“My oh my, will you just lookee here,” Longarm muttered happily. “Now this one I’d say looks t’ be the Whig- party minute book that was taken from Peter Nare’s place t’other night. You ask why I’d suspect that?” he said, although no one in the room had asked any such thing or for that matter made the first bit of noise. “I kinda suspect it because it says right here on the first page that that’s what it is, an’ it’s signed there by P. Nare. That’s the first one.” He set it aside, dropping it onto the corner of Bender’s desk. “An’ this other one here,” he opened the larger more substantial volume, “this here one claims t’ be an official record of voter registration for the county of …” He looked up at the Ranger sergeant. “Damn good police work for you to’ve spotted these missing pieces o’ evidence, Sergeant. I’m sure your captain will be right proud o’ you when this is reported. Yes sir, real good police work here.”
Braxton squirmed as if his shirt collar was entirely too tight. Pity about that, Longarm thought. A man ought to be careful about what he put around his own neck.
Longarm deposited the voter record atop the Whig minute book and folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me, Sergeant, with the normal civil authority in Addington disrupted by the untimely death o’ the chief here, which one o’ us d’you think oughta take charge o’ the investigation now?”
“We, uh, both could claim jurisdiction, couldn’t we?” Braxton said.
“Yeah, I expect we both could. But we wouldn’t wanta work crossways to one another, I’m sure.”
“No, of course not.” Braxton didn’t really look so sure of that. “I was naturally assuming that as an officer of the state of Texas I would, um, take control of the continuing murder investigations.”
“I c’n see how that’d be logical,” Longarm acknowledged pleasantly. “Or we could go down t’ the telegraph office an’ send messages off t’ our respective bosses. Ask, say, the U.S. attorney in Denver an’ your top Ranger in Austin. What’s his name again? Major Stone? I reckon we could ask him what t’ do. In fact, that’s likely a pretty good idea. I mean, I shouldn’t put my nose in without an official request from some local or state officer, right? So let’s just do it that way. We’ll get a message off to Austin asking Major Stone what t’ do here.”
“I … don’t think that will be necessary,” Braxton said.
“No? What about the extension of jurisdiction here? I only have official authority when it comes t’ the murder of the postmaster, y’know. I need somebody local …”
“I can make an official request for federal assistance on behalf of the Rangers,” Braxton volunteered. Which seemed to confuse the local cops all the more. And purely startled the hell out of several of the civilians who continued to mill about underfoot.
“Uh, Chuck … Deputy, that gentleman there is the vice mayor of Addington, Charles Henley … Chuck, why don’t you make a formal request on behalf of the city that Deputy Marshal Long here, um, join us in the investigation into, uh, recent murders or other incidents of,” he paused for a split second, a barely noticeable but rather telling delay, “incidents of violence.”
Longarm damn near smiled about that. Limit the invitation to incidents of violence. Clever. Or so Braxton thought. But then there were a couple of things that Longarm knew. And that George Braxton did not know that Longarm knew. Yeah, this was going to work out all right.
“Are you sure about this, George?”
“Chuck. Please. Trust me.”
The vice mayor shrugged. “All right, if you say so.” He turned to Longarm and said, “I hereby request that you assist us in the … how was that, George?”
“Assist in the investigation of recent murders and other acts of criminal violence.”
“Yes. That.” The vice mayor nodded briskly, then smiled and, like any politician, extended a hand so he could grab Longarm’s hand and pump it.
“All right, gents. Thanks,” Longarm said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m kinda tired. I’ll see you all in the morning. You,” he pointed to one of the older police officers, “I’d like you t’ arrange for the chief’s body t’ be cared for. An’ did he have family? Yes? All right, then I’d like you,” he pointed, “to break the news to them. That’s something that oughta be done by somebody they know an’ not a stranger. Mr. Vice Mayor, maybe you could go along to visit the family along with the officer, please? Thank you, sir. Is there anything else? No? Then I’ll say good night.”
He picked up the ledgers that Braxton had been trying to make off with and the police log too and walked out with all three of them under his arm.
Amos quietly followed. And once they were on the street and far out of hearing by the gentlemen back at City Hall, broke into laughter.
“That poor son of a bitch,” Amos said. “I almost felt sorry for him.”
“Yeah, I’ll admit that I had Brass by the short hairs. An’ he knew it.”
“He’s over here playing politics, the dumb bastard, and maybe his captain knows it and approves of it … that’s something we’ll want to look into later on … but I can guaran-damn-tee you the major doesn’t know anything about it or Brass wouldn’t be carrying a badge right now. Did you see his face when you mentioned sending a wire to the major?”
Longarm nodded and grinned. “Buckled his knees, didn’t it?”
“I thought he was going to piss his britches there on the spot,” Amos said. “Right now he’s hoping the Rangers never have to find out about his activities here. Not until or unless his cronies are in power in Austin. I expect then he’d feel safe.”
“He’s going to have one hell of a surprise when he finds out there was another Ranger in that room watching him learn to crawl tonight.” Amos’s expression became more solemn. “Come to think of it, Longarm, I guess I don’t feel sorry for him after all. Guys like that give the rest of us a bad name.”
“No they don’t, Amos. Because bad apples like that one get weeded out by good people like you and Major Stone.”
“You can count on that, my friend.”
“I do, Amos. I do.”
