The Lady Doctor's Alibi (12 page)

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.”

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.”

“She doesn’t care,” Rufus said. “Neither do I, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Will I be paid enough not to care?”

“You’ll be paid plenty,” Rufus said, “and any help you need will be paid, too.”

“Help?”

“The woman has a deputy guarding her,” Rufus said, “and there’s a nurse.”

“The lady doctor, she is the gringa, es verdad? The one they call ‘Doc Veracruz’?”

“That’s right.”

“She does a lot of good down here on the docks,” Franco said. “I will not be very popular if anyone finds out I killed her.”

“Nobody will find out.”

“And the nurse? Also a gringa?”

“No,” Rufus said, “the nurse is a Mexican.”

“I am to kill a Mexican girl? Why?”

“That’s what the lady wants,” Rufus said. “The girl was her husband’s nurse and she fired her, now she’s back.”

Franco thought a moment, then said, “No, I will not kill her. She has done nothing.”

“There is a lot of money—”

“You do it.”

“What?”

“You kill the girl,” Franco said, “I will kill the Gunsmith, and the gringa doctor.”

“I don’t—”

“You can keep the money for the girl,” Franco said, “and you can have the girl to do what you want with first.”

Rufus hesitated.

“Come on,” Franco said, “you have been with this ugly gringa too long. What about a nice, pretty Mexican girl? She is pretty, no?”

“She is.”

“Then you will do it?”

Rufus felt that Franco either didn’t want to do it himself, or he had some reason for wanting Rufus to do it. Maybe he wanted Rufus to be in it as deeply as he was.

And the little nurse was pretty. Rufus usually had to pay for pretty girls.

“All right,” he said finally.

“You will do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Bueno,” Franco said. “Then let us talk about money . . .”

Clint went from Auntie’s to Josephina’s. He needed a little more information about the Cajun lady.

“Hungry already?” Josephina asked as he entered. Her place was half full, and would continue to fill.

“I’m not here to eat, Josephina,” he said. “Can I come into the kitchen?”

“Clint,” she said, “I am busy. I do not have time for—” she started.

“It’s not that,” he said. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to take a chance on either of us getting burned. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“All right,” she said, “but I must keep working.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I’ll try not to get in your way.”

She took him into the kitchen, where there were pots and pans on the stove steaming and bubbling.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I want to know about Auntie.”

“What about her?”

“Can I trust her?”

“To do what?”

Clint hesitated. Maybe Josephina didn’t know that men like Rufus and Franco were also customers of Auntie’s, acquaintances and, in some cases, maybe even friends. If Josephina was Auntie’s “girl,” maybe Rufus and Franco were two of her “boys.”

“To deliver a message for me.”

“A message?” Josephina repeated while stirring something in a pot. “Oh yes, she does that for many people.”

“She does?”

Josephina nodded.

“She knows so many people that many come to her when they are looking for someone,” Josephina said. “Auntie knows almost everyone in Veracruz.”

“Did she know Dr. Graham and his wife?”

Josephina paused in her stirring.

“If she did, I am not aware,” she said. “I should have said Auntie knows most of—how would you say it?—el común.”

Clint thought a moment, then said, “Common?”

“Sí, yes,” Josephina said, “the common people.”

“So she didn’t rub elbows with the wealthier people in town?”

Josephina laughed.

“No,” she said, “Auntie lives and works down here with us, and also she is black
and
Cajun. There are not so many in the white community in Veracruz, and they do not come down here.”

“Except for men like Rufus.”

“Yes, Rufus,” she said. “Men like him, for hire. How do you say—mercenario?”

“Mercenary,” he said. “Mercenaries.”

“Sí.”

“And they eat at Auntie’s?”

“Here, Auntie’s,” she said. “We both feed the sailors, the dockworkers, the laborers . . .”

“The common people.”

“Sí.”

“Josephina, do you also take messages and pass them on?”

“Sometimes.”

“Like for Franco, if somebody’s looking for him?”

“Sí.”

“I asked Auntie to pass a message to him for me. Will she do it?”

“Yes, she will.” She released the spoon she’d been using to stir and turned to face him. “But what message?”

“That I’m looking for him.”

“When she tells him that—who you are and that you are lookin’ for him—he will come to find you.”

“That’s what I want.”

“And he will kill you.”

“He’ll try.”

She grabbed his arm, took a fistful of his shirt.

“You must know that he will not come alone,” she told him.

“I figure he’ll bring Rufus, and some others.”

“Ah,” she said, releasing his shirt, “you are loco en la cabeza.” She tapped her head to indicate she thought he was crazy in the head.

“That may be,” he said, “but don’t worry, I won’t be alone either.”

“I hope not,” she said. She pointed her finger at him. “If you get killed, I will never forgive you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now, get out,” she said. “I have work.”

“I’m going.”

He turned, but she snapped, “Wait!”

He turned and she threw her arms around his neck and held on tightly, then released him.

“Now go!”

He left.

They chose a small saloon right on the docks. Franco decided he’d need four men. Rufus told him they’d have to pay them very little to make the money stretch.

“I thought your ugly gringa had much money.”

“She will,” he said, “after she buries her husband. Right now she’s on kind of a budget.”

“We will pay them little,” Franco said, “but my friend, there will be much more for us after she buries him, eh?”

“Yes,” Rufus said. But he thought,
Much more for me, maybe.

They sat at a back table and interviewed the men as they came in. They were all muscle for hire, but Rufus and Franco were looking for men who would kill for a nickel. Many of those would come off the boats, looking for a quick dollar before they got back on and shipped out. They could commit murder and get away with it—and they also would not come back for more money.

Rufus sat with Franco but had no say while the Mexican chose his men. There were one or two men who Rufus knew and thought would be useful, but Franco disregarded them.

Rufus also noticed that Franco was not telling anyone about the Gunsmith—not yet anyway.

“Angel,” Franco said to a tall, thin man who stepped up. “You are back?”

“For a day or two,” Angel said. “Will that be enough time, amigo?”

“Plenty of time,” Franco said. “Get yourself a drink, amigo.”

Franco picked out four men, all Mexicans, had them go to the bar for a drink, and sent the rest home. It was getting dark out by the time he gathered the men at a table to tell them what they were in for.

“First,” he said, “we have to kill a woman. Who has a problem with that?”

“A Mexican woman?” Angel asked.

Franco shook his head.

“A gringa doctor.” He didn’t tell them that Rufus would be killing a Mexican woman.

Angel shrugged, as did the others. No one had a problem with that.

“There might also be a deputy,” Franco said.

“A Mexican deputy?” Angel asked.

“No,” Franco said, “both the deputy and the sheriff are gringos.”