen threw open the big doors of the barn to chase away the dark inside. All three of us entered to find mostly nothing. The building had been ransacked of anything valuable a long time ago. I walked immediately to the back of the barn where I had spotted pieces of tattered tack hanging off wood rods.

“
Joseph, this is the same type of tack. Thick and large. All the good pieces look to have been scavenged.”

Without joining me, McAllen said, “That rifle shot passed right through Campbell’s head. Let’s look for blood and a bullet hole.”

“
Captain, two shots were fired from Sharp’s rifle. Are you thinking Campbell was killed here, and then the second shot into the air was meant to draw Earp out to where you found the body?”

“
That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’. You might make a Pinkerton yet.”

I took satisfaction in McAllen’s compliment, but I could see from Maggie’s face that he had made more trouble for me with his daughter.

After a twenty-minute search, we had found nothing. McAllen stood in the center of the barn and looked around.

“
Steve, step outside, close the door, and then reenter. Let’s playact Campbell enterin’ the barn.”

When I swung the door open, McAllen was nowhere to be seen. I walked into the barn and then heard McAllen say
bang
from behind me. When I looked back at him, he was pointing his finger at my head.

“
As the door swung open, the killer hid behind this big barn door. The bullet should be on a diagonal, in the back wall.”

All three of us approached the wall and examined the weathered wood. It was dark, this far back in the barn, but sure enough, McAllen soon said, “Here it is.”

He used his knife tip to dig out a shallow-buried bullet and then held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Looks like this could be a .44-40,” McAllen said.

“
Does this help us solve the murder?” I asked.

McAllen flipped the bullet to Maggie, who looked startled but still managed to catch it. I guessed Maggie was the repository for our evidence.

McAllen walked to the barn door and looked out for a long moment before responding to my question. “Steve, if we can put together the sequence of events, then we might figure out why the events went the way they did. From that, we can probably guess the murderer.”