“Eight, is it?”
“Ayuh. At Donallo’s Chop House. Do you know it?”
“I know it.”
“Dominick Donallo keeps a private suite upstairs for special guests.”
“That I did not know, sir.”
“I’ll be in that room tonight at eight. Me, mayhap a bottle of champagne. Roast quail, I think, with wild rice dressing.” He smiled. “And whatever else sounds good.”
“Eight o’clock?”
“Uh-huh.”
She smiled. And did not answer. Not exactly. “Albert,” she called.
“Yes, ma’am,” the driver answered from the box high up and in front of the coach.
“You may drive on now, thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The driver took up a light contact with the mouths of his team and softly clucked to them. The grays leaned into their harness, and the coach rolled forward.
Longarm’s last impression was of the woman—whose name he did not yet know—sending a secretive cat-smile at him as the vehicle pulled on down Colfax in the direction of the distant, gold-domed capitol building.
Chapter 2
“You’re late,” Henry accused as Longarm ambled into the office of the United States Marshal for the Denver District, U.S. Justice Department, located in the Federal Building close to the Mint on Colfax Avenue.
“You’d reckon it was worth it if you knew the reason,” Longarm responded, thinking of the lady in the coach. Eight P.M. it would be, b’damn. Upstairs at Dominick’s place. He was looking forward to it. And then afterward … well, who knew what all could happen afterward. He removed his Stetson and hung it on a bare arm of the coatrack standing in the corner.
“You might think it worthwhile,” Henry countered, “but the boss is in a positively foul mood. And I think you have something to do with it.”
“Me? Dammit, Henry, this time I’m innocent. I swear. I haven’t done the least thing out of line. Not for weeks and weeks.” Longarm grinned at the marshal’s office clerk and added a wink for good measure. “Something close t’ that long anyhow.”
“I’m serious, Longarm. I haven’t seen him this upset since … I can’t remember how long.”
This time Longarm frowned. “Hey, I’m serious too. I really haven’t done anything he should be mad at me about. Honest.”
“Be that as it may, Longarm, he said he wanted to see you as soon as you came in.”
“C’mon in with me then, Henry. You can hold him back if he goes for m’ throat.”
That elicited a hint of smile from the slightly built, bespectacled fellow behind the desk, and Henry motioned for Longarm to proceed into Marshal William Vail’s inner office. Henry did not, however, choose to join Longarm and the marshal in there.
“You wanted t’ see me, Billy?” Longarm asked from the doorway.
“I do,” said the balding peace officer—peace-office administrator was closer to the truth of that—from the far side of the room. “Close the door behind you and have a seat.”
“Yes, sir.” Henry’s opinion seemed right well-founded, Longarm decided. There was nothing light or pleasant in Billy’s expression this morning. Longarm did as he was told and sat gingerly on the front few inches of a straight-backed chair before the marshal’s big desk. His normal posture was lax and casual. But not today. That, he figured, would be as good as asking for Billy to let fly with whatever bees were swarming in his bonnet.
Vail, who was getting a bit of a belly on him now that his days were spent largely riding a chair instead of being out ahorseback in active pursuit of wanted felons, paced the length of the room a few times in silence before taking his own much more comfortable seat at the desk.
He spun the swivel chair around so that he was facing away from Longarm and sat like that for several long moments before he turned back around and gave his top deputy a long, slow stare that was barely short of being a glare of disapproval.
“Are you acquainted with the Attorney General of the United States of America, Deputy Long?”
It seemed a damned odd question. And there was something in the tone of voice … Longarm couldn’t quite put a finger on it. But there was something a trifle out of the ordinary there.
“If you mean do I know who I work for, well o’ course I do. But if you mean am I personally acquainted with the gentleman, then no, I don’t recollect that I’ve ever met him.”
“And how would he be acquainted with you, Deputy?” Vail returned.
Longarm could only shrug. “I can’t see as he should be, boss. I mean, I s’pose I’d be mentioned in some reports and such. But that’d all be routine stuff. I can’t think of anything more’n that.” He hesitated. Then asked the obvious. “Why, d’ you ask?”
The marshal frowned. And pulled a slip of flimsy memo paper out of a desk drawer. He consulted it for a moment before he spoke. “This reached me late yesterday afternoon. I would have discussed it with you sooner except I wanted to, um, confirm it … so to speak … with the United States attorney for this district before I acted on the, uh, request. Do you have any knowledge about it? Prior knowledge, that is?”
“Billy, I got no idea in th world what it is on that paper that’s graveling your backside.”
“Nothing is, as you put it, ‘graveling’ me, Deputy.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.” Nothing chewing on him? Huh! Who the hell did Billy think he was fooling with that one? Not that this seemed a sensible time to mention it. But Mrs. Long’s baby boy Custis hadn’t been born yesterday. Not quite. “Might be I could tell you better if I knew what it was you was talking about,” Longarm suggested.
Billy turned the paper around and slid it across the bare, polished surface of his desk. Longarm picked it up and gave it a quick look-see. Then he frowned too.
“Addington, Texas? I never heard of it, Billy. Nor of this Norman Colton.”
“Addington is on the Neches River between Nacogdoches and Crockett. I know because I looked it up. Does that do anything to jog your memory?”
“No, sir. Sorry.”
“And Colton was postmaster there.” It was obviously intended as a question, never mind that it wasn’t posed as one. Longarm took time to give it some careful thought, then shake his head.
“I still never heard of neither the town nor the person, Billy. I’m sure of it.”
The marshal’s frown did not change in the slightest. “The request for your services that you see there over the signature of the U.S. attorney for this district came to me direct from the attorney general. Asking for you, Deputy. By name. And at once.”
“Billy, I got no earthly idea why somebody that’s got no cause ever to’ve heard o’ me would be wanting me sent t’ some place that I never heard of t’ look into the murder of a postmaster I never heard of neither.”
“This assignment was not your idea then?”
“Hell no.”
“And you have no idea what might be going on behind my back in this matter?”
“None, boss. Really.”
“I don’t like it when people, in particular when they are people with political ties and political dealings, interfere with my office. This matter is not within our normal jurisdiction, as you well know. And while you have had a certain rapport in the past when dealing with Texas Rangers, Long, this does not involve them. This is purely a federal matter insofar as it appears here. But not our federal matter. So why am I being asked … no, that isn’t true at all … why am I being ordered to relinquish one of my men on an independent assignment? Eh?”
“I wish I had an answer for you, Billy, but I damn sure don’t.” And that, by damn, was the guarantee truth if ever he spoke it.
“As I mentioned earlier, I have already spoken with the United States attorney about this order from Washington. He professes to know no more about it than I do or than you say you do. The bottom line, Long, is that I seem to have no choice about it. I am instructed to send you to Addington, Texas, at the earliest possible moment. You are to take the first available transportation and once there you are to investigate the death of one Norman Albert Colton, postmaster and presumably therefore a political appointee within the Attorney General’s affiliated party, and you are to take whatever action you deem appropriate at the conclusion of your investigation. Is that clear, Deputy?”