Longarm and the Deadly Restitution (9781101618776) (8 page)

Chapter 13

Longarm waited a few moments, until Denver's Sheriff Clyde Lanier was finished with some business, and then was motioned into the man's offic
e. “Sheriff, I could sure use your help.”

Lanier was a big, congenial man in his forties with a walrus mustache and three chins under his prominent jaw. Grossly overweight but with a keen intelligence, he was respected by his peers and well liked by all but Denver's criminal element. “Yeah, after yesterday and that bank holdup fiasco, I'm sure that you can. You should have brought me and my people in on it, Custis. We're not too damn happy with you feds right now.”

“I apologize, but it is a
federally chartered bank
, and I know how stretched you are with all the cases and trouble you're buried under.”

“Don't try to soft-pedal this,” Lanier warned. “I don't like to find out that a local bank turned into a battleground and then have reporters hounding me for answers.”

“I'm sure that Marshal Vail would be happy to set up a meeting and—”

“It's not your boss that concerns me,” Lanier interrupted. “It's the mayor! I didn't even know his kid had pinned on one of your badges, much less that you'd be sending him into an ambush.”

“It wasn't an ‘ambush.'” Longarm took a couple of minutes to patiently explain what had happened and how it had all gone wrong in the bank. He finished by saying, “And we've met with the mayor, and he now understands that his son and Deputy Flannery were suddenly caught in a terrible situation and had no choice but to go for their guns.”

When Longarm finished his explanation, Lanier laced his thick fingers behind his head and smiled rather sadly. “I'm sure glad that I'm not working for Billy Vail right now. This whole town is outraged by the slaughter that took place in that bank.”

“I understand.”

“So what kind of a favor do you need? A job here? If that's it, Custis, you're hired.”

For the first time since entering the man's office, Longarm managed to smile. “I thank you for that, Sheriff, but I'm after something very different.”

“Let's hear it then.” The sheriff glanced at a clock. “I've got a meeting in about ten minutes.”

“This won't take that much time,” Longarm assured the man. “Are you aware that Mayor Flannery's wife was murdered on the streets of Baltimore sixteen or so years ago?”

“Yes. That's a commonly known fact.”

“Well,” Longarm said, “the murderers were never found.”

“I know that, too,” Lanier said. “The mayor hired detectives, and they hounded me for information about a pair of brothers named . . . I forget, but that were supposed to be working in Denver. We did what we could to be of assistance, not for the private detectives but for the mayor, who is a personal friend.”

“I see,” Longarm mused. “Well, then I'm probably wasting our time, both of us, because I was hoping you might have someplace for me to start on that case.”

The sheriff scowled. “Why on earth are you, a
federal officer
, messing around with an old local Baltimore murder case?”

“Long story made short; I promised the mayor that if he would take the heat off my boss and myself, I'd repay him by tracking down the killers of his wife and a Baltimore policeman who was also gunned down in the street when Henry Plummer was just a boy.”

Lanier leaned forward and laid his meaty forearms on his desk. “You
promised
the mayor you'd do that?”

“It was the only thing that I could think of to do in repayment for the way our office messed up.”

“And he agreed?”

“When Mayor Plummer learned that our deputies had no choice but to go for their guns or watch people start being executed inside the bank, he began to understand that what had happened was inevitable. But I still felt responsible, and so what I did was to offer him some restitution in exchange.”

“Restitution or revenge?”

“Call it what you want, the result will probably be the same if I find them—and I
will
find them.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes to the ceiling, leaned far back in his chair, and thought about what he'd just heard, before turning back to Longarm. “Do you know how much money Mayor Plummer paid detectives to find those murderers?”

“No, and I really don't care.”

“He paid them a small
fortune
. They were the best of the best, and not one of them came up with so much as a lead on where those brothers that murdered Mrs. Plummer long ago had gone to ground. The mayor hired former Pinkerton agents . . . real professionals.”

“Did they leave any files?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Did they . . . Did they tell you anything about what they had found?”

“Only that the brothers were skilled reinsmen. They were mule skinners first and foremost but also teamsters. They were supposed to be very good, but when jobs were short they were quite competent as horseshoers. And when even that kind of employment was unavailable, they would work as stablemen. Naturally, every stable, freighting company, and stagecoach company was contacted, but nothing came of that.”

“Were the brothers rounders or troublemakers?”

“Not that I know of. We never arrested a pair of brothers like that.”

“Did the detectives hear that they were married or had lasting relationships with women?”

The sheriff shrugged. “They were whoremongers. They drank and spent their money on wild women.”

“Were they gamblers?”

“Not that I heard.”

“What did they look like?”

Sheriff Lanier shrugged. “The only descriptions that were ever given were from Henry, and those was from a young boy who was probably scared witless. He remembered that the brothers were of average height. Black hair and full beards, and that they were ugly and dirty. I'm afraid that Henry is the only one that ever actually saw the Raney brothers.”

“I wonder if that is even their name.”

“Probably not.” Lanier came to his feet. “I'm sorry that I can't help you more than that.”

Longarm shook the man's hand and had started to leave, when Lanier said, “Oh, one thing you may or may not know.”

“Yeah?”

“After the former Pinkerton men left Denver with nothing, I fired a young hotheaded deputy named Horatio Manatee, and he went straight to the mayor and offered his services in helping find the brothers so that they could be brought to a long overdue justice.”

“And?”

“Mayor Plummer explained to Horatio Manatee that he'd hired the best detectives but that if Horatio wanted to try and find the brothers and bring them to a long overdue justice, he would pay five thousand dollars for them dead . . . or alive.”

“And what did Horatio Manatee do?”

“About a month after he started looking for the brothers, he wound up being murdered in the rough railroad town of Rawlins, Wyoming. I only learned of it because one of the papers found on Manatee's body had my forged name on it saying he was an authorized Denver deputy. And that angered more than saddened me.”

“What happened after that?”

“I have no idea. Manatee had a young woman he wanted to marry. She was a beauty and I forget her name, but I passed the information of Manatee's death on to her and she seemed to take it pretty hard.”

“Any chance you could help me find her?”

The sheriff nodded. “You know, I think I have her name in a file out in the front office. Have one of my men look it up under ‘Manatee.' I kept some papers, and I believe that the address of Horatio's intended wife can be found in that file.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.”

“You owe me one,” the man said. “And you can repay me by doing what no one else could do . . . find those bastard brothers if they are still alive and put them six feet underground, or leave them hanging from a tall tree.”

“That I will damn sure try to do.”

“See that you do and all will be forgiven not only by me, but by my friend Mayor Plummer.”

“Understood,” Longarm said with his mind already on that Horatio Manatee file that rested in a cabinet almost within his reach.

Chapter 14

Longarm stood in the front office while a clerk slowly thumbed through the file cabinets looking for the one marked “Manatee.” Suddenly, there was a commotion at the front door and a deputy was trying to drag a very intoxicated man into the office to be booked and sent to a cell.

“Excuse me,” the clerk said. “Deputy Morrison looks like he could use my help.”

“I'll just go ahead and finish looking throug
h this file cabinet,” Longarm offered.

Distracted and harried, the clerk nodded and went to help the officer, who was by now barely holding his own in a full-blown fistfight. Seeing this as a great opportunity, Longarm quickly started going through the file cabinet and soon found what he was looking for. He opened the Manatee file and there was a letter addressed to a Miss Milly Ott. The letter had her address neatly printed on the front, and because it had not been postmarked, Longarm knew that it had never been sent or even opened. No doubt someone had intended it to be delivered to Milly Ott but had forgotten and so the letter had remained in the file.

I wonder if there is something inside that might give me valuable information, Longarm thought.

He frowned as he picked up and studied the letter. It was against his principles to open what was probably a love letter between two people who were strangers to him. On the other hand, the return address showed him that the letter had been written from a rooming house in Rawlins, Wyoming, and so he knew that it might contain some really important information.

Longarm slipped Milly Ott's letter into his coat pocket. He glanced through the remainder of the thin file, seeing nothing of interest, and returned it to the filing cabinet.

The clerk and the deputy had finally subdued the big brawler, and now the clerk came back, out of breath and looking disheveled. “You found the file, huh?”

“Yeah,” Longarm said. “Not much in there, I'm afraid.”

“We should probably just throw it out. How old is it?”

“I have no idea.”

“There is a date on the inside of the cover. If it's over two years, we toss it, but that's one of those little jobs that I never quite get around to doing.”

“Sure,” Longarm said. “Thanks for your help. That drunk looked like a mean one, and he's quite a handful.”

The clerk watched the first officer and another who had just shown up manhandle the big drunk down a hallway toward the back of the building, which was a block of cells. “Ormly gets that way every few weeks and beats the hell out of someone and gets himself arrested. We jail him for about a week and then have no choice but to turn him loose. One of these days Ormly is either going to get himself shot . . . or he'll beat someone to death, and then he'll either hang or go to prison.”

“You're right,” Longarm agreed as he headed outside.

Once on the street, he removed the letter from his pocket, opened it and read the contents, which were brief.

Dear Milly,

I think I've found them murdering brothers! Not sure but most likely the Raney pair and they don't know who I am. I plan to do a little more digging here and when I've got enough information I'm going to get the drop on them and then it'll be over. I'd rather kill them and take them back to Denver, but either way I'll get the reward and we can get married and have a good life together. Maybe the sheriff will even offer to give me my old job back, but I might not take it. I'll send this letter later today and be in your arms and bed damn soon and we can roll in all that cash that Mayor Plummer will pay me. Sure can't wait to get some of your red-hot lovin'!

Your soon-to-be husband

Horatio

Longarm reread the letter and then noted the address. It was very possible that Milly had moved but certainly worth a chance that he'd find her, and she might have received an earlier letter that would give him some more information about the Raney brothers.

• • •

Longarm knew exactly where Milly Ott lived, and he wasted no time in walking over to her neighborhood at the east end of the town. It was an average, working class neighborhood, and for the most part the houses were neat and well tended.

When he stopped in front of Milly's house, he saw that it was one of the nicer ones, with a comfortable front porch. There was a sign on the front fence that advertised sewing, custom dressmaking, and drapery. The walk leading up to the house had been shoveled, and there seemed to be a light on inside, so Longarm went up to the door and knocked.

A moment passed before the door opened a crack and Longarm was face-to-face with a young and attractive woman with red hair and freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I'm hoping so.”

“Do you have a shirt or something that needs mending? I'm kind of backed up today on some drapery for a woman who is in quite a hurry, but . . .”

“I'm not here for your sewing services,” he said, reaching into his vest pocket for his badge and only then remembering he'd handed it over to the mayor. “Uh . . . I work for the federal marshal's office, and I'm here to ask you a few questions about Mr. Horatio Manatee.”

Her smile evaporated. “He was murdered in Rawlins, Wyoming, some time ago, so . . .”

“I know that, Miss Ott. I just left the sheriff's office, and he told me about Mr. Manatee and how he was trying to find a vicious pair of murderers for the mayor.”

“That's right, but what does this have to do with anything after all this time?”

“I'm also looking for the Raney brothers.”

“I see.” She studied him closely. “Do you work for Sheriff Lanier?”

“No. I'm a federal marshal.”

“May I see your badge or some identification?”

“I, uh, gave the mayor my badge just this morning. But if you want, I can get a letter or something so you know that I'm really a law officer. Or you could come down with me to the Federal Building and . . .”

“I don't have time to do anything of the sort, Mr. . . .”

“Mr. Long. I really need to talk to you, Miss Ott, about what Horatio Manatee found in Rawlins.”

“I don't know what he found, other than an untimely death. You see, he wanted to marry me.”

“And you
didn't
want to marry him?”

“I was . . . was considering it. Horatio was handsome and charming, intelligent, and he could be very sweet, but . . .”

“But what, Miss Ott?”

“He had a very violent temper. It was quick and then it was gone. His temper got him into trouble at the sheriff's office, and there were times when I found him to be . . . well, frightening.”

“Maybe his temper got him killed in Rawlins.”

“I expect that is exactly what happened,” Milly Ott said, folding her arms across her bosom. “Anyway, I grieved for Horatio. I had hopes that in time he would learn to control his temper, find a suitable occupation, and become a very good and steady man. Unfortunately, he wasn't given that time.”

“I sure do need to talk to you, Miss Ott, and I promise to be brief.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “And you
really
are a federal officer of the law?”

“I swear it. I'm just on kind of a temporary absence.”

“If that is the case, then why are you here?”

“I want to find and bring the Raney brothers to a way overdue justice. As you know, they murdered the mayor's wife long ago. The mayor's son is now a deputy, and I want to help him find the men who murdered his mother long ago in Baltimore.”

“For the five-thousand-dollar reward, I'm sure.”

“No,” Longarm said. “For reasons more complicated. May I come in for a few minutes? I have something that belongs to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes.” Longarm took out the letter that he'd taken from the sheriff's office and showed it to the young woman but did not hand it to her.

“Come in,” she said. “If I don't take the time with you, I'll be distracted by curiosity all day.”

“I'd imagine that would be a problem if you're mending things and making drapes.”

“Yes, it would be.” Milly Ott opened the door and allowed Longarm entrance. She pointed to a chair and asked, “I have a pot of tea brewing, would you like a cup?”

“I thought you were in a big hurry.”

“I am, but I can work while we talk. But first, I want to see that letter. Is it from Horatio?”

“Yes. He wrote it before he died in Rawlins.”

“Oh, dear. I'm not sure that I want to read it until I'm alone. I might cry and then we'd both be embarrassed.”

“I understand.” Longarm gave her the letter. “But I sure need to know if Horatio Manatee sent you any letters after this one that would give me some information.”

“The letter has been opened,” she said, looking up at him sharply. “Did
you
open and read it?”

“I did.”

“You shouldn't have.”

“I had to, Miss Ott.”

Milly Ott sighed and read the brief letter. Longarm closely watched her expression, and he read the gamut of emotions she was experiencing. When she was through with the letter, she handed it back to Longarm.

“I don't need it,” he said. “You can keep it.”

In reply, Milly walked over to a little potbellied stove that was burning and tossed the letter inside.

She clasped her hands together and came right up to Longarm. “That might have seemed callous, but the truth is that I believe we should put the past in the past. I have kept the things of my late mother because I loved her very much and miss her. I burned everything of my late father's because he was a beast and an uncouth lout.”

Longarm took a seat. “What else besides that letter can you tell me about Horatio Manatee and what he found in Rawlins?”

She sat down across from him on a nice sofa and said, “I'm sure now that I've read that letter that Horatio really did find those brothers. And I'm quite sure that it was they who murdered him when he tried to arrest them.”

“Did Horatio say anything else in an earlier letter that would help me find the brothers?”

“As a matter of fact, he did. The very last letter that I received from him before the one you just showed me said that the brothers had told some people that they were leaving Rawlins and heading to Nevada, to work for a big company that was hauling ore out of some mines.”

“Do you remember the name of the town in Nevada?”

“It was Gold Hill.” She looked at him. “Have you ever heard of such a place?”

“Yes. It's on the Comstock Lode right below Virginia City. Both towns have seen their best days in terms of silver and gold, but I'm sure that there are still a number of mines operating at a profit.”

“Well,” Milly said with a shrug, “that's what I remember Horatio writing to tell me from Rawlins.”

“I don't suppose you kept the . . .”

“No, I burned it, the same way I burned the one you just gave me.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I'm a woman who tries hard to always look forward and never backward. Nothing in the world can be gained by looking to your past with regrets or even pride.”

“I'll try to remember that.” Longarm picked up his hat and started for the door. “I've taken up enough of your time.”

“Are you married, Mr. Long?”

“What?” He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.

“I asked if you are married.”

“Nope. I've always been a bachelor.”

“And as handsome as you are, I'll just bet you've broken your share of hearts.”

He blushed. “I never set out to break a heart, but it might have happened a time or two.”

“Are you engaged or have a steady girl?”

“Nope.”

“Are you leaving for Gold Hill, Nevada?”

Longarm had to grin. “You sure do ask a man a lot of questions.”

Milly set down her work and came over to him. “If you are a free and unencumbered man and I am a free and unencumbered woman, perhaps we ought to have a farewell dinner together this evening.”

“And why would we do that?”

“Because, given just a little time, a good meal with fine wine, I might even remember something that would be very helpful to you in finding the Raney brothers.”

Longarm shook his head and smiled. “You are a very direct and puzzling woman, Milly.”

“And you are a very handsome and interesting man. So, are you taking me to dinner . . . or not?”

“I am,” he said. “And I'll be by to pick you up about seven.”

“Make it a
nice
dinner, Mr. Long. I love shrimp and expensive chilled French white wines.”

“I'm a poor, underpaid deputy, not a banker.”

“You've got to pay the price to enjoy the ride, Mr. Long.”

“Call me Custis,” he said. “See you at seven.”

“Be prompt.”

“I will be.”

“Then we will have a very enjoyable evening, I promise you.”

Longarm was grinning when he left Milly's house. He marveled at how she had been so cold and suspicious when he'd first knocked on her door and even after he'd gone into her home. But something had changed when she'd read and then burned Horatio Manatee's letter. Longarm had no idea what had changed the woman from cold to hot . . . but that was looking back, and tonight was all about looking forward.