"Bart."
Once again I heard someone calling my name, but this time it was more than a whisper. And it was in a distinctly feminine voice.
"Bart."
I came out of the sleep cocoon I was wrapped in slowly. My mind actually became functional before my eyes could focus. While my vision was still swimming I questioned, "Ginny?"
I heard her answer and felt her soft touch at the same time. "Let go, honey." Her fingers were on my hand, gently unwrapping it from Bret's. I loosed my grip on my brother and felt nothing but the woman as my eyes cleared, and I could see her stunning face, full of concern. "Did something happen?"
"You could say that," I answered, pulling my head up off the bed and keeping my hold on her hand. "Bret woke up."
"He . . . woke up? How do you know?" Her voice was steady but her hand, the one in my grasp, was shaking.
"He talked to me, Ginny. Just a word or two, my name and yours. He tried to tell me about Pappy's Ace, but the words were so hard for him."
"Did he open his eyes?"
I had to shake my head. "He tried. I asked him to, but he couldn't. But he knew me, Beauty. He knew me."
She was still dressed for a night of gambling; she'd come straight here from the Memphis Lady. "Tell me."
I pulled out my watch. It was four in the morning. "Go get out of the costume," I told her. "I'll tell you everything when you get back." Once again, Ginny leaned down and kissed Bret's cheek before she left. She was gone longer than I expected, but when she returned it was obvious where she'd been. She carried a pot of coffee with her. "Good thinking."
"I didn't want you falling asleep," came her reply, and she poured each of us a cup before sitting down next to me. We both drank, hurriedly, and I repeated everything I could remember about my aborted conversation with Bret. When I was finished she had a big grin on her face. "Your night was much more productive than mine."
"Tell me all about it." She began her tale and this time I retrieved the coffee pot and refilled the cups.
"I got there right about nine o'clock," she began, "and the gambling salon was about half full. There were a lot of men playing faro, but not many of them seemed happy. I assume they were losing. It took a while for me to find the right poker game – Newton was there, and I wanted a seat at his table. I finally got one about eleven. He seemed surprised to see me, like we thought he might, and questioned me a lot about Bret. I tried to downplay what was going on but it took a while before he stopped asking questions. As far as he knows, Bret's still doing poorly. I let him think I had lost interest in Mr. Maverick. I watched him close, Bart, and tried to spot all the things you showed me to look for. I caught him doing about half of them. And he was winning most of the time.
"Nobody seemed to catch on to him but me. He quit playing about two when Marshal Tedford came in. They huddled together at a table for a while; Newton appeared unhappy and it broke up pretty quick. Tedford left the salon and I came on back to the hotel. Newton was at the bar drinking when I left the boat. He never said anything else about Bret and me after Tedford got there. Doesn't sound like much help, does it?"
I shook my head. "No, Ginny, but it's better than you think. Now we've got confirmation that Newton was cheatin' when he accused Bret, and that seems to be his pattern. And it sounds like whatever this is, the marshal's in it with him. You gave me some place to start."
"Tonight?"
"No, I think I'll pay the marshal a visit this afternoon. There's a few seeds I wanna plant."
There was a knock on the door, and we stared at each other. It was too early for Doc Wheeler and too late for anyone else. "Get in the closet," I whispered, and Ginny quickly disappeared. "Who's there?"
"Front desk," came the reply, and I drew my gun and went to the door.
"What do you want?"
"Telegram for Mr. Maverick."
I opened the door. It was the clerk with a telegram from someone that didn't know Bret had been shot. I took the wire and tipped the clerk, who went off whistling happily. At five o'clock in the morning. Hurriedly I closed the door behind me and called, "Ginny, come on out." Then I holstered my gun and opened the folded piece of paper. 'You old badger, what are you doing in Memphis? And how did you get involved with Ben Newton? Watch out, he's the biggest card sharp since Jerome Lewis. Let me know if you're coming to New Orleans. Fitzwater'
Well, well, well. I didn't know Jimmy Fitzwater was still in New Orleans. And I also didn't know that Bret had been in touch with him. Fitz was one of those characters Bret had run across on several occasions, who languished somewhere between scoundrel and rogue. Good enough to play honest poker, Fitz still preferred to remain on the wrong side of the cards. Jimmy was always good for information, and Bret had gotten him out of a tight spot more than once. Jerome Lewis was at one time the best-known card cheat east of the Mississippi; he was shot and killed on the Bayou Belle a while back. By me.
"Read this." I handed her the telegram. She read it and gave it back.
"Who's Fitzwater?"
I explained Jimmy and noticed that she didn't ask me about Lewis. That must mean that she knew who he was, and how I'd come to kill him. Actually it was self-defense; he was trying to kill me at the time. "You know, it's beginnin' to look like Newton's buildin' an empire based on crooked gamblin'. No wonder everybody scoffs at the notion there are honest poker players."
"You think the shootings are tied in to the cheating." It was a statement rather than a question. Which meant that Ginny was thinking along the same lines.
"That'd be my guess. And Bret got shot because he was gettin' too close to the truth. Or he'd gotten proof. That's why the wire to Fitz; confirmation that he was on the right track. Who hired Pinkerton to investigate, anyway?" Very strange for the private detectives to be checking into something the law should be handling. Unless . . .
"Arthur didn't tell me. Maybe the mayor, or the city council. Sounds like they had their own suspicions about the marshal's office. I'll see what I can find out from the boss. He still owes me an answer for the last wire I sent, anyway." Most of the time Arthur Stansbury was forthcoming with answers when Ginny asked questions; this time he seemed hesitant to provide information. Was there more going on here than we assumed?
"I'm taking the coffee pots down to the dining room. You want another cup before I go?"
I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Better bring another pot back, and a cup for Doc. He should be here soon."
It was the first time either of us was looking forward to Doc's arrival. We were anxious to hear what he had to say, now that Bret had finally shown some signs of life. Little did we know what was in store for us.