Jones colored. “I suspected—as much. Deuced awkward. Made a fool—myself—no doubt. Posed as cactus expert. Bah! Should have known better. Just a rank amateur. Small knowledge of cacti. Embarrassing, what? Didn’t intend—deceive you—Lance.’ Pon my word. I—I——” He paused, his face crimson.
Katherine came to his rescue. “It’s all right, Uncle Uly. Lance, Uncle may say he’s not an expert on cacti but he’s pretty close to it. It’s been his hobby, his ruling passion for years—more years than I can remember. But in addition to that Uncle Uly is one of the finest criminal investigators in the country. Out in California it’s that phase of his career, rather than for his collection of cacti, for which he is best known.”
Jones looked embarrassed. “Katherine laying it on—too thick,” he said disparagingly. “Had—great deal—luck—one or two criminal problems. Reputation overrated—assure you.”
“Don’t take his word for it,” Katherine said earnestly. “Anyway, I wanted to come down here and see if anything could be learned regarding Father’s death. Uncle Uly consented to lend me his assistance. We decided it was best for him to pose as being sent on a cactus-hunting expedition by some big institute, so as not to arouse suspicions. From the first Uncle suspected Fletcher of a hand in Father’s death but couldn’t get the necessary proof. He also guessed that Frank Bowman was on Fletcher’s trail, though for what purpose he didn’t know. Fletcher kept trying to dissuade us from the trip down here. Later, when Bowman had been killed, Uncle Uly wanted a man he could count on in a pinch rather than a guide. He liked Lance’s looks in that capacity. Uncle has also wondered if Lance wasn’t a law officer of some sort.”
Lance crossed the room, hand outstretched. “I reckon I owe you a heap of apologies, Professor.”
“Not at all.” Jones smiled. “Natural mistake, what?”
Katherine added, “He really was a professor of botany once too. But the search for cacti was secondary. It was a desire for news regarding Dad’s death that really brought us down here.”
“I can help out there,” Lance said. “Fletcher killed your father, Katherine. Herrick confessed that much——”
“That’s one of the things I had to tell,” Lockwood broke in. “You’ll be telling me next that you know where Matt Foster is and——”
“At least I know who he is,” Lance interrupted.
“Wait a minute, Ethan.” He turned to the others. “I was sent on the track of a man named Matt Foster. Foster had robbed a Trea sury Department messenger of thirty thousand dollars. A record of the numbers on the bills had been kept, and they were traced to Pozo Verde. Last night I recognized Matt Foster.”
Lance took from his pocket a photograph. “Here’s a picture of Matt Foster and his gang—the gang he had at the time they held up the Trea sury Department messenger. Lanky—Oscar, take a look at this photo. This one at the back of the group is Matt Foster—the one with the heavy growth of black whis kers.”
Oscar said, “You showed that picture to Ethan and me once.”
Lanky said slowly, “There’s something looks familiar about that Foster hombre, but I can’t just place him.”
“I’ll help you,” Lance said. “Just pretend that derby hat is a helmet and those black whis kers are black feathers. Remember, last night in the Temple of the Plumed Serpent?”
“Fletcher, by Gawd!” Lanky exclaimed.
Oscar said, “Sure it’s Fletcher. Well, I’ll be danged!”
Lance nodded. “Malcolm Fletcher is Matt Foster. I recognized him last night. Remember, I told you to remember that face?”
“By cripes,” Lockwood said disappointedly, “that’s another of the things I came down here to tell you, Lance. Don’t tell me you already know that we found Elmer Manley——”
“Dead or alive?” Lance asked quickly.
“Alive—plenty alive.”
“Tell it,” Lance said. “You’ve been interrupted enough, Ethan. Where did you find him?”
Ethan laughed. “You can credit Johnny Quinn and his hemoglobinuria scare with the discovery of Elmer. Old Johnny saw Banker Gill Addison taking some stomach pills one day and he got to wondering if Gill had hemoglobinuria. The more he thought about it the more he became convinced he should tell Addison to drink bourbon for the disease. So he went to Addison’s house. Addison wasn’t home. The house was dark. But Johnny Quinn thought he heard someone inside making strangling noises. Johnny came running to me, all in a dither, saying that Gill Addison was dying of hemoglobinuria and that I’d better enter the house and call a doctor. To cut a long story short, I went to the Addison home—he lives alone, you know—broke down the door after I’d heard those same strangling noises and discovered Elmer Manley, roped and gagged. Elmer had been trying to call for help through his gag. About the time I untied Elmer and got him on his feet, Gill Addison came home. I put him under arrest pronto.”
Lanky growled, “Don’t tell me Banker Addison was mixed up with Fletcher?”
“He was mixed up plenty.” Lockwood nodded. “Once I got him in a cell and worked on him a mite he broke down. Addison never did have much nerve, so it wa’n’t hard to make him talk. It seems that Matt Foster—or call him Fletcher—had known Addison some years back, just about the time Addison got out of prison after serving a forgery sentence. Fletcher had that stolen money, but the bills’ numbers having been recorded, they were risky to get rid of. Addison took them over at a discount and from time to time slipped them in with the bills that Manley passed through his cashier’s cage. Addison got rid of quite a few of the bills himself when he handled the cage while Manley was out to dinner.”
“Being a banker,” Lance put in, “Addison could pass such stolen money without being suspected, of course.”
“It was a cinch,” Lockwood said. “Addison, like other bankers throughout the country, had a list of the numbered bills. By accident Elmer Manley had a short look at that list and remembered some of the numbers. Thus he recognized some of the bills Addison had slipped into his cash drawer. He didn’t know how they’d come there. When he reported the matter to Addison, Addison insisted he was mistaken in the numbers. However, he refused to let Elmer see the list of missing bills. In short, he told Elmer to stick to his cashier’s cage and forget about stolen money. That aroused Elmer’s suspicions.”
Lockwood paused to assemble his facts, then continued, “Meanwhile, Jared Gregory had been looking for a partner to take a half-share in his ranch and buy some blooded stock to raise the quality of his cows. He asked Addison to suggest someplace where he could find a partner. It looked like a good proposition. Fletcher was looking for an investment. He bought a half-interest in the ranch. A few days later Jared Gregory discovered on the property an ancient Aztec temple. Well, gold and jewels are usually found in such places. Fletcher and Addison decided they wanted the temple all to themselves, so it was planned for Fletcher to kill Jared Gregory and——” Lockwood broke off in some embarrassment. “Gosh, Miss Gregory, I hate to be reminding you——”
“Go on,” Katherine urged. Her eyes were a trifle moist. “After all, we’ve got to know the facts so we can—can——”
Her voice broke. Lance moved closer and took one of her hands in both his own. Lockwood went on, a trifle hurriedly, “Anyway, they were mistaken about the gold and jewels. They never did find any trea sure beyond a few silver trinkets that weren’t worth much. Meanwhile, an Indian—half Yaquente, half Apache—had witnessed the killing of Jared Gregory. This Indian decided to blackmail Fletcher. Fletcher was in a tight. He asked Addison’s advice. Addison advised him to hire Chiricahua Herrick to kill the Indian. Instead, Herrick made friends with the hombre who had certain ideas about cooking up a revolution in Mexico.”