*
By the light of day, Ninth Street looked even less appealing. Empty bottles and trash were strewn on the dirty road, along with several residents who merely stared at the passing horses. The rooming house where Brinker lived had a small, covered front porch and high windows. They rode up, got off the horses and tied them to the hitching post. Jack walked up the steps and knocked on the door. A landlady answered the door, glancing suspiciously at them. She opened the door only a crack.
“Does a Mister Brinker live here?” Jack asked politely.
“Yes, he does at that,” she answered with a drunken slur. “His room is upstairs, the first on the right.” The smell of whisky on her breath wafted towards them.
They pushed past her and made their way up the stairs. The glare of the mid-afternoon sun made it difficult for their eyes to adjust to the dusty gloom of the darkened hallway. Motioning to his partner, Jack pulled his gun out and gently tried the door handle to Brinker’s room. It turned freely, so he quickly wrenched it open and rushed into the room with Ezra following close behind. In the corner, a large man stood up from a chair in surprise. His rough face had a nose that looked like it had been broken on several occasions. Sitting next to him at a table, an overweight man wearing glasses and a sour expression looked up from counting a pile of small bills. They both looked alarmed from the unexpected entrance.
“You can have your man sit down. We didn’t come to rob you. I just wanted to ask you some questions, Brinker,” Jack said sharply, waving his pistol at them.
Brinker motioned towards his man, and the bodyguard sat down. The other hand strayed to his chest as if to ward off an evil spell. “Oh, I really thought you were going to rob me.” His reply was a little breathless.
Jack shook his head. “I’m not here to take your money. I just want to know what your dealings are with Lawrence Hanson.” He stepped further into the room, allowing Ezra to stand next to him.
“Who are you talking about?” Brinker’s fat fingers continued to automatically count the small piles of coins.
Jack slowly strode over to the table. There he stopped and leaned forward to make his point clear. His gun stayed pointed at Brinker. “I heard from someone that you were seen Tuesday night at the Gay Lady Saloon with Lawrence Hanson. You appeared to get in an argument with him and you were both seen leaving together.” He put his left hand on the table, the barrel of his gun now resting on Brinker’s chest. “Now Mister Hanson has disappeared and you are the last person seen with him. Maybe you can tell us where he is?”
Brinker’s hands had stopped and were hovering over the money. He looked up at him, a lopsided grin crossing his face. “I assure you that I know nothing about this. I’m just a simple businessman.”
Jack reached over and gently slapped Brinker in the face. The bodyguard stood up and reached into his belt to get his gun, but was too slow.
Ezra already had his Colt out and waved it at the large man. “Better watch it there, big guy,” Ezra said through clenched teeth. “Put that gun on the floor, slowly now, and let my man here keep on talking.” The bodyguard hesitated, but finally slid his pistol down. He sat down scowling, staring at him with hatred.
Jack continued to keep the Starr pointed at Brinker while all of this was going on.
Brinker rubbed the side of his cheek. “Why did you do that?” he asked with a childish whine.
“I expect to be heard. That’s just a little lesson. Now let me ask you again – where is Lawrence Hanson? Did he borrow money from you?”
“Look, I do a lot of business around here, but I don’t know anyone named Hanson. If I did, I would tell you. I wasn’t in the Gay Lady that night anyway.”
“The Hanson family would be just the type of people you would try to squeeze money out of,” Jack insinuated.
Brinker licked his lips nervously. “Now hold on, I’ve heard of the Hanson family, and I must say I wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”
“And why is that?”
“People in their position would be asking for more money than I could even provide. I don’t have the pull to provide the kind of cash a Hanson would need.”
Ezra and Jack exchanged a look. Jack thought Brinker was perhaps telling the truth. What could such an insignificant opportunist be doing with Lawrence Hanson? Brinker dealt with small loans for small people. He wouldn’t be dealing with hundreds or even thousands of dollars that someone rich would require.
“Why would someone place you at the Gay Lady Saloon?” Jack asked.
“I really don’t know. But I’m afraid a man in my position can make many enemies.”
“I’m sure you don’t mind if I come and talk to you about this matter again, do you?”
“I don’t mind,” Brinker said amiably, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly as he spoke. “Just don’t play so rough next time.”
They slowly backed out of the room with Ezra keeping an eye on the bodyguard. With no pursuit, they hastily made their way down the stairs to their horses below. Outside, the afternoon sun was baking the street hot.
Jack spoke as they rode back towards the Gay Lady. “I don’t think Brinker is our man. He seems a little too small time to me. Someone like Lawrence would go through cash very quickly – high class bars, gambling, and expensive women. If he wanted to leave town, he would need more money than Brinker could arrange.”
Ezra nodded. “Brinker is a bastard, but he is still a small crook. He provides money alright, but it’s for the poor that live in this neighborhood. If he did have anything to do with Lawrence, it wasn’t in a professional capacity.”
They stopped in front of the saloon, which was apparently still not open for business. It looked shuttered and desolate.
“I think we better have a talk with the owner again,” Jack said. “Either he’s hiding something, or he just gave us the wrong lead by accident.” Jack then got down from his mare. He then hammered on the closed front door, but there wasn’t any response. “Let’s see if there is a rear entrance to this place. There has to be someplace where they load the swill in.”
They walked to the small alley in the back of the bar and found a stout wooden door. He again knocked loudly and then listened. Nothing could be heard from the inside of the building.
Ezra shrugged. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.”
Jack reached down and turned the knob. The old door swung open freely. The sunlight streamed into a dark back office, making a yellow rectangle on the grubby rough wooden floor. It was a cramped room with empty barrels and a small, crowded desk in the corner. Jack pushed the old door open further and looked into the room. Next to the desk and suspended from the ceiling by a rope was Tinen. His neck was bent at an impossible angle. The tongue hung out of his dead, waxy face.
“Damn,” hissed Jack. “It seems like someone else wanted to talk to him too, but they got here first. Find a lamp and we’ll see if we can find anything. But let’s be quick.”
The black man looked up at the body and shook his head. “I hate to see anyone hanged,” he murmured to himself.
Jack lit an oil lamp on top of the desk. The nicotine-stained walls shined weakly in the light of the lamp, framing the shadow of the dead body on the wall. “Shut that door Ezra, we don’t want to be interrupted.”
His partner closed and barred the door. With the door shut, the sour smell of death grew even stronger in the small room.
“Let’s take a closer look at our friend here,” Jack said. Both of them stood on the desktop while Jack held the lamp closer to the bartender’s face. Several bruises could be seen on his face. He put his fingers on the back of the head and felt a bloody, dried-out scab. He said, “Tinen was beat up and then knocked out before they strung him up. If they wanted this to look like suicide, it was a clumsy job.”
Ezra looked at the body with disgust. “It mus
t have taken at least three men to do this – at least two to pull the body up while the other watched for unexpected visitors.”
“Come on, Ezra, maybe we can find some clues in this dump.”
He pulled his eyes away from the grisly scene and went to help. They began to go through the drawers, looking at receipts and a small ledger book. Ezra looked closely at the columns of numbers and said, “It appears this place wasn’t too profitable. I wonder where he got the money to even open this joint.”
Jack replied, “That’s a good question. It wouldn’t be too hard to rob a place like this. None of the desk drawers are locked, and I don’t even see a safe. If this were my place, I would have a hiding place for money and valuable papers.” He then got down on his knees and started knocking against the floorboards looking for a cache.
A row of barrels lined the inside wall. Ezra began shifting the barrels back and forth to see what was in them. “Looks like whiskey here and some beer.” There was one lonely barrel in the corner. The lid was slightly askew and there was a ring of sawdust on the floor. He turned the barrel to get a better look at it. “Hmm, this one’s got sawdust in it, probably for cleaning the floor at closing time.”
Jack stood and joined Ezra in the examination of the barrel.
Ezra had the top of the barrel off and was feeling inside. “Wait a minute, there’s a box in here.” His hand came out holding a tin box with sawdust shavings clinging to the side. He set the box on the desk.
“Well, well,” Jack said rising from the floor. “Good job. Let’s have a look inside.”
Ezra opened the box. Some coins lay inside along with a pile of receipts and a small brown leather book was underneath.
Jack looked nervously about. “Look, we’ve taken long enough here. I don’t want to be found here with a dead body and a pile of money. Let’s take this back to the office and see what it can tell us there.”
“I’m with you, Jack. I am sure he will be found once his regular customers try to stop for a drink.”
They replaced the top of the barrel, closed the desk drawers, and cautiously left the building. No one seemed to be paying them any attention as they rode away.