"Why isn't this alley ever cleaned up?" complained Franklin Fortner to his longtime cohort, Hiram Priest.
It was dark and, as they made their way to the backdoor of the Stardust Saloon, Franklin had stumbled over a horseshoe laying in the dirt.
"Don't rightly know," Priest muttered in his thoughtful, former Judge and Mayor voice.
When they reached the backdoor, they found it unnecessary to unlock it, prompting a "God damn it," from the establishment's owner. "Probably robbed blind," he declared.
Franklin and Priest were returning from St. Louis where they met with a gold assayer and also a mining operations manager. It had been a essential to talk to the right people since the talent in Kalispell was scarce, and some refused to work with Fortner because of the rumors as to how he'd swindled a homesteader for the land the strike had been discovered on.
The kitchen was dark, but Fortner struck a match and lit an oil lamp which hung reliably by the door. The place sprang to light. Then he found a half-empty bottle of whiskey and took it to a table and took his place across from Priest.
"It won't be long now," Hiram prophesied. Gadsen Brothers will set up operations, hire some locals, and pretty soon a stream of wealth will begin to flow right into our coffers. Maybe you can even spruce this saloon up a bit?"
"That is a good possibility. I've always wanted to build a stage area where our Nightingale can warble her songs. She's a beauty, eh?"
Hiram took a swig of liquor and wiped his mouth with his black coat sleeve, and handed the bottle back to Franklin.
"She's that all right," he agreed.
Franklin looked from side-to-side. "I wonder where the cook is?" If he remembered right, she slept in an anteroom of the saloon.
"All right, put yo hands up you no good stranglin' rascal!!" a voice boomed from the doorway "You walked right into my ambush!!"
Messalina McMahon was armed with a dangerous looking carving knife in one hand and a ponderously heavy skillet in the other, both of which glittered a little in the candle-light.
"Why bless my soul if it ain't Mister Fortner and Mister Priest! Lawd alive! And here I was thinkin' you two gentleman was the Kalispell Strangler! He he he!" her teeth and eyes showed white in the gloom of the room.
She put the implements down, but then picked the lethal looking blade up again, as if she had decided to stab the pair of them to death after all. But it was for culinary purposes that she took up the makeshift weapon.
"You two must be about famished, take a seat and I'll rustle you up some cold cuts" she offered "You've both missed all the excitement round these parts!"
"All right, put yo hands up you no good stranglin' rascal!!" a voice boomed from the doorway "You walked right into my ambush!!"
The voice startled Hiram Priest, and he let the bottle drop on the table where some whiskey dribble out of the neck before he got it upright.
"Judas' Priest!" he yelped.
Messalina McMahon was armed with a dangerous looking carving knife in one hand and a ponderously heavy skillet in the other, both of which glittered a little in the candle-light.
"Why bless my soul if it ain't Mister Fortner and Mister Priest! Lawd alive! And here I was thinkin' you two gentleman was the Kalispell Strangler! He he he!" her teeth and eyes showed white in the gloom of the room.
Franklin shook his head and laughed while Hiram gathered himself.
"Well if it isn't the best cook in Kalispell!" he announced, slapping his hands on the table.
She put the implements down, but then picked the lethal looking blade up again, as if she had decided to stab the pair of them to death after all. But it was for culinary purposes that she took up the makeshift weapon.
"You two must be about famished, take a seat and I'll rustle you up some cold cuts" she offered "You've both missed all the excitement round these parts!"
"I'll tell you, Shadow (his pet name for Messalina), you're a sight for sore eyes and empty bellies. Sure, cold cuts sound perfect. Eh, Hiram?
The wily ex-judge brushed this front of his vest and chuckled. "I was figuring for a minute there that we might be the cold cuts ourselves. Oh sure. Sounds great."
As the cook hustled about in the kitchen, Franklin probed.
"Any news, Shadow? How's Ralph been? Up to his ears in customers, I imagine. And Miss Caroline? How is she?
"I'll tell you, Shadow (his pet name for Messalina), you're a sight for sore eyes and empty bellies. Sure, cold cuts sound perfect. Eh, Hiram?
The wily ex-judge brushed this front of his vest and chuckled. "I was figuring for a minute there that we might be the cold cuts ourselves. Oh sure. Sounds great."
Messalina hated it when Fortner called her Shadow, but he was the boss and she'd be hard pushed to get another job if she annoyed him, so, as she'd had to do all her life, she bit her lip and put up with the white man's rudeness.
As the cook hustled about in the kitchen, Franklin probed.
"Any news, Shadow? How's Ralph been? Up to his ears in customers, I imagine. And Miss Caroline? How is she?"
"Oh they been fine, just fine. Missy Caroline's beau Lootenant Greene done got sent away, but she got a new feller t' take his place immediate. She's been seeing that butcher's boy Mister Connolly." she replied, he hadn't asked about the little pot-girl Sally, but she was something of a non-entity in the place, so she was hardly surprised.
"Been a lot o' trouble otherwise, though. Old 'Professor' Browne got shot to death on the street and poor Hector Wigfall got a bullet through his chest, he seems to be on the mend, though, thank the Lawd! And now we got this Strangler feller goin' round murderin' folks in their own homes."
She plated them up some cold cuts of meat and bread and butter.
"First it was Jasper Nichols, you know, that clerk as always short-changes you in the General Store, well, no loss there, but then he done and got our own Sad Annie. Strangulated to death she was, just as she was about to get in the bath!"
Funny, Messalina usually had nothing but scorn for the prostitutes who plied their trade in the Stardust, but she felt an unexpected pang of regret when she described Annie Hayden's tragic demise.
Address me as Hon. Hiram Priest, esq.
The cook was a font of gossip and goings on. She kept her eyes open and her ear to the ground, it seemed. Fortner appreciated her more than she knew. So did Hiram Priest, a man with a file clerk in his head and a guard at his mouth. Those attributes had served him well as a Mayor and a Judge.
"Oh they been fine, just fine. Missy Caroline's beau Lootenant Greene done got sent away, but she got a new feller t' take his place immediate. She's been seeing that butcher's boy Mister Connolly." she replied, he hadn't asked about the little pot-girl Sally, but she was something of a non-entity in the place, so she was hardly surprised.
Hiram was pleased that she'd apparently heeded his advice and staid well apart from that Jacob Murrell, a man as sinister and dangerous as they come. But what has become of Murrell was anybody's guess. Just so long as he was a hundred miles away from the man who'd sent him from prison.
The old judge lips, though sealed, twisted up into a faint smile.
"Been a lot o' trouble otherwise, though. Old 'Professor' Browne got shot to death on the street and poor Hector Wigfall got a bullet through his chest, he seems to be on the mend, though, thank the Lawd! And now we got this Strangler feller goin' round murderin' folks in their own homes."
"Stranger fella?" Priest whispered to Franklin, and whose reaction was to nod slightly. It was another worry to them both.
She plated them up some cold cuts of meat and bread and butter.
The loquacious cook ran with details about some murder's trail of terror.
"First it was Jasper Nichols, you know, that clerk as always short-changes you in the General Store, well, no loss there, but then he done and got our own Sad Annie. Strangulated to death she was, just as she was about to get in the bath!"
"Oh dear," Hiram said. "I'm right sorry to hear that. I wonder if the Sheriff has any ideas about this?
Franklin digested the news even as he was digesting his late night meal.
"You keepin' safe, I hope." He asked Messalina. "I don't want any of my people ending up in an early grave.... or a late grave, he added, looking at Priest.
Hiram just waved him away with a chuckle. "Maybe we'll have to set a trap for this feller?"
"Oh dear," Hiram said. "I'm right sorry to hear that. I wonder if the Sheriff has any ideas about this?
Messalina just gave a disgruntled "Hmph!"
"Seems like they-all put young Charlie Wentworth in charge of figuring out just who this killer is. Hmph! I don't reckon he'll get anywhere until that ol' Strangler feller's murdered us all in our beds and there's only ol' Charlie and the killer left standin' - and then he'll figure it out!" the chubby dark lady declared rather cynically.
Franklin digested the news even as he was digesting his late night meal.
"You keepin' safe, I hope." He asked Messalina. "I don't want any of my people ending up in an early grave.... or a late grave, he added, looking at Priest.
Hiram just waved him away with a chuckle. "Maybe we'll have to set a trap for this feller?"
"Why, that's what I was doin' when you two gents stumbled in" Messalina reminded them "I wanted to knock that varmint on the head before he got a chance to strangulate me! 'Member, i sleeps on the ground floor here, I'm first in his line of fire, so to speak."
"Why, that's what I was doin' when you two gents stumbled in" Messalina reminded them "I wanted to knock that varmint on the head before he got a chance to strangulate me! 'Member, i sleeps on the ground floor here, I'm first in his line of fire, so to speak."
Franklin pointed his finger at the Messalina.
"You are not only a damned good cook, but you're brave to boot. Most people would be begging me for a place upstairs, but not you."
"Tell me, he continued after gnawing on him bread. "How's Miss Caroline doing? I hope she's safe. And tell me this; what stranger are you talking about? When did he get into town? What makes people think it's him who's been killing people?"
Priest lean over and whispered something in Franklin's ear, after which the saloon owner changed subjects.
"How much am I paying you each week?"
"You are not only a damned good cook, but you're brave to boot. Most people would be begging me for a place upstairs, but not you."
"Hmph! I faced the Draft Riots back in New York in '63, no ol' Strangler's gonna scare me!"
"Tell me, he continued after gnawing on him bread. "How's Miss Caroline doing? I hope she's safe."
"Well, she was all right when she went to bed tonight." she replied simply enough.
"... And tell me this; what stranger are you talking about? When did he get into town? What makes people think it's him who's been killing people?"
"Strangler not stranger!" Messalina frowned at Fortner "I do believe you's goin' deaf, Mister F!"
Priest lean over and whispered something in Franklin's ear, after which the saloon owner changed subjects.
"How much am I paying you each week?"
She looked suspicious... she didn't like it when Priest whispered sweet nothings in Fortner's ear... none of them did, it usually meant that some nefarious plot was brewing.
"Enough" she said slowly.
Priest lean over and whispered something in Franklin's ear, after which the saloon owner changed subjects.
"How much am I paying you each week?"
She looked suspicious... she didn't like it when Priest whispered sweet nothings in Fortner's ear... none of them did, it usually meant that some nefarious plot was brewing.
"Enough" she said slowly.
Franklin tilted back in his chair and slipped his thumbs in this suspenders.
"How would $15 per week, suit you?" he asked her.
He was in an expansive and confident frame-of-mind. Not only had he found the best mining engineer, Silas Drood, but the he'd financed the start-up of his operation through a bank in St. Louis. Hiram had been instrumental in those negotiations. So now it was time to look after those in his employ.
He laughed and said, "Don't look so suspicious, Shadow. We've got no ulterior motives and nothing up our sleeves. Have we, Hiram?
"No we don't. Hell, not even an ace or two," he joked.
"So what do you say?" he asked the cook.
"How would $15 per week, suit you?" he asked her.
Messalina looked at Fortner thoughtfully.
"I'd be a puddin' headed fool to turn it down, if it's for what I'm already doin' it $10 a week!" she replied, but then held up a warning finger "And that's ALL it's for!"
He laughed and said, "Don't look so suspicious, Shadow. We've got no ulterior motives and nothing up our sleeves. Have we, Hiram?
"No we don't. Hell, not even an ace or two," he joked.
"So what do you say?" he asked the cook.
She shrugged her assent.
"I take it you've heard the rumours then? Scared I might get... now what's that highfalutin word I heard that fancy actor feller Mr Darlin' use the other day?... Inveigled! Scared I might get inveigled away, huh?"