Chapter 5 – Apple Pie

Cristian did some long-distance investigation of the Medina family and turned up . . . nothing. They had very quietly sold all of their operations in Monterrey and moved everything to Tampico almost two years ago. There was no indication they had anything to do with the action against Maude.

This was beyond a relief for Doralice, and I got my happy-go-lucky, not carrying the weight of the world girl back. Maybe now I could go back to my original plan, of attempting to move our lives forward once this was all over and done with, rather than right in the middle of everything.

Something was still bothering Cristian, however, and I was at a loss to figure out just what it was. So I got nosy and started a little investigation of my own – into Billy Flynn. Finding nobody in Little Bend who knew anything about Billy after he left town, I decided the best thing to do was ride to Abilene and start asking questions for myself. Which is what I did.

Somethin' told me to keep this trip quiet, so me and Doralice passed it off as a 'by invitation only' poker tournament. I went straight to the marshal's office as soon as I checked into the hotel, hoping that he'd be able to give me the information I needed. No such luck; he was brand new and had no information about killings five or six years ago. So I did the next best thing – I started checking with the bartenders at each of the saloons.

No luck at the first three I tried, but Mike Goulding was the bartender at the Abilene Lady. Mike and me go way back – he used to tend bar in Claytonville and I'd known him for years. "Well, as I live and breathe! Bart Maverick. What are you doin' here? Lookin' for a game? I heard you were stickin' pretty close to Little Bend these days, caught yourself that good lookin' blonde daughter of Maude Donovan's."

"You got it wrong, Mike. She caught me, and damn lucky I am, too. But I ain't lookin' for a poker game, I'm lookin' for information. You remember Billy Flynn?"

"Sure, kinda hard to forget Billy. Didn't come to a good end, did he?"

"Good end? I was told he was shot in a gunfight."

"That were no gunfight he ended up dead from."

"What happened? Really?"

"You mean you don't know? It was Maude Donovan's new husband that killed him. That Cristian de la Torres."

"What? Are you sure? Cristian is an attorney. I was best man at their weddin'. I can't imagine . . . Cristian don't even wear a gun."

"Bart, I ain't got no cause to lie to you. It was de la Torres, alright."

I felt like somebody had just taken all the wind out of my sails. "Pour me a coffee, Mike. And tell me everything you know about it."

"There ain't much to tell, cause I don't know much. Billy got into some kinda trouble and hired Torres to be his attorney. The attorney got him found not guilty at trial and two days later shot Flynn dead. That's all I got. Oh, Torres wasn't even arrested for the shooting, and less than a week later he left town."

"How long ago was that?"

"Let's see . . . six, seven, eight years ago. Maybe ten. Faces I remember. Time periods not so much."

"Anybody still in town that might remember more?" There had to be somebody that could give me more information.

"Yeah, try Della over at the courthouse. Tell her I sent you over to see her. She's got a memory like a beaver trap."

Taking Mike's advice, I headed for the courthouse. Della wasn't hard to spot. She was a big woman, with long gray hair and a pleasant smile. I would say she was in her fifties. I waited until I was the only one left to see her and introduced myself, explaining that Mike Goulding at the Abilene Lady sent me. "You must be alright then," she told me. "Mike's real particular about who he sends to see me."

"I've known Mike a long time. But the person I need some information about is Cristian de la Torres. I understand he killed Billy Flynn, and I need to find out what the story is."

"You know the attorney?" she asked cautiously.

"I was just best man at his wedding a little over four months ago in Little Bend. He married Maude Donovan. And I thought I knew him. But I don't know the man that killed Billy Flynn."

She watched me for a minute before giving me any kind of an answer. "I'm done here in another hour. Meet me across the street at the Golden Bird Café. Sit at the last table in the back. If you ain't there, I ain't waitin'." And she gave me another big smile.

XXXXXXXX

"You're right. The pie is outstanding." Della had highly recommended the apple pie to go with the coffee I ordered.

"Told you so." She smiled again and took another bite of her piece. "Now, Cristian told you what about Flynn?"

"That he was killed in a gunfight five or six years ago."

"Hmpf. Shoulda been hung. And it was Cristian's fault that he weren't."

I waited for Della to finish the story. I was willing to wait however long it took.

"Billy was drunk one night, as usual, and he grabbed one of the saloon girls over at Lulabelle's and hauled her out behind the saloon. He said he paid her and she agreed to . . . right there behind the place. She screamed and insisted she told him she didn't do things like that. He beat her up some and she went to the marshal. Now, if it was anybody else but Billy the marshal woulda patted her on her pretty little bottom and sent her back to Lulabelle's. But it was Billy, and like I said he beat her up some, and the marshal arrested him.

"Well, Billy got sober and he got himself a lawyer – Cristian de la Torres. Cristian didn't stand for things like what Billy was accused of, but Billy swore he was innocent. So Cristian defended him in court and won. Two nights later in the saloon, Billy got his hands on the same girl and dragged her out back. All the time she was yellin' "No, no, no!" was nobody payin' any attention to her. Except the attorney. By the time he found 'em Billy had half her clothes off and was beatin' on her while he tried to tear the rest of 'em off. Torres pulled out his gun and shot Billy dead."

It took me a minute or two to digest all this. "And Cristian never got arrested?"

"Nope."

"And a week later he left town?"

"Yep."

"How long ago was this?"

"Oh, let's see. Eight years ago, I think. He ain't in any trouble, is he?" The question was asked in a tone of genuine affection.

I shook my head. I didn't see any way that Cristian could be involved with Mr. Alexander, Esq. or the elusive Mr. Pike. "Nope, Della, Cristian de la Torres is clean as a whistle. And he's a happily married man."

"Well, good. I'm glad. Now, how about another piece of pie?"