William MacDonald - The Battle At Three-Cross

Nothing in that room to furnish a clue to the mysterious shot either. Lance and the clerk next entered Professor Jones’s room. Here the table was littered with books and papers. A trunk stood in one corner, but there was no sign of a human having been in the room within the last ten minutes at least.

Once more in the hall, the clerk said, “That leaves only Miss Gregory’s room. Surely you don’t intend to enter——”

“Open it up,” Lance said grimly. He could feel his face growing warm. A trunk stood in one corner of the girl’s room, as in the room occupied by Jones. Articles of apparel hung on a clothes rack. There were some ribbons on the dresser. The room seemed faintly scented. But no clue here. Lance backed out as swiftly as he could, the clerk right after him. The door was re-locked.

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” the clerk said righteously. “The idea! Entering a young lady’s room——”

“You make another crack like that,” Lance threatened, red faced, “and I’ll mop up the floor with you.” He left Katherine’s door and swung at right angles into another corridor. At the end of the corridor he saw a stair well. “Where does that lead to?” he demanded.

“That’s a back entrance from the alley at the rear of the building.”

“Door unlocked?”

“It’s left unlocked during the day.”

Lance hurried down the steps and opened the door on the alley. He scrutinized the earth in the vicinity of the door, but too many people had passed there to leave any definite sign. Slowly he retraced his steps up the stairway, his keen eyes looking for some evidence of the killer’s having come this way, but again the search was without result.

“Is that all?” the clerk asked when Lance had rejoined him.

“I reckon that’s all,” Lance said disappointedly. He followed the clerk along the corridor and descended the stairs to the lobby once more. As they stepped into the lobby Lance saw Malcolm Fletcher just entering. Malcolm nodded and started to pass.

Lance caught his arm. “Where you been?” he asked.

“Out on the street,” Malcolm said in surprised tones. He smiled. “I guess the rest of the town is out there too. Nice bit of shooting you did awhile back, Tolliver.”

“Somebody else did some shooting, too,” Lance said grimly. “That’s the hombre I’m looking for.”

“Mr Fletcher,” the clerk put in, “this fellow insisted on entering your room. I told him——”

“What’s the idea?” Fletcher demanded of Lance.

“Looking for the man who fired that shot,” Lance said coldly. “I figure it came from the direction of this hotel. I looked in all the front rooms. I wasn’t overlooking any bets.”

Malcolm laughed shortly. “I guess there was no harm done. I see you’re wearing a deputy’s badge. You won’t have to go after Bowman’s job, after all.”

“Fletcher, I never intended going after Bowman’s job. I got this badge for the purpose of arresting Bowman’s murderer. That part is accomplished. Somebody killed Kilby——”

“Who is Kilby?”

Lance stopped. “Kilby is the man who finished Bowman—just in case you don’t know.”

“Surely you’re not suspecting me of having a hand in the affair?”

“I’m suspecting damn near everybody until I get to the bottom of things. Just where were you before that shot was fired?”

“Which shot—yours or the one that got Kilby?”

“Mine got him first,” Lance growled, “but you know damn well I’m talking about the shot afterwards—the one that came from the direction of this hotel.” Lance felt himself growing angry.

“Oh, I see.” Fletcher looked amused. “In other words, you want to know what I was doing at the time and so on.”

“Exactly.”

“Here goes. I had finished my breakfast and was sitting in my room when I heard some shooting. I looked out of the window and saw one man down and you running toward him with your gun in your hand. I jumped up, ran downstairs and went out to the street——”

“Wait a minute.” Lance turned to the hotel clerk. “Did you see Fletcher leave?”

The clerk shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean anything. I ran outside, myself, when I heard the shot. Naturally I’d——”

“All right,” Lance cut in, turning again to Fletcher, “all right, you’re out on the street now. What happened?”

“I saw another man try to shoot you,” Malcolm said coolly. “Herrick, I understand, is his name. But that other deputy prevented that. Later you’d started to talk to Kilby when that shot came from down the street——”

“From down the street?” Lance frowned. “From this direction, you mean.”

Smiling, Fletcher shook his head. “No, I don’t. That sound seemed to come from west of here, say, in the direction of the bank building. Of course, I couldn’t say for sure.”

“You probably couldn’t,” Lance said ironically. “Then what?”

“I saw you come running over here. I hung around down on the street for a while, then decided to come back to my room. I’d just entered the lobby when you grabbed me and started to ask questions. Now you’ve got it, what are you going to do with it?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Lance replied quietly. He brushed past Fletcher and the hotel clerk and stepped out to the street once more. A few minutes later he found Oscar.

Oscar said, “Learn anything?”

Lance shook his head. “All I know is somebody could have fired that shot from one of those hotel rooms, closed the window—it wouldn’t have to be open very far—and made a getaway down the back stairs of the hotel. Did you pick up anything?”

“Nothing but confusion,” Oscar said wearily. “No two men in the crowd have the same idea regardin’ the direction that shot came from—east, west, north or south. There’s them that claim somebody in the crowd did the shooting. I can’t see that. It sounded like a rifle to me, and a rifle would be noticed pronto. Hell! It all happened so quick! We were all watching you and Kilby.”

“It sounded like a rifle to me too. I talked to Fletcher in the hotel, and he thinks—or claims to think—that the shot came from near the bank building or even farther west.”

“There y’are. Nobody can agree on it.” Oscar scratched his blond head and glanced toward the bank building. “Maybe so,” he commented dubiously, “but I’d bet against it.”

“We’ve got to admit it was damn accurate shooting, anyway,” Lance said ruefully. “I’ve a hunch it was done to keep Kilby from spilling what he knew.”

“Maybe you’ve hit it. By the way, Kilby died almost instanter. Never recovered consciousness. It’s a tough break.”

Lance nodded agreement. He and Oscar joined the sheriff standing near Kilby’s lifeless form. Lock-wood glanced at Lance’s face, saying, “I figure you didn’t have much luck.”

“Not any,” Lance replied. “Jeepers! One minute I thought we had this case all sewed up. The next, it blew wide open.”

“It’s not a total loss, anyway,” Oscar reminded. “Kilby confessed to Bowman’s murder. That’s one scut out of the way.”

Lockwood nodded, then said, “I reckon we’d better get this body off’n the street so the crowd can go about its business. Lance, it looks like Herrick has come to life again. What charge you want placed against him? He might have killed you.”

Lance glanced across the street. Herrick was seated at the edge of the sidewalk in front of the Pozo Verde Saloon holding his head and taking but little interest in his surroundings. Lance smiled. “Oscar, you sure take the fight out of ’em when your gun barrel lands.”

“It takes more than one jolt to take the fight out of Herrick’s breed,” Lockwood growled. “Oscar just softened him up temporary. Wait until we get him in a cell——”