Riverboat Blaze (12 page)

“It might,” Clint said. “I can’t be sure right now, but it might. All I know right now is that I’ll be going across the river tomorrow to talk to him.”

“And you want me to vouch for you?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” Clint said. “You just met me. I’ll stand on my reputation.”

“Well, you just have Toby send me a telegram if he wants,” the chief said. “I’ll put in a good word.”

“Thank you, Chief. I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing.”

Clint left the police station and went back to his hotel. He stopped outside the door to his room, thought about going down to Angela’s, then changed his mind. He put the key in his lock and hoped that nobody was on the other side when he opened it. He was tired from a day on the river.

Bone tired.

Clint woke the next morning refreshed, and with a revelation.

As he dressed and went downstairs for breakfast, choosing to eat in the hotel today, he went over it again and again in his mind, and he was sure that he was right.

It made no sense for anyone who wanted to steal the gold to sink the boat. How could you get that much gold up from the bottom of the Mississippi? Unless, of course, you knew that the boat was going to sink in three feet of water.

Of course, it hadn’t sunk in three feet, but it had definitely not been completely immersed in the waters of the river. The gold might or might not be salvageable from where it was now. The point he had come to was that this job could not have been pulled off without the cooperation of the captain. He was the man whose job it was to make sure the boat went down in shallow water. No one else could have done it.

So, after breakfast, Clint decided that instead of going to Louisiana, all he had to do was find the captain and take him to the chief of police. Of course, when he prevented the gold from being stolen, Angela was not going to be happy, but he’d deal with that when the time came. She couldn’t really believe that he was going to help her steal the gold, could she? Did she really believe that stealing something that had already been stolen wasn’t stealing?

He wondered when the bodies of the dead would start to be brought to town, and wondered if they’d do that by the river or by buckboard. He was still hoping Dean Dillon was alive. Whatever Dillon’s scam was, he certainly deserved to have to deal with the consequences if he
was
alive.

Clint went to the offices of the Anchor Line to see if Fred Ward or Stan McKay could tell him where to find Captain Hatton. Both men were there.

“What do you want with him?” Ward asked.

“I just have a few questions.”

“I think he’s staying at a hotel here near the docks,” Ward said. “Stan?”

“Yeah, I know where he is, but he ain’t gonna be too happy to see you, Adams.”

“What’s he got against me?”

“Not you,” McKay said, “people. Landlubbers. You qualify on both counts.”

“Will you take me to see him?” Clint asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“Don’t be gone too long, Stan,” Ward said.

“I’ll just walk Adams over there and make sure the captain doesn’t try to take his head off.”

“Much obliged,” Clint said.

 

It was a run-down hotel patronized by dockworkers, crewmen from riverboats, and Captain Hatton.

“Hatton?” the desk clerk said. “Yeah, he’s here, room five, right back there.”

There was a hallway on the first floor, straight back. Clint and McKay headed down the hall.

When they got to room five, Clint knocked, waited, then knocked again. He looked at McKay.

“Maybe he’s drunk,” McKay said. “Or he just doesn’t want to answer.”

Clint tried the doorknob. It turned freely.

“Hey!” McKay said.

“Would the captain leave his room unlocked?”

“Well . . . no, probably not.”

Clint pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The captain was lying on his back on the bed.

“See?” McKay said. “Drunk.”

“I don’t smell any liquor,” Clint said. “On the other hand, I do smell blood.”

“What?”

Clint approached the bed. The mattress was soaked with Hatton’s blood.

“Is he dead?” McKay asked, shocked.

“Couldn’t be deader. You better go downstairs and send for the police.”

“Okay. Jesus, how was he killed?”

“Looks to me like a knife wound,” Clint said, staring at the body. “A lot of knife wounds.”

“Jesus.”

“Go ahead, Stan,” Clint said. “Get the police. I think Chief Radcliffe will be very interested in this.”

“Interested in what?”

“A little story I have to tell him,” Clint said. “Come on, get going!”

Chief Radcliffe looked down at the body of Captain Hatton.

“You know anything about this?” he asked Clint.

“I walked in and found him. That’s all I know.”

“Stan McKay seems to think you have a story to tell me.”

Slip of the tongue, Clint thought. Did he want to tell Radcliffe about the gold? Maybe he could make his point without it.

“I came here to ask Hatton some questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“About the boat sinking,” Clint said. “About him getting the boat someplace where it wouldn’t sink completely.”

“You think the captain had something to do with sinking the boat?”

“I think he was supposed to get the boat someplace where it was a lot more shallow, only he didn’t make it.”

“Why?”

“So somebody could get something off the boat with no trouble.”

“Blowing a boat up and sinking it is no trouble?” Radcliffe asked.

“Sinking that boat in three feet of water would have caused no trouble for anybody but Dillon and his investors. Somebody could have come along on a boat and taken what they wanted.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know what’s on the boat, Chief,” Clint said. “You’d have to ask Dillon that.”

“Or take a look.”

“You’d have to dive to do that, or raise the boat. And then look in every crate.”

“Isn’t there a manifest?”

“I wouldn’t know where that is.”

Radcliffe looked down at Hatton’s body.

“Murder,” the chief said. “I hate murder. I’m no detective.”

“Hire one,” Clint said. “Put him on your payroll.”

“What about you?” the chief asked. “You want the job?”

“I’m not a detective.”

“I get the feeling you’re a lot of things, Adams.”

“You need a real detective,” Clint said.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Meanwhile, I’ll have the body moved, talk to his men.”

“His men?”

“His copilot, crewman. I understand he had two of them with him, and that Dillon hired the rest.”

“Cheap labor,” Clint said. “They ran—or swam—when the fire started.”

“Why start a fire?” Chief asked.

“I don’t think that was intentional,” Clint said. “I think the whole plan went bad as soon as the explosion went off—and I think that happened earlier than planned.”

“What about Dillon?”

“What about him?”

“He’s nowhere to be found,” Radcliffe said. “Could he be behind the whole thing?”

“He could be dead.”

“That wouldn’t make him innocent.”

“You’re right, it wouldn’t.”

“You’re gonna look for him, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you weren’t a detective?”

“You don’t have to be a detective to track a man down.”

“If you come across any information I should have, you’ll tell me, right?”

“You’ll be the first, Chief”

 

They had to get out of the room so the doctor could come in, as well as the men who would be carrying the body out. They reconvened in front of the hotel, where a bit of a crowd had gathered to try and find out what happened, or maybe see some blood.

“So the last time we talked, you weren’t thinking about Captain Hatton as a conspirator?” the chief asked.

“No,” Clint said, “I woke up this morning with that thought in my head and decided to follow it up by having a talk with him. I went to the Anchor Line to see if they could help me find him. McKay said he knew where Hatton was staying, and here we are.”

The chief scratched his head as the captain’s body was carried out on a stretcher, covered with a sheet that was soaked through with his blood. The crowd was getting what they wanted.

“Remember,” the chief said, “anything you find out, you let me know.”

“You got my word, Chief,” Clint assured the man.

After Clint left the chief, he rented a horse from a stable in Vicksburg and rode it over to his hotel. He went to his room, retrieved his rifle, and carried it back downstairs. When he reached the horse, Angela was there, sitting on another horse right beside it.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I’m going with you.”

“Where?”

“After the gold.”

“What makes you think I’m going after the gold?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t you?” she asked. “It’s gold.”

He stared up at her.

“All right, then, where are you planning on going?” she asked.

“Bedford.”

“What’s in Bedford?”

He mounted his horse.

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

They used the Old Vicksburg Bridge to cross over to the Louisiana side, then rode south to Bedford.

“What’s so interestin’ about Bedford?” Angela asked.

“It’s the nearest town to where the boat sank,” he said. “It’s also the closest Louisiana town to Vicksburg.”

“So?”

“Somebody was watching us from the shore when we went to the boat yesterday,” he said. “I’m figuring whoever it was came from Bedford.”

“Why not Vicksburg?” she asked. “It’s bigger.”

“Wrong side of the river.”

They rode a little farther and then she asked, “Can I have a gun?”

“No.”

 

As they entered Bedford, Clint thought it shouldn’t be too hard to find the men he was looking for. Bedford was a pimple on the ass of Vicksburg.

He spotted the sheriff’s office right away and rode over to it.

“Stay here with the horses,” he said.

“Why?”

“You asked me if you could come along,” he said, “so now you have to do as you’re told.”

He could see she wanted to argue, but he didn’t give her the chance. He mounted the boardwalk and entered the sheriff’s office.

The man in the office looked up from his desk. He had a sheriff’s badge pinned to the front of a soiled shirt. He had long, dirty black hair and looked about forty. He was also eating chicken, the grease shiny on his hands and face.

“Help ya?”

“You Sheriff Farrell?”

“That’s me.”

“My name’s Clint Adams.”

“The Gunsmith?”

“Yes.”

Farrell looked unconcerned. He dropped the chicken leg he was eating. Clint was afraid he was going to offer to shake hands, but he didn’t. He just wiped his hand on his shirt.

“What can I do for you?”

Clint explained about the
Dolly Madison
and why he was in Bedford.

“I heard about that boat goin’ down.”

“Any strangers in town lately?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact,” the sheriff said. “Three.”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” Farrell said. “They had a room at the hotel, but I don’t know if they’re still there.”

“Any place in town to rent a buckboard?”

“Sure, the livery.”

“I’ll check over there, then.”

“What then?”

“I’m going to take a ride out to the site where the boat went down.”

“Want me to go with ya?” Farrell asked.

“No,” Clint said, “that’s okay. I’m just going out to take a look.”

“You expectin’ these three to be lootin’ the boat?” Farrell asked.

“It’s possible.”

“You an owner?”

“No,” I said, “but I’m friends with the owner.”

Farrell picked up his chicken again and said, “Close enough.”

“Yeah, I rented out a buckboard, but it was a funny thing,” the fat liveryman said.

“What?” Clint asked.

“They wanted me to reinforce it,” the man said. “Like they was gonna be haulin’ somethin’ real heavy.”

Clint turned his head and looked out through the front door to where Angela was waiting with the horses again.

“Did you do the work?”

“Oh yeah, and I did a good job, too.”

“When did they pick it up?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

“Did they leave town with it?”

“I think so. Leastways, I ain’t seen them since.”

“Any names?”

“Naw,” the man said. “I didn’t need names to do the job. And they paid me in advance.”

“Okay,” Clint said. “Thanks.”

They went to the hotel next, and once again Angela stayed outside.

“No, sir, they ain’t checked out yet,” the clerk said.

“Okay, thanks.” Clint turned to leave, then turned back. “Oh, one thing. If they come back, don’t tell them anyone was asking for them.”

“If they come back?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, “they may not be able to. Understand?”

The young clerk swallowed and nodded. Clint walked out.

“Where are we goin’ now?” Angela asked as they rode out of town. They had been there for half an hour.

“Out to the boat.”

“Are we gonna get the gold?”

He looked at her.

“Where would we put it?” he asked. “In our saddlebags?”

“So then we’ll just let them bring it up, and we’ll take it from them?”

“Let’s see what happens when we get there,” he said.