to that. I think the other two men was still alive at the time. The woman, I never saw her body. I don’t know where it was. Blown all apart so there wasn’t enough left to look like a body maybe. I wouldn’t know.”
“But two of the men, at least, were still alive?”
Boats shrugged. “Like I said, I couldn’t swear to it. It’s the impression I got. The papers said they died at the hospital, I think. I can believe it. That was a terrible strong explosion. A bomb, the papers said the next day.”
“But you didn’t see the bomb itself nor who threw it?” Longarm asked.
“No, sir. Like I told you, I was looking toward the front, toward my horses. I never seen what happened down behind me.”
“Did Beamon see it?”
“He was standing right there. I’m sure he must’ve seen something.”
“Did he say anything to you about it?”
“Afterward, while we was leading the horses back in. They were so spooked by what happened that they wouldn’t drive again, Marshal. We tried and tried, but we couldn’t get them to mind worth a damn. We ended up having to borrow another rig and lead them back here. Anyway, while we was doing that, Beamon talked a little. Not much, though. He was shaken up damn near as bad as those horses were. I’d ask him things and it was like he didn’t hear.”
Longarm remembered Billy saying that his hearing had been affected by the explosion, that he literally could not hear anything for several days afterward. It was entirely possible that Carl Beamon had not heard his partner’s questions that afternoon.
“We was sitting side by side on the tailgate of the rig that was taking us home, each of us holding onto lead ropes for two of the grays. Sitting right side by side, but Beamon didn’t really say all that much. He kept mumbling something, more like he was talking to himself than like he was trying to tell it to me. Said something like … let me think now … something like, ‘Why’d she do that? Why’d she do that?’ Over and over he kept repeating that. ‘Why’d she do that?’ I guess he must’ve been talking about the woman that was killed. She must’ve done something … I don’t know … tried to protect her husband by throwing herself onto the bomb … something like that maybe. I asked Beamon a couple times what he meant, but he never answered. Like I said, he just sat there and acted like he didn’t hear anything I said to him the whole rest of that afternoon.
“Then once we got back here to the barn and put the team up, we told Mr. Lewis what happened. He could see we were shaken up pretty bad, Beamon even more than me. He said we should take the next few days off and not come back in to work until we felt up to it. He’s good about things like that, Mr. Lewis is. He’s a good boss. Nice man.
“Anyway, we went our different ways, Beamon and me. I never saw him nor talked to him again. Next thing I knew … I was already back to work by then although he hadn’t come in again yet … next thing I knew we were told about him having that accident and getting himself killed. Run over he was. Crazy, isn’t it? He stands there right next to a bomb going off and doesn’t have so much as a scratch on him. Then he goes to cross the damn street and gets run over by a wagon. It’s crazy, I tell you. Crazy damn world sometimes.”
“It is that,” Longarm agreed. He reached for two cheroots, gave one to Boatwright, and shared a match with the man. “Is there anything else you can think of?”
“No, sir, I think that pretty much is everything I can remember,” Boatwright responded.
“If you do think of anything more, no matter how insignificant it seems, I’d really appreciate it if you would tell me. Better yet, since I won’t be spending much time in the office until this investigation is completed, if you think of anything you can come in and tell the clerk in the United States marshal’s office. That’s inside the Federal Building there, the same place you were picking those passengers up that day. Or you can drop me a note there. You remember my name?”
“Marshal Long, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. If you remember anything more, anything at all, you can write me a note and send it to me at the U.S. marshal’s office, Federal Building, Denver, Colorado. It will reach me.”
“I’ll do it, Marshal. That’s a promise.”
Longarm thanked the man, shook his hand, and went to reclaim his hack. The charge for so much waiting around was sure to be high, but he figured it was money well spent.
He just wished the time had been better spent. It was a lousy break that Boatwright hadn’t been paying attention to the passengers at that moment, but his account of things certainly made sense. It was a much worse break that Carl Beamon was dead and could no longer be interviewed. Dammit.
“Where to, mister?” the hack driver asked when Longarm climbed into the hired rig.
“Aurora,” Longarm told him. “I want to go to the Aurora City Hall.”
“You got it, mister.”
Longarm could practically hear the man’s thoughts as he calculated how much this fare was going to end up being. One customer like Longarm could make a hackney driver’s whole day.
The driver snapped his whip over his team’s ears, and the wagon lurched into motion, throwing Longarm against the back of the seat. Next stop Aurora, way the hell and gone on the east side of Denver.
Chapter 30
“Come have lunch with me, Thaddeus. I’m buying.”
“Now that isn’t an offer that comes along every day, Longarm. You want something, don’t you?” the assistant police chief of the city of Aurora accused him with a grin.
“Hell, yes, I want something. D’you think I’d waste money on an ugly old fart like you if I didn’t?”
Thad Browne laughed. Then he stood and reached for his coat and hat. “I’ll tell the desk sergeant where to find me, then we’re gone. Will Finch’s Chop House be all right?”
“Any place you say.”
