Page 86 of Taming Lady Temperance

Clevenger forced a laugh. “Yes, well, you’re right about that. I did end up spilling some on my clothing yesterday.”

“Interesting. Your wife said your clothes looked and smelled normal when you came home after work last night.”

The man’s gaze hardened. “My wife is not the most observant woman. She failed to realize that I ducked in the back and changed clothes before coming to dinner. A gentleman doesn’t come to the table in soiled clothing.”

James offered a smile. “I’m sure she appreciates your fine manners.”

Completing his scan of the storeroom, James spotted a desk along the interior wall. Atop it stood a set of ledgers stacked neatly between a pair of cast-iron bookends. He’d need a warrant to examine them and prove that there were no records of kerosene sales on the books for yesterday. At least not enough to account for an empty five-gallon canister. He couldn’t leave Clevenger free to falsify his records, though. James needed clean evidence. Best way to ensure that was to remove the suspect from the scene.

“Here’s the thing, Clevenger.” James tucked his notebook into his pocket and moved his hand to hover over his gun. “We have evidence that kerosene was used to start the saloon fire. You have access to large quantities.” He nodded toward the empty canister. “We also have clothing worn by you yesterday that smells of kerosene and carries traces of paint found near the crime scene.”

“I explained all that!” Noreen’s stepfather glowered even as he started edging toward the back door.

Parson Cowan, bless him, moved in front of the exit, blocking Clevenger’s escape.

“You have no alibi to corroborate your whereabouts at the time that the fire started and a well-established dislike of the intended target.”

“What kind of fiction are you spinning now?” Clevenger glanced behind him, spotted Cowan, then eyed the passage leading back into the store. “I have nothing against Milton Taggert. He’s an upstanding member of this community.”

“I’m not talking about Taggert. I’m talking about Noreen.” James braced his feet apart and dared Clevenger to try to get past him. “You intended to rid yourself of Noreen by planting that handkerchief so she would be found guilty of a capital offense. Your own stepdaughter.” He shook his head, making no effort to hide his disgust. “You’re despicable, and you’re under arrest.”

The man’s gaze darted to the door and back. “You can’t arrest me! All you have is supposition and a pile of wishful thinking. Noreen’s guilty. The whole town knows it. She nailed her handkerchief to the front doorframe, for crying out loud.”

“Did she?” James stalked forward. “That’s an interesting detail. Not common knowledge. How did you come to learn that tidbit?”

Sweat dripped down Clevenger’s forehead. “Taggert told me,” he blurted, his panic making him careless.

“Is that so?” James’s chest swelled with satisfaction at finally catching him in a provable lie. “I’ll be sure to ask him about that. Now, are you going to come in a peaceable manner, or do you prefer I parade you across the town square with your hands trussed behind your back?”

Clevenger might be a coldhearted dog, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew he couldn’t outrun James or best him in a fight. Surrender was his only viable option.

“I’ll have your badge for this, Paxton. You’re gonna regret tangling with me.”

James stepped forward and took hold of Clevenger’s arm. “Nope. I don’t think I will.”

Chapter

40

James hated to disturb Judge Lynch at home, but he had to collect evidence before Clevenger had the chance to taint it, which meant he couldn’t afford to delay. If Sheriff Adair returned and failed to agree with James’s decision to arrest a prominent citizen, Clevenger could be released in time to attend services at church tomorrow.

Thankfully, James caught the judge before suppertime, and the man granted him an audience. Even better, he granted him a warrant to search Clevenger’s home, business, and, at James’s request, his shoes. James spent the next two hours collecting anything that might help exonerate Noreen. Clevenger’s inventory log, the empty five-gallon kerosene can, the paint and brush from the emporium’s storeroom, and a sign advertising some slightly dented tinware at a Temporarily Reduced Price. The first word on the painted sign bore a striking resemblance to the misspelled temperence lettering painted upon Noreen’s handkerchief.

There wasn’t much to collect from the Clevenger home since Noreen’s mother had already retrieved the clothing bearing traces of both kerosene and brown paint. However, James uncovered a letter in Arthur’s desk signed by a city councilman stating that Clevenger would gain his support for a future council appointment if he found a way to rid the town of their prohibition problem. It bore the date of Noreen’s temperance parade.

Now all he had to do was track down a witness that could place Clevenger at the boardinghouse on laundry day and check with Taggert about any post-fire conversations he might have had with Arthur. It was too late to interview boarders or neighbors, so that left Taggert. James had promised to keep the man apprised of his investigation anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one visit. He just needed to stop by the jailhouse first to lock up the evidence he’d collected.

Before he could reach the calaboose, however, Connor Reed pushed away from the jailhouse wall and hurried across the road to intercept him.

James’s gut immediately hardened. “What’s wrong?” He’d left the young man in charge of his prisoner while he’d been out collecting evidence. “Is it Clevenger?”

Connor shook his head. “It’s half the town.”

Half the town? What did that mean? James made to skirt around Connor and investigate the jailhouse himself, but the kid stopped him with a hand to his arm.

“Hold up, Deputy. Sheriff Adair’s back. He caught his rustler and was making his way back when he caught sight of the smoke cloud over Albany from his campsite this morning. He backtracked to Abilene, left his prisoner at the jail there, then rode for home. He got in about an hour ago.”

James swallowed a groan. He’d wanted to have all his evidence logged and organized before presenting his case. Adair was a good lawman, but he could be a tad impatient when he was tired. And spending hours in the saddle with the fear of finding his town decimated by fire would be enough to leave any man on edge. Clevenger would’ve been sure to whine about his unjust imprisonment, too, making himself out as a victim while accusing James of gross misconduct.