CHAPTER 16
Mayor Grant made Mackey and Billy wait for him in his office. The room was even more ornate than Underhill’s. What the commissioner’s office lacked in drapery and paintings, Grant’s office made up for in spades.
Deep blue fabrics with gold trim adorned the huge windows that not only looked out on the old jailhouse, but north to the newer part of the town, including Katherine’s hotel and Mr. Van Dorn’s house. Mackey wondered if Grant had a pair of field glasses in his desk so he could keep an eye on his boss. Not that he could see much, since Van Dorn kept his windows covered at all times.
The brass oil lamps fitted to the wall behind Grant’s grand desk had already been lit, and between them hung a painting of what Dover Station would look like when it was completed.
Mackey easily located the spot on the painting where the corpses of the three Chinese whores and their killer were rotting away.
The painting did not show the three houses currently on the site. Instead, it showed a large brick building that encompassed the three lots with writing stenciled on the side: Dover Station Saw Mill Company. Beside it, and alongside a flowing body of water, was the sawmill building Mackey had heard about.
Mackey would have pointed it out to Billy, but his deputy was looking at the same thing.
“Interesting painting,” Billy said.
“Sure is,” Mackey said. “Considering everything.”
Mayor James Grant opened the door and swept into the office with a flourish, trailed by Underhill and four policemen armed with rifles. Their brown dusters and hats marked them as Dover Station policemen before anyone bothered to look at the badges pinned over their hearts.
Underhill acknowledged Mackey and Billy with a slight nod, but that was all.
It was clear Grant was eager to use up all of the oxygen in the room. “I apologize for keeping you gentlemen waiting, but I was unavoidably detained. Between my duties with Mr. Van Dorn and as mayor, I don’t know where I find the time to eat, much less sleep.”
Mackey watched Grant take off his gray derby and hang it on a peg. His hair was still a rich brown, and the graying at his temples hadn’t increased since his election to office. He also seemed to have lost quite a bit of weight since his election to mayor. Though he never could have been called a heavy man, his face was certainly thinner and his stomach flatter than it had been when he had become Mr. Van Dorn’s right-hand man.
His style had changed, too. Mackey noticed Grant had given up his love of brocade vests for those that matched the rest of his subtle attire. He looked far more respectable and much more established.
Which told Mackey that James Grant had never been more dangerous than at this very moment.
Grant didn’t offer to shake hands before taking his seat behind his desk and neither did the two lawmen.
“I know your time is precious,” Grant began, “so I won’t keep you any longer than I have to.”
Mackey looked at Underhill. “Get your gunmen out of here.”
“They men aren’t gunmen,” Grant said. “They’re sworn officers of the law, no different than you.”
“We’re federal lawmen now,” Mackey said.
Billy added, “They’re flanking our position, and we don’t like that. Either they leave or we do.”
Underhill was about to order his men to leave, but Grant raised his hand to stop him. “What makes you think they would allow you to leave if I told them not to?”
“Because the last time we met like this, I knocked you on your ass. Five gunmen or even ten won’t stop me if I want to do it again. Now, like Billy said, either they leave or we do. Your choice.”
Grant laughed as he nodded to Underhill, who dismissed them. The four men filed out as they had come in. The last one closed the door behind him.
“I’ve granted your request,” Grant said, “but Commissioner Underhill stays. I insist on that point.”
“Fine,” Mackey said. “Just tell us what you want.”
Grant folded his hands on top of his desk. They were large hands. Worker’s hands that showed the kind of man he had been before he found his way into Mr. Van Dorn’s good graces. The kind of man he seemed to want to forget now.
“I have important information to share with you gentlemen that I pray won’t leave the confines of this room.”
Neither Mackey nor Billy reacted. Mackey figured it was about the dead people in the house on River Street, but he didn’t encourage him. They just waited for him to keep talking.
Grant gladly obliged. “I have just learned that our patron, Mr. Silas Van Dorn, has reluctantly decided to leave Dover Station and return to his native home of Manhattan.”
Mackey didn’t see how that news impacted either of them. “Hope you’ll be going back with him.”
Grant looked at him. “Unfortunately, no. In fact, I will be needed here more than ever as I will be serving as his temporary replacement until such time as Mr. Van Dorn and his partner, Mr. Rice, send someone else to take his place. Once Mr. Van Dorn leaves, I will be serving as the acting director of the Dover Station Company and the mayor as well.”
Mackey could only imagine how happy Grant must be that he now had what he had always wanted: full control of the empire he had helped build with Frazer Rice’s money.
Mackey could see Grant was fishing for some kind of reaction. He refused to give him one. “What’s that got to do with us? It’s a town matter, not a federal one.”
“The transition of power is not your concern, Marshal.” Mackey could see the joy in his face as he said the words. “But Mr. Van Dorn’s safety in transit across territorial lines is a federal matter.”
“No, it isn’t,” Mackey said. “The Pinkertons can handle it for you. Robert Lagrange is already in town. He could have a contingent of his men here within the week. Ten men or more.”
“Perhaps he could,” Grant allowed, “but I speak on behalf of the entire town when I say they would be relieved if both of you agreed to make sure our patron arrives at his destination safely. Not all the way to New York, of course, but certainly as far as Laramie. I know it would be a great comfort to me and to the rest of us in Dover Station to know Mr. Van Dorn is in the capable hands of the Savior of Dover Station and the ever-loyal Deputy Sunday, of course.”
Mackey let the request soak in for a moment. “Particularly given all of the violence that has plagued the town lately.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the anarchists who caused all that trouble last year,” Mackey said. “Meaning all of the unpleasantness that sprang up in town before your election. Meaning the recent arrival of the Hancock family in town and everything they bring with them.”
Mackey leaned forward. “Meaning the three dead whores rotting as we speak in a house on River Street, including the body of the man who killed them and tried to kill Billy today.”
Grant sat back in his chair as if slapped. “Those are all separate incidences you have chosen to bundle together to serve your personal dislike of me. I didn’t ask you for an opinion on the state of Dover Plains, Marshal Mackey, nor did I ask you for a summary of crimes that occur within town limits. I asked you to agree to protect Mr. Van Dorn. A simple yes-or-no answer will suffice.”
Mackey didn’t need to think about his answer. “No.”
He noticed that Grant’s expression changed slightly, the way a cat’s expression changes when a mouse goes from being an object of idle curiosity to a possible meal.
Underhill looked surprised by the answer, too. “Why the hell not?”
“Because it’s part of whatever plan he’s cooking up.” The image of Grant’s plan came into focus as clearly as the painting that hung behind his desk. “Just like rushing to tell the world about those dead whores was part of your plan, wasn’t it?”
Grant rubbed a thumb across his brown beard. “It appears that your elevation to marshal has made you paranoid, Aaron. In fact, I think a case could be made that you’ve completely lost your mind. I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, but I’d imagine it’s from your deputy here.”
“And from what I saw with my own two eyes.” He looked at the police commissioner. “Underhill saw it, too.”
All eyes went to Underhill, who clearly didn’t like the attention.
“Walter?” Mayor Grant said. “Is there something you’d like to add?”
The chief shrugged. “Can’t say I agree with everything Mackey said, but what happened with those women down on River Street is awfully fishy, James.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grant said. “Three young women were butchered to death by a madman who was either a savage or had lived among them for so long he’d learned to kill like a savage.”
The mayor looked at Mackey. “Given your experience among the redmen of the plains and the wild accusations you’ve made here tonight, I was thinking someone like you might be a suspect, Marshal. But, since you were out of town, I suppose that leaves us with your deputy, doesn’t it?”
Then Grant looked at Billy. “Chief Underhill, I’m asking you to place Deputy Billy Sunday under arrest for murder.”