Chapter 12

Sunday, February 22, 1891

Despite Malik’s dislike of the “chatter parties,” as he termed them, he knew that such social gatherings helped lubricate commerce and government. Moreover, he was actually quite adept in using those occasions to forward the interests of the railroad. He had discussed with Beatrice and Peng how the act of providing food and drink was actually a symbolic nurturing gesture. In a small way, the hosts of such a gathering generated a convivial spirit that encouraged cooperation.

Still, it was but a mild influence and was easily withstood by those who pursued less congenial ends. So it was not surprising when Malik was buttonholed by a tipsy guest who asked for a private word.

The man was taller and heftier than Malik, and he wore full facial hair with a long beard, though it was trimmed to conform to contemporary styles. His suit was likewise of high quality, with a high, starched white collar and a dark silk tie, though his florid face betrayed the complexion of a frequent imbiber of spirits.

Contrary to other appearances, the man’s language was harsh and common.

“Malik, I hear you’ve gots trouble down in Texas. I can fix ‘at for yuh.”

“You have me at a disadvantage, sir. May I know your name?”

The man reached into a waistcoat pocket and produced a business card:

Hiram Abernathy, Esquire

Attorney at Law

Box 73, Houston, Texas

“Welcome to my home, Mister Abernathy. May I refill your drink or offer you an hors d’oeuvre?”

Abernathy pulled a slim, silver flask from an inner coat pocket, opened the lid, and took a swallow. “Brung my own,” he said, as he screwed down the lid. “That rum punch you’re servin’ ain’t got the kick a’ these squeezin’s.” He patted his coat over the inner pocket where he’d returned the flask.

“So, how much is it worth if your troubles with the federal court an’ the Rangers got took care a’?” he asked, leaning close, to the point Malik’s face was bathed in Abernathy’s sour breath breath.

Malik leaned forward just a bit, his forehead coming within an inch of Abernathy’s nose, whose withdrawal reaction was delayed by a full second, due to the state of his inebriation.

“How do you mean, Mister Abernathy? Would you intend to represent me in a motion filed with the federal circuit?”

Again, Abernathy took an extra few seconds before he said, “What?” Then he laughed aloud, and said, “Hell, no. I said I’d fix it, not fuck with it. You give me three thousand, and the problem’s gone.”

Malik wrinkled his brow and asked, “Exactly how would that work, Mister Abernathy? How would those funds be used?”

“What? Oh,” Abernathy said, his comprehension playing catch-up. “Well, one grand to a court clerk, another grand to a Ranger captain, and the rest for my trouble.”

“How do I know you could deliver, Mister Abernathy? From where I stand, it would be buying a pig in a poke.”

“Listen, here, Malik,” Abernathy, seemingly offended, leaned forward, again, but this time he began to tap his finger, hard, against Malik’s chest. “I didn’t get all dressed up just to eat your goddamn quail eggs and hummingbird tongue. I’m here on business. This is what I do.”

At that point, Malik grabbed the man’s tapping hand and held it tightly, despite Abernathy’s efforts to pull loose.

“Mister Abernathy, I appreciate your enthusiasm for your business, but I would prefer that you restrained yourself from driving the point home into my chest.” Malik released the hand and Abernathy stumbled backwards, though the movement was arrested by the bookshelves that limed the walls. Malik said, “Why don’t you come see me in my office, first thing tomorrow morning? I’d like to have two of our attorneys hear your proposal.”

Abernathy pulled himself to his full height, though the intimidation factor was diminished by the fact that he was swaying, a bit, forward and back. “Lishen, Malik.” Abernathy’s speech had now become slurred. “I don’ do it, it ain’t done ... it ain’t, uh ... it ain’t got done. Not in eas’ Tes-eas’ Teskas, it don’. You need me.” He reached to poke Malik, again, but the gesture threw him off balance and Malik had to catch him in his arms to prevent the man from falling on his face.

Peng appeared at his side. She said, “He came by cab. There are two out front.”

“Let’s take him out through the kitchen.” Then, to Abernathy, he said, “We’ll help you to a cab, Mister Abernathy. We’ll go out through the back door. You come see me at my office tomorrow. After tomorrow, I’ll be back in Arenoso.” Malik plucked a business card from a holder on his desk and made sure Abernathy saw him put it into his coat pocket.

(Sunday, February 22, 1891)

Monday, February 23, 1891

The next morning, Malik asked Raul Castillo and Dixie Yeats to meet with him in the board conference room at nine o’clock. Each arrived carrying a mug of coffee, which mugs joined Malik’s on the big conference table.

“That was a nice party, Emil.” Yeats said. “Good turnout, too. I was surprised by that.”

“People are looking for ways to overcome winter’s gloom. Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays fill that cold, empty spot in the calendar. We celebrated Lincoln’s birthday in Waypoint by attending a play based on Uncle Tom’s Cabin. The opera house was near full. We had a bonfire in the park, afterward, with hot chocolate and cookies. Our chief county judge recited the Gettysburg Address.”

“At night, in the park? Brrr.”

“Don’t forget. Waypoint tends to be a bit warmer than Wichita.”

“Well, I definitely enjoyed celebrating Washington’s birthday at your house. I especially liked that wine. What was it? I know it wasn’t champagne, even though it was bubbly.”

“That’s an Italian sparkling wine called Asti. They only started bottling it about twenty years ago, I was told. It was sent to me by a construction engineer from northern Italy, the Piedmont region, where they grow the grapes for Asti. I forget what kind of grapes they use. In any case, the engineer has been working on the construction of the Turin-Genoa Railway in the Alps. He came to look over some of Pete’s work, and then he spent a week at the Hacienda and Spa, in Dorado Springs. His wife, who was traveling with him, was especially grateful for that week of relaxation with her husband. She promised to have him send us a few cases. They sent six.”

“So there’s more? I sure liked it better than champagne.”

“Seems most people preferred it. At least here in the hinterlands. We poured three times as much Asti as we did champagne.”

Castillo said, “Well, my favorites were those deviled eggs with the caviar on top.”

“Yeah. I think you ate most of the tray yourself.”

Castillo looked abashed. “Yes, my apologies. Rita has already taken me to task for that. I had hoped no one else had noticed.”

“Actually, it was Beatrice. She told me that Rita had tried to press a couple dollars on her for your gluttony.”

Now Castillo colored more deeply. “Oh! She did? I am mortified.”

Malik was grinning. “Nah, I made that up.” Dixie Yeats laughed as Castillo shot daggers at Malik.

“I had plans for those eggs myself, and I saw you slide the last half dozen onto your dish. Fortunately, I found another dozen still in the kitchen and I hid them in the back corner of the ice box. I had them for a snack last night.”

Malik pulled out his watch. “I thought that Abernathy might have been here by now.”

Yeats, still chuckling, asked, “Exactly what did he propose?”

“As I took it, outright bribery. Mind you, he was drunk, but he said, quite clearly and deliberately, that, if I were to give him three thousand dollars, he would give a thousand to a court clerk, another thousand to a Texas Ranger captain, and keep a thousand for his service fee. He said that would fix both my federal court and Texas Ranger problems. Moreover, he said if he didn’t fix it, it wouldn’t get fixed.”

Castillo said, “He was using the word ‘fix’ to suggest his own personal intervention, rather than established procedures through official channels?”

“That’s what he said, in just so many slurred words.”

“Have you heard anything from Judge Westcott, after those warrants for that man and woman were sent to the federal court at Galveston?”

“No.”

Yeats said, “Maybe we should send a wire to Fort Birney, ask if they’ve had a response.”

Castillo suggested, “Perhaps we should just go to the Eighth Circuit’s District for Kansas, in Kansas City.”

“It may come to that,” Malik said, “but my home residence is still in eastern Arenoso, in the Tenth Circuit, so let’s at least start there. If, later, we file motions from here, then we’ll use Kansas City. Do you know anyone there, Raul?”

“One of the judges, Cassius Cook. Met him on a train to Saint Louis, seemed like an honest fellow. He is a flinty old bird. Appointed by Lincoln, not long before he was assassinated.”

“Did you ever meet their marshal?”

“No. Not that I recall.”

A secretary knocked on the frame of the open hall door and stood inside the doorway. He said, “Excuse me, Mister Malik.”

Malik said, “What is it, Mister Glenn?”

The young man replied, “The receptionist said there are two police officers downstairs wanting to see you, Mister Malik.”

“Now I wonder what this is about?” Malik said, mostly to himself. To the secretary, he said, “Would you be good enough to go down and fetch them, Mister Glenn? Hang up their coats, and ask them if they’d like some coffee, if you would, please?”

“Right away, sir.” He turned and left.

“You have any idea what they might want?” Castillo asked.

“Not the foggiest notion.”

Yeats said, “Maybe they’re just selling charity ball tickets. Do you want me to stay, Emil?”

“I seriously doubt it will be anything quite so benign, Dixie. They’ll probably have an arrest warrant for me for murdering leprechauns. And, yes, I’d like both of you to stay.”

She asked, “Were those deviled eggs really that good? I didn’t get a chance to try any.”

Now Castillo shot her a dark look. Malik said, “It was the caviar. Those salty little fish eggs were the perfect accompaniment to that creamy filling. They even had a bit of crunch to them,”

“Isn’t caviar expensive?”

“Oh, that Russian product is, but these were from some domestic sturgeon, from northern California, the can said.”

From the hallway came Glenn’s voice, “Right this way, officers.”

A few seconds later, Glenn stopped outside the door and two men stepped past him into the room, one in the black uniform of a Wichita city policeman, the other in a plain, brown, business suit. Malik and Castillo rose from their chairs. Both walked around the table toward the two men.

Glenn said, “Mister Malik, Mister Castillo, Miss Yeats, these are Wichita City Police Detective Sergeant Francis Tremaine and Patrol Officer Mike Jefferson.” Tremaine looked to be about thirty, while Jefferson, a light-skinned colored man, was younger.

The policemen nodded to Dixie and both shook hands with Malik and Castillo. Malik said, “Please, gentlemen, sit at the table with us. Did Mister Glenn offer you some coffee?”

As they pulled out chairs, Tremaine said, “He did, sir. We don’t expect to be here that long.”

Malik and Castillo returned to their chairs.

Both policemen produced notepads and pencils. Tremaine asked, “Mister Malik, do you know a man named Hiram Abernathy?”

“Abernathy? Why, yes. I met him last afternoon, when he introduced himself to me during a social occasion at my home.”

“Did you have business dealings with him, Mister Malik?”

“No, I didn’t. I’d never heard of him before I met him, yesterday. Why this inquiry, Detective? Has something happened to Abernathy?”

“What makes you think something happened to him, Mister Malik?”

“Two things, Sergeant. Your interest in him and the fact that he made an appointment to see me this morning but did not show up.”

“What was the appointment about, sir?”

“It wasn’t quite clear. But Abernathy is an attorney from Texas and he said he has business contacts down there that we would find helpful.”

“Helpful, how, sir?”

“That was the unclear part, Detective. Mister Abernathy had been imbibing, so I postponed any serious discussion until this morning. In fact, the three of us are all attorneys and have been waiting to meet with him.”

Yeats said, “What’s this about, Detective Sergeant?”

“Ma’am, Mister Castillo, did either of you know Hiram Abernathy?”

“‘Did,’ Detective? Not ‘Do we know him?’” Castillo asked. “Is Hiram Abernathy dead?”

“Did you know him, Mister Castillo?”

“No, Detective.”

“Miss Yeats?”

“No, Detective.”

“Did either of you meet him yesterday?”

They both answered in the negative, once more.

“What did he say to you yesterday, Mister Malik?”

Castillo interjected, “Excuse me, Detective Sergeant, but I must insist that we know what this is about before we answer any more questions. Mister Malik, all three of us, have been cooperative, but there is a point at which our legal rights may come into effect, so we will decline to answer further questions without additional details.”

Tremaine looked at his notes, then tapped a finger on the table a few times. He said, “We found your business card in his pocket, Mister Malik. That is what brought us here.”