“You haven’t signed that leave request yet,” Longarm pointed out.
“No? I thought I did.” Billy examined the form in his hand, leaned forward, and plucked his pen from the inkwell. He scrawled a signature onto the paper and said, “Of course I did. See there?”
Longarm chuckled and went gratefully out to the main office to wait for the informal reception to welcome the visiting dignitary. After all, he had his days off. That was what counted here.
“Goodbye, sir. Goodbye, all.”
Longarm stood among those who had drifted outside to see the party off to their luncheon. Longarm didn’t have any idea what the ass-kissers expected to accomplish by clinging to the coattails of the commissioner and his lady. Longarm’s motive in going along was to get the hell out of the building so he could grab a hackney and head for the hospital to tell Deborah that he would pick her up at the end of her shift. And after that … He grinned, thinking about what would come after that.
A carriage had been arranged for the short journey from the Federal Building on Colfax Avenue up past the State Capitol and on to the Cargile Club. The carriage was a handsome thing drawn by a sleek and perfectly matched four-up of dappled grays. Damned horses even had purple plumes on their headstalls. Which seemed a bit much in Longarm’s opinion, but then what in hell did he know about how a body is supposed to act when he’s rich and important. That was unexplored territory as far as Deputy Long was concerned.
“Bye,” Longarm mumbled softly as those around him called out best wishes. “Bet you ain’t gonna have near as much fun as me,” he added half under his breath so no one else could hear.
The commissioner and his wife were helped into the carriage by a fellow in some sort of red coat. Then the U.S. attorney and Billy Vail climbed in with somewhat less pomp and circumstance. The man in the red coat bent down to fold the steel steps away.
As he did so, a figure broke from the crowd that had gathered to see what all the carrying-on was about. The person was slight of frame and was wrapped in a heavy cloak. Longarm had a brief impression of long, black hair, tall boots beneath the hem of the swirling cloak … and a stream of thin smoke trailing from the running figure’s hand.
The cloaked form dashed directly at the carriage, swooped close behind the footman, and tossed something over the red-coated man’s shoulders and into the carriage.
Longarm felt a sickness in his belly and leaped forward. He was much too late, though. And whoever had cut the fuse on the bomb knew his business all too well. There was no time for anyone inside the carriage to react.
A flash of orange and red flame filled the windows of the rig, and a sharp, loud report boomed out to fill Colfax and stun the crowd into immobility.
The body of the carriage seemed to bulge, then to sag as the frame was broken and the body ripped apart. The back end broke completely away from the front part of the rig, and the terrified team dragged what was left of the wreckage down the street at as hard a run as they could manage.
Lying on the cobblestones where the entire carriage had been was the back end of the broken vehicle surrounded by bits of lacquered and charred wood.
And a broken body wearing a gay dress covered with ruffles and with blood.
Longarm tried to push his way through a suddenly hysterical crowd, his Colt held high as he hoped for a shot at the bomber.
But the bomber was gone. Vanished as completely as the smoke that had trailed from the fuse of the cowardly bastard’s bomb.
Longarm ran across to the other side of the street, then back again to move through the now-noisy crowd of onlookers.
There was no sign of the person in the cloak.
The only thing left behind was the stink of exploded powder.
And the destruction wrought by the bomb.
Jesus! Longarm thought suddenly. Billy. Billy Vail had been inside that carriage too.
Longarm whirled and ran as hard as he could down Colfax in the direction the shattered carriage had been dragged.
Chapter 2
Longarm did not own a black suit, but for this occasion he’d gone out and rented one. There was not another person in the whole miserable, stinking world he would have done that for. Anyone else, well, a black armband would be enough to show respect. But for Billy Vail …
The funeral, actually, was for all four victims of the bombing. But Billy was the only one of the four that Longarm cared about.
No, that was not right. Not really. He cared that the commissioner and his wife and the U.S. attorney were dead. No one deserved a death like that. But it was Billy that Longarm grieved for.
Billy Vail wasn’t just a good boss. He was—had been—a good man. And there aren’t so many of those around that the world can afford to lose them. Or throw them away, which seemed more the case here.
Longarm seethed with a desire to find the sons of bitches who’d planned this attack. First thing, he swore. If he had to turn in his badge and go after them on his own, he would, by damn, find them.
And when he did, he hoped to hell they tried to resist, because it would be a true joy to blow the fuckers away. Each and every one of them.
Just as soon as the funeral service was ended, Longarm figured to get started on his quest. He would-
“Psst!”
Longarm glanced to his right. Billy’s clerk Henry was there, pale and drawn. Henry looked like he hadn’t slept in the two days since the explosion, and behind the blank glare that reflected off his spectacles, Longarm thought he could see moisture welling up in Henry’s eyes. Not that Longarm could blame him. Longarm felt like that himself, it was about all he could do to keep from giving in to an impulse that he hadn’t felt since he took to wearing long pants.
“What is it, Henry?”
“Did they find you to tell you about the meeting?”
“I haven’t talked to anybody from the office since … since it happened. What meeting?”
“It’s in the U.S. attorney’s office, Longarm. Right after the ceremony here.”
“I don’t care about …”
“If you want to help find who did this, you’ll care and you’ll damned well be there.” That was strong language for the normally mild Henry.
“You know I want that more’n anything else in this world, Henry,” Longarm told him.
“Then you’d best show up and see what each of us can do to bring these bastards in.”
Longarm paused. Then nodded. “I’ll be there.”
Out in front of the throng of politicians, sycophants, and genuine friends, a preacher, a man Longarm had never seen before, was droning to the conclusion of an overlong eulogy that praised to the skies the recently deceased commissioner from Washington City, but that barely mentioned either Billy or the Denver-based U.S. attorney.
Not that any of that mattered, the way Longarm saw it. If there was a God—right now Longarm wasn’t so damn certain about that—but if there was one, well, then he already knew the sort of man Billy’d been and would throw open the Pearly Gates to welcome so fine a newcomer. And if there wasn’t, then it didn’t matter anyhow.
For Billy’s sake, though, Longarm found himself hoping there was someone on the other side to give that good man a handshake and a big welcome when he walked out onto his cloud and signed for his new harp.
Longarm was so wrapped up in thinking about things like that that he was taken by surprise when the preacher all of a sudden wound up the proceedings and stepped back so the mourners could file past the four brightly polished coffins, each draped with a U.S. flag and covered in bright flowers.
Longarm and Henry joined the line of people passing by the coffins. It bothered Longarm that he didn’t even know which one of them held Billy’s mortal remains. They weren’t any of them marked that Longarm could see, although presumably the undertaker knew which box was to go where.
Eventually all the public tears were shed and the final words had been spoken. A large hearse took two of the coffins away and headed in the direction of the railroad depot. Those, then, would be the bodies of the commissioner and his wife.