“Hell, Henry, I never for a minute thought you wouldn’t be.”
Henry nodded. “Do you still want that information about the driver and footman on the carriage?”
“Damn right I do. I asked Billy about it this morning, but he said he never got a look at whoever it was that threw the bomb. Said all he could see from where he was sitting in the front corner of the coach was somebody’s hand. And they were wearing a glove at that. He saw the hand and the bomb and saw the thing bounce on the floor an’ roll under Mrs. Troutman’s dress.”
“God!” Henry exclaimed. “That sounds terrible.”
“Which it was, of course, but I expect that’s what saved Billy’s life. That poor woman took the full force of the explosion. She shielded the others from the blast with her flesh. It musta been an awful way to die. But quick. At least it woulda been quick.”
Henry reached into his coat and extracted a single sheet of paper. “Here are the names you wanted, also the address of the company the men are employed by. The carriage was hired, of course.”
“D’you know by who?”
“Whom.”
“What?”
“Never mind. No, I don’t know who hired them.”
“Reckon that’s another thing I’ll want to ask then.”
“Do you think that might be significant?”
Longarm shrugged. “Henry, I got no damn idea what’s gonna prove to be important or what won’t. ‘Bout all we can do at this point is commence stirring the water an’ see what comes up mud.”
“Good luck, my friend. And in case you had any doubts, your news has made this a much better day than I ever expected it could be.” Henry grinned and, walking with a much more lively and bouncy step than when he’d arrived, headed back toward the Federal Building.
There went one almighty happy man, Longarm thought with considerable pleasure of his own.
Chapter 28
E. P. Lewis and Co. was located on the outer fringes of town at the west end, a collection of ramshackle barns and corrals set in a grove of mature cottonwoods that grew beside a tiny creek. Most of the livestock appeared to be heavy workhorses, not fancy lightweights like those Longarm had seen hitched to the carriage that awful day outside the Federal Building.
That had been a matched set of grays. Four of them in showy, bright polished harness and purple plumes. Longarm looked in the corrals, but was sure none of the grays was on the premises now. He hoped they were not out on a job this morning. Not that he gave a damn about the horses particularly, but generally men and animals were matched in teams, so if the horses were gone there was a good chance the men might not be available either.
Still, he’d come this far. He did not intend to go back to the city without learning what he could here. He told the hack driver to wait for him—he did not want to have to walk back to the nearest point where he might reasonably expect to find another mode of transportation—and began poking through the various sheds and outbuildings in search of someone to talk to.
Most of the equipment in inventory consisted of heavy drays and freight wagons. Apparently the bulk of the company’s business was commercial by nature, not just fancy outfits offered to the gentry.
The E.P. Lewis and Co. office turned out to be lodged in one of the barns, in a room originally intended to hold grain or harness or whatever.
“Would you be Mr. Lewis?” Longarm asked the young man in sleeve garters and eye protector that he found bent over a desk there.
“I would. Edward Charles Lewis, proprietor.”
Longarm glanced down at the sheet of paper Henry had given him earlier. “I thought it was E.P. Lewis,” he observed.
“That is the company name, yes. Edward Prentice Lewis was my father. He turned the business over to me two years ago and retired. Said it was my turn to support him for a change. Is there something I can do for you, sir?”
Longarm introduced himself.
“Ah, yes. I was wondering how long it would be before someone came around to ask about the tragedy.”
“You haven’t talked to anybody else before me?” Longarm asked.
“No, Marshal, you are the first.”
That didn’t sound right. Surely anyone interested in getting to the truth would want to talk to those who were actually at the scene. And as soon as possible too, before memories began to fade or, worse, be replaced with speculation gone over so often that the line dividing truth from imagination would begin to blur. Longarm found it odd that none of the investigators on the case had been there before now. Odd to say the least.
He said nothing about that to young Ed Lewis, of course. “I hope I’ll be able to count on your cooperation,” was all he said aloud.
“Certainly,” Lewis assured him. “Mine and that of any of my people. Sit down, Marshal. Would you like some coffee? Or something stronger?”
“Nothing, thanks, but do you mind if I smoke in here?”
“In here no, but …”
