Chapter 5
Heath came into the sheriff's office just after Jarrod and Nick arrived from lunch, bearing Henry's sandwich. "The sheriff's still out there?" Nick asked right away.
Heath nodded. "He sent me back to talk to Henry. He wants a couple deputies out there with wax to make castings of some footprints we found in the chicken coop."
"In the chicken coop?" Henry asked.
"Fred thinks somebody went in there looking for something, maybe found it. We didn't go looking because we didn't want to disturb those prints before we casted them. They might be a real help."
"Is there anything unusual about them?" Jarrod asked.
"They're boot prints, not Chinese shoes," Heath said, "and one set is really big, bigger than any of the Kyleses would be."
Jarrod's eyes lit up. "How big?"
"Bigger than any I've ever seen," Heath said.
Jarrod suddenly looked like his head was spinning. His gaze drifted, and his eyes starting shifting, a definite signal that he was trying to remember something.
"What is it?" Nick asked.
"Maybe nothing," Jarrod said. "Maybe something. I need to get a look at those prints."
He started for the door.
"Wait a minute," Heath said. "Fred wants something else from us. The doc and Mr. Beckett found some shell casings under the bodies. The doc's gonna extract bullets from the bodies. Since we were the first ones out there, Fred wants us to fire some shots for Henry to collect the bullets and the shell casings, to rule us out in the shootings."
"I'll go get a bag of grain at the store," Nick said and was out the door.
Jarrod was still thinking, still remembering.
"What is it you think you know, Jarrod?" Heath asked.
"I had a client, a few years ago in San Francisco," Jarrod said. "He was accused in a contract killing down by the waterfront. We had footprints from it too and we were able to rule my client out because his feet were so huge. But I was certain he was the kind who would hire himself out. So were the police. They just couldn't find evidence that he was the killer the police were after in that case, and neither could I. But his feet were huge, the biggest I ever saw, and not only that. He had an awkward step on his right foot that left an odd imprint. He was missing the last three toes on that foot and so his boot didn't make an imprint like the kind you or I might leave."
"I didn't notice anything like that but I didn't get close enough to," Heath said.
Henry said, "Let's get your guns fired, then I'll round up Sam and Bob. You can go out to the Kyles place with them to get those castings and we'll see if they match what you remember about your old client. What was his name?"
Jarrod had to think about that. "Imwald. Oswald. Something like that. I'll have to check my records. I'll run out and send my secretary in San Francisco a wire while Nick's getting that grain."
Heath grabbed his arm as Jarrod headed for the door. "Not without me, you're not."
"Come on," Jarrod said.
Jarrod and Heath didn't have to go far to get to the telegraph office, and they were finished and back at the sheriff's office just after Nick arrived with the grain and with a supply of wax for the casting the sheriff wanted to do at the Kyles place. One by one, the Barkley men shot their handguns off into the grain. Henry collected all the bullets and shell casings after each man fired. He folded them up in envelopes with each man's name on the outside.
As they were finishing, two of the deputies who had been out investigating the shootings in town came in, with nothing to report. They hadn't had any more luck talking to people than Jarrod had. "Let's get back out the Kyles place," Jarrod said. "I want to have a look at those footprints."
The two deputies went along with the three Barkleys and soon they were all near the chicken coop behind the Kyles house. The chickens were still nowhere in sight – probably off pecking around in the brush somewhere. The Kyles had a dog and it was missing too, but the barn cats were still there, watching from the barn door.
Jarrod explained about needing to see the footprints and why. "All right, go in and have a closer look before we cast them, but don't go any further than that big set right there." He pointed.
Jarrod nodded, stepped into the coop area no farther than three feet, and squatted down, looking, trying to remember. It was hard to tell in the dirt. Maybe it would be easier once a casting was made, but Jarrod said, "It's the right size, more or less, and it looks like the print might be weak on the outside of the right print. Like my client's did. I don't know. I'll have to see the casting."
"Then let's get to it," the sheriff said. "It'll take a while to harden. You Barkleys can get back to town and Jarrod, I can have you look at this later."
"I need to attend to a couple things at the office, Fred," Jarrod said, "but we plan to head home and avoid Stockton after dark, just in case."
The sheriff nodded. "If I don't see you today, I'll see you tomorrow, and hope we don't have any more killings in the meantime."
"Before we go," Jarrod said, "I think you should consider talking to Mrs. Ashby."
"Mrs. Ashby? Do you think she could have anything to do with this?"
"I don't know," Jarrod said. "She may, she may not. She may know something without knowing she knows it. In any event, she needs to be questioned, and I sure can't do it."
"That's pretty clear," the sheriff said. "All right. I'll get to see her when I get back into town."
The Barkley men headed for their horses again, Nick saying, "We still need to stick with you, Jarrod."
"I know," Jarrod said. "We need to stick with each other. I'm not ready to say Heath is in the clear either. But we each stand a better chance of not getting caught up in this if we keep each other company for a while."
As they mounted up, Heath said, "I know you two got lunch, but I didn't."
"Well, then," Jarrod said with a smile that had been eluding him all day. "I'm sure Nick is hungry again already. Let's get you boys fed."
They all headed over to the Stockton House. Jarrod wasn't very hungry and had only a piece of pie, while Heath had a full lunch and Nick had a full lunch as if he hadn't already had a sandwich and beer. Jarrod let himself be amused – there wasn't much to be amused about lately so he took advantage of the moment. Until someone came into the café.
Mrs. Ashby walked in, together with a woman Jarrod didn't know. Mrs. Ashby spotted Jarrod right away, but looked away from him and went to a table near the window, across the room.
Heath spotted Mrs. Ashby too and said, "Uh-oh."
"What?" Nick asked. He had his back to the door.
"Mrs. Ashby just came in," Jarrod said. "Heath, do you know that woman with her?"
"No," Heath said.
Nick gave a look over his shoulder. "I don't know her either."
"Maybe a relative from out of town we don't know," Jarrod said.
Nick went back to eating. "I doubt Mrs. Ashby would be inclined to introduce us."
"No, we best leave them alone," Jarrod agreed. "Let the sheriff deal with her."
"I wonder if she knows about the killings in town or about the Kyleses," Heath mused.
"I don't know if she's heard about the Kyleses, but I'll bet she's heard about the two Chinamen," Nick said. "I'll bet everybody has by now."
"Hm," Jarrod said in agreement. He gave one more look at the woman with Mrs. Ashby. He still had no idea who she was, but for some reason, he thought he wanted to remember her.
She was younger than Mrs. Ashby. Jarrod thought she was even younger than he was but not as young as Heath. She was dark-haired, quite beautiful in a sharp, even hard sort of way. As she talked, she smiled to Mrs. Ashby, but the smile vanished as soon as Mrs. Ashby looked away from her and down at the menu.
Manipulative, Jarrod thought right away, but realized he was just judging her by first impressions and he could be very wrong. Still, he thought he ought to remember her and mention her to the sheriff. Something in his store of instincts was waking up.
