Once we got out to the river, we compared lists. Bret and Lillian had missed the time that Cornelia was gone to check on her son and the visit by Herman's friend McGinty – but other than that the lists were the same. I was beginning to get a clearer picture of what might be going on. Especially after what Bonnie shared with Brother Bret.
He told me everything that he'd heard from Bonnie and some of the pieces fell into place, including the reason for Dr. Jackson's involvement. We both still had questions and no answers, and I explained Lonnie's arrest and Marshal Fontana's interest. Then I disclosed to him my own part in this ever-deepening mystery.
"Could the accident have been part of this?" Bret asked.
"I've wondered that myself. I just don't see how it could be tied up in the whole thing. And I think my derringer disappearin' was just a happy accident for whoever killed Wharton. I'm supposed to go meet Fontana. Go with me."
Bret sighed. "Somehow I knew I'd end up in this mess. Why do I let you drag me into these things?"
"You don't have to. You can go back to the hotel and babysit Domino and Lonnie."
He looked like he was considering it for about ten seconds. "Naw, I think I'll stick with you."
"Then let's go visit the marshal."
The meeting wasn't going to happen this day, however. The marshal's office was more chaotic than it had been the previous day and it didn't take long to find out why – Hollister McCann's body had been found in an abandoned barn near the river – with his throat cut. Fontana wasn't in the office, but he'd left a message for me in the form of a note. It read 'Maverick – Go back to your hotel and stay there until you hear from me. Jenkins Fontana'
"Might not be a bad idea, for a while," I told Bret.
"Mmmhmm. This is one time I like the idea of takin' a lawman's advice."
And back to the hotel we went.
XXXXXXXX
When we got back Bret went to bed to get some sleep, and Dominique was doing something with her clothes in our room, so Lonnie and I sat down to talk. "What's going on, Bart? There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"
I nodded, knowing that I could tell Lonnie some, but not all, of the goings on. "Hollister McCann is dead, Lonnie."
"Hollister – how?"
"Somebody slit his throat."
"I'm not surprised. He could be . . . . . . tough."
"He mightta been tough, but he was fair. He told me you were innocent."
She looked surprised. "He did?"
"Yep. In this very room."
"When?"
"Last night."
"He was here last night?" Now she sounded surprised.
"Yep."
"What else did he want?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. He was at the Belle drinkin' about ten o'clock."
"That sounds right. He worked most nights until nine o'clock or so, then stopped by Belle for a drink before he went home."
"He was more than just a casual acquaintance?"
She was calm, but her hands were fidgety. "At one time, yes."
"How long ago?"
Lonnie gave a little laugh, but I noticed her eyes glistening. "A long time ago. When I . . . . . when I shot Francoise del Cantera."
"He helped you through that?"
"He saved me from being hung."
That was an interesting bit of information that I wasn't in possession of. Lonnie was full of mystery and secrets. But I guess we all are.
Dominique came out of the bedroom, holding up a pretty, crisp pink dress. "I think this will fit you, Lonnie, if you'd like to change clothes." Lonnie was still wearing the black silk dress she'd had on two days ago.
"Thank you, Dominique. I think it will, too. Excuse me," and they traded places, Domino coming to sit with me on the settee. It didn't take much persuasion for me to put my arm around her.
"You don't still think she's involved in all this, do you?" she asked me when comfortably seated next to me.
"I never did," came my quick answer.
"But you said – "
"I know," I interrupted. "There was a reason I did that, but I didn't believe it."
She thought for just a moment. "Hollister McCann and Jenkins Fontana."
"More or less."
"There's more going on than you're willing to talk about, isn't there?"
Neither one of these ladies was slow, that's for certain. "More than I can talk about, Domino."
Lonnie came back out and looked much softer and prettier in the pink dress. It fit almost perfectly. "Thanks, Dominique. I get real tired of black."
"Who started that, Lonnie?" I asked her.
"Oscar. He wanted something to set us apart from the other houses. He called us 'Black Silk Ladies.' We got used to it."
"You can change it if you want to."
"Maybe, somewhere down the line. Not just now."
There was a knock on the door and I got up, gun drawn, to answer it. "Who is it?" I asked when I got to the entryway.
"Fontana."
I opened the door before I holstered my gun. Marshal Fontana came in and tipped his hat, then explained, "Ladies, I need to see Mr. Maverick, alone." Domino and Lonnie went into my room and shut the door. "Your brother?" the marshal asked.
"Asleep."
"You know McCann's dead?"
I nodded. "Any leads?"
"Not so far. What'd you find out?"
I gave him all the information I had, including the two lists, and then told him the conclusions Bret and I had come to.
He nodded his head before adding, "I think you're right. The only question becomes, who's doing the killing?"
"That I can't answer – yet. Belle Amour is supposed to have a champagne delivery today. I wanna go down and see what actually appears. Maybe that'll help us."
"Watch your back. Until we know the last piece of this puzzle – "
"You too. I want this cleared up." What I didn't say was "so I can sell the place."
The marshal left and I opened the bedroom door. "Alright, ladies, I have to go to Belle Amour."
Domino spoke up. "I'm going with you."
There was no sense arguing with her. I sighed and said "Alright."
"Lonnie, wake Bret about five o'clock. Tell him to meet me at the parlor house."
She nodded and I grabbed my hat and cane. I'd be happy when I didn't have to take that thing with me anymore. "Let's go, Mrs. Hawkins." And out the door we went.