The Reluctant Pinkerton (21 page)

It sounded to Roper like Orton had been set up to meet Nancy.

“Who took you to the Bullshead?” Roper asked.

“A couple of young fellas named Joe Roberts and Dick Kelly.”

“And where are they now?”

“They don’t work here anymore,” Orton said.

“Why not?”

“They quit.”

“After you started seeing Nancy?”

Orton hesitated, then said, “Yes.”

“What are you thinking, Pete?” Roper asked.

Orton rubbed his hands over his face and said, “I was set up?”

Roper nodded.

“Nancy?”

Roper nodded again.

“But somebody must have put her up to it,” Roper said.

“Who?”

“Brewster owns the house,” Roper said. “He bought it from Mannerly.”

“Old Man Mannerly?” Orton said. “He’s in on this, too?”

“Maybe not,” Roper said. “All he did was sell a house.”

“Oh, wait, wait,” Orton said, “So I was set up…but for what?”

“Pillow talk,” Roper said.

“Pillow…”

“After you and Nancy have sex, what happens?”

“We lie together and…talk.”

“About what?”

Orton shrugged and said, “Everything.”

“Your personal life?”

“Yes.”

“And your business?”

Orton hesitated, then said, “Yeah.”

“Is that when the troubles started?”

“I think so,” Orton said. Then he was struck with the realization of what that meant. His eyes widened. “You mean all of this sabotage has been…my fault?”

“Maybe not all of it,” Roper said, “but some of it.”

“Sonofabitch!”

“Are you in love with Nancy?”

“No,” he said immediately, “it’s never been about love with her. I just…have to have her.”

“I understand that.”

“Now I want to wring her scrawny neck!” Orton said angrily.

“Not yet,” Roper said. “Now that we suspect her, we have to use her.”

“How?”

“By giving her false information and seeing if it gets back to Brewster. Or whoever is behind her.”

A flurry of emotions crossed Orton’s features and then he said, “Eddie Parker!”

“Who is he?”

“A two-bit hustler,” he said. “I saw him with Nancy—I’ve seen him with her over and over, and she insists there’s nothing between them.”

“But she’s having some of the Bullshead customers rolled for the money,” Roper said. “For that she’s got to have a partner.”

“Parker.”

“Maybe,” Roper said. “I’ll have to look into him.”

Roper was starting to think that maybe Nancy Ransom had more than one thing going for her. Orton described Eddie Parker as a hustler, but maybe the same word applied to her.

Roper felt it might be time to come out from behind “Andy Blake.” He felt he could trust the Fixx brothers, as he had trusted Pete Orton, who seemed genuinely ashamed of himself. Roper prided himself on being a judge of character. If Orton was acting, and lying to him, he was one of the best he’d ever seen.

There had been something he didn’t like about Brewster. He needed to look deeper into the man’s background, and his life. The same with Eddie Parker. He needed to meet him, and learn more about him.

“Pete,” he said before the detectives came back, “what’s going on with you and your wife?”

“We just…drifted apart.”

“Is she seeing anyone behind your back?”

Orton’s eyes widened and said, “I don’t think so.”

“She’s a beautiful woman,” Roper said. “If she’s not getting attention from you, she might be getting it from somewhere else.”

“I—I don’t know…”

“You mind if I try to find out?” Roper asked.

“No,” Orton said, “no, I don’t mind. In fact, I’d like to know.”

“All right then—”

At that moment the door opened and the two detectives came back in.

“Your men are outside,” Carradine said to Orton. “Do you want them—”

“No, no,” Orton said, standing up. “I’ll tell them to go back to work.”

He came around the desk and went out the door.

Carradine and Cole stared at Roper.

“What did you find?” he asked.

“Not much,” Carradine said. “There are a lot of points from where the shots could’ve been fired.”

“Mmm…”

“What’s on your mind?” Cole asked.

“I think we need to talk,” Roper said.

“About what?”

“A lot of things,” Roper said, “but I want to talk to your boss, as well.”

“We’re investigating this thing—” Cole started.

“I’ll talk to you two,” Roper said, “and the marshal.”

“When?” Carradine asked.

Roper thought a moment.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said finally. “I’ll come to the police station at nine a.m.”

“Not worried about losing your job here?” Carradine asked.

“Not anymore,” Roper said.

“Okay,” Carradine said, “tomorrow morning.”

The detectives left the office. Orton did not come back in right away.

Roper had to decide who else he was going to reveal himself to. He’d have to talk to Kalish about it, and he wanted to do that before he talked to the detectives and the marshal.

And maybe he’d move out of the rooming house and into a decent hotel.

Orton came back in after a few moments.

“Did you tell them?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Roper said. “I’m going to talk to them and their boss tomorrow morning.”

“Meanwhile,” Orton asked, “what do I do?”

“Well,” Roper said, “if I was you, I’d start looking for a new assistant.”

*   *   *

After he left the stockyard, Roper thought about going to the Cattleman’s Club. It was almost six, but he was sure a lot of the members would be there having dinner. In the end, he decided to do just that.

He caught a cab and had it drive him to the Cattleman’s Club.

The doorman was not Lester, but another man.

“I need to see Mr. Kalish,” he said.

“And your name?”

He hesitated, then said, “Andy Blake.”

“Does he know who you are, sir?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Wait here, please.”

Roper waited. Several men entered and others left; none that he knew, though. The doorman returned and said, “Follow me, please.”

Once again he entered the building and followed someone down a hall. This time the doorman took him to the same room where he had met earlier with Kalish.

“Mr. Blake, sir,” the doorman said.

“Thank you, Tony,” Kalish said. “That’s all.”

The doorman left and closed the door.

“Mr. Roper,” Kalish said. “What brings you here?”

“Somebody tried to kill me today,” Roper said. “I think the cat might be out of the bag.”

“Who…who do you think did that?”

“I don’t know,” Roper said. “Tell me about your colleagues.”

“Colleagues?”

“The men we had dinner with,” Roper said. “The men you partnered with in hiring the Pinkertons.”

“Oh,” Kalish said, “well, Halfwell and Mannerly have been in the cattle business a long time.”

“They seem to be…past it, if you’ll excuse me for saying.”

“No, you’re right,” Kalish said. “They are a bit…vacant sometimes.”

“So it falls to the other three of you to make the decisions, right?”

“That’s right,” Kalish said.

“Tell me about Arnold.”

“He’s a follower,” Kalish said. “He’ll back whoever’s got the floor, really.”

“And who has the floor most of the time?” Roper asked.

“Brewster.”

“Why?” Roper asked. “Why him and not you?”

“He’s the youngest,” Kalish said, “the strongest, I suppose.”

“Why do you let him take the lead?”

“He’s also very smart.”

“Was he in favor of hiring the Pinkertons?”

“Well…not at first,” Kalish said.

“Why did he give in?”

“I’m not sure,” Kalish said. “I think Mannerly and Halfwell may have woken up that day and sided with me.”

“And Arnold?”

“He sided with Brewster.”

“So when Brewster changed his mind?”

“Arnold changed as well.”

“Did you ever tell any of them about me?”

“No,” Kalish said. “I kept to my agreement with the Pinkertons.”

“Brewster had a feeling about me, though,” Roper said. “He pretty much told me so. Did he mention it to you?”

“No, never.”

“I wonder why not.”

“I’m sorry,” Kalish said, “do you want a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“Why all the questions about Brewster?”

Roper didn’t answer.

“You don’t think that Brewster…that he’s behind any of this, do you?”

“What would he gain from keeping Eastern interests out of Fort Worth?” Roper asked.

“I don’t know,” Kalish said. “We need the influx of that money—”

“What if he had another investor, somebody else who was interested?”

“I don’t know of anyone else—”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Roper said. “You don’t know of anyone else’s interest, but he does.”

“Well, if he manages to convince certain people that the problems here are insurmountable…yes, I guess he could make his own deal with someone.”

“And cut out you, Arnold, Mannerly, and Halfwell.”

“Yes.”

“He’d become a very rich man, wouldn’t he?”

“He would—he’s already a rich man, but he’d be…even richer.”

Roper nodded.

“I can’t believe it’s him.”

“Well,” Roper said, “we don’t know that for a fact yet, but I’ll be looking at him.”

“Yes, all right.”

“But it’s important you say nothing to him,” Roper added.

“I understand. Are you going to talk to anyone else? I mean, about who you really are?”

Roper decided to conceal the truth. “So far it’s still just you and me, Harold.”

“All right,” Kalish said. “Thanks for coming by and letting me know what’s going on.”

“Sure.”

Roper turned to leave.

“Mr. Roper,” Kalish said, “you said somebody tried to kill you. Were you hurt?”

“A bullet nicked me,” Roper said, “and I fell into some manure.”

“I thought I smelled…” Kalish said, waving his hand.

“Yeah, I tried to clean up at work. I’ll need to take a bath tonight. A long bath.”

Roper left the Cattleman’s Club and went directly to his rooming house. He had missed dinner, but Mrs. Varney agreed to draw him a bath—wrinkling her nose at him the whole time. He had a feeling she was doing it for her own benefit, not his.

He soaked in a bath until he was sure the smell of manure was gone. He managed to do it without getting the bandage on his arm wet, so the stitches the doctor had put there remained intact.

When he was finished, he dried off, pulled his trousers on, and walked to his room. He entered, put on a clean shirt, but didn’t button it. He was not going out again. He just wanted to be comfortable.

He walked to his window and stared out at the darkness of Hell’s Half Acre. In the morning he was going to register at a decent hotel before going to the police station. He wasn’t going to tell anyone where he was staying.

Idly, he wondered what had become of Dol Bennett. Had she gone back to Chicago? Or was she still hanging around Fort Worth?

He thought he still smelled manure and wondered if he’d need to take another bath when he got to his new hotel. But then he realized his clothes were on the floor in a corner. He couldn’t put them in the hall, so he decided to go downstairs and see if he could find a bag to put them in until he could get them washed.

He buttoned his shirt and left his room, went down the stairs to the main floor. Nobody was around. They were either in their rooms, or out of the house.

He waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then made his way through the dining room to the kitchen. He got to the door and thought he heard somebody inside. He didn’t have a gun with him, but he didn’t really expect any danger there. He opened the swinging door as quietly as he could. He heard heavy breathing and grunting, saw two figures intertwined against a wall of the kitchen. He realized that the girl, Lauren, was there, having sex with a man—maybe one of the boarders. He had her up against the wall and was thrusting himself into her, his bare buttocks clenching and unclenching. Her eyes opened at that moment and then widened when she saw him watching them. He withdrew, letting the door close. What they were doing was their business, not his.

He went back upstairs.

*   *   *

About twenty minutes later there was a light knocking on his door. He opened it, saw a fully dressed but tousled-looking Lauren in the hall.

“Hello, Lauren.”

“Mr. Blake…” she said breathlessly.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not going to tell anyone what I saw.”

“You’re not?” She looked hopeful.

“On one condition.”

“Oh.” It appeared she thought she knew what the condition would be.

“I need a bag.”

“A bag?” She frowned.

“A sack, really,” he said. “Or even some brown paper. I have some…clothes to wrap up.”

“We have brown paper.”

“Good,” he said. “Bring me some and your secret is safe with me.”

“Really?” she asked. “That’s all?”

“That’s it.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“I’ll bring it right up,” she said excitedly.

*   *   *

It had been about five minutes when there was a knock on his door again. He opened it and she thrust some brown paper and some twine into his hands.

“You can wrap up the clothes in this,” she said.

“Fine, thanks.”

She stood there.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Mrs. Varney,” she said, “if she found out…well, she’d skin me alive.”

“And the man, too, I bet.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “She wants me to stay away from her boarders.”

“Well, don’t worry,” he said. “Like I told you before, your secret is safe with me.”

“Oh, thank you, sir.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast, then.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, “and it’ll be extra good. I promise.”

She hurried quietly down the hall.

He wrapped his smelly clothes in brown paper, tied the bundle up right, and tossed it in a corner.

He tried to turn in then, but his arm ached, and he thought again about somebody trying to shoot him. He wondered if they were trying to kill Talbot Roper or Andy Blake?