There sat Captain Burnside, leaning precariously back in his chair with his feet against a rail. At nearly three hundred pounds, this was risk-taking of a high order. Considering that he was deeply drunk at this early hour, his bravado was breathtaking. His kepi was low over his eyes, and he was deep in thought or in sleep. We formed a semi-circle around him and waited respectfully.
Having given it a full thirty seconds I kicked his foot. He snatched his feet from the rail abruptly and teetered for a few thrilling seconds before his chair thundered to the boardwalk, safely.
“Jesus wept!” he cried. He was always using out of date phraseology, which was one of the reasons he was so popular. “What are you trying to do? Commit murder? Can’t a man, a man of the Law, take his rest without being the object of assault?”
I swept my hat from my head. “No offense meant Captain, but we are here to prevent an accident. The ship of justice is about to beach itself upon the reef of error. Everyone on board, Captain included, has been deluded into believing that the water runs deep and clean, but just beneath its surface lies the submerged tree that will stove her in, for sure. Without a rapid change of course, she’ll be sinking in no time at all.” I could sense the rolling eyes about me. If I occasionally lapsed into the talk of my previous occupation, it was only because I had been a man of means, of dignity. They could not help but scoff, with so little accomplishment, so much envy among them. I forgave them.
“God’s blood, young Clemens, what in the name of all that’s holy are you disputating upon?” I took a moment to absorb what he had said, then continued my course.
“All will be clear, Captain. You have been in pursuit of the murderer of Mr. Slade, who was once curator of the cuspidors at the Blue Gem.”
“I have had that honor.”
“And I have come to inform you that the object of your investigation, Mr. Moses Phoenix, is innocent of that crime. He is simply incapable of performing the deed. Your strenuous search (here, I applied a bit of gilt to the flower that was Captain Burnside), nobly acted upon, is misplaced. If my client is harmed in any way it will be a crime as foul as the one perpetrated on the unfortunate Mr. Slade.”
He rose to his full rotundity and pulled on his suspenders. “I am fully conscious of my rectitude, sir, and cannot be at fault. The facts are clear. The victim was slain by knife, then cut up like a Sunday roast. It wasn’t a crime of passion, necessarily, but mayhap more like one of hunger.”
“He was a Donner, Sam!” Stevie Gillis whispered loudly.
“And well accustomed to the craft,” Denis added, needlessly.
“Further,” Captain Burnside continued, “he has gone missing, ever since the crime was committed. The Rubicon is fairly crossed. He is the culprit for certain, and I shall not rest until he has been captured, quickly tried and found guilty, and strung up as he so richly deserves.”
“Preferably before his next meal,” Billy Stewart added.
I know had them exactly where I wanted them. The entire town, citizens, the Law and the Fourth Estate, all wanted Moses Phoenix caught and dead. There was only one man upright enough to save him. Only one man with the calm and commonsense to see through hysteria to the truth. A town can’t have too many heroes. They get in each other’s way and muddy up the narrative. I would have to do it on my own.
“If you’ll come with me to Mr. Phoenix’s abode, I’ll make all clear,” I said. “You’ll see in a flash why I am so certain.”
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