“Come on in,” Billy said, looking surprised and anxious. “And close the door.”
Longarm closed the door and took a seat across from Billy. He fidgeted for a moment, and then decided to come right to the point. “The Assassin got to Judge Getty last night. I expect that you’ll be hearing about it very soon. But I wanted to tell you what happened first.”
“Damn!” Billy breathed. “I thought you were going straight to his house to look out for him!”
“I tried,” Longarm said, “but he was very antagonistic. He accused me of being a ‘power-monger’ and refused to allow me to stay close to him.”
“So The Assassin found a way to do it, huh?”
“Yeah.”
When Longarm chose not to elaborate, Billy grew impatient. “All right, give me the details.”
“You aren’t going to like this.”
“Tell me anyway,” Billy snapped.
“The Assassin got into his upstairs room, gagged him so there wouldn’t be much noise, then found a curtain cord and hoisted him up on a chandelier.”
“Oh, shit!” Billy swore. “He hanged Judge Getty!”
“A proper hanging would have been a mercy,” Longarm said. “The judge was hoisted up into the air like a flag on a pole. From the look on his face, I suspect that he had a relatively slow, horrible death.”
Billy groaned. “Wait until the newspaper reporters get ahold of this story. They’ll have a wonderful time with it, and I don’t have to tell you who will be blamed.”
“It was my fault,” Longarm admitted. “I should have insisted that the judge allow me to sleep in an adjoining room. In fact, if it hadn’t been for his housekeeper and companion, I’d have been sleeping on the porch instead of downstairs in the parlor.”
“Judge Getty was a sonofabitch,” Billy said, leaning back in his office chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. “I’d be a hypocrite if I said that I wasn’t secretly glad to be rid of the old softhearted fossil. No one deserves to be strangled to death, of course, but you can’t blame yourself, Custis.”
“Oh?”
“Really,” Billy insisted. “Nobody ever insisted that Judge Getty do anything. He was arrogant, stubborn, and opinionated. And since there really was nothing that you could do, don’t blame yourself. That’s all that I’m saying.”
“All right, I won’t,” Longarm replied. “But now I haven’t a clue as to where to start looking for Commissioner Pinter’s secret assassin—even if his name is James Smith, which I’m sure is just an alias.”
“I quite agree,” Billy said. “It seems that we have lost the trail. I don’t suppose that you found any clues at the judge’s house?”
“The judge’s housekeeper and companion caught a glimpse of the killer.”
“She did! Excellent, we can-“
“The woman told me that she smelled burned flesh.”
Billy wasn’t squeamish, but he did grow a shade paler at this news. “The woman was very fortunate not to have also been murdered.”
“Yes,” Longarm said. “The Assassin escaped through the window, then jumped off the roof and ran into an alley. After that, his tracks were lost on the street.”
“Such a man should not be that difficult to find. Do you suspect he was burned in the fire that claimed his wife and son?”
“I do,” Longarm said. “And now that he has exacted his savage revenge upon Judge Getty, I don’t see any reason for him to remain here in Denver. Why should he?”
“No reason that I can think of.”
Longarm came to his feet. “This secret assassin sure didn’t waste any time moving against the judge, so I’m betting that he also won’t waste any time going after the Marble Gang.”
“That makes sense.” Billy also came to his feet. “Then I guess we both agree that, since we haven’t a clue as to the whereabouts or identity of the assassin, you should go after the Marble Gang. If you find them before the vengeful James Smith, you can set a snare for him.”
“Yeah,” Longarm agreed. “But I’ll tell you this much. I won’t feel too badly if our assassin kills a few of that gang before I can trap him.”
Billy frowned. He picked up a brier pipe and stuffed its carbon-coated bowl with Moroccan tobacco from a polished walnut case. His eyes narrowed and he stabbed the stem of his pipe at Longarm.
“Custis, it’s your sworn duty to protect and serve the supposedly innocent until they are tried and proven guilty. That even includes the likes of Dave and Tom Marble, as ruthless a pair of fugitives as I ever hope to see hanged.”
“Speaking of them, what have we got to go on?”
“We believe that they’ve fled into the Rockies and are hiding in one of the mining towns. Perhaps in Leadville, Cortez, or Durango. I don’t think its inconceivable that they’ve split up and intend to regroup later at some prearranged location.”
“I’ll need every piece of information you can give me, not only on the Marble brothers, but on the other three members of the gang.”
“Jake Mill, Hank Trabert, and Red Skoal. They’re almost as bad as the Marbles,” Billy said. “All three have spent time in federal prison. They’re a bunch of misfits and murderers. They all should have hanged years ago, and would have been if it hadn’t been for judges like the late Franklin Getty.”
“Any of them married or have families?”
“One of them—Red Skoal—is from up around South Park. Trabert is from Leadville, and I don’t have any idea where Jake Mill is from, but he was once arrested over near Cortez.”
“What about the Marble brothers?”
“They were raised in Durango, but ran wild all over the Four Corners area,” Billy said.
“That’s damned rough country.”
“It doesn’t get much rougher,” Billy agreed.
“I’ll need a top horse. Pack mule too. A good rifle and plenty of food and ammunition.”
“It’s already been arranged,” Billy told him. “You just go over to Johnson’s Livery, where everything is waiting.”
“What about money?”
Billy’s eyes narrowed. “How much do you think you’ll need?”
“I have no idea.”
“You can always wire for more,” Billy said, pulling out a drawer and handing Longarm a fat envelope. “This contains all the information we have on the Marble Gang as well as three hundred dollars in travel money. I want you to promise to wire me at least every other day so that I know what to tell my superiors about this case.”
“That’s not going to be possible, Billy. There are no telegraph lines up there.”
“Figure out something,” Billy snapped. “One of your glaring shortcomings is not to keep me informed when you are out in the field.”
Longarm opened the thick brown manila envelope and counted the money while saying, “I’ve heard you had exactly the same shortcoming when you were out in the field doing important work, Mr. Vail.”
Billy snorted, but when he saw that Longarm was smiling, he had to grin as well. “Just get over to that livery, get on that horse we’ve provided, and head for the hills, Custis. And remember that while you are tracking the Marble Gang, James Smith or whatever his name is might also be tracking you.”
“I hadn’t even thought about that,” Longarm admitted. “I just assumed that The Assassin would be between me and the gang.”
“That could be a fatal error in judgment,” Billy told him. “Put yourself in Smith’s place. If you didn’t know where to find the Marble Gang, wouldn’t you at least consider trailing a deputy United States marshal—one you probably already knew a great deal about because you’d secretly worked for this department?”
“I suppose that I might,” Longarm agreed. “But I don’t think that he can shadow me through the mountains.”
“Maybe he’s even smarter than we’ve given him credit for,” Billy suggested.