The Murdock's Law (18 page)

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Authors: Loren D. Estleman

BOOK: The Murdock's Law
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“Then I started wondering how he found out Turk was here. That wasn't too hard to answer. You were the only person he knew in Breen. How did you send the wire, in code? Something you fixed up together before he sent you in this direction to nose around and find out what you could? It doesn't really matter how you did it. But it was smart. Who'd suspect a lady gambler of spying for a killer?”
She had a new handbag. I caught her eyes wandering toward it and released her hand to slide it toward me. It was heavier than most reticules. She sighed resignedly and sat back.
“It wasn't like that at all.” One of her fine white hands went up before I could interrupt. “Oh, I sent him a wire, and I used a simple code designed to stand up to a first glance. But he didn't send me here. I recognized Turk by accident from Chris's description when Turk visited Martha's. Chris didn't depend on women to lay his groundwork. And he didn't come here to kill Turk. I thought you understood that.”
I summoned a sneer. Then I spotted my reflection in the glass chimney of the lamp on the table and stopped. “He didn't go out to Périgueux's ranch to swap old war stories.”
She shook her head, exasperated at my density. “I'm not saying Chris wouldn't have tried to kill him if he thought he could. He didn't think he was good
enough. As it turned out he was, but he couldn't know that. He had nothing but memory to compare with.”
I stared at her, trying to put what she said in order. This time I couldn't blame it on laudanum. “You're saying he came here to die.”
“Is it so hard to accept?” She pushed aside the deck of cards. “Some people slash their wrists. Others take a gun and blow their brains out. Chris chose the way he thought was best for him. I like to think that Doc Ballard was wrong and that he had a chance to realize what had happened when that unexpected bullet hit him. That way he would've died content.”
“He hated living that much?”
“Not living, waiting to die. Have you ever heard of the law of diminishing returns? They talk about it a lot back East. The more durable you make a product, the lower your chances of selling a replacement because the first one never wears out. When you're best, you sow the seeds of your own destruction. With Chris, it stood to reason that if he kept killing off the gunmen who weren't as good as he was, the odds of his meeting one as good or better increased. No, it wasn't living he hated. It was waiting.”
I didn't say anything. After a few moments she retrieved the deck and dealt. We played a few hands, winning each other's money, then: “Alf tells me you're heading out.”
“Soon as I can hire a wagon.” She dealt herself twenty-one. “I don't need one, but a lady of my
breeding can't be seen riding horseback across the prairie.”
I won the next turn. “Ladies don't travel alone.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“If you're headed west.”
She shook her head. “If you can survive the Nations without an escort, you can survive anywhere.” She won the last hand, drew in the discards and shuffled the deck. “Care for another go? Maybe we can break this deadlock.”
“I wish we could.” I got up, taking my chips. I started to say something else. She put more energy into her shuffling, the cards hissing. Her eyes remained on the deck. I moved toward the door.
“Planning to hang around Helena for a while?”
I stopped, my back to her. “For a while.”
There was a pause, then: “Thanks for the warning.”
I left. Outside, it was a bright spring day.
The Door to Shedwell's Room Was Partially Open
when I reached the fourth floor of the hotel. There were three ways I could go from there. I could hit the floor as I entered, and hope that any lead that flew would be directed at a standing target. Or I could wait for him to make the first move, as I had done a long time ago waiting for a killer at that cabin in Missoula. Or I could walk in bold as brass and give him a clear chance at me.
 
To hell with it. I'd been brained, drawn on, shot at, and ambushed and I was tired of being careful. I filled my lungs and stepped inside.
 
Right away I knew I'd made a mistake.
 
The room was richly carpeted and furnished. A trail-battered valise with a rolled-leather handle worn fuzzy sat on the floor next to the too-high bed. A slouch hat I recognized occupied the mattress. No Shedwell.
 
A voice inside me shouted,
Get away from the door.
But before I could move there was a snick of metal across the hall, two quick footsteps on the runner, and death in a steel case punched my right kidney.
 
“Move and you're part of the wall …”
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 
 
Copyright © 1982 by Loren D. Estleman
eISBN 9781429926188
First eBook Edition : July 2011
 
 
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 81-43410

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