The next two days were mostly uneventful. Nate, Frank and Pete did their share of scouting in the town to get a feel for the balance of power between the two companies vying for their share of it. Anstel & Joyner had their sights set on the tracks being built from St. Louis heading west and the Western Cartage Company was primarily interested in the line coming into Missouri through Kansas. Once the two lines met, the task remained of deciding which company would carry on from there.
Nate was no businessman, which was something he never wanted to change. While he didn’t know the specifics of all the deals involved with railroad expansion, he’d seen enough with his own eyes to know that plenty of business opportunities came along with it besides ticket sales. There were labor contracts, entertainment and food to be provided near the stations, even whole towns to be built along the way to keep the railroad moving and its paying customers satisfied. All he’d needed to do to hear about such things was visit a few local stores and mention the railroad. After that, he’d simply kept his ears open to hear one local after another spout their praises or condemnations.
Now that he’d done some digging in the obvious places, Nate decided to go to a source that rarely let him down. While Deaugrey hit the saloons and wheedled information from drunks, Nate scouted a few locations of his own, and one of them paid off nicely.
“So, Mr. Keenan,” said a rotund fellow in a white jacket who towered over the chair that dominated the center of his shop, “are you still interested in investment opportunities here in town?”
Nate leaned back beneath the towel that was draped over his chest and lifted his chin so the straight razor could be placed to his throat. The tall fellow in white had already trimmed Nate’s hair and was about to do the same to his chin and cheeks. The sign at the front of the barbershop advertised a special that included a bath, but Nate was saving that for another day. “An investor is always interested, Jerry,” he said. “I hear there’s going to be some mighty fine opportunities coming along.”
“Depends on what sort of thing you’re after.”
Opening one eye, Nate said, “When it comes to making money, it doesn’t pay to be picky. Am I right?”
Fancying himself a shrewd expert on just about everything, Jerry nodded and started shaving Nate’s chin. “Indeed you are. I’ve dabbled in a few investments, but I don’t really have the funds for that sort of thing.”
“Do you know what a finder’s fee is?”
“I believe I got one of those when Mrs. Lannerly left her handbag here after she came along to buy some rosewater. I found it and returned it without stealing anything from inside and I got a nice little something for my trouble.”
“Actually, no.”
“Then I don’t know, Mr. Keenan.”
“A finder’s fee is something a man is paid for pointing someone in the right direction. For example, I asked about any business opportunities and if you knew of any that panned out, I’d pay you for your help.”
“Oh,” Jerry said happily. “Then I wasn’t too far off after all. I can’t say as I’d know any way to point you, though.”
“Have you heard about anything regarding the railroad being built up near here? Perhaps you might have heard something from one of your customers who maybe works for a company that would be working with the railroad in some regard?”
“You mean like someone from Western Cartage?”
Nate turned toward Jerry ever so slightly, which was enough to put a fresh nick on his cheek. While the barber hurried to dab the blood trickling from the cut, Nate said, “That is exactly the sort of thing I mean! Do you know the name of anyone I should talk to over there?”
“Not as such.”
“It’s a large company. I’m sure you know someone.”
“Sorry, but no,” Jerry told him, even though the twitch in the corner of his eye and the slight tremble in his hand told a much different story.
“You’ve never even met anyone who might work there?”
“I’m not certain. I don’t know where all my customers work.”
“What about one named Casey Pescaterro?” Nate asked.
Jerry’s hand lingered in one spot, but remained steady enough to keep from cutting Nate’s face again. “Pesca . . . what?”
Nate kept still as well. His eyes remained fixed upon the barber’s face as he said, “Pescaterro. Big fellow. Some burns on his face. You’d remember that, I’m sure, since he’s seemed mighty interested in keeping what’s left of his beard in good shape. Well, as good as it could be I suppose. Any of that striking you as familiar?”
Having finished with most of Nate’s shave, Jerry quickly tended to the remaining patch of whiskers and started wiping away the remaining lather with a towel. “I’m sure I would remember something like that.”
“Tell me, how many others do you have working here for you?”
“Just me, sir. Why?”
“Because I’ve been tracking this fellow for a short while,” Nate said. “I’ve also heard a thing or two about him before I was put onto his trail, and one of the things I’ve pieced together is that he’s started taking pride in his appearance. Since he’s been in Joplin, Pescaterro’s been making enough money to see a barber every other day.”
Jerry stood behind Nate’s chair and was noisily fidgeting with combs in a small drawer. Nate could keep an eye on him thanks to the large mirror on the wall directly in front of him. “Is that a fact?” the barber asked.
“You know it is. Several of your neighbors on this street told me so. And before you tell me they’re full of beans, I should add that I caught sight of Pescaterro here two days ago. The two of you seemed to be on awfully friendly terms for someone you don’t even seem to recall meeting.”
Jerry suddenly became very still. Although Nate had never gotten the impression that the barber might turn on him wielding one of his razors or some other weapon, he watched the larger man very carefully. Beneath the towel covering the front of his body, Nate’s hand snaked toward the Remington in his cross-draw holster.
“What do you want me to tell you?” Jerry asked nervously.
“You and Pescaterro must talk about things while he’s here and I know he ain’t exactly the sort who gossips. For that matter, he must have struck you as unusual. You’ve probably even heard a thing or two about him from other folks since he’s been in town.”
“He . . . hasn’t been coming to me for very long.”
“That’s a start,” Nate said, grateful that Jerry wasn’t trying to feed him another lie.
“I know he works for Western Cartage.”
“You know he’s a killer, right?”
Jerry turned to look down at Nate and then looked up so he could face him indirectly using the mirror. “I’ve heard some things,” Jerry admitted. “There’s been plenty of unflattering rumors going around about all of these new hands hired on by Western Cartage as well as Mr. Anstel’s company. There’s no telling how many of those things are true.”
Easing a hand up from beneath the towel, Nate showed the barber one of the smaller badges from his collection. This one simply said MARSHAL. “Whatever you’ve heard is likely true,” he said. “And there’s plenty more that I’m certain you haven’t heard.”
Jerry didn’t even bother trying to hide his nervousness. In fact, he seemed relieved at not having to maintain his charade. “All I do is shave the faces in front of me and cut hair. I swear. Whatever that man’s done, I didn’t have no part of it.”
Even though Nate had been hoping to elicit a reaction along those lines, he couldn’t help but feel a touch of guilt at having his efforts work well enough to turn the poor barber into a jellyfish. “I never thought you had anything to do with the sort of thing Pescaterro is doing,” Nate assured him. “I just need a couple of favors.”
“You want to know about him? I’ll tell you whatever you need. In fact,” Jerry added as he peeled back the towel and hurried to the counter where he kept bottles of scented oils and water, “let me buy you a drink or maybe lunch, and you can ask me anything you want to know. I don’t know how much I could tell you that would be much help, but I’ll sure give it a try.”
“That covers one of the favors I meant to ask.”
Jerry stood next to Nate’s chair, staring at him with wide, overly eager eyes. Suddenly he spat out, “Oh! The shave? It’s on the house.”
“Not the shave.”
“I’m always willing to help the law, so . . . when we meet up again you just let me know what I can do.”
“I’ll let you know right now,” Nate said.
“No. I mean—it’d be better if— I’ve got a business to run here.”
“Help me out right now and you’ll be entitled to a very handsome finder’s fee,” Nate told him. “You make one more move toward that stick and you’ll get something that ain’t nearly as pleasant.”
The barber froze with his hand poised less than a foot away from a length of wood leaning in a corner just behind a broom. One end of the wood was bound by twine to form something of a handle. Allowing his arm to droop at his side and his head to hang, Jerry shuffled to turn around and face the only chair that was occupied in his shop at the moment. “What do you want from me?” he groaned.
“How about a treatment of those nice, hot towels?”