The Bridge (26 page)

“Don’t want to push it, Everett,” he said.

“I’m good,” I said.

Doc shook his head.

“You’re tore up inside,” he said, “and that needs time to heal, Everett.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ll take it easy.”

The doc looked to Virgil and Chastain and shook his head a little, then looked back to me.

“Don’t get on any horses,” he said.

“I won’t, Doc,” I said.

Doc Crumley left the room, shaking his head.

“So what now?” I said.

Virgil folded his arms and looked to the floor for a moment.

“Chastain and me rode out and talked to each of the ranchers from that list Swickey provided us,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Chastain nodded.

“We don’t think none of them had a hand in this,” he said.

“No,” Virgil said. “We don’t.”

“We talked to the rancher Eddie worked with, too,” Chastain said.

“Westmorland,” Virgil said. “The one that Dee and Dirk had worked for.”

“And?” I said.

Virgil shook his head.

“He’d be the last to muster something like this,” Virgil said. “Good man.”

“Leaves us with the whores,” I said.

Virgil nodded.

“We talked to a few,” Chastain said.

“And we’ll talk to them all, but it’s like Belle was saying. Whores are whores because they are whores.”

—
69
—

I
’m done with being looked after, Allie,” I said. “Really.”

“Nonsense,” Allie called from the kitchen.

“Not nonsense,” Virgil said. “If Everett wants to be left alone, leave him alone.”

After I left the resting room above Doc Crumley’s, Allie had insisted I stay with her and Virgil. The bullet I received from Ballard was a .45 that Crumley took out of me. Crumley said if it’d been an inch to the left it would have been
the last train
.

I was weak from the loss of blood, and got around a little slow due to the pain, but was on the mend.

Allie had a special down-filled cot she borrowed from one of her gal friends with the ladies’ social. She placed it near the fireplace and demanded I stay with them until the snow was all melted and it was no longer muddy.

Allie came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a chunk of bread.

“Everett needs continued rest,” Allie said. “And my special nourishment.”

“Hell, Allie,” I said. “That’s pretty much all I have been doing, is eating and sleeping.”

“Well, that’s just the way it is,” Allie said. “It’s not every day I get to take care of somebody.”

“By God, not true, Allie,” Virgil said. “You take care of me every day.”

“Oh, pooh,” Allie said, swinging her tail like a cat as she walked back to the kitchen. “Nobody takes care of Virgil Cole . . . ’Sides, Everett likes to be looked after by me.”

She poked her head back out the kitchen door.

“Don’t you, Everett?”

I picked up my spoon and smiled.

“I appreciate what you do for me, Allie,” I said. “I certainly do.”

“See, Virgil,” Allie said. “Everett knows the meaning of appreciation.”

Allie tucked back in the kitchen.

“Only so much appreciation a man needs,” Virgil said. “Since Everett left that halfway room above Doc Crumley’s office all you been doing is looking after him. I think Everett might have just had his fill of appreciation.”

“And thank that Jesus on the wall of that halfway room above Doc Crumley’s office,” Allie said, as she came back into the living room with a glass of milk, “that Everett’s come back this halfway of that room and not the other half so I can take proper care of his recovery. Here you go, Everett.”

“I will say, Allie,” I said, “I’ve had enough milk to last me a lifetime.”

Allie pinched my cheek.

“Oh, moo,” she said with a giggle. “Drink it. It’s good for you, help you get your strength back.”

“Quite frankly,” I said, “I’m looking forward to having a nudge or two of that Kentucky.”

“Oh, Everett,” Allie said.

We heard footsteps on the porch followed by a musical rat-a-tat-tat rap on the door.

Allie leaned over me and looked out the window.

“It’s some little fellow in a checkered suit wearing a hatbox derby,” Allie said.

Virgil got up and answered the door.

“Might you be Marshal Virgil Cole?” the man said with a crisp British inflection.

“I might,” Virgil said. “And you?”

I leaned forward in my chair to have a look at the little man in the brown-checkered suit.

“Sebastian Winthrop,” he said.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Winthrop?”

“I was wondering if I might have a few words with you,” Sebastian said.

“Words about what?” Virgil said.

Sebastian leaned forward on his toes, looking past Virgil to Allie and me.

“Well,” he said, glancing at Allie and me through the door, “it is, perhaps, a rather delicate matter.”

“What sort of delicate matter?” Virgil said.

“Um, well,” he said. “It’s a matter regarding the Rio Blanco Bridge project.”

Virgil looked back to me, then opened the door for him to enter.

“Come on in,” Virgil said.

“Why, thank you,” he said.

He entered and removed his derby. Virgil closed the door behind him.

Sebastian nodded to Allie and me and smiled.

“This here is Allison French,” Virgil said. “And my deputy marshal, Everett Hitch.”

“Sebastian Winthrop,” he said with a click of his heels.

—
70
—

S
ebastian carried a small leather satchel. He was completely bald, without even a hair on the sides of his head, though he had full eyebrows. He sported a small mustache that was curled up with a twist at each of its ends, firmly fixed with a touch of wax.

For a little man, there was something about him that made him seem somehow larger than his size. He was strong-looking, and his eyes were curious and perceptive.

“What matter regarding the bridge?” Virgil said.

“Well,” Sebastian said. “Thanks to you, Marshal Cole, for reaching out to the governor. You’ve uncovered something that has alarmed him and his staff, and I’m here on the governor’s behalf. I would have been here sooner, but the trains were slowed by the weather of course and it wasn’t only until the last few days the rails were even operable to Appaloosa and this area. But, nonetheless, I’m here now.”

He looked to a chair.

“May I?”

Virgil glanced at me, then nodded to Sebastian.

“Thank you,” Sebastian said, as he sat. “I’ve been traveling for days, mind you . . . I’ve yet to even have a proper glass of water.”

“Oh, well,” Allie said. “We do have water.”

“Why, thank you, Miss French,” he said.

Allie started for the kitchen.

“Tea, I presume, is out of the question,” he said, with the tips of his fingers together just in front of his silk tie.

Allie looked to Virgil and nodded some. Then she looked back to Sebastian and smiled.

“We do have tea,” Allie said with an added refined inflection to her voice.

“Well, tea would be lovely,” Sebastian said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Allie said.

“That would be superb,” Sebastian said.

“Well, then,” she said. “Superb tea it is.”

“Delightful,” he said.

Allie removed my soup bowl, bread, and milk, and set them on the table in front of me, then sashayed off to the kitchen with the tray. Sebastian watched her until she disappeared into the kitchen.

“One can never be too careful,” Sebastian said, after Allie left the room, “when one does not know who is who and what is what.”

“What’s this about the bridge?” Virgil said.

“Are you familiar with Lloyd’s of London,” he said.

Virgil nodded a little and looked to me.

“Insurance?” I said.

“Yes,” Sebastian said. “I’m an investigator for Lloyd’s. I’m relatively new to the U.S. . . .”

“What brings you here?” Virgil said. “What do you know about the bridge?”

“To put it simply, there was a policy on the Rio Blanco Bridge project,” Sebastian said. “A rather hefty policy, I might add.”

Virgil looked at me and shook his head a little.

“Go on,” Virgil said.

“When there is a substantial payout such as this,” he said. “We investigate to make sure there is no fraud involved.”

“How much of a payout?” Virgil said.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Sebastian said. “Quite substantial.”

“I take it by the fact you are here,” I said. “You believe there is fraud?”

“Perhaps.”

“This have to do with Cox?” I said. “The contractor?”

“Perhaps.”

“What’s not perhaps?” Virgil said.

“Were you aware the Rio Blanco Bridge was to be a toll bridge?” Sebastian said.

Virgil looked at me and shook his head.

“No,” I said. “We weren’t aware of that.”

Sebastian opened his satchel and pulled out a folder.

“This is a copy of the policy,” Sebastian said. “It’s not a Lloyd’s policy, per se, but it is a policy that includes some of Lloyd’s underwriters. According to this policy, there’s more than one party with insurable interest.”

“Someone besides Cox?” I said.

“Actually, I’m not sure where Mr. Cox fits in here at all. The policy itself, the first name insured on the policy is the Territory Bridge Authority, the governor himself. That’s normal.”

“What’s not normal?” I said.

“There is a business-interruption endorsement on this policy,” Sebastian said.

“You mean, future tolls?” I said.

“Precisely,” he said. “The Rio Blanco was designed for both rail and standard commerce; a licensing fee for the rail carriers and individual tolls for market fare, cattle, goods and services, individuals, et cetera. We’re talking a substantial amount of future revenues, mind you.”

“And the payout for this business interruption is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”

“Yes,” Sebastian said.

“Take a lot of years of toll to earn that,” I said.

“It would indeed,” Sebastian said. “But I need to be perfectly clear, so let me reiterate. I’m looking into
possible fraud
here. I need to understand the business behind the endorsement.”

“What business?” I said.

“Well,” Sebastian said. “The right of way, the property ownership comes into engagement here.”

“So the beneficiary of this business interruption on this contract is not Cox?” I said.

“It’s not,” Sebastian said. “He could perhaps have some participation in this endorsement, I don’t know. That is why I’m here.”

“But you know who’s on the contract there with the endorsement?” I said, pointing to the contract. “Who’s the beneficiary?”

“Yes,” Sebastian said. “But how all this came about I’m still unclear on.”

“Well,” I said. “If it’s not Cox, then who is it?”

“The First Baptist Church of Appaloosa,” he said.

“Tea time,” Allie said, as she came out from the kitchen carrying the tray with the tea.

—
71
—

A
llie poured the tea for Sebastian.

“There you go,” she said.

Sebastian nodded.

“Oh,” he said. “I thank you so very much.”

“Well, you are so very welcome,” Allie said. “It’s not every day I get to prepare a splendid cup of tea for an English gentleman.”

“We got some business to finish up here with Mr. Winthrop, Allie,” Virgil said.

“You go right ahead,” Allie said, as she took her shawl from the coat rack by the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’m late meeting Nell in town as it is. I’m helping her to distribute flyers for the opening of the show.”

Virgil nodded.

Allie looked to Sebastian.

“I’m sorry I’m not available to share some proper tea with you, Mr. Winthrop, but duty calls.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Sebastian said, as he got to his feet. “Perfectly understandable. Perhaps some other time.”

“Perhaps,” Allie said. “That’d be wonderful.”

“Until then, Miss French,” Sebastian said with a bow.

“Until,” Allie said.

She gave Virgil a kiss on the cheek and walked out the door.

“Lovely,” Sebastian said, as he sat back in his chair. “Simply lovely.”

“The First Baptist Church of Appaloosa?” Virgil said.

Sebastian nodded as he picked up the teacup. He took a sip and grimaced a little.

“Yes,” he said with a slight clearing of his throat. “The church. It seems there was a transaction between the landowner and the church.”

Sebastian picked up the folder and thumbed through the pages.

“The land the bridge was built on,” Virgil said. “Deeded the land over to the church?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Who’s the executor?” I said.

“The First Baptist Church’s pastor,” Sebastian said. “A Mr. Ashley Epps.”

Virgil looked to me.

“Ashley got his hand in the till?” Virgil said.

“Again,” Sebastian said. “This might all prove to be perfectly legitimate.”

“Or perfectly planned,” Virgil said.

“That, too,” Sebastian said.

“The trustee as recipient of the deed would have to file this, right?” I said.

“Yes,” Sebastian said. “The deed is filed with the county clerk at the county courthouse.”

“That’d be Curtis Whittlesey,” I said. “I was shooting pool with him the night I received word about the bridge. He never said anything about this. Fact, he was the one who first mentioned Cox’s name to me. Telling me he was the contractor that was building the bridge.”

“And Cox?” Virgil said. “Where’s he fit in to all this?”

“He would have had to know about the business-interrupting endorsement on the policy, wouldn’t he?” I said.

“Not necessarily,” Sebastian said. “The policy belongs to the Territory Bridge Authority and the church’s business-interruption endorsement is attached to that policy, you see.”