The following morning, Jacob woke up early and abruptly. Like a bolt of lightning, he remembered that the fifteen-year-old Benjamin Wilbourne still sat in the Tucson jail, accused of a crime that Jacob was certain he had not committed, though he was as yet unable to prove it.
Jacob had talked to everyone involved, so far as he knew. There was Mr. Wood left to speak to, the shop owner who was robbed. Though he didn’t see anything directly, Jacob didn’t know how much help he could be. Jacob sighed and realized he had to try. He had to go over and talk to the victim.
And then after he made that final interview, Jacob would go see the marshal again, reporting back. Whether he learned anything new or not.
He could figure this out. Jacob was sure that he could find the evidence needed to free the young man—he just wasn’t positive he would have time to do it before the circuit judge showed up.
The bounty hunter was out the door only a few minutes later. It was still early enough in the morning that he wondered if he would beat the shop owner there, but he was relieved to find that such concern was unfounded.
Jacob approached the storefront confidently, stepping up just as Mr. Wood was unlocking his front door.
“Mr. Payne?” the man said. He was a portly man, both tall and wide, taking up much of the space in front of the door. “I don’t believe we’ve met, but the marshal and his deputies have told me enough about you that I’m sure I’m not mistaken.”
“No, you’re not.” Jacob smiled and shook the man’s hand. “I’m honored that my fame precedes me.”
Wood laughed. “Oh, well, I think it’s more that the deputies are just trying to make me feel safer. They’ve assured me at least a half a dozen times that if anything ever happened here, that you’d be on the case. And look! They were right. Here you are. Though, I had assumed they meant before the case was solved.”
At that, Mr. Wood opened the door and let the two of them into the dark shop. Jacob hovered near the front door, respectfully, waiting for his host to light a lamp and conduct what he needed to do to begin work for the day.
“I was thinking I’d make some coffee, Mr. Payne. Can I tempt you?” He bent over to light a fire in the small stove in the corner of the shop.
“I’d appreciate that, yes, sir.”
“I assume you’re here to talk about the robbery the other day? The marshal told me I might need to testify.”
“Yes, I …” Jacob cleared his throat, unsure where to start. “The judge will be here tonight, though I’m not sure what testimony you will need. The marshal filled me in on what evidence was found, but I thought I’d check to see if anything else had come to mind since you gave your statement. Any other details you’ve discovered or remembered?”
“Oh, now, let me think,” he said as he checked the kettle for water. “Well, as you likely know, I had closed up for supper that day. I could have sworn I locked up behind me, but seeing as the place wasn’t broken into it’s possible I was mistaken. I’m always so careful, though.”
“I understand,” Jacob said. “It’s hard when we can blame ourselves.”
“Precisely.” Mr. Wood took a deep breath before continuing. “So, when I returned from the cafe, I was dismayed to find that the door of the shop was unlocked. It was closed, so I was afforded a small moment of believing that no harm had come from my forgetting to lock it. I entered and …” He spread his hands wide and shrugged, self-deprecatingly. “I was wrong.”
“Yes …” Jacob hesitated. “I’m sorry that we haven’t recovered that cash yet.”
He shook his head. It smelled like the coffee was close to being done. Jacob wanted to gently guide him to talking about the other clues he had come across, but didn’t want to rush him.
“I’m not bitter,” Mr. Wood replied as he pulled two tin coffee mugs out of a cupboard behind his counter. “I knew I was at risk at any time—which, incidentally, is why I always tried to keep my door locked. But …” He shook his head again. “I won’t deny that it is mighty frustrating.”
The large man poured two steaming hot cups of coffee and Jacob took a deep breath, smelling the roasted beans and being grateful for generous neighbors. He accepted the cup of coffee and took a drink, reveling in the taste and smell before continuing.
“The marshal told me you had found some sign of the intruder when you got back?” he prompted.
“Oh! Yes. I did. I walked in and immediately smelled that someone had smoked in here. There’s no smoking allowed in my shop,” he said sternly to Jacob, as though he were getting ready to roll a cigarette. “I’m very cautious of fire. I don’t allow any of my customers to do it, and I’m sure no one who had come in that morning had even tried. After careful searching, I found a cigarette butt back here behind the counter.”
“Is there anything you recognized about it?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ve never been a smoker. I couldn’t tell you the difference between one kind of tobacco or another. But I did know enough to leave it where it was, until the marshal came to inspect everything.”
“That was good thinking,” Jacob said.
“I found it back behind the counter where I keep the cash box. Actually.” He held up one finger as though to pause the conversation. “Where I used to keep the cash box. I take it home with me every night now, and I’ve ordered a large safe to be sent out from the east.” He shook his head again. “I was so reckless. This is all my own fault.”
“That might be a little extreme,” Jacob said, hesitatingly. “After all … the thief did knowingly break the law. His choices are not your fault.”
“Even so,” Mr. Wood said. “I will be more cautious from now on.”
Jacob nodded, drinking more of his coffee. “Did you notice anything besides the cigarette?”
“I did, yes. A button. It had fallen not far from the counter somewhere …” He gestured to the middle of the room near where Jacob was standing. “Somewhere over there. I am always sure to keep the floor as spotless as possible. It makes the customers feel more comfortable, you see. I am absolutely certain the button was not there when I left for my mid-day meal.”
“Is there anything remarkable about that button?”
At this point, Jacob felt like he was grasping. Nothing Mr. Wood had told him would in any way exonerate Benjamin Wilbourne.
He shrugged. “Not particularly. I didn’t look carefully, but it seemed like the kind of button that could be on any kind of piece of clothing.”
“Did you …?” Jacob searched his brain for the little he knew about clothing. “Were there any threads or fabric attached to it or … I’m sorry. I don’t know what to ask here. I’m not sure what the judge will need in order to convict the thief.”
“You’re not alone, friend. I was afraid to touch anything once I discovered the money was missing. I didn’t know what the marshal would need or not need to see.”
Jacob rubbed his temple.
All of this felt circular. The evidence all pointed to Benjamin just enough that no one looked any further. But even when he tried to look further, Jacob was still only finding the same evidence that the marshal had found.
There must be something more. There must be something that someone wasn’t saying or a direction he wasn’t yet looking.
“Well,” he said, finally, “thank you for all your help, Mr. Wood. If you think of anything else, I would appreciate it if you sent word to the marshal or me.”
“Of course. And if you have more questions I’m happy to answer. Anything that will help recover the cash that boy stole is my top priority.”
“Yes … well …” Jacob hesitated, unsure if he was overstepping. “To tell you the truth, Mr. Wood, I don’t have much hope of that. We searched his quarters and didn’t find even a single note. If Benjamin had the cash, he’s hidden it well.”
Wood’s face clouded; this was undoubtedly not what he had been hoping to hear.
He took a deep breath.
“Well, again, Mr. Payne, please let me know what I can do to help the investigation.”
“Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”
Jacob offered the coffee mug back to the shopkeeper, tipped his hat and exited the store. Standing out on the boardwalk, he looked around helplessly. Dead end after dead end. Maybe he would just have to reconcile himself to Benjamin’s getting the rope.