Longarm and the Deadly Restitution (9781101618776) Page 9

  “Understood,” Longarm said with his mind already on that Horatio Manatee file that rested in a cabinet almost within his reach.

  Chapter 14

  Longarm stood in the front office while a clerk slowly thumbed through the file cabinets looking for the one marked “Manatee.” Suddenly, there was a commotion at the front door and a deputy was trying to drag a very intoxicated man into the office to be booked and sent to a cell.

  “Excuse me,” the clerk said. “Deputy Morrison looks like he could use my help.”

  “I’ll just go ahead and finish looking through this file cabinet,” Longarm offered.

  Distracted and harried, the clerk nodded and went to help the officer, who was by now barely holding his own in a full-blown fistfight. Seeing this as a great opportunity, Longarm quickly started going through the file cabinet and soon found what he was looking for. He opened the Manatee file and there was a letter addressed to a Miss Milly Ott. The letter had her address neatly printed on the front, and because it had not been postmarked, Longarm knew that it had never been sent or even opened. No doubt someone had intended it to be delivered to Milly Ott but had forgotten and so the letter had remained in the file.

  I wonder if there is something inside that might give me valuable information, Longarm thought.

  He frowned as he picked up and studied the letter. It was against his principles to open what was probably a love letter between two people who were strangers to him. On the other hand, the return address showed him that the letter had been written from a rooming house in Rawlins, Wyoming, and so he knew that it might contain some really important information.

  Longarm slipped Milly Ott’s letter into his coat pocket. He glanced through the remainder of the thin file, seeing nothing of interest, and returned it to the filing cabinet.

  The clerk and the deputy had finally subdued the big brawler, and now the clerk came back, out of breath and looking disheveled. “You found the file, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Longarm said. “Not much in there, I’m afraid.”

  “We should probably just throw it out. How old is it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “There is a date on the inside of the cover. If it’s over two years, we toss it, but that’s one of those little jobs that I never quite get around to doing.”

  “Sure,” Longarm said. “Thanks for your help. That drunk looked like a mean one, and he’s quite a handful.”

  The clerk watched the first officer and another who had just shown up manhandle the big drunk down a hallway toward the back of the building, which was a block of cells. “Ormly gets that way every few weeks and beats the hell out of someone and gets himself arrested. We jail him for about a week and then have no choice but to turn him loose. One of these days Ormly is either going to get himself shot . . . or he’ll beat someone to death, and then he’ll either hang or go to prison.”

  “You’re right,” Longarm agreed as he headed outside.

  Once on the street, he removed the letter from his pocket, opened it and read the contents, which were brief.

  Dear Milly,

  I think I’ve found them murdering brothers! Not sure but most likely the Raney pair and they don’t know who I am. I plan to do a little more digging here and when I’ve got enough information I’m going to get the drop on them and then it’ll be over. I’d rather kill them and take them back to Denver, but either way I’ll get the reward and we can get married and have a good life together. Maybe the sheriff will even offer to give me my old job back, but I might not take it. I’ll send this letter later today and be in your arms and bed damn soon and we can roll in all that cash that Mayor Plummer will pay me. Sure can’t wait to get some of your red-hot lovin’!

  Your soon-to-be husband

  Horatio

  Longarm reread the letter and then noted the address. It was very possible that Milly had moved but certainly worth a chance that he’d find her, and she might have received an earlier letter that would give him some more information about the Raney brothers.

  • • •

  Longarm knew exactly where Milly Ott lived, and he wasted no time in walking over to her neighborhood at the east end of the town. It was an average, working class neighborhood, and for the most part the houses were neat and well tended.

  When he stopped in front of Milly’s house, he saw that it was one of the nicer ones, with a comfortable front porch. There was a sign on the front fence that advertised sewing, custom dressmaking, and drapery. The walk leading up to the house had been shoveled, and there seemed to be a light on inside, so Longarm went up to the door and knocked.

  A moment passed before the door opened a crack and Longarm was face-to-face with a young and attractive woman with red hair and freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m hoping so.”

  “Do you have a shirt or something that needs mending? I’m kind of backed up today on some drapery for a woman who is in quite a hurry, but . . .”

  “I’m not here for your sewing services,” he said, reaching into his vest pocket for his badge and only then remembering he’d handed it over to the mayor. “Uh . . . I work for the federal marshal’s office, and I’m here to ask you a few questions about Mr. Horatio Manatee.”

  Her smile evaporated. “He was murdered in Rawlins, Wyoming, some time ago, so . . .”

  “I know that, Miss Ott. I just left the sheriff’s office, and he told me about Mr. Manatee and how he was trying to find a vicious pair of murderers for the mayor.”

  “That’s right, but what does this have to do with anything after all this time?”

  “I’m also looking for the Raney brothers.”

  “I see.” She studied him closely. “Do you work for Sheriff Lanier?”

  “No. I’m a federal marshal.”

  “May I see your badge or some identification?”

  “I, uh, gave the mayor my badge just this morning. But if you want, I can get a letter or something so you know that I’m really a law officer. Or you could come down with me to the Federal Building and . . .”

  “I don’t have time to do anything of the sort, Mr. . . .”

  “Mr. Long. I really need to talk to you, Miss Ott, about what Horatio Manatee found in Rawlins.”

  “I don’t know what he found, other than an untimely death. You see, he wanted to marry me.”

  “And you didn’t want to marry him?”

  “I was . . . was considering it. Horatio was handsome and charming, intelligent, and he could be very sweet, but . . .”

  “But what, Miss Ott?”

  “He had a very violent temper. It was quick and then it was gone. His temper got him into trouble at the sheriff’s office, and there were times when I found him to be . . . well, frightening.”

  “Maybe his temper got him killed in Rawlins.”

  “I expect that is exactly what happened,” Milly Ott said, folding her arms across her bosom. “Anyway, I grieved for Horatio. I had hopes that in time he would learn to control his temper, find a suitable occupation, and become a very good and steady man. Unfortunately, he wasn’t given that time.”

  “I sure do need to talk to you, Miss Ott, and I promise to be brief.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “And you really are a federal officer of the law?”

  “I swear it. I’m just on kind of a temporary absence.”

  “If that is the case, then why are you here?”

  “I want to find and bring the Raney brothers to a way overdue justice. As you know, they murdered the mayor’s wife long ago. The mayor’s son is now a deputy, and I want to help him find the men who murdered his mother long ago in Baltimore.”

  “For the five-thousand-dollar reward, I’m sure.”

  “No
,” Longarm said. “For reasons more complicated. May I come in for a few minutes? I have something that belongs to you.”

  “To me?”

  “Yes.” Longarm took out the letter that he’d taken from the sheriff’s office and showed it to the young woman but did not hand it to her.

  “Come in,” she said. “If I don’t take the time with you, I’ll be distracted by curiosity all day.”

  “I’d imagine that would be a problem if you’re mending things and making drapes.”

  “Yes, it would be.” Milly Ott opened the door and allowed Longarm entrance. She pointed to a chair and asked, “I have a pot of tea brewing, would you like a cup?”

  “I thought you were in a big hurry.”

  “I am, but I can work while we talk. But first, I want to see that letter. Is it from Horatio?”

  “Yes. He wrote it before he died in Rawlins.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m not sure that I want to read it until I’m alone. I might cry and then we’d both be embarrassed.”

  “I understand.” Longarm gave her the letter. “But I sure need to know if Horatio Manatee sent you any letters after this one that would give me some information.”

  “The letter has been opened,” she said, looking up at him sharply. “Did you open and read it?”

  “I did.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I had to, Miss Ott.”

  Milly Ott sighed and read the brief letter. Longarm closely watched her expression, and he read the gamut of emotions she was experiencing. When she was through with the letter, she handed it back to Longarm.

  “I don’t need it,” he said. “You can keep it.”

  In reply, Milly walked over to a little potbellied stove that was burning and tossed the letter inside.

  She clasped her hands together and came right up to Longarm. “That might have seemed callous, but the truth is that I believe we should put the past in the past. I have kept the things of my late mother because I loved her very much and miss her. I burned everything of my late father’s because he was a beast and an uncouth lout.”

  Longarm took a seat. “What else besides that letter can you tell me about Horatio Manatee and what he found in Rawlins?”

  She sat down across from him on a nice sofa and said, “I’m sure now that I’ve read that letter that Horatio really did find those brothers. And I’m quite sure that it was they who murdered him when he tried to arrest them.”

  “Did Horatio say anything else in an earlier letter that would help me find the brothers?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did. The very last letter that I received from him before the one you just showed me said that the brothers had told some people that they were leaving Rawlins and heading to Nevada, to work for a big company that was hauling ore out of some mines.”

  “Do you remember the name of the town in Nevada?”

  “It was Gold Hill.” She looked at him. “Have you ever heard of such a place?”

  “Yes. It’s on the Comstock Lode right below Virginia City. Both towns have seen their best days in terms of silver and gold, but I’m sure that there are still a number of mines operating at a profit.”

  “Well,” Milly said with a shrug, “that’s what I remember Horatio writing to tell me from Rawlins.”

  “I don’t suppose you kept the . . .”

  “No, I burned it, the same way I burned the one you just gave me.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I’m a woman who tries hard to always look forward and never backward. Nothing in the world can be gained by looking to your past with regrets or even pride.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.” Longarm picked up his hat and started for the door. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

  “Are you married, Mr. Long?”

  “What?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

  “I asked if you are married.”

  “Nope. I’ve always been a bachelor.”

  “And as handsome as you are, I’ll just bet you’ve broken your share of hearts.”

  He blushed. “I never set out to break a heart, but it might have happened a time or two.”

  “Are you engaged or have a steady girl?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you leaving for Gold Hill, Nevada?”

  Longarm had to grin. “You sure do ask a man a lot of questions.”

  Milly set down her work and came over to him. “If you are a free and unencumbered man and I am a free and unencumbered woman, perhaps we ought to have a farewell dinner together this evening.”

  “And why would we do that?”

  “Because, given just a little time, a good meal with fine wine, I might even remember something that would be very helpful to you in finding the Raney brothers.”

  Longarm shook his head and smiled. “You are a very direct and puzzling woman, Milly.”

  “And you are a very handsome and interesting man. So, are you taking me to dinner . . . or not?”

  “I am,” he said. “And I’ll be by to pick you up about seven.”

  “Make it a nice dinner, Mr. Long. I love shrimp and expensive chilled French white wines.”

  “I’m a poor, underpaid deputy, not a banker.”

  “You’ve got to pay the price to enjoy the ride, Mr. Long.”

  “Call me Custis,” he said. “See you at seven.”

  “Be prompt.”

  “I will be.”

  “Then we will have a very enjoyable evening, I promise you.”

  Longarm was grinning when he left Milly’s house. He marveled at how she had been so cold and suspicious when he’d first knocked on her door and even after he’d gone into her home. But something had changed when she’d read and then burned Horatio Manatee’s letter. Longarm had no idea what had changed the woman from cold to hot . . . but that was looking back, and tonight was all about looking forward.

  Chapter 15

  The Frontier House in downtown Denver specialized in steak and shrimp dinners and was known for its excellent wine cellar. Now, with the remnants of ravaged steak and shrimp on their plates, Longarm killed their second bottle of French Pinot Noir and signaled the waiter for a check. He knew that the price was going to be hefty, but on the other hand he was pretty sure that a night with Milly Ott would be exceptional.

  “It was a lovely meal,” Milly said, her eyes a little glazed and her voice a bit slurred from the wine. “And now I think we should go for a walk and clear our heads.”

  “As long as our walk ends up in your bed,” Longarm said with a lecherous smile. “And remember, it’s freezing cold out there and the ice makes walking pretty treacherous.”

  “Ah, yes,” she agreed. “You’re right. Will you signal the waiter to call for a horse and carriage?”

  Longarm nodded, although he would have preferred saving that extra three dollars. But what the hell, in for a penny . . . in for a pound.

  “Waiter!”

  When the man appeared, Longarm paid the check and asked for the waiter to step outside and signal a horse carriage and driver.

  “Was everything to your satisfaction, Marshal Long?” the man asked with an ingratiating smile.

  “It was perfect,” Longarm said, “and . . .”

  Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs. Delia Flannery enter the restaurant with none other than Mayor Tom Plummer. Longarm clucked his tongue. “My oh my,” he said with wonder. “Milly, would you just look at that!”

  The mayor must have been a regular at the Frontier House, because as he escorted the young and beautiful widow through the room, he was greeted by everyone and shook hands with most of them.

  “That’s our mayor, isn’t it?” Milly asked.

  “Sure is.”

 
“Is that his daughter? She’s really beautiful.”

  “She is the wife of our late deputy marshal, Mike Flannery,” Longarm told her. “He was killed in that bank holdup along with several others. He was a fine man.”

  “Well,” Milly said, “his young widow sure doesn’t look like she’s deep into mourning.”

  Longarm would have had to say that Milly was right. Delia Flannery wasn’t dressed in black but instead wore a nice white evening dress with a yellow bow in her pretty hair. She was smiling and looked ravishing as the mayor introduced her to his friends.

  Suddenly the mayor spotted Longarm and came directly over to his table. “Well, Custis Long, this is about the last place I thought we’d next meet. And your lovely companion is . . .”

  “This is Miss Milly . . .” Longarm blushed with embarrassment. “What is your last name?”

  “Ott,” Milly said. “I’m Miss Milly Ott.”

  The mayor bowed slightly. “My pleasure. And Custis, good to see that you’re hard at work.”

  “I’m enjoying myself tonight . . . just as you appear to be, Mayor Plummer.”

  “Miss Flannery and I have just returned from the hospital, where we were visiting my son.”

  “And how is Henry?”

  “He’s making a remarkable recovery but very concerned about his leg,” the mayor said. “He wonders if it will force him to retire from his short-lived law enforcement career with your office.”‘

  Longarm shrugged and tried to offer some encouragement. “I’m sure that after a few months your son will make the right decision.”

  “I hope so,” the mayor replied. “I have some very nice opportunities that Henry could undertake. Things that would be . . . good for my son’s future aspirations in this town.”

  “As opposed to Henry carrying a badge and getting shot.”

  “Exactly. And I might as well tell you that I’ve decided to hire Mrs. Flannery as my special assistant.”

  Longarm looked at the widow with a slightly upraised eyebrow. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Delia Flannery said. “It’s a little overwhelming to go back to work and especially for the mayor. But when Henry suggested to his father that I would be a wonderful addition to his father’s staff . . .”