The janitor ambled off. York wished everyone could be as happy with their lot in life as Charley. He wished he could.
The big, well-dressed banker was behind his desk but on his feet, waiting for York, who walked to the waiting visitor’s chair. The two men shook hands and exchanged perfunctory smiles, then took their seats. York set his hat on the banker’s desk.
“My apologies, Sheriff,” Carter said with a flip of the hand. “I meant to send Charley around to talk to you, as you requested. It just slipped my mind. Fortunately, he happens to be here now.”
“Rarely works mornings, I understand.”
“Right. But he had some cleaning to tend to. Of course, I don’t know how much you can hope to get out of Charley. He’s rather a simple soul, as I’m sure you know.”
“Well, out of the mouth of babes.”
Carter twitched a smile at the biblical homily, then asked, “Is there, uh, anything else I can do for you, Sheriff? Is there any progress to report on your inquiry into the missing funds?”
“No progress, sir. I’m here on something unrelated. Something very sad. For this institution, even tragic.”
Carter sat forward. “What is it, man?”
“Your clerk... your recently promoted chief cashier... was found shot to death, last night. In the alley behind the Victory Saloon.”
“Oh, my God, no.” Carter sighed heavily, shook his head, then alert eyes flew to York. “What were the circumstances? Robbery?”
“Possibly. When Doctor Miller finished up his post-mortem examination, I went through Mr. Upton’s clothing. He had no money on him. Did he carry a watch and chain?”
The banker nodded. “He did. He was rather proud of that, actually. Gold. And a Swiss watch, inscribed by his father on the occasion of Herbert’s twenty-first birthday.”
“Well, watch and chain weren’t on him. I haven’t had a chance to check his lodgings yet.”
Carter was shaking his head again, staring past York into nothing. “The Victory. I warned Herbert many times about that den of iniquity. He was seeing one of the girls there, you know.”
“Right. Pearl Kenner. They were engaged, I understand.”
A bitter laugh rumbled out of him. “That was Mr. Upton’s belief, but I fear... I don’t mean to speak out of turn...”
“Please.”
He raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice. “Rumor has it that this Pearl still works at the Victory. That while she told Herbert that she had quit — they were of late living together at his rooming house, in sin, you know — she continued working afternoons, when he was otherwise engaged here at the bank. Making a fool of him.” A deep sigh. “And I’m afraid... I should leave it there.”
“Please, go on.”
Another sigh seemed to signal a decision to hold nothing back. “I’m afraid that I only encouraged this foolish adventure by giving Herbert a raise and that promotion. But he was a good man, a reliable man, and deserved as much. I’ll be lost here, until I can find a suitable replacement.”
Wouldn’t that make a fine eulogy at the services, York thought.
The banker put a hand over his face and breathed hard. His other hand dug out a handkerchief and he touched it to his eyes.
“Forgive me,” he said, choking up a little. “Herbert was... well, he was like a brother to me. Or rather... a son. My wife, rest her soul, and I, we never had any children, and I’m afraid I grew rather too fond of the young man over the years. He had a lovely manner.”
“I didn’t know him that well,” York said. “Actually, I wonder if he wasn’t less of a friend to this bank than you might think.”
The handkerchief came away from eyes that looked pretty dry to York. “What is it you mean? Are you implying something... untoward, Sheriff?”
York didn’t mince words: “I think Mr. Upton may have been the inside man on the bank robbery.”
Carter’s eyes showed plenty of white now. “What? Why, that’s patently ridiculous. That’s absurd, man!”
York shrugged. “Someone had to tell the robbers about that bagged-up money you were preparing to ship to Wells Fargo. Those boys knew just what to ask for, and just when to make their armed withdrawal. Your clerk was armed, too, but did nothing about the robbery, while it was under way.”
Carter was puffing up with indignation. “Well, that was at my direction!”
“Perhaps. But as your highest-ranking clerk, Upton was in a position to either use his weapon, which he did not, or to discourage the other clerks from using theirs, which he did.”
The banker was shaking his head so much, so hard, the air was stirring. “Sheriff, this doesn’t sound like Herbert Upton at all. He was levelheaded, and this bank... and having a prominent position here... meant the world to him.”
York turned a palm up. “But you said it yourself, Mr. Carter. He was on an adventure of love with a trained courtesan. Mr. Upton did not strike me as a Romeo or a Casanova. He was a rather homely man... meaning the deceased no disrespect. He might prove easy prey for a vampire female.”
Carter was still shaking his head, but more slowly, as if York’s words held that much weight. “If Herbert was one of them, as you say... and I find that preposterous... why did he wind up as... as he did?”
“I think the robbers, or another accomplice of theirs, considered Mr. Upton a loose end... and tied him off.”
The banker frowned, leaning forward. “One of these Gauge men?” he offered, tentatively.
“Very likely. I’m already keeping a close watch on the rabble Harry Gauge brought into the area — we’ve established that the three who took down this bank were indeed our former sheriff’s associates.”
“And of course you’ll be investigating the trollop,” Carter said, tapping his desk with a fist, “this Pearl woman.”
“I will.” York stood. “You’re the first I’ve told about Mr. Upton’s murder, sir. Other than Doc Miller, of course. I figured you would want to break it, gentle, to those who worked with Mr. Upton.”
Carter got to his feet. “Yes. Yes, I will. Thank you for that consideration... You haven’t interviewed my janitor yet. Would you like to borrow my desk again...?”
“No, thank you, though,” York said with an easy smile, tugging on his hat. “I’ll take Charley somewhere for a talk... not the jail, I assure you. We wouldn’t want to give the wrong appearance.”
“No! Certainly not.”
York checked on Charley, who was just finishing mopping up the area in back of the cashier windows. The janitor put his tools away and joined York, who walked him out of the bank and down the street to the Victory.
Hardly anyone was in there, and no one was drinking. But a bartender — not Hub, a stout fellow the sheriff didn’t know by name — was behind the counter, sitting on a stool, having a cup of coffee, reading a dime novel about Buffalo Bill.
York leaned on the counter. “Could you rustle me up some of that Arbuckle’s?” That was the brand of coffee everybody in town served. “And my friend here a beer?”
The bartender nodded, climbed off his stool, and went into the room in back of the counter. He returned with York’s cup of coffee and then drew a beer for a grinning Charley, whose Adam’s apple was bobbing in anticipation.
York guided Charley to a table among many empty ones, but as far from the counter as possible.
The sheriff said, “Seems like you had a real mess to clean up this morning.”
“I surely did.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes folks works late and brings food in and things gets spilt.”
“Is that what happened last evening, you think?”
Charley had some beer. “Maybe. Whatever if it was, it shore took some elbow grease gettin’ it offen that floor. It was sticky and where’s it wasn’t sticky, it was hard like peanut brittle. But I took enough soap and water after it, it’s all shiny new again, the flooring.”