ghost.
“I had to threaten to arrest him,” McKenna said. “Says he doesn’t do house calls anymore.”
“This isn’t a house, Dr. Jennings,” H.D. snarled. “It’s a jail, and when I call for you, I expect you to move your ass on down here.”
“For God’s sake, H.D., it’s not even office hours,” Jennings said. “What’s so . . .” His voice trailed off into silence as he caught sight of Hattie in the cell. “You shot Hattie Hamilton?”
“No, I did,” Fargo said.
“So how come she’s in the cell and you’re not?” Jennings asked.
“Huh,” the doctor said. He turned back to H.D. “Well, if you want her patched up, you’re going to have to let me in there.”
H.D. opened the cell and Jennings got to work. He unwrapped the makeshift bandage and examined the wound. “It’s pretty clean,” he said. “Went right through and doesn’t look like any of the bones are broken.” He began applying alcohol liberally and Hattie hissed in pain. “Could’ve been a lot worse, Miss Hamilton,” he said.
“Yeah,” Fargo said. “I could have shot her in the nethers and put her out of business for good.”
The men chuckled and Hattie just stared hatefully at them. H.D. fished out some mostly clean coffee cups and poured out three cups of black coffee. “I don’t use chicory,” he said. “But this is some kind of bean the French like.”
Fargo took a sip of his and his eyebrows went up in surprise. The flavor was dark and rich, and the coffee was thick enough to almost have a texture. “That’s different,” he said. “But very good.”
The men waited silently until Dr. Jennings was finished and had Hattie’s arm bandaged up. “Change the bandage once a day, and try to keep it still for a few days,” he admonished her as he finished tying the sling. “And don’t get it wet. I’ll come check on you again in a week and see how you’re doing.”
He stepped out of her cell, shutting the door behind him, and stopped at H.D.’s desk. “You want me to bill the county for this, H.D.?”
“Just like any other prisoner,” H.D. replied. “Thanks for coming.”
“Not a problem,” Jennings said. “So long as I get paid.”
“Don’t you always?” H.D. snapped. “It’s all about the payday for you, isn’t it, Doc?”
“You’re no different,” the doctor said, then turned and stamped out of the office.
“It’s going to take me years to repair my reputation, McKenna,” H.D. said. “Years.”
“I think with what you’ll earn from the agency, you might consider an early retirement,” McKenna replied. “Or maybe starting over somewhere new.”
“Maybe,” H.D. said.
Fargo cleared his throat. “Gents, I am plumb exhausted and I’m still waiting for an explanation.”
H.D. nodded. “Sure, Fargo. You’re right. McKenna, why don’t you start?”
“Okay,” McKenna said. He eased back in his chair and turned his gaze on Fargo. “Like I told you last night, I work for the Pinkerton agency. What I couldn’t tell you was that H.D. here was working with us. I was out investigating Horn’s death, so I hadn’t had a chance to talk to H.D. before the poker game. For all I knew, you were in on the whole thing.”
“
“I’m getting there,” the agent replied. “Parker and Beares were using Storyville as a way to launder and counterfeit money, Fargo. That’s why they started hassling Anderson. He owns enough of the businesses in this area that it was cramping their ability to get the money through. They wanted him out, but he was too popular to kill outright.”
“But they’re senators,” Fargo said. “Why not just take bribes or something?”
McKenna laughed. “Oh, there was plenty of that, too, and we don’t mind that so much. But when people start laundering illegal money and printing their own, we—or should I say our client, the United States government— takes exception to that.”
“So why involve H.D.?”
“I can answer that one,” his old friend said. “I wanted to help. McKenna here came to me about six months after I got here, just trying to get the lay of the land. When he told me what he was up to, I asked if I could help.”
“And the only way you could do that,” Fargo guessed, “was to get inside their organizations.”
“Exactly,” H.D. said. “What I wasn’t expecting was you to show up, working for Parker. I wasn’t sure what to do then, except keep going and see how things played out.”
“I didn’t know what Parker was doing,” Fargo said. “He just hired me for the poker game after I caught someone trying to cheat him.”
“That’s the part,” McKenna said, “that still doesn’t make sense to me. Why hire someone to catch cheaters, when he planned on cheating himself? And why kill Beares?”
From her cell, Hattie laughed contemptuously. “Because Beares wanted out, you idiots,” she said. “He grew himself a conscience and felt like they were making plenty of money.”
“So you shot him?” H.D. asked.
“Hell, no,” she said. “Parker did. Then he handed me the gun before any of you got there. I just played along.”
“So why’d you shoot Parker, then?” Fargo asked. “If you were in cahoots with him, and he was using the Blue Emporium for so many of his deals, why kill him?”
Hattie laughed again, and Fargo felt a chill run down his spine. This was a woman with no compassion at all. “Because I’ve made enough money, too,” she said, her voice like a block of ice. “He was starting to want more from me than I was willing to give and his demands were unreasonable. I got what I wanted from him.”
“You are one cold bitch,” McKenna said.
“Yes, I am,” she replied. “But I’m now a
“You’re also in jail,” he reminded her.
“But she’s not staying,” Fargo said. “Is she, H.D.?”
“No,” he said, his voice filled with sadness. “I’m going to cut her loose.”
“What?” McKenna asked. “Why? She
“It was part of the deal,” he said. “Without Hattie’s help, I would never have gained access to Parker and Beares.”
“There’s more,” Fargo said. “I can hear it in your voice.”
He nodded. “You don’t have to make me say it, Fargo,” he said. “What’s the point?”
“There isn’t one, but McKenna needs to hear it.”
“Fine,” his old friend snapped. “She’s going free because I . . . I love her,” he admitted. “She’s cold and ruthless and a user, but . . . when I’m with her, she makes me feel alive again.”
McKenna shook his head. “It’s your choice, of course. We don’t need her for Parker and Beares. Between the evidence at their mansions and what we’ve gotten the last few weeks, they’ll be found guilty after death and their possessions auctioned off to pay restitution.”
Political corruption, Fargo realized, wasn’t all that different from the other kinds of moneygrubbing he’d seen in the West. Even the rich wanted to be richer. “Why’d you tell me that the Pinkertons were going to burn down New Orleans?” he asked McKenna. “Why not just tell me the truth?”
McKenna chuckled. “I still hadn’t spoken to H.D. and you were working for Parker. I figured that the worst case would be that you’d run to Parker with the story and maybe he’d back down. I didn’t count on you hitting me in the head and dragging me off to jail.”
“Well, if we cross paths again, you’ll know for next time,” Fargo said. He stood up, stretched, and put his empty coffee cup on the desk. “I guess that’s about it for me. I’m going to get some food and some sleep.”
H.D. nodded. “I’m sorry about what happened here, Fargo. If I could’ve told you the truth sooner, I would have.”
“I’m just glad you hadn’t really crossed the line,” he replied. “I would’ve killed you, H.D. Bad men are bad enough, but good men who’ve gone bad . . . they’re worse than rabid dogs.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ll get Hattie back over to her place and then I’ll send Mary over to the Bayou. She should be there before long.”
