Murder at Thumb Butte (32 page)

“
Constable Earp.”

“
Very well. Previously, you said that Carl Schmidt went to Wickenburg for recreational purposes. Can you elaborate?”

McAllen made a show of scanning the audience. “My meaning should be obvious. Must I elaborate? There are women and children present.”

Castle looked over at the jury with a contemplative expression. “No. I believe the jury understands your meaning. I may call you again if the need arises.” He made a bow toward Blanchet. “Your witness.”

“
Mr. McAllen, do you have any physical evidence that supports this
story
of yours?”

“
No, sir. But I have a witness who can corroborate that Carl Schmidt obstructed my investigation.”

“
Would that be your associate, Mr. Dancy?”

“
He can confirm it as well, but I was referring to Malcolm Henry, Wickenburg’s town marshal.”

“
No further questions.” Blanchet scrambled back to his table.

“
In that case, I call Constable Virgil Earp.”

After Earp took a seat in the witness chair, Castle asked, “Did you know Mr. Campbell?”

“
I did. I had a number of complaints about his business dealings, but although his actions were unethical, I found no laws were broken.”

“
Are you familiar with the barn that Captain McAllen believes was the murder site?”

“
I am. I pass it every day on my way into town. I also went over the site with the captain, and I agree that it was the murder site.”

“
Why would the murderer haul the body out to Thumb Butte?”

“
Only one reason that I can think of … the barn must link Campbell and the murderer, so the murderer would want to conceal that fact.”

“
How could it connect them?”

“
Probably as a rendezvous point for the two.”

“
I see. On your daily trips to town, did you have occasion to stop at the barn on official business?”

Earp laughed. “I’m not sure it’s within my official duties, but I frequently stopped to chase away youngsters. That barn is a notorious spot for young couples.”

“
Did you ever happen on adults?”

“
Once. I heard some activity, so I stopped and knocked. Finally, I had to bang pretty hard to get a response. Mr. Campbell came out. He asked me not to embarrass his partner. He said if I would ride on down the road, they would leave.”

“
Did you?”

“
I did, but not before checking behind the barn. I found two tethered horses. I recognized one as belonging to Mrs. Mary Schmidt.”

Until the prior afternoon, we had assumed that we would have to use Maggie to confirm an illicit relationship between Mary Schmidt and Elisha Campbell, but when McAllen explained the defense strategy to Earp, the constable informed us that he could give testimony that would reveal that something untoward was going on between them.

I wished I had taken a seat behind the Schmidts instead of in front. I heard no more whispers and sensed no sudden movements.

Castle called several witnesses to testify that Sharp was in a playful mood that night and not angry at all. By the time he left the saloon, he was falling-down drunk and unlikely to haul himself, much less a dead body, out to Thumb Butte.

I testified next. I said that the door to his room had been unlocked, and that Jeffery Sharp was a man of sterling character. He might punch someone he hated, but he would never back-shoot even his worst enemy. I also testified that his rifle was an extension of his arm, and he would never leave it behind, even if he were drunk.

Blanchet’s closing remarks remained consistent with his opening argument. It was as if Castle had presented no revelations that he needed to explain away. The jury must have noticed that he spoke with little enthusiasm.

Castle opened with an accurate description of the short fight and reminded the jury that Jeff had given five dollars and an apology to the innocent party he had hit. Castle described Sharp as a solid businessman newly arrived in town to invest in the community. He asked the jury if they believed a man incontestably drunk could have the wits to lure a victim to a barn he had never seen, or possess the control needed to shoot straight or the unwavering strength to haul a body half a mile.

He reminded the jury that infidelity was one of the oldest and most common motives for murder. Then he asked if it were more believable that Carl Schmidt, in an angry rage, used Sharp’s threat to kill Campbell as a cover to revenge being cuckolded. He reviewed Carl Schmidt’s shenanigans in Wickenburg and ended with a graphic description of the gunplay across the street from the courthouse. Carl Schmidt had motive, had obstructed the investigation, and had apparently hired killers to stop an independent investigation.

I thought it was a skillful summation. The jury must have thought so as well, because they came back after deliberating only twenty minutes.

When called upon, the jury foreman read the verdict—not guilty.

_{Chapter 48}

“
What the hell are you doing?”

I was bent over a bureau drawer when Mary Schmidt entered her room and yelled at me. I had congratulated Sharp on his acquittal and then raced over to Prescott House. I wanted to search the room before they returned. I obviously had not been quick enough.

I straightened and slowly turned to face her. “Looking for the original letters.”

“
What letters?”

“
The original letters from the Boston Winslows. The ones written to you, not George Blanchet. The letters you used to forge the ones you showed to McAllen.”

She reached her hand into the folds of her dress. I knew what that meant, so I took a step closer.

“
I don’t believe Carl killed Campbell because of your infidelity,” I said. “McAllen may think you’re a happy couple shocked at each other’s indiscretions, but I believe you’re just a couple of hard-hearted killers for hire.”

She started to pull her hand out of her dress, and I took another step toward her, but she was quicker than I expected. I pulled up short in the face of a .41 caliber derringer.

She looked smug. “Did you find any letters?”

“
Not yet.”

She laughed. “You think you’re going to have additional opportunity? I can assure you, you’re done rummaging through my things.”

“
What are you going to do, shoot me?”

“
If you turn toward the bureau again, I will. I’ll shoot you in the back, and say I was startled by an intruder and shot before realizing it was you.” She smiled. “Don’t be disappointed. There are no letters.”

“
Because you destroyed them?”

“
Does Captain McAllen know you’re snooping around my room?”

“
No. He and Earp are discussing Carl’s arrest.” I took another step toward her. “I may not have found the letters, but I found something else that proves the captain is wrong about Carl doing this on his own.”

She remained smug. “What did you find?”

I pulled a lady’s handkerchief from my left pocket and then dramatically drew a soiled one from my right pocket. “I believe these are both yours.”

She looked perplexed. “So what?”

I held up the neatly folded handkerchief in my left hand. “I found this one in your drawer.” I held up the soiled handkerchief in my right hand, stepping forward as if to hand it to her. “This one I found off the trail to Thumb Butte. Morris Goldwater says he has only sold this particular handkerchief to you.”

“
I rode that trail every day.”

“
Yes, you did … with Maggie. She says you not only never threw anything from your horse but scolded her harshly when she threw away a wadded-up piece of wax paper she had used for her peppermint stick.” I again held up the soiled hankie and again moved closer to her. “This proves you were there when Campbell was murdered and helped Carl drag the body away from the barn. It’ll change McAllen’s mind.”

“
Those hankies only prove that you’re a pest … a dangerous pest.”

I could read her thoughts on her face, and I didn’t like what I was reading.

“
You’re right and wrong,” she said. “There were letters, but they’re ashes now. But I didn’t kill Elisha for money. That was just an additional benefit to something already good. After Carl whimpered for forgiveness, I couldn’t allow Elisha to walk around blabbering away about me. It was too unseemly.”

She raised the gun slightly but kept it aimed at me. “These derringers are terrible for any distance over a couple feet. Thank you for moving closer.”

I knew she was squeezing the trigger, and I was just a bit too far away to lunge at her. I heard a terrific pounding on the wall as I jumped to the side.

“
Mary, we heard everything!” It was McAllen yelling from Maggie’s room.

I thought nothing could be louder, but then I heard two earsplitting reports from the tiny derringer. When I threw myself, I hit the bed and bounced back up. Mary had fired two blind shots through the wall into the next room. She dropped the derringer and reached inside her blouse for her pocket pistol. Her second gun was proving harder to retrieve. She never made it. I hit her with a closed-fist punch, using every bit of strength I could muster. She banged against the wall and slid into a sitting position. Her head flopped to the side, and I knew she was knocked out. I reached inside her blouse and found her small-caliber revolver cleverly holstered in the middle of her chest so her bosom helped to hide it. As I stood, I unloaded it and flipped the small pistol onto the bed. I grabbed her chin and straightened her head, but when I let go, it just flopped to the side again. I could see that her jaw would never work smoothly again.

I raced into the hall only to find McAllen and Earp racing to Mary’s room.

“
Anyone hit?” I asked.

“
No,” Earp said. “The captain suggested we listen low to the floor. I guess he knew she was a hothead.”

“
What’d you do to her?” McAllen asked.

“
Laid a Jeff Sharp roundhouse into her jaw. She’s out, but where’s Carl?”

“
You bastard! You had no right!” Carl sounded frantic.

I whirled around as a hand on my shoulder shoved me down. I immediately went to one knee and drew my Remington from my shoulder holster. Carl fired first—and second. Then a barrage of bullets from three guns drove him backward down the hall until he hit the window casing and broke the window with the back of his head. As I watched him bend backwards, my vision was obscured by so much gun smoke that I slid forward and lay down to see better and get a breath.

The smoke was taking a long time to clear the narrow hallway, so I kept my aim where I thought Carl should be. Soon I felt someone step over me, and then I heard the door to Maggie’s room open. It was McAllen—and he had dripped blood on me.

“
That should help clear the smoke,” McAllen said.

It did. And what it revealed was grotesque. Carl hung partially out the window. His head was bent so far back that he looked headless, his torso was riddled with holes, and blood pooled around his feet.

I scrambled to my feet and glanced at Earp to see if he had been shot. He looked whole, so I went to McAllen, who was wincing as he held his arm.

“
Where did he hit you?”

“
Just the arm, but it hurts like hell. Damned easterner was never very good with a handgun. Hell, we were only eight feet away.”

“
I can’t believe you’re complaining about his marksmanship.”

“
Gotta sit.”

He went into Maggie’s room and sat on a chair. I stood there perplexed, but Earp knew what to do. He ripped apart one of the stethoscopes on the floor and used the rubber tubing as a tourniquet. When he got McAllen a glass of water, I finally figured out what I ought to be doing and went to the next room to check on Mary. She was still knocked out cold. I picked her up, dragged her by the armpits into Maggie’s room, and dropped her unceremoniously onto the bare floor.

“
How is he?” I asked Earp.

“
Hell, Steve, I’m right here. Ask me.”

“
How are you, Captain?”

“
In a lot of pain and happy as can be.”

_{Chapter 49}

Mrs. Cunningham’s dining room rang with laughter. Sharp’s ribald quips, facial antics, and really bad accents had put everyone in a gay mood. Mrs. Cunningham laughed heartily and put a hand on Sharp’s forearm. Then Sharp covered her hand with his. The entire time I had been a boarder in her house, Mrs. Cunningham and I had remained barely civil. Yet Sharp had bounced in from jail, capturing her attention in mere minutes. Seating herself next to him, she had been flirtatious all evening. I had watched the entire episode and still couldn’t tell what he had done that was so special.

The guests included all of the boarders, as well as McAllen, Earp, and Maggie. Mrs. Cunningham had prepared a pot roast with all the fixings, including fresh vegetables brought up from Mexico. She was a fine cook and everything tasted delicious.

The bullet had passed through McAllen’s upper left arm. The doctor had said he was lucky the bullet had glanced off the humerus and passed right through his biceps brachii. He had cleaned and wrapped the wound, put the arm in a sling, and told McAllen the wound would require lots of alcohol—administered both externally and internally. With the meal only half over, McAllen had already done a manly job on a bottle of Jameson.