“That’s just about the only kind.”
“Pardon?”
“Of greed. The human kind. Never knew an animal that was greedy, except maybe for food. But that’s ’cause they never know where or when their next meal is comin’ from.”
Zachary shrugged. “Perhaps that’s the human motivation as well.” He shifted in the chair. “Getting back to my cousin’s skullduggery... when I heard that these local men of business had sought legal help in Albuquerque, to resolve this matter, I felt I ought to nip it in the bud.”
“How so?”
His smile was edged with pride. “I’ve signed their shops back to them in exchange for a modest ten percent interest.”
“Well, you must be popular in town about now.”
Zachary shrugged. “I just want to be a constructive member of this community. We’re also talking about the reorganization of the bank, now that Mr. Carter’s suicide has left that institution in disarray. Apparently he left no surviving relations.”
York gave him a wry grin. “Not even a cousin?”
That got a small laugh out of Zachary. “Not even a cousin. Uh, Sheriff, let me say, again, how impressed I am by how you’ve handled yourself in this difficult situation. I’ve heard in some detail, now, exactly how you handled those brutes this morning. A remarkable performance.”
Still leaning back, ankle on knee, arms folded, York smiled and said, “I appreciate that, comin’ from you. After all, you’ve given a pretty damn remarkable performance yourself.”
Zachary’s forehead frowned, though his mouth smiled. “How is that...?”
The sheriff shrugged easily. “Everything that’s happened over these past days is the work of your skilled hand, starting with robbing the bank.”
Zachary took that like a slap, blinked, shook his head as if his hearing might be bad, opened his mouth wide, then finally laughed.
“The bank? Sheriff, are you sure you didn’t take a blow to the head in that fracas this morning? What would I know about robbing banks? I wasn’t even in town when First Bank was robbed!”
“Not in town, but in the area. Certainly as close as Las Vegas, anyway, and possibly your ranch. You had deals worked out, in advance, with certain individuals — your foreman, Gil Willart, for example. And with Rita Filley, regarding the Victory, of which you didn’t even ask her for ten percent, like you just did the shopkeepers.”
Zachary seemed genuinely amused. “Go on, Sheriff. This is a fascinating story. You might be able to interest that Buntline character in it, for one of his dime novels.”
“It does have that flavor, I grant you. You see, Gil Willart was a regular of that prostitute Pearl, at the Victory. Willart learned from her what her bank-clerk beau told her — that Herbert Upton would be soon getting a promotion and a raise, and maybe even a substantial sum beyond that. Because Upton knew Thomas Carter was embezzling.”
He shrugged a little. “Interesting theory.”
“I figure you met with the bank president in Las Vegas, or possibly out at the Circle G. You spun a plan to help the banker cover up his financial shortfall and at the same time feather your nest. You arranged for some of your cousin Harry’s bunch to rob that bank, and the money was turned back over to you.”
Zachary’s eyes went wide. “To me?”
“To you. So you could ride in on a white horse, or anyway an Appaloosa, with enough money to shore up the bank in its difficulties. Money you brought from back East, where you liquidated your substantial assets. Only there were no substantial assets back East. What you had to deposit in the bank, with Carter’s full knowledge and collusion, was the money that had been stolen from it.”
For several endless seconds, the two men just looked coldly at each other.
Finally, Zachary said, “And why the hell would I do that?”
“To become a constructive member of the community, and to draw on that stolen money to buy stock for your land-rich, cattle-poor ranch.”
Zachary chuckled as he shook his head. “You have much more imagination, Sheriff, than I would ever have dreamed. What next? Am I a murderer, too? Did I kill that fool of a clerk Upton? And, what — banker Carter, too?”
“Carter killed his own grasping clerk. That little worm was just one accomplice too many in this thing. I doubt you gave your blessing, though, because it only complicated matters. Probably led you to feel that our distinguished bank president was coming apart at the seams. And he — and probably you, too, Zachary — sensed I was onto him. That’s why you killed him and staged that suicide.”
His broad smile said how ridiculous that sounded. “What was staged about it?”
“All of it. You shot him from across the room, or at least at enough distance not to leave powder burns at the wound. For all your careful planning, and it was shrewd and clever, I admit... things were starting to unravel. With Upton dead, the grieving, laudanum-addled Pearl became a particularly dangerous loose end. So you used your knife — where did an Easterner come up with a Smoky Mountain toothpick like that? — and you snipped her off good. Sneaked up the back stairs from the alley, wearing that duster in anticipation of a blood shower. You have been around, Zachary. You have been around.”
“Have I.”
“You have. Now, let’s talk about the Rhomers. You sent your man Gil Willart to Las Vegas to hire the brothers to come shoot me down — looking to get revenge, everybody would think. The really cunning touch was telling me yesterday that you suspected Gil had done as much. Then I killed him for you, though in my defense he did draw down on me. But still — that’s a loose end I snipped for you. And you haven’t even thanked me.”
This time the smile had a sneer in it. “I do thank you, Sheriff, for sharing this entertaining flight of fancy. And it’s nothing more than that, because you haven’t a shred of proof to back it up.”
“I have this,” York said, and he flipped over the wire. “Read it yourself. Or I can sum it up. My friends at Pinkerton’s recognized your name right away. Your only connection to Wall Street is as a swindler. Several rich women have died while they knew you. You’ve been tried half-a-dozen times, though never convicted. You are known to have left New York and its environs over a month ago. I’m gonna say you came West, young man.”
“Droll. Very droll.”
“Zachary Gauge is a notorious bunco artist, not a legitimate businessman who liquidated his funds. You’ve never been married and suffered the various tragedies that people around town are discussing so sympathetically. I imagine you shared that melodrama with Willa Cullen, too. She’s a smart girl but no match for the likes of a sharper like you.”
Zachary, who had only glanced at the telegram, picked it up and tossed it toward York, with casual indifference. “So what? Everybody who comes West is escaping something. We’re all starting over.”
“You decided to start over when you received this windfall, thanks to your cousin’s death, inheriting all this land in the heart of cattle country. You probably didn’t realize till you got here — a month earlier than is generally known — that while you did have plenty of land, you also had no beef. So you fell back into your scheming ways.”
Zachary gave him the kind of look reserved for a madman. “Scheming ways like giving the shopkeepers here their businesses back? Asking only a nominal ten percent?”
“Well, that was a problem you solved smoothly. You had a lot of names back East, but your real one, with all its nasty baggage, is Zachary Gauge. And to collect your inheritance, you had to stick with it. If that lawyer in Albuquerque went digging, he’d have found out who Zachary Gauge really is — a confidence man and suspected murderer.”