Chapter Seven

Settling a Dispute

Dutton Savings and Loan

"Marshal, come quick," the young woman called out as she burst through the jail door. "There's a man threatening the bank tellers."

Key jumped to his feet. "How do you know? Did you overhear him issuing a threat?"

"Yes, I was in the stockroom at the back of the bank," she explained. "He didn't realize I was there. When I heard him yelling and calling them cheats and thieves, I snuck out the side door and came straight away."

"You stay here, Miss…"

"Cramer. Alicia Cramer."

"Miss Cramer. I'll go check into the situation."

By the time Key arrived at the bank, a handful of miners were camped out on the main floor of the bank, waving their arms and demanding to speak to Mister Wentworth.

"Great!" One of the men shouted. "The marshal's here. He'll get to the bottom of this."

"What's going on here?" Both the angry man and the head teller began speaking at once, and Key raised his hand. "One at a time, please." Turning to the customer, he asked, "Do you want to tell me what's got you all riled up?"

"They're cheatin' me. They been pilfering money from my account for over a month now. When I asked to speak to the manager, that chicken low life went and locked himself in his fancy office."

"How do you know they're cheating you?" Key asked.

The man waved a piece of worn paper in front of Key's face. "I keep strict numbers on what I put in the bank and what I take out. I'm saving to buy myself a spread outside of Denver."

Key ushered the man to the teller's wicket. "Do you have this man's account record?"

Hands shaking, the teller pushed the ledger through the window. "According to our records, Mister Trumbull made withdrawals on four occasions that are not listed on his paper."

"Could you have forgotten to write them down?" Key questioned.

"What? Are you siding with the bank?" Trumbull charged.

"I'm not siding with anyone," Key assured him. "I just want to get to the bottom of this mess."

The man blew out a long breath. "I didn't forget anything. As a matter of fact, two of those so-called withdrawals were on days I was in Denver picking up supplies for the mine camp."

Key turned to the teller. "Is it possible the bank's records are wrong?"

Clayton Barker shrugged. "Anything's possible, I suppose. Mister Wentworth would have the weekly reports from the regional office in Pueblo, but I can't get him to open his door and show them to me."

"Give me a minute," Key said, far more calmly than he felt. Turning on his heel, he marched across the bank to the manager's office and pounded on the door. "Wentworth, you need to open this door."

"I'm searching for the correct books, Marshal Bristol. I can't seem to find the weeks in question."

"Unlock the door, Wentworth or I'm going to kick it in."

Slowly the key turned in the lock. "That man threatened to attack me with a pickaxe."

"So, instead of talking to him, you left your teller to take the brunt of his anger and ran and hid in your office?" Key clarified.

"I wasn't hiding," Wentworth insisted. "I was looking for the reports."

"That you can't find?"

"I can order new copies from the regional office," Wentworth explained. "I just need a week or two for them to arrive."

Key spun back around and returned to Mister Trumbull. "Sir, if you'll give us a bit of time, I'll make sure Mister Wentworth finds the missing reports. In the meantime, why don't you come with me to my office, and we write up a report?"

"Four dollars is a lot of money, Marshal."

"That it is, Mister Trumbull. And, if the bank has made a mistake, I will personally see that you get the money put back in your account immediately."

"Thank you, Marshal."

Before he steered Trumbull out of the bank, Key told the teller, "Make sure Mister Wentworth follows through on those reports. If he doesn't, I will."

"Yes, sir," Barker replied. "Thank you for taking care of things."

"It's what I get paid to do. That and track down cheats and thieves."

Lunch at the Café

Adela took a seat close to the window so she could watch the coming and going of the townspeople. It tickled her to realize how many of her clothes sold almost as quickly as they were put in the window. Wilma had her hands full just keeping up with the alterations. Even her hat with the brown feathers was sold. Thankfully. She really disliked that hat.

"What can I get for you today, Adela?" Mae Whitman asked.

"My usual roast chicken sandwich, with a side of pickles. And potato salad, if you have it."

"We always have potato salad. If not, half my customers would throw a fit. Speaking of… did you hear about the fuss at the bank earlier today?"

"No, I didn't. I've been busy putting out new stock at the shop all morning."

"Apparently one of the miners threatened the head teller, calling him and the bank cheats. The marshal had to settle everyone down."

"Really?"

"Mister Wentworth ran and hid in his office? That's what they said, at least."

A bell tinkled above the door and both she and Mae turned toward the sound. Adela raised her head and met the marshal's deep brown gaze. Her pulse fluttered.

"Good afternoon, Marshal," Adela said in greeting.

Key removed his Stetson and dipped his head in her direction. "Miss McIntyre." Shifting his attention to Mae, he added, "Miss Mae. I hope you saved me some of your famous potato salad."

Snickering, Mae leaned toward Adela and whispered, "See. Told you so."

"Would you care to join me for lunch, Marshal?" Adela asked.

"I suppose I could spare some extra time. I usually just take my meal to my desk."

"Everyone needs a break occasionally."

"Yes, I suppose they do," Key agreed.

"Your usual, Marshal?" Mae asked as she set Adela's lunch on the table.

"Yep, ham sandwich and potato salad. Cup of coffee to drink."

"I can't remember the last time I had a cup of coffee. Missus Dutton didn't allow us to drink it when we were young. I had to sneak a cup every once in a while. Usually, with the cook in the kitchen."

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you come to live with, and work for, the Dutton family?"

"Our parents were long-time employees. They died in a fire at the Dutton's country house."

"I'm so sorry," Key said softly.

"It was a long time ago. I was twelve, my sister barely fourteen. Missus Hermonie Dutton took us in, paid for our private education, and turned two impressionable young girls into ladies. When she turned nineteen, my sister Isabella married one of the bank's assistant managers. Not long after, they moved to Denver, and he was given his own branch to manage."

"And the plan was to marry you off to another of their bank managers?" Key wondered.

"Well, that was Missus Dutton's plan. Apparently, not Mister Wentworth's. He mistook me for Adelaide, the Dutton heiress. Growing up, we often had to clarify our similar names. When I arrived here in Comstock, he realized his error and rejected me as ‘not what he was promised.'"

"The man is a fool, in more ways than one."

Back at Work

An Unexpected Visitor

Key poured himself a glass of water and then took a seat behind his paper-strewn desk. Reports from the past few days were piling up, awaiting his signature before being shipped off to Denver. He barely looked up when the door opened. It wasn't until the newcomer approached his desk and coughed slightly to draw his attention, that Key looked up from the paperwork.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Thomas Farley, the new assistant manager at the bank."

"You arrived last week?" Key confirmed.

"Yes," Farley said. "May we speak in confidence, Marshal."

Key glanced around, assuring himself they were alone. "Of course."

"I was transferred from the Pueblo office for the sole purpose of investigating the possibility of wrongdoing by the staff here at the Comstock site. I'm not really an assistant manager, but an auditor. This morning's confrontation with the miner who claims he's being cheated is only one of the things we're looking into."

"I have to admit, I've had my doubts about Wentworth since I first arrived," Key explained. "There's just something about him that doesn't sit right."

"I was charged with looking into all the bank staff, including Wentworth. However, something was brought to my attention not long after this morning's situation, which has me focused on him."

"Are you at liberty to share what you've learned?" Key asked.

"Do you know Miss Adela McIntyre?"

"Yes, I do. Miss McIntyre arrived in Comstock a month or so ago. She was to be Wentworth's bride, a match that was arranged by the bank's owners, the Dutton family."

"I'm aware. Apparently, he thought he was marrying the bank president's daughter, not the family matriarch's lady's companion."

"No doubt he thought such a match would work to his professional favor."

"When Miss McIntyre arrived in Denver, she arranged to have her savings transferred from the Boston branch of the Dutton's bank to Denver, rather than here to Comstock. According to the branch's manager, who also happens to be her brother-in-law, she chose to do so because she didn't know Mister Wentworth. She chose to entrust her money to her brother-in-law's bank instead, knowing she could transfer small amounts from Denver to here without a problem."

"That makes perfect sense to me," Key commented. "Is there a problem with her decision?"

"No, not on her part. Apparently, right after she made her first transfer, Wentworth figured out what she'd done, and began making inquiries into the status of her accounts."

"As soon as we realized what he was doing, Miss McIntyre was contacted, and restrictions put on who could access her money."

"So, all is well then?"

Farley nodded. "With her, at least. However, it's my job to discern if he's been looking into accounts other than hers."

"If you'd like, I can contact the territorial marshal's office and check into his background before coming to Comstock," Key offered.

"We were hoping you'd be willing to look into him." Farley handed Key and envelope. "This is all the information we have on him since he came to work for the bank. We tried tracking down two of his previous references but haven't had much luck."

"I'll be happy to help wherever I can. Miss McIntyre has made a place for herself with the town. I'd hate to see Wentworth's greed and dishonesty spoil her opinion of the rest of us."

"From what I hear about her, Miss McIntyre seems like a smart woman. I've no doubt she can see right through Wentworth."

"You'll keep me in the know on anything else you might find while performing your audit?" Key asked.

"Yes, of course. And you'll let us know what the marshal service can dig up on his background?"

"As soon as I have it," Key confirmed.

"Wonderful. It sounds as if we have things covered from every possible angle."

Key drew in a long breath, and stood, motioning the bank auditor toward the door. "We should probably avoid each other as much as possible so Wentworth doesn't get suspicious. Desperate men are often dangerous men.

"Agreed."

"While we're waiting for both our investigations to bear fruit, I'll make it a point to keep an eye on Miss McIntyre to ensure her safety."