Chapter 39
Chapter
James strolled through Clevenger’s Emporium while the owner completed a sale with a customer at the counter.
James smiled and tipped his hat to Clevenger upon entering, not wanting to alert the man to his suspicions.
Clevenger had nodded in return, though his thin mustache grew twitchy as his gaze followed James and the preacher into the store.
His voice pitched high with false cheer as he exchanged pleasantries with the middle-aged matron purchasing what looked to be shaving soap and hair tonic.
“I know it’s not much,” she said, “but Mr. Taggert lost everything, and the ladies from our church decided to put together a basket of some basic necessities. Toiletries, clothing items, some baked goods. Anything to help relieve his burden.”
“I’m sure he’ll be most grateful, Mrs. Malloy.”
The man was smooth. Even sounded sympathetic.
James turned down an aisle stocked with candles, lamps, lanterns, and the item he’d been looking for—kerosene.
Most of the inventory consisted of one-gallon tins, but larger cans sat upon the floor.
James crouched down to examine the five-gallon tins and noticed a dust-free circle on the floor behind one of the cans.
“Looks like one is missing,” James said as he straightened.
The parson shrugged. “Could have been sold.”
“Maybe, but the sale would’ve had to have been recent to account for the lack of dust. I’ll check his inventory lists, though it’s pretty easy to forge those.”
The tinkle of a bell announced the departure of Mrs. Malloy and signaled James to make his move. He strode to the front of the store and cornered Clevenger near a display of kitchen implements.
“Deputy!” Clevenger chuckled nervously as he backed away from James while trying to look busy tidying the position of a nearby teakettle. “What can I help you with today?”
For once, James didn’t offer a smile. “I need to ask you some questions regarding last night’s fire.” He nodded to the door. “You might want to close up shop for a bit. Keep our conversation private.”
“Goodness. That sounds ominous.” Clevenger laughed again, but when James simply raised an eyebrow, he coughed and turned belligerent. “Look, Paxton, you’ve no right to barge in here and make demands. My taxes pay your salary.”
“It’s not my right, it’s my duty.” James stepped closer to Clevenger and noted the sweat beading on his forehead. “And I take my duty very seriously. Which is why I’m here. I’ve come into possession of some evidence that implicates you in the burning of the saloon.”
His face grew red. “That’s ridiculous!” He retreated a step, then narrowed his eyes and went on the offensive, advancing toward James instead.
James held his ground and let him come.
“I knew you were sweet on Noreen, but I didn’t think you’d go so far as to implicate an innocent man.
It’s disgraceful.” He tried to shove James out of his path, but James refused to budge, so Clevenger huffed and navigated around him on his way to the door.
He opened it wide. “I have nothing to say to you, Deputy. But I’ll have plenty to say to Sheriff Adair when he returns.
I might have a few words for the editor of the Albany News as well.
I’m sure he’d be very interested in running a story on corruption in the local constabulary. ”
Unimpressed, James ignored the open door and the threats. He retrieved his notepad instead and flipped to a clean page. “Where were you between four and five o’clock this morning, before the alarm bell sounded?”
“Do you not understand plain English, man?” Clevenger stomped forward until he stood directly in front of James, then jabbed a finger toward the door. “Get out of my store.”
Avoiding the question. Yep. The man was definitely hiding something.
“If you prefer to conduct this interview at the jailhouse, I’m happy to oblige. Fetch your coat and we can be on our way.”
“Fetch my coat? I’m not going anywhere. You are. Get out!”
Clevenger’s shout drew the attention of those outside. A crowd began to gather outside the door. Faces peered through display windows. Quiet murmurs gained momentum.
Brother Cowan stepped out of the candle aisle and strolled toward the front of the store. “Let’s keep things civil, shall we?”
Clevenger glared at the preacher. “You’re in on this ambush, too, Parson?
And here I thought you were a man of integrity.
Guess I was wrong.” He gave a disdainful sniff.
“You afraid your sweet daughter will be tainted by association? Is that why you’re willing to railroad me with false accusations?
Everyone knows Noreen set that fire. She hates the saloon.
Hates Taggert. Hates men who drink. She was bound and determined to close the Salt Fork one way or the other.
I’m just glad she didn’t burn down the entire town in the process. ”
Now he was pointing fingers. So they were getting under his skin. Good. The more off-balance he was, the more likely he’d let something slip.
Thankfully, the parson didn’t rise to Clevenger’s bait.
“I’m just here to observe, Arthur. And what I’m observing at the moment is a man making a scene in order to avoid answering a few questions.
Spawns a question or two in my own mind.
Like what are you trying to hide?” He nodded toward the half-dozen people loitering on the boardwalk.
“Perhaps they are wondering the same thing.”
Score one for the preacher. James had to fight to keep a smug grin from overtaking his stony expression.
Clevenger peered into the street, his complexion paling slightly. In a blink, he’d donned an ingratiating smile and sauntered to the shop’s entrance.
“Sorry, folks, I’m going to have to close the emporium early today. Deputy Paxton requires my assistance to solve his arson case. After our town suffered such a tragedy, I feel it my civic responsibility to help any way I can. I’ll be open first thing in the morning. Be sure to return then.”
Good grief. Snake oil ran in the man’s veins.
Clevenger closed the door, flipped the sign to Closed, and turned the lock. When he pivoted to face James, his oily smile slid right off his face.
“I’m not going to let you pin this fire on me, Paxton.
I warned Noreen to stay away from the saloon, pleaded with her to cease her tiresome temperance crusade, but she refused to listen.
My wife is devastated by Noreen’s radical actions, but we agree that she has gone too far.
She’s a danger to this town and must face the consequences. ”
“I’ve spoken with your wife,” James said, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He’d expected Clevenger to cast blame on Noreen, but the man’s callous self-righteousness had James’s blood simmering. “She’s definitely devastated, but not because of Noreen’s actions. Because of yours.”
Clevenger blinked. “Ramona would never betray me.”
“Betray you, how? By telling the truth?” James stalked forward. “She said you were not at home at the time the fire started. That you never came to bed last night.”
“I-I fell asleep in my study.”
“She told me she checked the office. Checked the entire house, as a matter of fact. You weren’t there.”
His eyes darted back and forth as if seeking a credible excuse. “That’s because I came here . . . to the emporium. To work on a project in the storeroom.”
“In the middle of the night?”
Keep digging, Clevenger. Maybe you’ll bury yourself.
The man jutted his chin. “I often come up here to work when I have trouble sleeping.”
James raised a brow. “I thought you said you were sleeping in the office.”
“I was! Until I woke and couldn’t go back to sleep.”
Time to call the man’s bluff.
“Let’s see this project you’re working on.
” James pivoted toward the counter and the doorway that likely led to the storeroom.
“Through here, right?” He didn’t have a warrant to search the man’s business, so he needed Clevenger’s permission.
“Unless the project doesn’t exist, and you’re lying to an officer of the law. ”
“Of course it exists.” Clevenger reacted to the goad as expected and shoved past James to lead the way into the storeroom. “See? Right there.” He stomped to the back wall and gestured to a section where someone had slapped a few swipes of brown paint on the plaster.
Clever. Covering his tracks with more paint. Only, this color looked a shade lighter than what James had found in the alley.
“The storeroom’s been needing a new coat of paint.”
“So you decided to get started in the middle of the night?” James didn’t bother to hide the incredulity in his voice. “Rather hard to see, isn’t it?”
Clevenger crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, well, I used lanterns.”
James glanced around the room. “Where are they? The lanterns?”
“I, uh, put them away.”
James strolled over to where a paint can sat next to the wall, an unwashed brush lying across the top. “You put away the lanterns but didn’t clean the paintbrush?”
“Well, once the alarm bell sounded, I became distracted. I guess I forgot about the brush.”
James hunkered down to fan the bristles and found the interior ones still wet with the paint.
Had it been used at four in the morning, it would be dry by now.
However, if it had been used, say, after a particular conversation around lunchtime when Clevenger’s wife asked unwelcome questions about the state of his laundry .
. . well, then, a wet brush would fit the timeline.
James wiped his fingers on a rag hanging from a nearby shelf and ignored the brown residue left behind as he made another note in his book.
A few feet away, tucked in a corner stood a five-gallon can of kerosene.
His pulse picked up its pace as he stepped over to the can and lifted it by its handle. Empty.
James looked to Clevenger. “You know, when I spoke to Taggert this morning, he recalled smelling kerosene when he first discovered the fire. We believe whoever set the fire used kerosene as a burning agent. And here you are storing an empty container.”
“This is an emporium.” Clevenger bustled forward and snatched the empty can away from James.
“I sell kerosene to my customers all the time. In fact, I was using this just yesterday to distribute smaller portions of kerosene to customers who prefer that I refill their stoppered glass bottles instead of purchasing new cans every time they run low.”
“Thought you used barrels for that. A heavy can would be rather difficult to pour from without making a mess.”
Clevenger forced a laugh. “Yes, well, you’re right about that. I did end up spilling some on my clothing yesterday.”
“Interesting. Your wife said your clothes looked and smelled normal when you came home after work last night.”
The man’s gaze hardened. “My wife is not the most observant woman. She failed to realize that I ducked in the back and changed clothes before coming to dinner. A gentleman doesn’t come to the table in soiled clothing.”
James offered a smile. “I’m sure she appreciates your fine manners.”
Completing his scan of the storeroom, James spotted a desk along the interior wall.
Atop it stood a set of ledgers stacked neatly between a pair of cast-iron bookends.
He’d need a warrant to examine them and prove that there were no records of kerosene sales on the books for yesterday.
At least not enough to account for an empty five-gallon canister.
He couldn’t leave Clevenger free to falsify his records, though.
James needed clean evidence. Best way to ensure that was to remove the suspect from the scene.
“Here’s the thing, Clevenger.” James tucked his notebook into his pocket and moved his hand to hover over his gun.
“We have evidence that kerosene was used to start the saloon fire. You have access to large quantities.” He nodded toward the empty canister.
“We also have clothing worn by you yesterday that smells of kerosene and carries traces of paint found near the crime scene.”
“I explained all that!” Noreen’s stepfather glowered even as he started edging toward the back door.
Parson Cowan, bless him, moved in front of the exit, blocking Clevenger’s escape.
“You have no alibi to corroborate your whereabouts at the time that the fire started and a well-established dislike of the intended target.”
“What kind of fiction are you spinning now?” Clevenger glanced behind him, spotted Cowan, then eyed the passage leading back into the store. “I have nothing against Milton Taggert. He’s an upstanding member of this community.”
“I’m not talking about Taggert. I’m talking about Noreen.
” James braced his feet apart and dared Clevenger to try to get past him.
“You intended to rid yourself of Noreen by planting that handkerchief so she would be found guilty of a capital offense. Your own stepdaughter.” He shook his head, making no effort to hide his disgust. “You’re despicable, and you’re under arrest.”
The man’s gaze darted to the door and back. “You can’t arrest me! All you have is supposition and a pile of wishful thinking. Noreen’s guilty. The whole town knows it. She nailed her handkerchief to the front doorframe, for crying out loud.”
“Did she?” James stalked forward. “That’s an interesting detail. Not common knowledge. How did you come to learn that tidbit?”
Sweat dripped down Clevenger’s forehead. “Taggert told me,” he blurted, his panic making him careless.
“Is that so?” James’s chest swelled with satisfaction at finally catching him in a provable lie. “I’ll be sure to ask him about that. Now, are you going to come in a peaceable manner, or do you prefer I parade you across the town square with your hands trussed behind your back?”
Clevenger might be a coldhearted dog, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew he couldn’t outrun James or best him in a fight. Surrender was his only viable option.
“I’ll have your badge for this, Paxton. You’re gonna regret tangling with me.”
James stepped forward and took hold of Clevenger’s arm. “Nope. I don’t think I will.”