Who Killed Peter Doolin?
Three months after the funeral of Cyrus DeLand
Peter Doolin was found dead. Shot at the entrance to the STAR mine near the River Road. Sitting at the entrance propped up by a timber.
Flies had set in and animals had shown up the night before to his lower torso. The body had been dragged to the entrance of the mine and a buckboard trail headed back to the main road. The drag marks and footprints were still evident. Horse tracks were all over the area.
No note. Nothing. His eyes frozen wide open. Fred tried to close them but they popped open in death. The life had gone out in them but they seemed to be frozen in sheer terror.
Fred, a veteran lawman let out a string of profanity as the lifeless eyes opened again upon his touch.
"Get the devil back to town," he yelled at his deputies. He walked to the tree line and retched.
—&—
Melanie DeLand had reported him missing almost three days before. She was remodeling her home at the time and she went to bed early. The next morning she realized he had not come home since they occupied separate bedrooms.
"It's not unusual for him to work late into the night or even stay there working on a story. But he's never this late." when she filed her report to Fred.
Sammy escorted her home to wait on an investigation.
—&—-
Fred wired the United States Army at the Mint in Denver when Doolin was reported missing. Lieutenant Colonel Nash and his aide counsel, Paul Stewart were still investigating the missing gold but had come to a dead end. The case was open and active with a full file. Clues from Mexico, San Francisco, and Sacramento had come in but the pieces were not fitted together clearly. A treasury man and a secret service agent had brought an inquiry about the gold showing up in Ramos, Mexico. Federal marshals were watching the case.
"Heading back to Stockton" read the telegram.
—-&—
On the first day of the search, Fred sent his men to his office for clues. One of his deputies opened his desk drawer and three baby Mojave rattlesnakes hissed at him. He quickly shut the drawer.
"Come look?"
They gently opened the drawer again and they were coiled and ready to strike. They caught them with a knife and cut off their heads.
"Sherriff, can I tell ya something?"
"Before I 'came a deputy, I worked down south doing lots of jobs. Those rattlers? Mexican banditos use them as warnings. Only found in the Mojave desert, they say. If you get one, it's a message."
"I have heard of such but just thought it one of those legends."
"It's not. I swear it."
He walked out to the office, "Who has access to this office?"
The clerk nervously replied, "No one. Only the boss. We clean it when he is there. You would get fired for entering the office when he wasn't there."
A deputy called out to Fred, "Found something,"
"This window sill has been busted. They came in from the window. See 'dem splinters brushed up under the drapes."
"Well that tells us the how, but the why and who?" Fred pushed his hat upon his head and wiped his brow. The three baby snakes still had shaken his countenance.
—-&—-
On the second day of the search, Fred rode out to the Barkley ranch. He was dreading the fireworks that questioning the family about Doolin would ensue.
Victoria came into the room with an icy countenance. She knew the reason for the visit. Half the town was talking about Doolin disappearing without a trace.
"Jarrod and Tessa are deer hunting. I don't expect them back until tomorrow."
He looked at her incredulously, "Really?"
"Tessa is an expert shot. She enjoyed hunting in Knight's Ferry. Heath and Nick came in and told them about the herd of mule deer that was in the northern woods. Conflicting with cattle on the grassland." she spoke with a challenge in her voice.
"Now Victoria, I ain't accusing anyone. You know I have to ask." He said sheepishly.
"They needed some time away after the past two months." and she arched her brow daring Fred to say anything else.
"I remember the wild dog story. Nick was mighty proud of his sister-in-law."
"We are all proud of our family and our integrity.
He sighed, "Vic, I know the boys. I have to ask."
"Nick has taken Nellie to San Francisco to a doctor."
"She ok?"
"Well," relaxing with his concern, and lowered her voice, "it seems that she miscarried a twin. Doc Merar wanted her checked out by a lady doctor he heard about to confirm his suspicions. They left early this morning on the train."
"Well, that's the best news I have heard all month."
She narrowed her eyes again, "Yes Doolin didn't kill both of my grandchildren- not for not trying."
He shook his head, "You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"
"Should I? I hope the bastard is dead and he had to suffer the way our family has for two years."
"Heath? Gene?"
"Heath is working the ranch for his brothers. Gene is helping him. Do you need my whereabouts too?"
Fred laughed, "No Victoria. I know if you had something to do with it, you would take pride in telling me."
She relaxed at his sincerity, "Fred, I just want this to end. I have seven grandchildren and Lord willing, another is on the way. My family has been tortured by that evil man."
"You are right Vic. The army man and federal marshal are in town tomorrow. Hopefully, we will find him drunk in an alley somewhere or laid up. No foul play."
—-&—
On the third day, Fred rode out to Kyles's place. Jacob was on the porch drinking, unshaven and surly.
"Jacob, you have been out of jail a week. Have you seen Peter Doolin?"
"The man who killed my boys?"
"That's not proven."
He spat into the dirt, "Says you? I says he did it."
"Where have you been the last couple of days?"
"Home with my boys."
The youngest two Kyles teens came out on cue and confirmed his story.
"Jacob? Federal marshals may be out here soon asking if Doolin doesn't show up."
"I will tell them the same. I hope he rots in hell."
Fred shook his head and rode off.
—&—
The Mexican Embassy and Robert Danforth got telegrams on the fourth day that Doolin's body had been found. Their Pinkerton contacts divulged the information to their paying clients.
"He shorted the revolution by a hundred thousand dollars. You don't do that and live. His story is that all the gold was there and Heath Barkley found the other share. Pah, didn't believe that for a moment. It would have made the papers. He had the audacity to demand more currency for "our" mistake."
"Thank Hades, it's done and over. He was back last month asking for more money to keep quiet about my dealings. I have paid over $10,000 to him to destroy Jarrod Barkley and yet he failed. Even this gold scheme didn't work according to my army contacts. I told him no more money. Sent my man to convince him."
—-&—-
The mortician called for Fred after his deputies brought the body to him. He began to study the body and his curiosity was peaked.
Fred, Lt Col Nash, and Counsel Stewart were just meeting on the details of the investigation. They all three headed to the embalmer.
"Whatcha found?"
"You know I like a good mystery. Helps in my profession—-Anyhows Gaboriau wrote about morgues too."
Stewart shook his head, "Yes, very good books."
"Anyhows, y'all got strong stomachs."
"Yes," they all three answered as he pulled back the sheet. Doolin's eyes were still open and Fred involuntarily shivered.
The mortician took some tar and stuck them shut, "Have to do that sometimes."
All three men looked uncomfortable.
"Get with it," Fred yelped.
"Don't know what killed him. Look at his fingernails. White lines. Arsenic takes about three weeks to do that and eventually kills ya."
They all examined his nails.
"Then look at this. Rope burns. Animal blood. Separates up differently than humans. Stinks too. Somebody tied some raw meat to him to attract animals. That's why this leg tore up. Soaked up in his pants leg."
"Bullet is a Whitworth hexagon. Civil War sniper rifle. Range up to 1400 feet. Got him in the ribs. Wedged in there. This is the blood difference on the fabric? See?"
The men leaned in, intrigued by the blood.
"And then there is this. His skull is cracked. Hit in the head. You can feel the pieces. Mighta happened when he fell. Were there rocks?"
"Nope. Sat up straight at the mine entrance."
They all shook their heads in disbelief.
"Somebody or somebodies really hated Peter Doolin."
"Can't say that the world isn't a better place without him in it. But we have a job to do."
Emile Gaboriau (1832 - 1873). French writer of the Roman policier featuring the detective Monsieur LeCoq. His first book The Widow Lerouge was published in 1866. Gaboriau was born in Saujon. He served in the calvary for seven years, and then became assistant to Paul Feval, an author of criminal romances. In this job, Gaboriau gathered material in police courts, morgues, and prisons. Gaboriau went on the write his own novels, and became one of the first mystery writers to put the emphasis on the gathering and interpretation of evidence rather than on the sensation of the murder. Gaboriau was the first mystery novelist to achieve worldwide success though he would be surpassed by Arthur Conan Doyle.