“No,” Longarm agreed, “I suppose not. All right, I’ll get the stove fired up and you can do the cooking.”
He had to go outside and chop firewood, but that posed no problem, and once they had a fire going, Stella was all business. They soon enjoyed coffee and a big stack of pancakes, which they doused liberally with maple syrup.
“I have to get going,” Longarm said when he’d had his fill.
“You’ll be back tonight, won’t you?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, but it might be late. I mean to stick around until I’ve made some kind of progress. Any suspects that I ought to start with?”
Stella frowned. “The most likely suspect is Noah’s brother, Nick.”
“He’s already at the top of my list,” Longarm said. “Anyone else?”
“His father?”
“No,” Longarm said, “I don’t think so. Abe Huffington may be a crooked and ruthless politician, but he did love his son and I really can’t imagine him killing Noah.”
“You’re right,” Stella said. “Abe hates my guts, but he did love his favorite son.”
“Is there anyone besides Noah’s brother that stands to profit from his murder?”
“Not that I can think of,” Stella said. “Abe is pretty wealthy and Nick is very greedy, so that seems to be a pretty good motive to me.”
“And also to me,” Longarm said. “It’s also entirely possible that Nick got his hands on your stiletto, then hired someone to use it to murder Noah. That way, he would have an airtight alibi when Noah was killed.”
“Well, then how would you ever get a conviction?”
“Somehow,” Longarm said, “I’d have to get the real killer to confess that he’d been hired by Noah. He might, for example, do this in exchange for a prison sentence instead of a death sentence.”
“I see.”
“Does Nick know anyone who would do such a thing?”
“Lots of people,” Stella answered. “He runs with a pretty rough crowd over in Placerville. There’s one man named Art Mead who is a known gun for hire. He’s a tall, thin man with a horrible knife scar across the right side of his face. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been hired by Nick before.”
“I’ll check him out,” Longarm promised.
When Longarm rode back into Auburn, he went straight to the marshal’s office, and learned that both Abe and Nick Huffington had been extremely upset to learn that Stella was missing.
“What did you tell them?” Longarm asked.
Marshal Walker shrugged. “I said that we figured justice would be better served in Sacramento. Now, I didn’t actually say that that was where you or the deputy took Stella, but that’s sure enough the conclusion that the Huffingtons reached. I understand that they boarded today’s noon train that will take them down to Sacramento.”
“Good,” Longarm said. “With Abe and his son out of the way, I can operate a little more freely in this investigation.”
“Where are you going to start?”
“With the undertaker, I suppose.”
“He’s kind of strange,” Walker cautioned. “It would probably help if I went along with you.”
“Are you up to that?” Longarm said, worried that the man was still weak and unsteady.
“Yeah,” Walker replied. “I won’t be none too fast getting over there, and my head is still throbbing like a Comanche’s war drum, but I’ll make it. Fact is, some fresh air might perk me up a bit.”
“Suit yourself,” Longarm told him. “But there may be some folks out there that will want to cause you some grief.”
“I know that,” Walker replied, “and that’s why I’d like to have you along.”
Longarm understood completely. Marshal Walker needed his support in case some hothead did want to make a fight.
“Then let’s go,” Longarm said, opening the door.
“You men be careful,” Marshal Jones warned.
“Count on it,” Longarm told the lawman from Placerville as he walked outside.
The very first person they met was Lola, who came hurrying up to greet them. “Pete,” she said, taking the marshal’s arm, “you shouldn’t be up and around so soon.”
“Ah,” the marshal answered, “I’ll be fine. I just need some fresh air and exercise.”
“You need rest,” Lola argued, taking his arm as they walked down the boardwalk.
When they reached the undertaker’s office and went inside, Longarm could smell the mixture of formaldehyde and death. A short, nervous man appeared wearing a black coat, starched white shirt, and black tie.
“My, my,” he said, eyes darting between his visitors.
“It is good to see you up and about, Marshal Walker! But I really didn’t expect any visitors.”
“We want to examine Noah Huffington’s body,” Walker told the man.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Huffington collected his son’s body and it accompanied him to Sacramento.”
“Are you sure?” Longarm asked.
“Of course I’m sure,” the undertaker replied. “Believe me, I had expected to handle all the arrangements and that the deceased would be buried right here in Auburn. But then, without even the courtesy of a warning, Mr. Huffington and his son appeared this morning and told me to place the body in my best coffin and that they would transport it to Sacramento. I was very, very upset, but what could I do?”
“Nothing, I suppose,” Longarm said, wondering if it would be worth traveling to Sacramento.
“What can you tell us about Noah’s wounds?” Walker asked the undertaker.
“They were dreadful … and fatal, of course.”
Longarm frowned. “How many times did it appear that he was actually stabbed?”
“At least five. All in the back.”
“All in the back?”
“That’s right,” the mortician replied. “Why do you sound surprised?”
“Because,” Longarm said, “we understand that Noah’s knuckles were bruised and it was obvious that he had put up a hard struggle before being murdered.”
“The part about his knuckles is true,” the undertaker said. “And poor Mr. Huffington did suffer a terrible beating.”
“How do you explain that?” Longarm asked. “I mean, if Noah had been caught by surprise and stabbed repeatedly in the back, how could he have had the strength to fight his murderer?”
“I haven’t any idea,” the undertaker answered. “And frankly, that kind of question is not one that I choose to ponder. My job is to insure the dignity of the deceased, not try to guess how or why they died.”
“Who has the stiletto?” Longarm asked, looking to both men for the answer.
“I don’t know,” Walker admitted, looking a little sheepish. “Maybe Dr. Davis.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Longarm said. “Has anyone seen Judge Gross yet?”
“I heard that he’s arrived,” Walker said. “And that a jury is already being selected to sentence and then hang those last two train robbers.”
Longarm nodded with understanding, and was glad that Stella wasn’t also going to be the victim of Judge Gross’s kangaroo court. “Well,” he mused, “I guess that there is no point in hanging around here now that we know Noah’s body has been removed.”
“I overheard Mr. Huffington say that Noah would be buried tomorrow morning.”
“We could get to Sacramento in time to examine the body,” Walker suggested.
“No,” Longarm said, “that won’t be necessary.”
“Then what are we going to do now?”
“You are going to go back to bed,” Longarm replied. “Lola, why don’t you take him home and then chain him to his bed, if you have to.”
“I will,” she replied, taking the marshal’s arm and heading outside.
“One more question,” Longarm said before leaving the undertaker. “To the best of your recollection, did you see anything unusual about the body?”