Brother's Blood by Philip McCormac

Author:Philip McCormac
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wordwooze Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

“Marshal Powell! Come quick! Something terrible has happened.”

The bedroom door was hammered, and the shouting resumed. Bill wrenched the door open.

“What the hell’s going on?”

The hotel manager stood in the corridor, his chubby face the paleness and consistency of bread dough. Toby Jordan was almost spherical in body shape. His head was round, also – the shape of a melon. He was going bald, and to offset this he plastered long strands of hair across the top of his skull.

“Marshal, Judge Meagher is dead. There’s been a fight or something. Oh, please come quick. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! In my hotel!”

“What? The judge? It’s not possible. How…? Just a minute. Let me get my pants.”

Back in the room Powell sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his trousers.

“Stay here, Loraine. Don’t leave the room. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Then he was hurrying down the corridor with the manager puffing behind. At the doorway of the judge’s room he pulled up short as he peered inside.

“Sweet Jesus!” he exclaimed and then repeated it for effect. “Sweet Jesus.”

Like a man stepping in ankle-deep water, he moved cautiously inside the room. The three bodies lay as he had last seen them. There was blood everywhere. It coated the bed, the carpet, and the clothes of the dead men. The sound of voices could be heard coming from outside. People came crowding into the corridor and peering into the room. Powell turned to see Malcolm Meagher staring with a stricken face at the carnage.

“Pa.” He turned uncomprehending eyes to the marshal. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“Hell, Meagher, I don’t know. Only got here myself. Hotel manager called me.”

There was a crowd outside the room, some pushing into the murder chamber.

“I can’t figure it,” Malcolm Meagher said in a tremulous voice. “How could someone kill all three?” He stared with grief-stricken eyes at the bodies. “This is too, too awful. I…I don’t understand. Those bodyguards were well-trained men, the best money could hire. Someone must have surprised them. Got the drop on them. Maybe someone they knew and trusted, allowed inside to do this. But why’d no one hear anything? They would have put up a fight.”

“Maybe weren’t no one else involved,” Powell observed. “The way I figure it, these men were paid to kill the judge. Then they fell out over it and killed each other.”

“Make way there.” Craig Bridgewater pushed into the room. “Oh, my God!” Bridgewater was staring bug-eyed at the bloody corpses. “How’d this happen, Bill?”

Powell repeated his theory to the deputy. During the recital Malcolm Meagher kept shaking his head.

“It doesn’t add up, Marshal,” he said. “These men were loyal through and through. There’s no way they’d turn on my father. Something just doesn’t add up.”

“Can’t you see, it all adds up,” Powell said impatiently. “The judge has been stabbed to death. Those knives belong to the bodyguards. They murdered the judge, then fought each other over what?” Powell shook his head.

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