Fraser said. “What can you tell me about Booth’s money?” After two days in Weichmann’s meticulous archive, Fraser was on a first-name basis with the entire Weichmann family. His work was raising more questions than it answered. Weichmann had come home early so they could confer before supper. The odor of boiling cabbage assaulted the room from the kitchen. Weichmann seemed indifferent to the noxious aroma. “Ah, the money bothers you, too?” Weichmann was stroking his beard. “Of course, Sam Chester claimed that Booth promised him $2,000 and said there were at least fifty people in the conspiracy.” “Booth could have been lying. That would be one of his smaller sins.” “Lying about the people, sure, but not the money. He would have to pay whatever he promised. Sam Chester was his friend.” Fraser leaned forward. “You know how much they were spending, how they lived. Did they have money?” “Lots.” Weichmann allowed himself a grin. “I thought John Surratt got most of the funds.
