for her for days, to no avail.”
“We didn’t find her because she wasn’t there to be found,” Richmond said. “You hid her body somewhere. My greatest regret in life is I never figured out where.”
“You have no proof,” Patterson replied, his face as red as a beet.
At that moment, Torrey bustled up. “Are you causing trouble, Speed?” he sputtered. “This is a respectable establishment. There’s no drawn knives allowed.”
“Trying to defuse it,” I said. Looking at Patterson and Richmond I added, “No matter who’s right, the both of you are reckless for arguing like this in public. Remember what Judge Thomas said about keeping apart from one another.”
“The judge’s writ doesn’t run to Torrey’s,” Patterson replied with a growl.
“Yes it does,” said Torrey. He surveyed his wretched domain through narrowed eyes. “He’s right over there.” Torrey pointed to the far corner of the room.
“Oh, Your Honor,” he called shrilly.
A man who had been seated with his back to us and a cap pulled low over his head turned and stared. Through the haze of the tavern, I could make out the wide-set, florid face and telltale sneer. The judge squinted and shook his cigar hand, although I guessed he was in no condition to recognize the litigants, to say nothing of halting their altercation. Nonetheless, Richmond and Patterson sheathed their weapons and took a step back from each other.
“That’s more like it,” Torrey said. “Now let me bring you both a fresh glass and you can drink to old times together.”
CHAPTER 17
Lincoln was already seated at the Globe’s common table the next morning, a half-eaten plate of breakfast in front of him, when Martha and I entered the tavern. An odor of stale smoke lingered about the place.
“I’ll wager you a month’s rent,” I said by way of greeting as we slid in across from him, “you don’t know the source of the animosity between your client Patterson and that old veteran Richmond.”
“You mean other than their being former brothers-in-law who had the great misjudgment to think they could engage in land speculation with one another?” he said. When he saw my disappointed expression he added, “I was just wondering where next month’s payment was coming from. I’ve solved a major problem before finishing breakfast. You’ve made my day already, Speed.”
I recounted for Lincoln and Martha the confrontation between the two men from the previous night. “It does explain the depth of hard feelings, I suppose.” I paused. “You’re not actually going to insist on payment, are you? It’s poor sport to accept a bet with superior knowledge.”
“It’s precisely what you yourself were attempting,” Lincoln said with a grin. “If only you’d displayed your sister’s curiosity about my docket from the outset, you could judge better where to lay down your wagers.”
He turned to my sister. “Has Speed shown you around town, Miss Speed? I’m afraid there’s nothing in our little frontier village that compares with the finery and grandeur of Louisville.”
“Oh, no, you’re wrong,” Martha replied earnestly. “I’ve discovered so many interesting things already. Did you know the iron nutgall ink sold at McHendry’s on the other side of the square is especially useful for writing long letters? It dries in less than a minute when held over the candle flame.”
“I had no idea,” said Lincoln, his eyes twinkling.
I told Lincoln about Gustorf’s attempt to flee Springfield and the long period of recovery the doctor said would follow his accident. “So the sheriff will have plenty of time to question him. I’d think he’s the most likely suspect, especially if we can establish he’d encountered Lilly as well.”
“We?” said Lincoln, his eyebrows raised. “I thought you said you weren’t after the sheriff’s job.”
“Of course I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be of help to him and Prickett in finding the blackguard. I was with the little fellow Jesse on the day he was killed. In fact, I was probably one of the last men on earth to speak to him. Are you going to tell me I don’t have a stake in finding his killer?” And I need to do it, most of all, for Rebecca’s sake, I added silently to myself.
“Gustorf might be a potential suspect,” Lincoln said. “So could a number of other men, I imagine. But first you need a theory of the case.”
“Meaning what?”
“Two young people whom no one in Sangamon County had heard of up until a few months ago have been murdered in close succession. One in Springfield, one in Menard.