The Shotgun Arcana (14 page)

“So,” Jim said. “Catching horse thieves and train robbers is more important than catching a killer that does … things … like that to a lady?”

Highfather struggled with words. Mutt looked at the boy.

“Jim, those aren’t ladies, they’re whores,” Mutt said. “Things like that are kind of occupational hazards for them and it’s a damn shame and we will catch the bastard, but sometimes a gal will pick the wrong customer and things like that happen.”

“Clay said any woman in this town was in danger,” Jim said. “We intend to wait until a ‘real’ lady gets cut up? ’Sides, whatever she did to make ends meet, Molly was always real kind to me in the street,” Jim said. “Seems poor to make her wait. Listen, y’all got other things to deal with, Sheriff; let me take a crack at it, see what I can run down.”

Highfather looked at Mutt. The deputy nodded.

“Boy’s got a fire under him to take the case, I say let him,” Mutt said. “’Sides, he’s sweet on one of the Doves.”

“Gol-darn it, Mutt!” Jim said, swatting the Indian’s shoulder. “I am not!”

“Well, if you say so, but you’re a shade or two redder than me right now,” Mutt said.

Highfather and Mutt laughed.

“You got your teeth into this one, don’t you?” Highfather said to Jim. “All right, the case is yours, but, Jim, you need to be careful. Women who do that kind of work, they don’t always tell the truth.”

“And that makes them different from most of the rest of this town, how?” Jim said.

“Don’t sass me, boy,” Highfather said. “Just watch yourself; I don’t want you to get taken advantage of.”

Jim reddened a little more. “I can handle myself.”

“Just make sure no one over at the Dove’s Roost handles you,” Mutt said, slapping Jim on the back. “They’ll charge you.”

The Empress

Morning at the Dove’s Roost was a groggy, ponderous thing. Some of the women, who had been granted the night off, were up early to straighten and clean the parlors and public rooms, while others fetched and boiled water, gathered firewood and prepared breakfast for everyone. The Scholar awoke at dawn every day. He did not partake of alcohol, or lie with any of the women, ever, so he was up, bathed, dressed and wandering the Roost, cudgel in hand, like a keen-eyed menacing mastiff.

Several of the Doves, curious about the Scholar’s stoic regimen and his impressive body, had peeked in on him in the bath and discovered his strange secret. The Scholar was tattooed. From the base of his neck to his wrists and ankles, he was covered in lines of fine, delicate cursive script. Like a book made out of flesh. In fact, there were lines of more words in between the lines of words. The covert discovery and his penchant for always carrying about a tome to read gave him the nickname. Most girls had no clue that his real name was Montgomery Quire; he was simply the Scholar. No one had ever dared ask him about the tattoos, or even acknowledge they knew of them. He worked very hard to keep them hidden, even chopping wood and tending to house repairs always in full shirtsleeves.

Those who had worked the night before were allowed to sleep in till noon. But most were up earlier to grab breakfast and then retire until they were required to be back on “duty” at midday. All guests had to be out the door by six, unless they had paid extra to make other arrangements. The Scholar and the house madam, a silver-haired Swede in her mid-forties named Agathe Hamsun—or “Ham,” as she was called by the regulars—made sure there were no stragglers.

The routine of the late morning and the early afternoon continued. Cleaning, bathing and tending to any bruises, lacerations, bite or strangle marks, burns or other occupational inconveniences that might impact the ability to make money. Some of the women read, a few wrote letters home. Other slept or did needlepoint or mended each other’s stockings or clothes. They talked and joked. Sometimes they argued and fought more fiercely than any man could imagine. Some drank, though Ham and the Scholar were quite strict on drunkenness—if you were too full of the bark juice, then you didn’t work and you didn’t get paid.

Ham was something of an expert on the life of a public girl. She had been one herself for over twenty years and then became one of the most well-known and respected of madames on the East Coast. She had been offered her position by Bick ten years ago.

She had a painted fan an old lover of hers in Boston had brought back from the Orient. It had steel veins that Ham had sharpened to a keen edge and she could use it to great effect. It was her experience that once a man’s face was cut, he tended to that and forgot what he was going to lay hands on you for. If it didn’t work the first time, then you just kept beautifying him.

After the breakfast dishes were cleared, Ham and the Scholar sat at the dining table by the kitchen and discussed house business. It had been a grim morning for most in the house, with Sweet Molly’s murder last night. While the Scholar scribbled in the house ledger, Ham sipped her tea.

“I don’t suppose you are willing to give the girls a night off,” she said. Her accent was two parts Boston and one part Stockholm. “Seeing someone you know cut up like that … They deserve a chance to mourn, or at least recover.”

The Scholar didn’t even look up from the ledger he was notating. “Can’t afford that,” he said. “The murder will decrease business anyway. I’m afraid not, Agathe.”

“You mean to tell me that Malachi, of all people, can’t afford a dip in his profits for one night?”

“Mr. Bick entrusts me with such decisions,” the Scholar said. “And I deem it unwise to close tonight.”

Ham looked at him and shook her head. “You really do have ice in you, don’t you? It’s all bottom line for you, isn’t it?”

“No,” the Scholar said. “It isn’t. I feel very sorry for Molly. If I had known she was freelancing away from the house I would have dealt with it and she would still be alive.”

“She was trying to make some extra scratch to send home to her kids and mother back east,” Ham said. “Can’t fault her for that.”

“I can,” the Scholar said, finally looking up from the ledger. “Because now her family will receive nothing and they have lost her. It was very poorly thought out, on her part.”

“Did you tell the deputies she was working away from the Roost?”

“I did not,” the Scholar said. “I endeavored to get them out of here as quickly as possible. The law is almost as bad for business as murder. I am not paid to do the sheriff’s job for him.”

Maude Stapleton cleared her throat as she entered the dining room by the kitchen door. Maude carried a wicker basket of laundry in her arms and a smaller covered basket on her wrist.

“Morning, Mrs. Hamsun, Mr. Quire,” she said, setting the laundry on the table.

“Mrs. Stapleton,” Quire said, standing. Ham nodded to the laundress. “We … It’s just normally one of your Chinese girls delivers, ma’am. We don’t get many ladies of your position around here. What if someone saw you enter? Your reputation?”

“To the best of my knowledge,” Maude said, “this house is full of ladies, Mr. Quire. I’ve never cared much for being told where it was proper for me to go. And my reputation is mine to defend, if need be. Thank you so much for your concern.”

Ham looked impressed, the Scholar stunned. “No, no, of course, ma’am,” he said with a slight bow. “Of course.”

“I hope you two don’t mind the intrusion,” Maude said. “I let myself in. Jiao is indisposed today. She’s a touch under the weather, so I’m taking care of the deliveries myself today.

“Mrs. Proctor made a few pies and some bread and buns for everyone,” Maude continued, setting down the covered basket. “We’re all sorry for the loss.”

“Very kind, Mrs. Stapleton,” the Scholar said, closing the ledger and scooping it off the table. “I’ll have one of the girls collect the fresh linen and deliver you the washables. Good day, madam.” He nodded to Ham, who was still sitting. “Agathe.”

Ham gestured to Maude. “Please have a seat. Tea? You can tell me all about the doings in Virginia City. I understand you only returned this morning?”

“Yes,” Maude said. “Thank you, that would be lovely.” She grimaced a bit as she sat down.

“Hurt yourself?” Ham asked, pouring Maude a cup from the pot.

“The coach from Virginia City must have been more … vigorous than my body could handle,” Maude said. “Pulled a muscle.”

Ham smiled and offered Maude the cream and sugar. Maude declined. “May I share an observation with you, Mrs. Stapleton?” Ham said. “I notice every once in a while that you do not move the way you should.”

Maude paused in mid-sip. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been in places like this since I was twelve,” Ham said. “I’ve made a living and survived by reading people—the way they walk, move. Things about them they can’t hide with words or bluster or pretty manners. It tells you who they really are and you, Mrs. Stapleton, every once in a while, I see you and you move differently.”

“Different how?” Maude said.

“You move like a killer,” Ham said. “You move like you know you are a wolf in a world of sheep.”

Maude smiled, politely, and sipped her tea.

“Cake?” Ham offered her guest.

“Yes,” Maude said, “please,” and took one off the offered plate.

“Of course I know that isn’t the case,” Ham said, smiling.

“Yes,” Maude said. “Of course.”

Two young women in their late teens, a few years older than Maude’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Constance, entered the dining room. One girl was black and slender, the other white with red hair and much more curvy, with prominent hips and bust. Both were dressed in stays and frilled pantalets.

“Ah,” Ham said. “Ample Alice, Black Pearl, grab the laundry for Mrs.…”

“Mannish Maude,” Maude said, smiling and standing to greet the two girls. “At least that was what they used to call me as a child, when I beat all the boys up.”

The two girls laughed, as did Ham. Maude shook both the girls’ hands in turn. “Pleased to meet you, Alice, Pearl…”

“Harmony,” the black girl said. “My real name is Harmony.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Harmony,” Maude said. “That is a beautiful name.”

Ham stood. “You said your Chinese girl was feeling poorly. I have a remedy that might help her. I’ll fetch it.”

Harmony and Alice gathered up the laundry and began to sort it. Alice peeked in the covered basket.

“It sure was kind of y’all to make a fuss over poor Molly,” Alice said. “I hope she gets a fair shake, bless her soul.”

“I’m sure Deputy Mutt and the sheriff will make sure her killer is found,” Maude said, finishing her tea. The two girls laughed.

“What?” Maude said. The girls looked at each other and then Harmony looked to Maude.

“They say you’re sweet on Deputy Mutt,” Alice said.

Maude reddened a bit. It was strange and a little nice to have a reaction to something that she didn’t automatically regulate. “And who, pray tell, are ‘they’?” Maude said.

“Folks around town,” Alice said. “I think he’s real sweet, ma’am. He shot a fella that was gonna cut me up once. I think you could do a lot worse.”

“Thank you,” Maude said. “I think he’s nice, too, but the deputy and I, we’re just friends.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alice said, and went back to folding clothes. There was a silence in the room for a bit longer than there should have been. Alice began to snort a little out her nose and all three women burst out laughing.

“Stop it!” Maude said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. “We are!”

“Well, he sure does look at you like he’s sweet on you,” Harmony said.

“Really?” Maude asked. The girls nodded. “Has the deputy ever been a…”

“Customer?” Harmony said. “No ma’am. He’s a heartsick fella. He hides it like a whore does, behind jokes and pretending to not care. But he’s about the loneliest man I ever did see.”

“I wish your deputy had been here last night to save poor Molly,” Alice said. “She was a really good girl. Didn’t deserve to go that way.”

“I’m sure they will catch whoever did it,” Maude said.

“Doubtful, ma’am,” Harmony said. “Wish they would.”

Alice nodded as she picked at a sweet bun she had retrieved from the basket. “Men like that can do whatever they want to us and get away with it. Just the way it is. We’re … who we are and no one cares what happens to us.”

“Do you care?” Maude said. “Do you care what happens to you?”Alice looked at Harmony. The slender girl shrugged. Alice licked the sugar off her fingers. “I guess I don’t care much to die and no one should die like Molly did.” She crossed herself and made a face as she saw Molly splayed across the alley in her mind. “You’re a nice lady, Mrs. Stapleton, but things are different for women like you. No one cares what happens to whores. Have to sneak off to see crazy, mean, old Dr. Tumblety when we get beat or cut or all poisoned up with a baby in us. If we don’t make enough, can’t pay the house, can’t pay our families, we have to go off and sneak about, take our chances alone with no one like the Scholar to protect us. Hell, he finds out we’re freelancing, he’ll beat us himself.”

“You can kill us and gut us like animals,” Harmony added, “and there’ll be two younger ones to replace us coming off that stagecoach. Lot of girls looking for a way to keep their belly full and the rain off their heads. If I cared, I’d still be crying and you can’t make no coin if’n you’re busy crying.”

Maude sat very still. Her eyes were looking elsewhere. If not for her wealth and her training, she could be one of these girls. Alone on the edge of the world, a world that was over 90 percent men. No jobs, no property, no prospects. If not for a few fortunate accidents of birth, Maude and Constance might be exactly where these women were, where Sweet Molly had been.

Alice looked at Harmony and then lowered her head.

“I’m powerful sorry if I offended you,” Alice said. “Just felt I could talk plain to you, ma’am.”

Maude nodded. “No, no. You didn’t offend me and you can talk to me, Alice. In fact, I want you two to tell me everything you can about Molly. I want to help.”

*   *   *

It was a little later in the afternoon when Mutt walked into Maude’s laundry, on the corner of Dry Well and Prosperity Road, battered hat in hand. Maude smiled brightly when she saw him, like sunlight sparkling off water. Constance and one of the Chinese girls, Ron, looked up from their work to smile and laugh quietly. Chuan continued to stir the massive brass cauldron of hot, soapy water and dirty clothes and chatted softly in Chinese to Ron as she glanced at the deputy and Maude.