Chapter 13: Stillwell

The office door was open and I knocked on the door frame.

“Excuse me, Mister Stillwell?” He looked up at me. He was a mid-thirties man with a square build and a friendly face, mutton chop whiskers blending into a mustache. “I’m Deputy United States Marshal Judah Becker. Could I have a few minutes of your time?”

He looked at his watch. “Just so we don’t cut into siesta,” he said, grinning.

He stood up and came around the desk, offering his hand. “I was wondering when you’d get around to me, Deputy. I’d heard you were collecting further evidence for the trial.”

“That’s exactly so. The prosecutor, Mister Dahl, told Marshal Garrison and me that he wanted to go into court with an irrefutable case and he asked me to double check all the facts.”

“Good, good, good. I certainly appreciate that. Now, what can I do for you?”

“First, Mister Stillwell, I want to offer my condolences for your loss. I had three brothers, two of whom died, though one was when I was still a youngster and he was only two. What I mean, sir, is that maybe I know a bit of the sorrow, and you have my sympathy for that.”

“Thank you, deputy.” He sighed, then said, “I don’t think I realized how important he was to me until he was gone.” He gave his head a quick shake, “But now we need to work toward bringing his killer to justice. How can I help?”

We were still standing in front of his desk. I said, “Specifically, sir, I would like you to walk me through exactly what happened in the minute or two leading up to the discovery of your brother’s body.”

“Do you just want me to tell you about it or do you really mean for me to walk you through it.”

“I mean to walk in your footsteps and you can point things out to me.”

He shrugged. “Very well. I had walked over from the bank with Mister McMillan. Do you want to start out from the bank?”

“No, I don’t think so. Let’s just go out so we can walk in the same door as you did that night.”

“All right. Please follow me.”

He led me out of his office and into the hall, turning left toward the show room, with it’s displays of various ranch, farm, and home equipment and gadgets. We walked to the front of the show room and out the front door, which had one of those bells that are shaken and set ringing when the door opens.

“Deputy,” he said, holding the door, “after you.” We stepped out onto a boardwalk that ran along the building’s sixty-some foot front.

I said, “From what I’ve seen, this building is about sixty feet square, so you must have about two thirds of it in warehouse space.” I removed a small notebook from my shirt pocket, along with a short pencil. I made notes as he answered my questions.

“Darn close, Deputy. It’s sixty-four feet square inside with just a bit more than two thirds used as warehouse and stowage.”

“Loading platform in the back?”

“Yep.”

“How many entrance doors?”

“There are five doors, including the freight door, but this is the only entrance. What that means is that the other doors can only be opened from inside and serve only as exits. They don’t have knobs or handles on the outside.”

“I assume someone inside could allow someone outside to enter through one of those doors.”

“Certainly, but is that important?”

I gave him an apologetic grin and shrugged. “Likely not, but I’m just collecting information for Mister Dahl and trying to imagine what he’s going to ask that will make me wish I knew.”

He chuckled. “I understand. Please proceed.”

“This was March nineteenth, correct?”

“Yes.”

“At what time did you approach the building?”

“About seven fifteen that evening.”

“The almanac said sunset was at six twenty-seven on March nineteenth of this year along this meridian.” I looked up at him. “It was full dark?”

“Yes, well past sunset.”

“Almanac says it was a waxing first quarter moon, so there was some moonlight.”

“If you say so. I don’t recall.”

“What was your direction of travel?”

“Mister McMillan and I were walking over from the bank, and we walked into the show room.”

“The door was still unlocked?”

“Yes. As long as one of us was in our office, we were open for business.”

“And what was the lighting when you entered the building? We can go back inside, now.”

He led me in and said, “We keep a lamp burning over each of the two front show room windows until we lock up.”

“And were they burning that night?”

“Why yes, of -- Wait, no they weren’t. That’s when I became uneasy. I had forgotten about that. There was only the faint light coming from the hallway door, from the lamp in William’s office.”

“I noticed that the offices also have window glass facing the hallway. I was told that the hallway used to be a covered walkway that you enclosed. I assume the window glass is left from the time when they were exterior walls.”

“That’s right. We left the glass windows to allow light in from the new windows in the exterior front wall while still providing some privacy for the offices.”

“So some of the light that you saw that night was also because of the window glass.”

“Of course. Is that significant?”

I looked at him and shrugged. “Mister Dahl will probably ask what color paint is on the walls, and I won’t have it in my notes.”

“I understand.”

“How many offices are there?”

“Four. The first one is our store manager’s, the next is mine, then William’s, and the last is our bookkeeper’s. Except our bookkeeper has assumed many of William’s old duties.”

“That’s Jeffrey McMillan?”

“Yes, Logan’s son.”

We were standing in the show room; no one else was there.

“You said you had been at the bank with Mister McMillan before you came over here.”

“That’s right.”

“Were you still conducting business at that hour?”

“I was. It’s not my usual practice, but I was closing out the books for February and I wanted to make sure I had it right, so I was talking it over with our banker.”

“I thought your brother had handled the accounting side of the business?”

At that moment, two men, likely sheepmen, came into the show room. Stillwell greeted them, then said, “Let me get Bert for you. I’m busy with this gentleman at the moment.” Then to me, “Let’s go into my office.”

On the way, he paused at the first office and spoke to the store manager, who then went out to the show room.

“Please, take a seat,” he said, as he closed the door and went behind the desk. I sat down in a heavy wood guest chair with curving back and arms. The furniture was high quality, but functional rather than fancy. His office gave the impression of serious, down-to-earth business dealings.

“Now,” he said, “where were we?”

“I had asked if it was your brother who would normally close the books.”

He looked over my head for a moment, then brought his gaze back to me and said, “It will probably come out at the trial in any event, but we were having some unusual accounting activity. In effect, some money was missing, about five hundred dollars. Logan and I were on our way over here to talk to William about it.”

“Did you think your brother was responsible for it?”

“No, no I didn’t, but I think Logan might have been suspicious. Be that as it may, we never had the opportunity to ask if he was aware of the problem because Hector Guerrero had killed him.” He said the last rather fiercely.

“You saw Hector Guerrero kill your brother?”

“I saw him running away from my brother’s office and then found my brother stabbed and bleeding to death.”

“He was still alive when you reached him?”

“Barely. Just enough to clasp my hand for a moment. That was it.”

“He didn’t say anything?”

“No. He looked at me, and extended his hand. His other was clasped to his neck. I took his hand and squeezed it, and he died. His throat had been cut, or stabbed, more likely. There was blood all over the floor behind his desk.”

“Would you be good enough to show me where you were when you saw Mister Guerrero? And where Mister Guerrero was, and Mister McMillan?”

“Let’s step back into the hall.”

He rose and went to the door, opened it, and led me back out, then he closed the door between the hall and the show room.

“As I said, that door was open, as it usually is, and I led Logan over to it.”

“Let me ask a question before you go on. When you were walking over here from the bank, did you notice anything unusual?”

“Unusual? About what?”

“Oh. I meant about this building.”

“I already told you that the display windows lamps weren’t lit.”

“Anything else? Did you look at any other parts of the building?”

“Not that I recall. I just remember thinking it odd about the display lamps.”

“William would have lit them routinely?”

“We’re usually here together and we’d make a silly game about getting the other brother to do it, talking between our offices. Just brother stuff, you know?”

I nodded. “So you didn’t see anyone else as you walked up?”

“No. What are you driving at?”

“You didn’t see anyone in this hallway, through the windows?”

“I doubt that I even looked this way. But I didn’t see anyone.”

“Go ahead and tell me where everyone was and exactly what you saw.”

“Well, as I was saying, Logan and I had just come in this door and we saw Guerrero walking quickly down the hall to that door.” There was a door at the far end of the hall that led outside, to the open boardwalk out front.

“Where was Mister Guerrero when you first saw him?”

“Oh, about where that last office door is.”

“Could he have just stepped out of that office?”

“No. He was moving with a full head of steam. Not running, but taking determined strides that he couldn’t have if he had just left the office and turned down the hall.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No.”

“Did you say anything to him?”

“I didn’t, but Logan called his name, Guerrero, as if to demand he explain himself.”

“When did that happen, Mister McMillan calling out?”

“Pretty much as soon as we saw him.”

“So you didn’t say anything to him?”

“No. I was a bit startled. At first I didn’t know who it was, then, when he turned to go out the door I recognized him, but I had no idea why he should even be here.”

“Mister Guerrero was not a regular customer or supplier?”

“He was a business rival.”

“Could your brother have been meeting with him?”

“Isn’t that rather obvious?”

“I’m sorry. What I meant was, could your brother have had dealings with him that you didn’t know about?”

“I can’t imagine what. Nor can I imagine that he wouldn’t have told me.”

“Then why was Guerrero here?”

“That’s just as obvious. To kill my brother. Or maybe both of us.”

“Why would he want to do that?”

“Because he thought we killed his brother. Why are you asking such obvious questions?”

“It’s necessary that I hear what you have to say, without putting words in your mouth or guessing your answers.”

“Okay, I reckon I can understand that. Is there anything else?”

“A few more questions, yes. Show me where you were standing when you realized the man was Hector Guerrero.”

“Right about here, in front of Bert’s office.”

I moved over a couple feet. “Right here, where I’m standing now?”

“Yes.”

“Now would you be good enough to walk down the hall in the same manner that Hector Guerrero did, and walk out the door? Just start walking as you thought he was and say ‘Now’ when you reach the spot you first saw him.”

“You want me to walk down the hall, turn, and go out the door.”

“Exactly. You can hold that door open and come right back in.”

“Okay,” he said, then turned and walked off. At the last office door he said, ‘Now,’ and was walking at a rapid clip. He slowed as he gained the end of the hall, reached for the door knob, turned to his left, and exited the door. I saw the side of his face for perhaps a half second.

He came back in and asked, “Good enough?”

“It was. Thank you.”

“What else?”

“That lamp. Outside the door, that was lit that night?”

“Yes. That’s a village lamp that we provided them. There’s another one at the other end of the building. The town marshal lights them and about a dozen others around the plaza each evening. The county jailer puts them out, of a morning, when he gets breakfast for the prisoners.”

I said, “Let’s see if I have this correct.” I began to note things as I said them.

“About seven fifteen that evening, it was full dark when you and Mister McMillan walked here directly from the bank. You noticed the display window lamps had not been lit and it made you ‘uneasy,’ I believe you said, and you were looking at those windows as you approached the building.”

“Yes.”

“You noticed no other person in the vicinity and you and Mister McMillan came in the unlocked front door and walked directly to the hall door. As you stepped into the hall, you saw a man walking rapidly away and Mister McMillan called out, ‘Guerrero.’”

He nodded, his face showing his concentration. “Yes. I didn’t recognize him until he turned.”

“Let me ask this,” I said. “Did you pause when you saw the man, or keep walking?”

“I believe we stopped for a second or two, just because it was mildly startling.”

I made a note. “Then, to go on, the man walked to the end of the hall while you paused by the show room doorway, and the man turned and exited the door without pause. You caught a glimpse of his face as he left and you recognized Hector Guerrero.”