Chapter 21

Tuesday, August 4, 1891

It was late morning, and they found both Beatrice and Raul Castillo waiting for them at the Santa Fe’s Wichita depot, where they disembarked as the Chen Niao was uncoupled from the southbound train.

Beatrice, her face drawn, approached them, and, as she hugged Malik, she said, in a strained voice, “There is devastating news from home. The Inn has been consumed by fire. Joe Collins and Hilary Elgin are dead.” She stood back from him and looked at him.

He continued to hold her by the elbow for a moment, then, a grim look on his face, he asked, “Was anyone else hurt?”

“No,” she said, “Not that we’ve heard. Raul has Andy’s wires.”

Malik leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, then released her elbow and caressed her cheek. Malik turned toward Castillo and said, “Thank you for coming out, Raul. I appreciate it.”

Castillo said, “I am sorry for your troubles, my friend. I have already told the stationmaster that we would have your Manuela de Ortega staged for this evening’s train.”

“Doing my thinking for me, again, eh?”

“It is often necessary, if you are to maintain your current position and salary,” Castillo said, with a straight face.

Malik reached up to grasp Castillo’s shoulder. “You test me. Very subtle, my friend. Yes, I am saddened and disturbed by this news, but I believe I retain my will.”

“I had hoped you would.”

“What about you, Raul? You were one of the Inn’s founders.”

Castillo just shook his head and looked at the decking. “The Inn can be replaced, but the men, they are the real tragedy.” He looked up at Malik. “I did not know Mister Elgin, but I have known Joe Collins for years. I feel ... not just sad, but maybe ... frustrated that there was nothing I could have done to prevent his death.”

Malik released his grip on Castillo’s shoulder and put his arm fully around him, embracing him momentarily.

After Malik released him, Castillo drew himself straighter and asked, “What news from the consultant in Chicago?”

“It looks promising. She will order the prosthetic via trans-Atlantic cable, but it may be two or three months until it arrives. In the meantime, she has given me daily exercises to perform. Have you Andy’s telegrams?”

Castillo reached into his coat’s inner pocket, producing two telegram forms. Handing them to Malik, he asked, “Exercises?”

Malik stepped closer to a nearby electric light to read the telegrams, which took but a few seconds. He said, “Yes, repetitive lifting of weights, to allow my arm to become accustomed to different directions of movement, in order to operate the clasping device and to retain the appliance in place. I must also toughen the skin on my arm, as it will be rubbed and pressed by the leather fittings. For that, I must routinely massage the skin with a balm she supplied.”

“She was competent?”

“She certainly appeared so. I was left with a good impression of her expertise and professional interest.”

“Then I look forward to you wearing your pirate’s hook, Castillo said. “Shall I come with you to Waypoint?”

“While I would be gratified by your company, I think it is neither necessary nor advisable. You need to tend to things here while I tend to the shambles of my life. But let us talk business, later. I shall be at my office after I bathe and have lunch.”

Castillo demurred. “You should rest.”

“I’ve been napping most of the trip down here. The Santa Fe’s new steel rails are well-laid. It was almost as comfortable as one of our own lines.”

Castillo, after another sip of his coffee, said, “The situation with the Reading Railroad concerns me. Even after JP Morgan so easily scuttled its purchase of the Boston and Maine, the Reading soon revealed another venture: opening a quasi-independent road they are calling the Port Reading Railroad. It connects them to a purpose built coaling wharf near Perth-Amboy, New Jersey, on the Arthur Kill, across from Staten Island. They built and own the entire port. I believe they are making a deliberate bid to cement their claim as the largest railroad in the country, challenging the dominance of the Pennsylvania in the northeast.”

In an unaccustomed display of emotion, Castillo tapped his index finger solidly against the table top several times, as he explained, “But it is the rapidity of their expansion that causes my apprehension. From what I have been able to learn, they are seriously overextended on their own financial resources as well as their credit.”

Castillo and Malik were seated across from one another at a small conference table in Malik’s office, on the third floor of the K&ASR’s headquarters building.

“And your concern stems from your theory that the failure of one large business could cause other large businesses to fail, in an ever-widening pattern?”

Castillo shrugged. “It must. If the Reading were unable to meet its financial obligations, the creditors thus affected would necessarily look to their other debtors to sustain them by calling in their loans. If those debtors are likewise over-extended, as so many are, the effects ripple outward, wider and wider.

“Much of our current economy is based on un-grounded speculation and an avaricious urge to grow and expand as rapidly as possible. It is no less so in Europe and South America. I fear we are on dangerous ground.”

Malik nodded, then said, “So, we need more information about the big roads. That is why we expanded Security’s Intelligence Section.”

Castillo said, “Yes, The two new men are already back East. I just hope this is effective.”

(Tuesday, August 4, 1891)

Wednesday, August 5, 1891

At Waypoint, late the next evening, Andy and Sean Edwards met them at the depot. Andy had brought a buckboard for their luggage and Nate Vargas stood nearby with their carriage, as well.

After greetings and assurances of mutual good health, Malik turned to Edwards and said, “Sheriff, you’re not one of our regular greeters, so I am guessing you have some more serious matter on your mind, What is it, Sean?”

Beatrice interjected, “Emil, Wren and I will take the children directly home. I will see you there dearest,” and she went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, before following Wren toward the carriage.

Malik said, “Peng, put the luggage on the buckboard, and wait there for me.” Then, he gestured toward the family rail coach and said, “Gentlemen, shall we be comfortable? Mister Wu will still have coffee.”

Edwards said, “My Pa always told me, ‘Son, when you can do a job sittin’ down, then do it sittin’ down.’ And I never turn down Mister Wu’s coffee.”

They boarded the car, which was about to be shuttled to the other side of the extended depot platform, onto the Malik parking spur.

Once the men were comfortable in the parlor, Edwards said, “More bad news, I’m afraid. Doctor Kagan took a close look at Joe’s and Hilary’s bodies. While she found nothing remarkable in her look at Joe, she says that Hilary’s throat was cut before the fire.”

“Hilary was murdered?” Malik exclaimed, looking back and forth between his brother and the sheriff. Hilary Elgin had been promoted to front desk supervisor, though he still preferred to work the night shift, when he balanced guest accounts against the till.

Andy said, “It sure looks like It, Emil. And Sean has more.”

Malik looked at Edwards, who said, “Emil, I looked all around the building. I found three places, on the alley side, where there were some charred, but unburnt ends of sticks, branches, and scrap lumber, just off the stone foundation. I showed it to Val, and he sniffed at some of the remaining pieces. He said it smelled of lamp oil; I thought so, too. It’s for sure that that side of the building is burnt more than the other side, which the fire brigade was able to get some water on. So Val figured the fire started on the alley side.” Edwards sighed heavily. “Val and I both believe the fire was deliberately set.” Valerian “Val” Garcia was the Malik ranch’s general manager and oversaw sales and procurement from the ranch’s office in Waypoint. He was also the chief of the Waypoint volunteer fire brigade.

Malik looked at the coffee in his cup, for a moment, then looked up at his companions. “What about guests?” he asked.

Andy said, “Jorje and Juanita have been going through the wreckage, but they think the registration book was burned up. Seven guests have come forward to make claims against the hotel, but Juanita says she remembers there being eight guests that night.”

Jorje Garcia was the dining room supervisor while Juanita Garcia, his sister-in-law and Val Garcia’s wife, was manager of the lodging side of the Inn. Joe Collins, the head cook, had also been the manager of the food service side, hence Jorje’s boss.

“How were the guests alerted, to escape on time?”

“One of the men staying there says he was not sleeping well,” Edwards replied, “and that some smoke came in through his open window. He banged on the doors up and down the hall.”

“Good man. We should reward him,”

Andy said, “I was thinking the same thing.”

“What about this eighth guest? Are we sure he wasn’t burnt up?”

Edwards said, “The only bodies were those of Joe and Hilary. If there was another, we’d have spotted it. Joe’s body wasn’t even burnt. The ground floor is heavy timber and didn’t collapse before the firemen got there, so nothing had fallen into the cellar.”

“So, how did Joe die?”

“Doc Kagan says he was suffocated by the smoke and fumes, right while he slept. We found him still in bed. His skin was kind a’ red but, to tell the truth, he looked peaceful.”

Malik was shaking his head. Finally, he asked, “Did Juanita have any further recollection of that missing guest?”

“Only that he had red hair but was otherwise average-looking and was from Texas, with a drawl that made his home state obvious. She also said his name sounded familiar, but couldn’t think why.”

“What was the name?”

“She can’t remember it.”

Malik slumped down in the club-style chair and stretched his legs to an ottoman. “So, what are your thoughts, Sean?”

“Just the three things: Hilary was murdered, someone set the fire, and there’s an unknown guest who didn’t come forward, which is suspicious.”

“Of course,” Andy said, “that Texan may just be wanted by the law or doesn’t want his wife to know that he was here or some such.”

Malik peered at his brother. “You know I find those presumed coincidences less than likely. I think we need to find this Texan.”

Edwards said, “I’ve already got Tony Vasquez checking around at the restaurants and local businesses. Missus Watts says she doesn’t remember selling any tickets to a Texan, since the fire, but he could have purchased a return ticket from wherever he first embarked.”

“Did Hilary have anyone close to him, besides his Pa and brother?”

“Apparently not. I asked Juanita, and she said she didn’t know of anyone. I suppose we’ll have to ask Moses.”

“How’s he taking it?”

“Exactly like you might expect: hard.”

There was a long moment of silence. At length, Andy said, “We all need to get some sleep. How ‘bout it, big brother?”