“How much did they get?” David asked.
“About six thousand dollars.”
Less than an hour later Lee’s prediction came true. David watched as three men rode up to an abandoned shack, dismounted, and went inside. All three carried bulging saddlebags.
“According to Eamon Roarke, Arnie Mason led the ring. He robbed several mail and payroll trains, but the ring is also into anything else that’s profitable. They’ve run stolen cattle through here. Also guns and illegal liquor.”
“Liquor.” David breathed the word. “Where do they take it? To the reservations?”
“You’ve got it. They’d have been pretty secure if they hadn’t decided to dabble in smuggling liquor,” Lee answered. “That’s what tipped Eamon off.”
“Of course.” David whistled low. “The best place to hide large amounts of stolen cash and large quantities of liquor is in plain sight. A saloon.”
“And not just any saloon,” Lee agreed, “but the largest, most profitable one in town.”
“The Satin Slipper.” David placed his gloved hands over his nose and mouth, blowing into them to warm his face.
“Why do you think I’ve been tending bar there?” Lee asked. “I worked at several others in town asking questions before I applied at the Satin Slipper. Myra’s clever.” Lee had to smile in admiration. “She’s the brains behind the operation. I’ve only caught a glimpse at the books, but she’s hiding the money there somewhere. Circulating small amounts at a time through the saloon.”
“What happened with Arnie Mason? Did he want a larger portion of the profits?” David asked. “Did she panic?”
“Arnie was mouthing off,” Lee explained. “Getting drunk, boasting about having the run of the saloon and Myra. But she isn’t the sort to panic. She thought she had Arnie under control.”
“Until he followed Eamon Roarke back to Chicago.” David picked up the trail of Lee’s thoughts. “And killed him.”
“Exactly,” Lee confirmed. “Eamon got too close to the truth. He knew Myra was beginning to get suspicious of him. That’s why he returned to Chicago.”
“When Arnie took it upon himself to run Eamon down, he became a liability to Myra.”
“He didn’t follow orders,” Lee said, “and Myra knew that if Eamon was really a detective, the agency would send another investigator and another and another until Eamon’s killer was caught. It was just a matter of time.”
“But Tessa showed up, with Coalie in tow, before you did,” David said, “and announced that she was Eamon Roarke’s sister, come to take his place.” He took a deep breath. “Christ!”
“She’s lucky to be alive.”
“Yes,” David agreed. “She escaped being murdered only to be framed for it.” He shuddered at the thought of Tessa lying on a table at the undertaker’s.
“At least now you should be able to prove she didn’t kill Arnie.”
“Yes,” David agreed, “but first I’ve got to get the jury to listen. It’s not enough just to present the facts and tell the truth. I’ve got to get their sympathy. Then I can prove Tessa didn’t kill anyone.”
“How are you going to get their sympathy?” Lee asked out of curiosity.
“I’ve got a plan,” David told him. “But Tessa’s not going to like it.” He studied the toes of his boots. She wasn’t going to like it one bit.
Lee took out his pocket watch and opened it. He turned his back, then struck a match so he could read the dial. Finished, he extinguished the flame and pocketed his timepiece.
David turned his attention to Lee. “What about you? How are you going to prove that Myra Brennan is behind all this?”
“Catch her accepting the cash.”
“As if it were so simple,” David commented.
“In this case, it is,” Lee said. “This is where I leave you.” Lee got to his knees, stood up, and stretched.
“Where are you going?” David wondered what Lee was up to.
“Down there.” Lee pointed to the shack. “I’m the go-between.” He chuckled. “I’m Myra’s pickup man.” An ironic smile turned up one corner of his mouth when he looked at David. “Convenient, eh?”