When Carsten and his friends got together to discuss their plans, they decided Edmund and Carsten would go to town to try to figure out who could be part of the counterfeiting. It would be challenging since they had no idea what to look for or where to start.
Carsten walked on the right side of Edmund toward town. “Do we want to have a plan for when we get to town or wing it?” Carsten asked.
Edmund sighed. “I don’t have any ideas for plans. Do you?”
“No. I think we should try to observe Mr. Graves and Carey Eldridge at the print shop.” It was a smart move, even though he liked Mr. Graves and didn’t think he was one of the crooks. “It would make sense for one or both to be part of it.”
“Why?”
“What better place to print money than a print shop?”
Edmund grunted. “Good point. Mr. Graves seems like such a nice man, though. You really think he could be in on it?”
“I don’t know. I have a sneaking suspicion which of them is more likely.”
“Why?”
Carsten hesitated. “When I got the job delivering prints, I first fixed the press. Gobs of ink were stuck in the press, and Mr. Graves seemed genuinely surprised that it wasn’t working. And he had no idea I was there until after he expressed his surprise.”
“That does sound odd. When you helped Mrs. Eldridge, did you find anything that could be suspicious?”
“No, but Carey lives on his own now.”
“Too bad. It would be nice to have some evidence.”
Carsten let out a long breath. “We’ll have to keep looking, and quickly.”
“Has a date been set for the trial?”
They entered town, and Carsten scanned the road for the marshal. “No, not that I’ve been told anyway.”
“You’d think the traveling judge would know when he’d be in town already. But I guess we won’t have a deadline.”
Carsten nodded. “A deadline would be nice, but we can only work with what we know.”
“In the meantime, let’s get this done.”
They parted ways as they headed to the stores. Carsten stopped at the print shop first. It had been almost a week since he’d been there last.
“Mr. Graves?” Carsten stopped and let his eyes adjust to the dark room. Nobody. And no noise from the back. Odd. “Carey?” Carsten scrunched his eyebrows. “Anybody here?”
He went around the counter to the back and peeked past the open door. No one lay on the floor unconscious, but no one was in there either. Mr. Graves wouldn’t leave his shop unattended and unlocked. Would he?
Thumping noises came from upstairs and then a grunt.
“Mr. Graves?” Carsten skirted the press and found the stairs to the attic. They creaked all the way up as if it had been years since they’d been used. “Hello?”
“Carsten? Is that you?”
“Mr. Graves? Yes, it’s me. What are you doing up here?” He finally reached the top of the stairs and looked into a dark, cobwebby room.
“Well,” Mr. Graves said, “I got the notion to go through my trunk since it’s so slow in the shop today, but it’s heavier than I remember. Or I’m weaker.” He laughed. “Not sure which.”
“Can I help?”
“Would you?”
“I’m here and ventured up those creepy stairs. I may as well help you.”
“Thanks, son.” As Carsten made his way through the remaining cobwebs to him, Mr. Graves continued, “You know, I don’t think the marshal got this one right. You wouldn’t have stolen those papers. You’d have no use for them.”
“That’s kind of you to say.” The papers. They’d be useful to a counterfeiter. Interesting.
“And you’ve done so many kind things for people.”
They hefted the trunk and started toward the stairs.
“Mrs. Eldridge came in a few days ago to talk to her son, and he was busy, so we chatted for a bit. She said you fixed her house for her. I don’t think a guilty man would be doing all these nice things. Do you?”
Carsten bit back a smirk. Mr. Graves was quite a talker. “No, I don’t think so—”
“You’ve also maintained your innocence the whole way through,” he interrupted. “Even a guilty man would be hard-pressed to do so under the same conditions.”
They got the trunk to the top of the stairs and started down, with Carsten going first. “Pa did.”
“Sure,” Mr. Graves said, “but he was in jail at the time. And he got caught red-handed. He didn’t have much in the way of a defense. But you? I think there’s plenty of people who will vouch for you. Especially Mrs. Eldridge.”
“Thank you. I wish I could see that, but right now, I’m a bit discouraged. I don’t know who would benefit from framing me for this. I mean, the real thief, of course, but who is it, and why did they steal the papers?”
“You’re the only known thief in town. That’s why. As for who would benefit, I don’t know that answer.”
Carsten hesitated. Would Mr. Graves help if he knew about the counterfeit money? No, it wasn’t safe to confide in anyone else at this time.
They got safely to the bottom of the stairs, and Mr. Graves directed him to a corner of the back room. “It can go there. Now, what was that hesitation for?”
“What hesitation?”
“After I said I didn’t know who would benefit from framing you.”
Carsten’s heart skipped a beat. “Well… We think we have an idea, sort of. But I don’t think it’s a good idea to share anything right now.”
“Hm. If you need any help, let me know.”
“Thanks. Where’s Carey?”
“He asked for the day off and works so hard I told him to go ahead. Oh, and as for deliveries, there aren’t any currently, but we’ll have at least one by the end of the week. So come by either Friday or Saturday.”
Carsten grinned. “You answered my question before I could ask it.”
Mr. Graves chuckled. “Have a good day, and I’ll be praying for your investigation. Have you talked to the marshal? Has he found the culprit?”
“Yep. Me. He’s not looking anywhere else.”
“Pshaw. I told the town council at the last meeting we should look into firing him, but no one else agreed.”
“You’re on the council?”
“Sure am.”
It couldn’t be that simple. Probably not, but Carsten had to ask. “Who else is part of the council?”
“Horace Comstock, me, Mayor Gion, and Theodore Baumgartner.”
“What about the marshal?”
“He’s an honorary member but not involved in the meetings. Why?”
Carsten shrugged. “Just curious. Thank you. You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’ll see you Friday or Saturday.”
Carsten rushed out before Mr. Graves could keep him longer. Carsten needed to find Edmund and go over his thoughts. Edmund was leaving the General Store when Carsten exited the print shop. They met halfway, and Carsten dragged Edmund down the alley between the stores.
“What? Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can’t be overheard,” Carsten whispered.
“Why?”
Carsten took a deep breath. “Mr. Graves said something interesting that made me wonder. He thinks the marshal needs to be replaced, but no one else on the town council agrees. What if some of the council are involved in the counterfeiting?”
“How did you come up with that?”
“Mr. Graves.” Carsten summarized his conversation about the council.
“Hm.” Edmund frowned. “What would any of them have to gain?”
“Making the town seem more prosperous than its neighbors in any direction.”
Edmund sucked in a whistling breath. “That might make sense.”
Carsten leaned against a wall. They had a new idea, but what could they do about it? Keep doing what they came to town for. “We should get back out there and try to observe some of these people.”
“Okay. I’ll watch the marshal, if I can, and maybe try to spot the mayor. I think you should try to talk to Mr. Baumgartner.”
“I need to talk to him anyway, so that works well.”
“Let’s meet at the café when you’re done at the feed store.”
Carsten laughed.
“What?”
“I think it’s interesting. I call it the seed store, but you call it the feed store.”
“Heh. Well, that makes sense.”
“See you at the café.”
Carsten headed to Baumgartner’s store. He was busy, so Carsten looked around while trying to casually observe the owner. There were two men and one woman, who looked bored to death, inside. There were so many different types of feed. Not as many seeds, but keeping them in stock unused was not a good idea. Carsten glanced at Mr. Baumgartner as he talked to one of the other farmers. What did a counterfeiter look like? Did they give off any clues? Carsten shuddered. If they got caught looking into him and he ended up being a counterfeiter, he would be a dangerous opponent. Theodore Baumgartner was one of the tallest and burliest men in town. No one, not even gunslingers, dared cross him.
“What can I do for you, Carsten?” Mr. Baumgartner’s voice boomed across the store.
Carsten had gotten lost in thought. Again. He cleared his throat. “I’m wondering if you have any new varieties of alfalfa mix. I have a customer who wants to try something new if I can afford it for my next crop.”
“Come up here, and I’ll grab the catalog.” Mr. Baumgartner turned around as Carsten took the last two steps to the counter. “I assume you want it to be about the same price as the alfalfa you have bought in the past.”
“Yes.” Carsten looked around as he reached the counter. He didn’t see anything that would be incriminating to him, but Mr. Baumgartner was a smart man, not the type to leave things out.
“Ah. Here it is.” The owner faced Carsten and handed the catalog to him. “There’s a few new types of alfalfa under the a’s. I haven’t looked at them yet so don’t know the prices. Would you be ordering it today or just looking?”
“Just looking.”
“Smart idea. You can order it after the trial, if you are innocent.”
“Mm-hm.” The man’s words didn’t register right away. When they did, Carsten looked up. “I am innocent.”
“’Course.” Mr. Baumgartner snorted. “All criminals say so until the judge says otherwise.”
Carsten wanted to say something but decided not to. Mr. Baumgartner’s mind was made up. Carsten wouldn’t be able to change it. Not unless he was able to prove someone else stole the papers. He browsed the descriptions. The one that seemed most similar to what Obadiah was looking for was also quite a bit more expensive. Which meant Carsten could charge more for it, but he wouldn’t be able to pay for the seeds. He sighed.
“Find what you want?”
“Yeah, but I can’t afford it.”
“Maybe your customer would pay you some before he gets the product.”
“I can ask, but that’s not how I prefer to do things.”
“I could extend you some credit but probably not enough for what you want.”
Why would he offer Carsten credit? No one offered him credit. “I don’t want to owe anyone. I don’t take credit for that reason.”
Mr. Baumgartner gave a slight smile. “Well, let me know if you decide to get it anyway, and I’ll order it for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything else I can do for you?”
Tell me if you’re involved in the counterfeiting. Carsten forced himself to smile. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
Carsten headed out of the store and to the café. As he did, he saw the marshal and paused. Did he pass him or…
The marshal approached and stopped near Carsten. “Stay out of trouble,” the marshal hissed.
Carsten’s nostrils flared, and something on the marshal’s hands caught his attention. He stared, almost too long, at them. A red stain on the marshal’s hands. Blood? No, he wouldn’t be that evil. Carsten’s steps faltered as he walked past the marshal without answering. Fragments of thoughts worked together in his mind. Red ink caked in the printing press. A red stain on the marshal’s hands. The convenience of a known former thief accused of stealing fancy paper from the General Store.
Could it be that simple? Carsten entered the café and went straight to the table where Edmund sat and pulled out the five-dollar bill in his pocket. A cream paper with a red seal. He sucked in a breath and laid the money in front of Edmund.