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almost see the cogs
turn in Stover’s mind as he tried to determine if he should talk to a stranger
about his dead employer.
    “There was nothing wrong
with his finances. His wife made sure of that.”
    He raised his eyebrows
in silent question. That prodded Stover to continue.
    “The shipping company
belonged to his wife’s family. Mrs. Hennigan came down here every month and went
over the books herself. If he didn’t have every penny accounted for, there’d be
hell to pay. Threatened to divorce him more than once and leave him penniless.”
    “I’m beginning to see
why he killed himself,” he said half jokingly.
    “What’s your interest in
this, Captain Tyler?”
    Payton studied him while
deciding how much to reveal. “Have you ever heard of Lawrence Dunbar?”
    “Oh, yeah.” His lips contorted
as if a dirty taste lingered there. “When the old man started running with
Dunbar’s crowd, that’s when the real trouble started with the wife. Betsy
Dunbar ran a brothel on Montgomery Street in the better part of town.”
    “Dunbar’s wife?”
    “No, his mother. Dunbar
would make friends with wealthy businessmen and take them to her place. She had
everything there. Prostitutes. Gambling. Opium.”
    “His wife put a stop to
that when she found out?”
    “Oh, yeah.” Stover
nodded. “That whole setup ended about five years ago, though. Betsy married one
of her rich clients. Frederick Collins I think his name was. Moved to his home
in Sacramento. I hear she’s quite the society dame there. Goes by the name of
Elizabeth now. Thinks it sounds more sophisticated.”
    “So she lives in
Sacramento with Collins?”
    A sharp crack of laughter
erupted from the shipping clerk. “Her husband’s dead. She got his fortune, his
home, and all the respectability his money could buy. Figure that one out.”
    “I don’t think it’d take
a lot of thought. I already know what her son is capable of.”
    “Why are you interested
in Dunbar?”
    “I ran into him down
around Central America.”
    “So that’s where he ended
up. I heard he went to the Bahamas. He got accused of murder right after his
mother married. Had to leave California real quick. What’s he doing there? More
gambling and prostitution?”
    “No, piracy and murder—to
name a few.”
    “Piracy?” Stover’s eyes
opened wider. “Did he hit your ship?”
    Payton nodded. “That was
his first mistake.”
    “And his second?”
    A tight knot clenched in
his belly as he recalled the atrocities Dunbar had committed. “He was
responsible for the death of a good friend.”
    Stover squirmed around
in his chair before he got up for more coffee. When he sat down again, he didn’t
look as anxious, but his voice sounded hesitant. “What’s this got to do with Mr.
Hennigan?”
    “Quite a bit I’m afraid.
Mrs. Hennigan may lose the shipping company when the news gets out.”
    Stover’s jaw went slack.
“What do you mean?”
    Payton understood his
concern. If Mrs. Hennigan lost everything, he’d be out of a job. “How much do
you know about the company’s shipping activities?”
    “Everything. Half the
time, the old man wasn’t here. It fell to me to run the business. Except...” He
held up a single finger. “There was something real queer going on a while back.
Not quite a year ago. There were some goods—hardware he called it. Deliveries
were made in small quantities over several months. He always took care of it
himself and wouldn’t let me see the paper work.
    “Everything was locked
up tight in a warehouse,” Stover continued. “Then one day, I noticed the
warehouse had been emptied. When I asked him what happened to the goods, he
acted as though he didn’t know anything about it.” He rubbed at his chin. “Do
you know anything about that shipment?”
    “Those goods were guns
and munitions that were to be sold to the Confederacy. They expected to make a
nice little profit.”
    “The old man was mixed
up with running guns to the