Chapter Eight
Jack Regan and his partner Dale followed the hotel's security officer up to the penthouse level. They had discretely entered through the back way, instead of the lavishly decorated lobby with its large crystal chandeliers and velvet furnishings. The security officer was in fact a retired Denver police sergeant, who knew the drill for handling messes among the upper class of society.
The elevator, with its elaborate brass cage took them to the top floor, where a gold and burgundy carpet in a medallion design awaited them. The walls were covered in silk, with gilt gas light fixtures hung with crystals. There were paintings of pastoral scenes interspersed with mirrors in more gilt frames. Several pier tables were set against the walls, with floral arrangements on them flanked by candelabra.
The whole effect was one of elegance and taste, while the early morning hour lent calmness to the hall. Windows at either end were open, letting the cool breeze come in and freshen the area. Jack and Dale were immune to the trappings of wealth and power; they'd both seen enough crime in upper class establishments to not be taken in with the gilded frame.
They knocked on the elaborately carved and painted double doors that led to the penthouse suite, expecting a houseman or black coated butler to answer the knock. Instead the door was answered by a tall man with dark hair and an air of authority. He was attired in grey slacks and a white linen shirt open at the neck; the casual dress did not in any way diminish the power he radiated.
Jack was taken aback at how quick and hard the door was flung open, and by the loudness of the voice that greeted them. Clearly the man standing there was used to being in charge of everything and everyone around him.
The detective squared his shoulders and put a non-committal smile on his face. Jack had dealt with titans of industry and business before; one of his best assets was that he didn't need to meet force with force. His father, a follower of the ponies, had taught him that a police officer could learn a lot by giving a suspect a long rein and the chance to incriminate himself.
"We are here to talk to Heath Barkley." Jack announced, after introducing himself and Dale, as they showed their badges. He noted that the man looked closely at their shields, and then gave them a direct stare.
"I am Nick Barkley; Heath is my brother." The man stated, in the same loud voice as before, leaving Jack to wonder if the man was hard of hearing. "Is there a problem, Detectives?" There was no doubt that this commanding man would happily keep them cooling their heels in the well decorated foyer if he wanted to.
"Our business is with Heath Barkley." Jack replied several octaves lower than his normal speaking voice; he wanted to see if the other man was hard of hearing. The booming reply he received made it clear that Nick Barkley had good hearing, but was used to being loud.
"It is rather early for a social call." The dark haired man barked, moving slightly forward and placing his feet – clad in black leather boots – hip width apart. Jack noticed that the man's right hand moved to his lower flank; the classic gesture of the cowboy or gunfighter reaching for his weapon. It came to him that no one who surprised Nick Barkley in dark alley would fare well.
"Is Mr. Heath Barkley available?" Jack replied a much milder voice than he was feeling; he wanted to keep things low key. Getting answers in the death of the unknown man were more important than stirring up trouble.
"Mr. Barkley, I understand your concern for your brother; I share that concern too. May we please talk to him?" Dale stepped up next to him, as he made his statement, palms up to show no hostility. In truth Jack was feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; there was something off about Nick Barkley's reluctance to let them into the suite, to talk to his brother.
Nick for his part had been surprised to see the two men outside the door of the penthouse at half past seven. The knocking on the door had made him aware of Heath's absence, so Nick had hurriedly thrown open the door, not noticing how it had banged against the hinges. He took quick note of the two men standing there, and was puzzled by their presence.
The younger man was dressed in a brown coat and pants of wool cloth; it was the type of outfit a mid-level clerk would wear. The man himself looked Irish; Nick was reminded of Jimmy Callahan with his fair skin, black hair, and dark blue eyes. His bearing though made it clear that he was in charge, even as Nick noted the age and better tailoring of his companion. This man had greying hair but was wearing a top coat of finely woven dark blue wool.
The pair put Nick on the alert, because he knew from Jarrod how major city police departments worked. It was customary to pair an up and coming detective with a senior officer – one who didn't want to achieve high rank, but liked knowing where the bodies were buried. A duo like this was sent out to investigate high level crimes – or crimes involving high level people. Either way their being here did not bode well for Heath.
"Of course gentlemen, please come in." Nick tamped down the impatience he was feeling, realizing that it would not help the situation. "Please help yourself to some coffee, and toast." He waved toward the cart, with the large coffee service, and extra cups. As was customary the room service cart always included extra cups and plates, in case there were private guests.
"Mr. Barkley, thank you for the offer of the coffee; it was an early morning." Jack smiled, thinking of how many wealthy people treated the police worse than dirt. His opinion of Nick Barkley went up slightly with the fact that man had been willing to offer hot coffee and warm toast. He and Dale exchanged a glance; neither one would have accepted the offer of course, but they noted that it had been made. "Now my partner and I would like to speak to your brother, so he can help us with a matter." The police officer hoped that by phrasing his request that way, the dark haired man would comply.
In truth Nick wanted to talk to Heath as badly as the detective did, since his brother was still not up and around. Deciding that the circumstances warranted it he strode over to the opposite side of the room, where an ornately carved door was positioned. This led to the suite that Heath and Sarah shared, and Nick didn't pause as he knocked firmly on the door. Nothing happened, so he knocked again, albeit with more force.
Now he heard the door handle turn and the door opened slightly, letting him see Sarah standing there, in a pale colored dressing gown. He noted her disheveled hair and puffy eyes, in spite of his concern about Heath. Clearly something was not right, and it caused to take a deep breath, before he spoke.
"Sarah, I'm sorry to bother you, but is Heath available?" Nick had lowered his voice, thinking that Sarah reminded him of a scared sparrow. What had gone on last night, after they'd gone to bed? Nick wondered to himself. He had been curious about who Logan Dawes was to Heath, and in the cold light of morning couldn't fault Sarah her response to how Heath had reached out to the man. He was very familiar with how Heath's reticence about his past could make a person grind their teeth or lose their temper.
"Ah Heath is, Heath is." Sarah's mouth opened and shut, reminding Nick again of a bird caught unawares. "Just a moment." She stepped back and closed the door, leaving Nick standing on the threshold. Her disheveled appearance was cause for concern, and the confusion she presented about Heath's whereabouts bothered Nick. The police had up until now just been annoying, but if his brother wasn't around; well Nick decided he needed to be on alert.
It was only Nick's natural reticence about his brother's personal life, and Victoria's influence that kept Nick standing at the door. If it was just Heath he would have charged ahead but the presence of Sarah, Heath's wife gave him pause. Nick would not want Heath barraging in on Priscilla if the circumstances were reversed; even as he could not see that happening.
"Heath stayed up late, reviewing documents" Sarah opened the door and vainly tried to smile brightly "he doesn't like to disturb me, so he slept in the valet's room. Heath likes to get up early and went out to get coffee and explore the town." Her voice sounded more hopeful than convincing, but Nick couldn't disagree with her statement.
His brother was good at going off on his own, or keeping odd hours – he had noticed on more than one occasion that Heath and Jarrod shared that trait. Nick was sure that his brother had slept in the valet's room because of Sarah, Logan, and the coat rather than reviewing documents. No matter the cause, Nick understood that Sarah had no idea where Heath was, which made him sigh.
"Sarah, there are two police officers in the front parlor, wanting to speak to Heath." Nick soon saw that he had reason to regret his announcement.
Several hours earlier…
"Am I entitled to an explanation?" Sarah struggled to keep a neutral note in her voice, as she turned to face Heath once he'd closed the door to their suite. There was so much she wanted to say – and wanted to know – but knew that she wouldn't get her answers easily.
"Sarah, please understand." Heath stated, and Sarah noted that he was facing her as he started to speak. Oh great she reflected to herself, once again I am supposed to understand why my husband's past pops up unexpectedly. Sarah rather thought it was like a child's bad pantomime play; unfortunately it continually happened in her life.
"Please understand what? That you gave my gift to a stranger? Or a semi-stranger? That you never wanted to wear it in the first place?" Sarah sighed with sadness, as she walked over to the window, welcoming the draft that the tri-pane arched window let in, even as its diamond paned leaded top glowed silver with the moon.
"It is hard to explain." Heath replied, a strained note coming into his voice. This caught Sarah's attention, because normally her husband was cool as ice from the north. She was quick to see the wavering of confidence in his pale blue eyes.
"Really? Either you liked the coat or you didn't. This is not a complicated question." Sarah turned away from the window as she retorted, mentally throwing up her hands in frustration. Dealing with Heath was so hard she fumed; he wouldn't state what he wanted until a decision was made. If the decision wasn't what he wanted he would then comment on the matter in a cold tone of voice.
"I didn't want to hurt your feelings Sarah. I just wasn't sure how to explain that." Heath reached out to take her hands but Sarah jerked away quickly. She knew all too well how quickly he could beguile her into their bed; it was one of the reasons in her mind that so many of their issues had never been settled.
"Oh, that it would be so hard to say thank you for giving me a fine coat I needed a top coat but I'm not sure about the cut? Could I take you into the city and we get it altered, have dinner and see a show?" Sarah retorted, just wishing that Heath had been upfront with her at the time she gave him the coat. Even as she thought that it came to her that yet again she was wishing for Heath to share himself with her.
Heath had spent the whole ride back to the hotel struggling with the ramifications of seeing Logan again after so long. The memory of all those years in Carterson had come back to him, like a nightmare; however it had not been a nightmare but his life. The thought of being hungry, sick, and wondering when he was going to die were at forefront in his brain. Sarah and her barbed comments were suddenly more than he could handle.
"Can we not talk about this now? Please?" Heath sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I need some consideration." His hope was stating it like that, she wouldn't pry about Logan. He noted that so far she'd only addressed the matter of the coat and not the man who now had the garment. There was also the hope that maybe she would be sympathetic and step back. His hope was not to be fulfilled.
"My consideration? I am your wife; do you know what that means?" Sarah retorted angrily and Heath realized that he had misread his wife; yet again. Heath was all set to reply but Sarah went on with a disdainful tone in her voice. "You only think of my feelings if it doesn't affect you or anything else you have going on. If you really cared for me you would be honest about your life."
Heath knew he should have been surprised at how Sarah turned the situation into all about her, as if his feelings didn't matter. It hurt him – even more than he was hurting with his memories – as he recalled all the times he gave in to her, to keep the peace. A jagged bolt of pain hit his temples, and Heath realized he needed to end the conversation now, before he said something he couldn't take back.
"I have a headache, and I don't think either one of us is in the right frame of mind for this conversation." Heath took a deep breath, before he went on "I will sleep in the valet's room and we can discuss this tomorrow." He knew that he was coming off as cold and unfeeling, but he felt that cold was better than a red hot explosion of emotion.
Sarah stood open mouthed as he turned his back on her, and walked across to the servant's room. Heath opened and shut the door; she heard the hard click of the lock turning. That raised her ire even more, and she wanted to scream at him. She looked around but there was nothing to throw, so instead she stomped her foot to vent some of her fury.
Well fine, if that is what he wants so be it she muttered to herself, entering the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Sarah was fuming at how Heath had stonewalled her about the man and the coat; yet again she was left with her questions unanswered. She straightened her shoulders and decided to get ready for bed. After changing into her night clothes Sarah used the water closet, taking pleasure in knowing that Heath couldn't get to the room without going through the bedroom.
She settled into the big comfortable bed, planning on enjoying it for an hour or so, until Heath came wanting to get into her good graces. Sarah had seen on more than one occasion that Heath would give into her to keep the peace, as long as it didn't impact his private life. Her bravado crumpled at two in the morning, when she was along in bed; at that point she dissolved into tears, about her marriage and her life.
When the knock on the door came, startling her out of a fitful sleep Sarah sat straight up in bed. She was groggy but the knocking continued and out of habit she looked to the other side of the bed. Heath should have been there – but he wasn't! Suddenly the scenes from last night came to mind and Sarah realized that Heath had never come to bed.
The knocking was causing Sarah's head to hurt even worse than it was; with a sigh she went to get out of bed. Her plain dressing gown was at the foot of the bed; she liked the garment because it was lined with soft lamb's wool, which made it warm. After tying the cord around her waist she went and opened the door, surprised to see Nick, asking about Heath.
Sarah shut the door and quickly walked over to the valet's room, but it was empty. Further it didn't look like anyone had been in there at all. Where was Heath? She thought to herself, worried about where he had spent the night. Sarah didn't want to tell Nick about the fight last night; instead she quickly thought of a plausible explanation.
"Heath stayed up late, reviewing documents" Sarah opened the door put a false smile on her face "he doesn't like to disturb me, so he slept in the valet's room. Heath likes to get up early and went out to get coffee and explore the town." It was hard work to sound positive and unconcerned, but when Nick told her about the police she couldn't contain her worry.
"The Police?" Her voice rose to an almost screech, and she dashed out of the room to confront the two detectives. It came to Nick that he had, in his haste, handled the matter of notifying Sarah very badly. Nick sighed with remorse, as he followed his sister-in-law out into the parlor.
Jack had been paying close attention to Nick's actions – and his tone of voice – as he talked to the woman that the detective presumed was Heath's wife. His decisive knocking on the door, but the hesitation he showed at going past the door; it was all indicative of a man who wasn't sure of his next step. That was telling to Jack because clearly his brother didn't know where Heath was; that thought was cut short by a shrill cry.
"Heath, Heath! Where is he? Is he all right?" Jack's ears were assaulted by the high tones, as the woman moved to face him. She was dressed in a plain dressing gown, with no ornamentation at all. He knew a great deal about women because of his past cases; it was part of the reason he still wasn't married.
Jack noted the disheveled pale brown hair; clearly it had not been brushed out before bed as women tended to do. He looked closer at the narrow face and saw dark circles under the light brown eyes, the face being almost pale while the eyebrows were faint at best. His father would have commented that the woman looked like a horse who'd been rode hard and put away wet; clearly Heath Barkley and his wife were not in a good place.
"Mrs. Barkley, we just want to talk to your husband about an incident that recently happened." Dale stepped up, and removing his gloves reached out to introduce himself. Jack noted how the older man, with his soothing voice, seemed to know what the frightened and worried woman needed to hear. Just as Dale was about to say something else, the door to the suite opened and everyone turned to face it.
The man who walked in was of medium height and build, with fair hair; he was wearing a dun colored oilcloth jacket and blue denim jeans. To say he looked out of place in the suite was putting it mildly, and both Jack and Dale looked with great interest at the newcomer. However before Jack could react the woman uttered another high pitch screamed and threw herself against the man.
Clearly this was Heath Barkley, Jack thought to himself, and made it a point to pay careful attention to everything that happened next. The man in question looked shocked at both his wife's reaction to him, and the other people in the suite. Jack was very interested as to where Heath had been all morning, but decided to hold back and see what the man himself said.
However, he didn't get his wish, as the woman erupted into hysterics, leaving every man paralyzed at what do about the situation. Jack counted to ten, and just as he was set to incur his authority, the door on the opposite of the room opened up, bringing salvation to his dilemma.
A woman came into the parlor, dressed in a ruby red velvet dressing gown, ornamented with red silk bows and ivory colored lace. Jack noticed the dark gold hair prettily plaited and fastened with a black silk cord, even as he was observing the creamy complexion with rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes. The woman looked like a Christmas present, Jack smiled involuntarily.
"Nicholas, what is going on?" Her tone was soft and concerned, as she glided over to the dark haired man. Jack noted how quickly the man put his arm around the woman and pulled her close against him, not caring who saw his affection. They were happy, Jack mused, even as he hoped the woman would deal with her sister-in-law, who he was assuming the other woman was. He noted Nick Barkley whispering something to her, probably about the police in the suite.
Jack wasn't sure what the dark haired man had said, but he felt like the woman had read his mind, because she disengaged herself from her husband, and walked over to the other couple. The woman was still clinging to Heath, even as the man looked embarrassed as he awkwardly stroked his wife's shoulder.
"Sarah, it is all right." The woman in the red dressing gown took the other woman – Jack now knew that her name was Sarah – hands and clasped them in hers. "Whatever is going on will be sorted out. Why don't you come with me, and have some tea while the men talk?" She looked at her husband, who nodded his head, before she turned to look at Jack. While admiring her blue eyes Jack was glad to give the assent to get Sarah out of the room.
"Heath Barkley?" Jack stepped forward to the man in the work clothes, noting the circles under his pale blue eyes. He and Dale showed their shields, and introduced themselves. Nick Barkley indicated the room service tray, even as he directed the group over to the sitting area in the parlor. Jack noted that the dark haired man positioned him and his brother on the sofa, leaving the two detectives to take the flanking chairs.
"My I call you Heath?" Jack asked, liking to put persons of interest on a first name basis, to diminish their self-importance. There was also the matter that with two Mr. Barkley's the conversation could get confusing. Heath nodded, and waited for the detective to go on; Jack recognized the tactic right away, having used it many times himself. After several minutes of silence he started to wonder if Heath had been a criminal, lawman or both; in the west justice wasn't black and white as he'd learned early on.
"This morning a body was discovered in the park that runs along Colfax Avenue." Jack decided to be forthcoming, recognizing that Heath would only respond to candor. As he made his statement he waved his hand in the direction of the park. The brothers nodded, knowing the area he was indicating.
"The man was dressed like one of the beggars that camp out along the Platte." Jack noticed how Heath winced at the term beggar; clearly he'd struck a nerve which made him smile inwardly. The blonde man was not quite as stoic as he would like to seem. "However, he was wearing a very fine wool coat with a Persian wool collar. The maker's label indicated a tailor in San Francisco; also in the breast pocket were your card and a ten dollar note from the U.S. Mint in San Francisco." Jack sat back and waited to see how Heath would respond.
"Logan Dawes?" Heath sat up very straight, and for the first time Jack saw emotion in the man's eyes. It was sorrow and pain; before now Heath's eyes had been flat, even when dealing with his wife. Jack found himself disliking this man, even as he wasn't sure why. However, he had to get to the bottom of the dead body, so he tamped his feelings down.
"Logan? Is that the man's name?" Dale pounced on Heath's admission, and Jack was glad for his partner picking up the questioning. The man was invaluable in so many ways, and Jack had always been grateful that they'd been put together. His tone was smooth and even, as if he was inquiring about the weather.
"Yes, Logan Dawes. I knew him many years ago but hadn't seen him until last night." Heath replied, before standing up to go get some coffee. Jack doubted that the man wanted coffee, but wanted to buy time to compose his reply. This made him suspicious of Heath Barkley; an innocent man would have offered up an explanation right away. Once Heath had coffee he came back to the sofa, and sitting down, explained how they'd been at the Opera House last night. Heath talked about Logan coming up to them, Heath recognizing him, and the talk they'd shared.
"It was freezing cold Detective Regan, and I had a covered carriage coming. I gave him my coat, my card, and some money." Heath looked Jack directly in the eye, carefully widening his eyes, which put the police officer on even higher alert. This man was clever and shrewd; Jack hated criminals who had those traits. On the other hand, he mentally reminded himself, they did tell good stories. "I also asked him to join me for breakfast this morning. He wanted to go to Georgetown, for a mining job."
Jack inwardly conceded that Heath's story was plausible, and a jury would probably accept it, especially with the note of concern about his long lost friend. One of the things that Jack hated about being a detective was always being worried about the final outcome – the trial. However in this case there were just too many loose ends, and things that were off to make him wary.
"Really Heath, I have to say this sounds slightly far-fetched." Jack was careful to let the skepticism he was feeling be heard in his reply. "You haven't seen this man in years – how long ago? – And yet you give him an expensive coat, money, and your card. And now you are telling me you asked him to meet you this morning?" The disbelief was apparent to everyone in the room, Jack noted, as Nick Barkley turned to look at his brother with a direct look.
"It wasn't like that!" Heath replied hotly, and Jack could see that his barbs had gotten under the man's skin. "I've known Logan; he was; I mean." The quick reply stopped and Heath suddenly sat back, his one leg on top of his other leg, as he crossed his arms. It was the position of a man who wasn't going to say anything else.
"Just what do you mean Heath? Logan was a friend?" Dale stepped into the silence, after he'd given Jack a quick look, to get the ok to proceed. Jack was glad that Dale was moving up to play good cop as opposed to his bad cop. It gave the suspect more time to probably incriminate themselves, and Jack was now sure that Heath was not telling them the truth about Logan Dawes.
"I knew Logan Dawes several years ago; we had lost touch until last night." Heath sat up straight but kept his arms crossed. "He is a hard worker, and I was more than willing to help him find a job up in Georgetown." He stopped there, while giving the police officers a hard stare.
"What was your plan to meet with him with morning? Is that why you were out so early?" Dale asked with a smile, as if they were having a casual conversation. Jack waited eagerly to hear what story – and he was sure it was a story – Heath Barkley would come up with.
"After we returned from the Opera House, I stayed up to review some business documents before going to sleep. I'm used to rising early, because of the work on our ranch." Heath started to explain and looked to his brother for corroboration; Nick nodded at the comment. "Everyone else was asleep, so I dressed and went to go exploring. I walked." He mentioned the streets he'd walked through, and the hole in the wall place that he'd had coffee. Jack recognized all of them, and had to give the man credit for having his alibi so well prepared.
"Before we parted last night I had given Logan a pat on the back, and whispered for him to meet me in the lobby of the hotel for breakfast." Heath uncrossed his arms, and reached for his coffee cup, taking a drink as if he had no worries in the world. It came to Jack that whether Heath was lying or telling the truth he was as cunning as they come.
"So you expected Logan Dawes to come into the lobby of this establishment, and wait for you? Heath, even with your fine coat the doorman and desk clerk are trained to keep beggars out." Jack noted how Dale used the word beggar, and as Heath winced at the term he knew that the older man had picked up on their suspect's dislike of the word in the earlier conversation. It was time for Jack to pounce, and he took advantage of the opening Dale had given him.
"Heath, what I think happened is that Logan Dawes is from your past – but not a friend – rather a threat to you." Jack leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. "You didn't ask him to meet you in the lobby, but rather in the park, very early in the morning. This was just a precaution, in case sending him back to the homeless encampment along the Platte, in an expensive coat and money in his pocket, didn't get him killed."
"When he showed up this morning you killed him, and left him in the park, for us to find him. You were hoping it would be a beggar being killed, but you left the coat and money. Thugs always take anything that can be sold." Jack delivered his verdict, and was surprised that it was Nick Barkley who responded first.
"Hang on there Detective! You are way out of line and going down the wrong alley." Nick Barkley stood up, all six foot three of him, as he lowered his face to Jack's level. "My brother was almost killed yesterday at the railroad station, and your department has done nothing about that!" The voice boomed around the room, causing the china on the table to shake. Jack groaned inwardly, not liking this complexation, even as he asked about it.
"Well I will certainly follow up with the railroad detectives; they haven't said anything about the matter to us." Jack sniffed with disapproval, not really believing Nick's story. In his experience the railroad men were always quick to hand anything off to the local police that might be messy.
"Heath, please don't go anywhere. As of now you are the main suspect in Logan Dawes' murder." Jack stood up, as Dale followed suit. What he said next was delivered in measured but firm and satisfied tones. "Until you came to town the man was living in peace along the river, and less than a day of you being in town he is dead. You can certainly see the way the dots connect."
After that statement the men took their leave, heading to the elevator. In any other establishment Jack would have put his ear against the door. However, the Queen Hotel had solid walls and doors, so he knew better to waste his time. Instead he stepped back and signaled for Dale to follow him down to the end of the hall.
"Heath Barkley is hiding something, and it has to do with Logan Dawes." Jack declared, and Dale nodded in agreement. They spent several minutes discussing their observations from the interview, before they moved to the elevator.
"When we get back to the station, let's get all information we can on both Heath Barkley, and Logan Dawes. There is something we are missing in all this." Jack directed and Dale nodded in agreement. Heath wasn't the first wealthy man to have skeletons in his closet, and the partners had dealt with men in the same position more than once.