"Do you expect me to believe that you didn't know who Hiram Crabbs was?
Come off it!" Elliott Marston dropped his calm demeanour and leaped to his
feet. Anger propelled him across the room to the sofa where Major Rodney
Ashey-Pitt sat.
"Well, I don't." The officer stared stupidly up at him. The action seemed to aggravate his injury; he reached up and began to rub the side of his neck.
"I suppose you don't know who searched my family's rooms at the XXX either?" Marston put his hands on his hips, looming over his quarry. His hold on his temper slipped another notch.
"Oh, that was us. No question." Ashley-Pitt slid down as far as he could to avoid his interrogator. "I ordered a search for any documents that would have my name on them. My men were ordered to search the rooms of the Flanagan family. They couldn't find anything and I thought there were no documents."
"Sam Flanagan gave his papers to me. They were in my room." Marston reflected for a bitter moment on the army activities that his taxes were funding, then returned to the main issue.
The major looked up with a disgruntled expression. "Well, obviously. Otherwise why would you be here?" He sighed, then continued in a calmer vein. "I didn't know that you and the young woman were that intimate or I would have had them look in your rooms too. Well, we live and learn."
Marston took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Major, I sympathize with your personal loss but a man has been killed and I need some answers. Hiram Crabbs came to me claiming to have information about Ches Watters and the next day he was found hanged. What do you know about it?"
"Ches Watters. There's a name I do know." Ashley-Pitt said nothing for a moment, absently rubbing his neck. "Elliott, I'm going to do you a favour and tell you the truth. I don't have to. Even this incident today can be hushed up. I have the power in this town to do it. But the man you shot was sent here by someone else - someone who is tying up loose ends. And I want the bastard stopped."
Marston crouched beside the sofa. "Then tell me."
"I hated Sam Flanagan for letting my brother's killer go. But I would never have done anything about it. That's the truth." He fell silent again, then roused himself. "I was promoted to major after only two years as a captain. I couldn't afford - literally - to do anything to Flanagan and have it traced back to me. And then one day about a year ago, I got a visit from someone who made me an incredible offer. He knew about my brother's death - no real secret - and guessed how I felt about it. He said that he could arrange it so that it would never be traced back to me."
Marston stood up again slowly. Across the room, Melvin Collins leaned forward in his chair, his gaze fixed on the major.
"All I had to do was commission Ches Watters - he wasn't specified but I suggested him and my visitor had no objections - to hire Sam Flanagan to undertake a particular job. The beauty of it was that I would be protected because I wouldn't know what the job was. One of his men would deliver a sealed envelope to Watters after he'd agreed." Ashley-Pitt glanced up warily, trying to gauge his reaction.
Marston was poker-faced. "Go on."
"Well, of course I asked a lot of questions. It was a damned peculiar arrangement. Some he answered, some he didn't." Ashley-Pitt looked around for his glass; he tipped the remaining contents down his throat. "But he promised me that Flanagan would not survive the job. It was too good an opportunity, from my point of view."
"And what happened?"
"After a week of thinking it over, I told him I agreed. I never saw him privately again. At the end of that month, I made contact with Watters and he was willing. I got word back to my - colleague, shall we say? - and his man brought me a sealed envelope to pass on to Watters. The same man, incidentally, whose visit to me today you so fortuitously interrupted." The major reached up and stroked his neck again, rubbing the rawness with the tips of his fingers. "When I handed that envelope over, I felt the greatest sense of peace come over me. Long distance revenge. It was wonderful."
Across the room, Collins looked away to hide his disgust. His client was incredulous. "That's it? That was your entire involvement?"
"Until Watters died, yes. Oh, I won't deny that I was impatient occasionally. I didn't hear anything about Flanagan being killed and I did sort of wonder. But the whole machinery was in motion and there was nothing I could do but wait. Then I went out to your ranch one day and met that cutie -" He broke off at the look in Marston's eyes. "Uh, I mean that attractive young lady with the interesting name. I give you my word I didn't know he had a daughter."
"Never mind that." Marston reached down and took a fistful of scarlet uniform in his right hand. He pulled the major to his feet with one swift tug. "Now tell me the name of this colleague of yours. I want to ask him some questions."
"Go right ahead. I owe him nothing. He tried to have me killed today." Ashley-Pitt gazed at him with steady eyes. It was as if the release of his memories combined with the assault on his person to render him almost insensate to normal emotion. "But be careful. Cal Torken is a powerful man."
"Well, I don't." The officer stared stupidly up at him. The action seemed to aggravate his injury; he reached up and began to rub the side of his neck.
"I suppose you don't know who searched my family's rooms at the XXX either?" Marston put his hands on his hips, looming over his quarry. His hold on his temper slipped another notch.
"Oh, that was us. No question." Ashley-Pitt slid down as far as he could to avoid his interrogator. "I ordered a search for any documents that would have my name on them. My men were ordered to search the rooms of the Flanagan family. They couldn't find anything and I thought there were no documents."
"Sam Flanagan gave his papers to me. They were in my room." Marston reflected for a bitter moment on the army activities that his taxes were funding, then returned to the main issue.
The major looked up with a disgruntled expression. "Well, obviously. Otherwise why would you be here?" He sighed, then continued in a calmer vein. "I didn't know that you and the young woman were that intimate or I would have had them look in your rooms too. Well, we live and learn."
Marston took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Major, I sympathize with your personal loss but a man has been killed and I need some answers. Hiram Crabbs came to me claiming to have information about Ches Watters and the next day he was found hanged. What do you know about it?"
"Ches Watters. There's a name I do know." Ashley-Pitt said nothing for a moment, absently rubbing his neck. "Elliott, I'm going to do you a favour and tell you the truth. I don't have to. Even this incident today can be hushed up. I have the power in this town to do it. But the man you shot was sent here by someone else - someone who is tying up loose ends. And I want the bastard stopped."
Marston crouched beside the sofa. "Then tell me."
"I hated Sam Flanagan for letting my brother's killer go. But I would never have done anything about it. That's the truth." He fell silent again, then roused himself. "I was promoted to major after only two years as a captain. I couldn't afford - literally - to do anything to Flanagan and have it traced back to me. And then one day about a year ago, I got a visit from someone who made me an incredible offer. He knew about my brother's death - no real secret - and guessed how I felt about it. He said that he could arrange it so that it would never be traced back to me."
Marston stood up again slowly. Across the room, Melvin Collins leaned forward in his chair, his gaze fixed on the major.
"All I had to do was commission Ches Watters - he wasn't specified but I suggested him and my visitor had no objections - to hire Sam Flanagan to undertake a particular job. The beauty of it was that I would be protected because I wouldn't know what the job was. One of his men would deliver a sealed envelope to Watters after he'd agreed." Ashley-Pitt glanced up warily, trying to gauge his reaction.
Marston was poker-faced. "Go on."
"Well, of course I asked a lot of questions. It was a damned peculiar arrangement. Some he answered, some he didn't." Ashley-Pitt looked around for his glass; he tipped the remaining contents down his throat. "But he promised me that Flanagan would not survive the job. It was too good an opportunity, from my point of view."
"And what happened?"
"After a week of thinking it over, I told him I agreed. I never saw him privately again. At the end of that month, I made contact with Watters and he was willing. I got word back to my - colleague, shall we say? - and his man brought me a sealed envelope to pass on to Watters. The same man, incidentally, whose visit to me today you so fortuitously interrupted." The major reached up and stroked his neck again, rubbing the rawness with the tips of his fingers. "When I handed that envelope over, I felt the greatest sense of peace come over me. Long distance revenge. It was wonderful."
Across the room, Collins looked away to hide his disgust. His client was incredulous. "That's it? That was your entire involvement?"
"Until Watters died, yes. Oh, I won't deny that I was impatient occasionally. I didn't hear anything about Flanagan being killed and I did sort of wonder. But the whole machinery was in motion and there was nothing I could do but wait. Then I went out to your ranch one day and met that cutie -" He broke off at the look in Marston's eyes. "Uh, I mean that attractive young lady with the interesting name. I give you my word I didn't know he had a daughter."
"Never mind that." Marston reached down and took a fistful of scarlet uniform in his right hand. He pulled the major to his feet with one swift tug. "Now tell me the name of this colleague of yours. I want to ask him some questions."
"Go right ahead. I owe him nothing. He tried to have me killed today." Ashley-Pitt gazed at him with steady eyes. It was as if the release of his memories combined with the assault on his person to render him almost insensate to normal emotion. "But be careful. Cal Torken is a powerful man."