“Any place? You really do want something, don’t you. I think I probably should have suggested someplace more expensive. Would have if I’d known this beforehand.”
“If you want to change your mind..
“Jim Finch would be offended if I ate anywhere else. Probably spit in my food the next time I came in. Can’t allow that, can I? Otherwise I’d see if I couldn’t bust your bank, by Godfrey.”
Longarm laughed and followed his old friend out of the Aurora police station. He and Browne had known each other for years and got along almighty well.
Longarm had been to Finch’s before, always with Thad Browne. The Aurora cop ate there nearly every day and was a fixture at the place. It was, however, a good enough choice, quiet, with excellent food and a selection of the dark beers that Browne preferred. They also, Longarm remembered, stocked a superior-quality rye whiskey that never failed to please Longarm’s palate.
Browne did not have to bother telling the waiter what he wanted. Neither his beverage nor his food order ever varied. Longarm decided on his own selection from the menu posted on a slate chalkboard, then waited for the waiter to get out of hearing distance before he brought up the reason for his visit.
“Carl Beamon. Do you remember the case, Thad?”
“Certainly. Hit by a runaway freight wagon while he was crossing the street.”
“Anything unusual about the case?” Longarm asked.
“Not really. Officially it could be a crime, of course, because the driver didn’t stop or come back to see how badly the man was injured. But I wouldn’t necessarily call it unusual just because of that. The driver would only claim loss of control anyway, and if he heard afterward that the man was killed, he wouldn’t want to admit to it. He could end up charged with manslaughter if anyone wanted to press the issue. At the least he would be vulnerable to a lawsuit by the survivors, if any. Which isn’t to say that I condone the silence, but it is common enough. Understandable.”
“I suppose so.”
“We deal with a different class of criminal from what you do, old friend. One learns to be practical about which laws you enforce and what you just let slide. This one …” Browne shrugged and gave Longarm a look that was not especially apologetic. It was simply the way things were. Longarm was glad he was a federal peace officer, not a local copper.
The waiter returned with their drinks, and Browne toasted Longarm with a salute of his beer stein, then drained off nearly half the foamy liquid in a single pull. Longarm returned the favor with the tumbler of whiskey he’d been given—no picayune shot glasses here, thank you—and was reminded anew of how good the rye was at Finch’s. If only everyone served whiskey this smooth, the world would be a better place.
“What’s your interest in Beamon, Longarm?”
“He was the footman on the carriage when Billy and those others were killed. I wanted to talk to him to find out if he saw anything that would be helpful.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Beamon was standing right beside the door when somebody tossed that bomb into the carriage. He must have seen something. Must have.”
“Too late now to ask him,” Thad said sympathetically. “I guess he didn’t tell the official investigators anything, though, or you wouldn’t be here now.”
“That’s right.” There seemed no point in mentioning that as far as Longarm knew, no official investigators had ever tried to speak with Beamon. “I take it you already know that I’m not on the case. Officially, that is.”
“Word does get around, you know. Not that I can say I agree with the decisions that are being made over there. I can see the logic, I suppose. But I disagree with the conclusions. It’s all a matter of inexperience, I presume.”
“I s’pose,” Longarm said.
“But unofficially?”
“I expect you know the answer to that.”
“Billy was a fine man. The best,” Browne said. “It won’t be easy to replace him.”
“No,” Longarm agreed. It was hard as hell keeping his mouth shut about the truth. Dammit, they could trust Thad. Longarm would have bet his life on that. But who might Thad let it slip to if he knew Billy and the others were still alive? And could that unknown third party be trusted? That was the problem. There just wasn’t any choice about it. Longarm had to keep his mouth shut. And apologize to Thad later, when it would be safe to tell the rest of the truth.
“Will you apply for the job?”
“Not me, Thad. I’m not no administrator.”
“I was thinking I might dip a toe into the water, see if a fish rises to it.”
“Go ahead,” Longarm said.
Browne grinned. “You’d have a helluva time if I was your boss, Deputy Long. Might have to work for a living and everything.”
“I’d hate that,” Longarm said. “It’d be kinda different, though, wouldn’t it.”
Thad laughed.
“Anything else you can tell me about Carl Beamon?”
“Not really. Nothing special anyway.”
