cut down another young and gallant officer. R.C. Queen succumbed to a fever in the jungles of Panama, and Harold Snow died in a mining accident in the Sierra Nevada. I knew them all. They were my brothers.”
Beckwith reached for another bourbon. Longarm shot a questioning glance toward Billy, but Billy pretended not to see it.
“To make a long story short, most survived until quite recently. Then there began a series of murders. It seems … oh, God … it seems someone is systematically going down the list of names, in the exact order as inscribed on the membership roll, murdering these fine and gallant men.”
“And you don’t know who is doing it or why?” Longarm asked.
“Oh, but that is part of the tragedy,” Sam Beckwith said. “I am sure I do know exactly who is doing this. And why.”
Chapter 3
“Tell me, Long, does the name Ellis Reese mean anything to you?” Beckwith asked. “Major Ellis Reese?”
Longarm fingered his chin and gave the name some thought—obviously this wasn’t any casual question the government lawyer was asking—but for all his cogitating he nonetheless came up empty. “No, sir, I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of the gentleman.”
“You are sure about that, Deputy?”
Longarm commenced to bristle just a mite. “I said so, didn’t I?”
Billy Vail gave Beckwith a look of warning and, perhaps pointedly, set his empty wine glass down with a clearly audible thump, as if maybe he was silently suggesting to Beckwith that the lawyer lay off the booze and pay attention to business. At least that was the way Longarm chose to read it. He could’ve been wrong, he supposed.
“Yes, well, Major Reese was the subject of a scandal some years back. This was a few months before the Rosebud and Little Big Horn battles, back in the late winter of ‘76. February, if it matters.”
“Yes, sir,” Longarm said in response to Beckwith’s stare. Apparently some form of response was wanted, although Longarm didn’t know what.
“You still don’t recall?”
“No, sir.” Longarm decided against telling this self-important lawyer that the army and its scandals simply weren’t high on his list of things to fret about. Not nowadays, and not back in February of ‘76 either.
“Yes, well, those who pay attention to events will naturally recall that this Major Reese was the subject of a Congressional investigation and the, um, resulting court-martial. Reese was in charge of the procurement of supplies for Indian reservations within General Terry’s command. It was discovered that payment was being made for hay, grains, and certain human consumables that were never delivered to the intended destinations. Invoices were presented and approved and payment was issued, but the supplies were never in fact delivered. Even transportation charges were paid on these nonexistent materials. The amount of loss very likely mounted into the tens of thousands of dollars. For the purposes of prosecution, however, specific accounts totaling slightly over seven hundred dollars were detailed and formal charges were filed against Major Reese.”
“You were a part of the prosecution?” Longarm guessed.
“I was not, sir. Now may I finish relating this, or would you care to turn it into a cross-examination?”
“Sorry,” Longarm said, not particularly meaning it.
“I see I am boring you, Deputy, so I’ll make this short. Major Reese was convicted of misappropriation of government funds, was stripped of rank and privilege, and was sentenced to a fifteen-year term of incarceration in the federal penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.”
That sure sounded like the end of the yarn to Longarm. And a mighty uninteresting one at that. But he knew better than to say so out loud. Not that he gave a damn about making Lawyer Beckwith mad, but it wouldn’t reflect well on Billy. And Longarm would go a long way to keep from doing anything that would be disrespectful of Billy Vail.
“Between time off for good behavior and in view of certain, um, considerations of health, I am given to understand that Ellis Reese will be released from prison sometime within the next six months—that is to say, shortly after the next sitting of the Board of Pardons.”
“And that has something to do with the Last Man Club?” Longarm suggested.
“Of course it does, man. What the hell d’you think I’ve been getting at here?”
Longarm looked briefly at Billy and kept his mouth shut. Damn, but he did feel noble about that.
“Ellis Reese is going to be released from prison sometime later this year. And if things keep on going the way they have been, he will walk out of the cell a rich man, thanks to the contributions made by his betters.”
Longarm did go so far as to lift an eyebrow.
“Reese was one of the original members of the club, of course. And unfortunately, there is nothing in the letter of instruction that disqualifies him from receiving the money if he should be the last living member of the group. Not that the gentlemen didn’t try to have him removed from the list at the time, of course. After all, he’d proven himself completely unworthy. He was a disgrace to the uniform and to his fellows, and everyone involved wanted him out. There was considerable effort invested toward that end, but the hidebound old fart in charge of the trust refused to listen to reason. And naturally, Reese himself was not gentleman enough to voluntarily withdraw himself. He became quite abusive, in fact. Kept claiming innocence—they all do, don’t they?—and muttering darkly about supposed deceptions by his brother officers. Harrumph! Have you ever heard of such nerve, I ask you. Of course the prosecution had him dead to rights. I reviewed the case myself, just to make sure. The testimony left no room for doubt. None whatsoever. Ellis Reese violated the trust placed in him by his nation. Worse, he violated the trust and the respect of his brother officers. And now … now this damned Reese stands to walk away free and wealthy.”
“I don’t think I understand quite all of the problem here,” Longarm injected.
“No?” Beckwith blinked rapidly and, his mouth hanging slightly open, swayed back and forth just a wee bit. “What is it that you don’t understand, dammit?”
