He knew Willie was back in town. He also knew that Ben and Willie had tried to kill George Appo and Clint Adams earlier that day. But how did Adams know that?
Benson finished his beer and went out the back door.
Outside Delvecchio said, “Why’d you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You practically called him out,” the detective said. “Willie, too.”
“Not practically. I did call them out.”
“You got a death wish?”
“No,” Clint said. “This is just the way I do things.”
“In the West, maybe,” Delvecchio said. “This ain’t very subtle, Clint.”
“They’ll find out where I’m staying, and they’ll come for me,” Clint told him. “This time I’ll be ready for them.”
“Well, then,” Delvecchio said, “so will I.”
THIRTY-NINE
George Appo looked up when he heard the commotion. Ma Mandelbaum was stalking down the hall toward him with Ben trailing behind her.
“What the hell happened?” she demanded of Appo.
“You tell me, Ma.”
“Whataya mean?”
“You sent somebody after me,” he said, “or after Adams. Or maybe both of us. They got Bethany instead. ”
“Whataya talkin’ about?” Ma asked. “Is she dead?”
“No,” Appo said, “and by some miracle she’s holding on.”
“What the hell—where did this happen?”
“On the steps of the Metropole.”
“And where’s Adams?”
“He went looking for your boys.”
“What boys?”
“Willie, or Bull Benson. Maybe both.”
“Willie shot Bethany?”
“I don’t know, Ma,” Appo said. “Who’d you send? Whoever it was, they shot Bethany.”
“I’ll kill that sonofabitch!” she said, teeth clenched.
“Who?” Appo asked. “Who did you send?”
“Never mind,” Ma said. “Never you mind.” She turned to Ben. “Find Willie, and tell him I want him here—now!”
“Yes, Ma.”
“You can go now,” she told Appo.
“No, I think I’ll stay,” he said. “When she comes to, she’s going to want to see a friendly face, don’t you think?”
Ben knew exactly where Willie was—in a small saloon down on the Bowery.
“Ma wants you at the hospital,” he said, finding Willie at the bar.
“She does, huh?”
“She’s mad.”
“She’ll be even madder after I get through talkin’ to her, won’t she, Benny boy?”
“Willie—”
Willie waved and Bull Benson came over, towering over Ben.
“Benny boy, you and Bull are goin’ over ta Clint Adams’s hotel.”
“What for?”
“You’re gonna kill him.”
“Me? But I—”
“Who was with Ma at the hospital?”
“G-George is there.”
“Appo,” Willie said. “Ah, that’s good. So I’ll go to the hospital and take care of George, and you boys take care of Adams.”
“But I can’t—” Ben said.
“I know, kid,” Willie said, “that’s exactly why you’ll be able to. He’ll never see it comin’.”
Willie took out a gun and handed it to Ben.
“We goin’ to your room?” Delvecchio asked as they reached the Belvedere Hotel.
“No,” Clint said. “I thought we might as well wait in the tavern, have a beer.”
They entered the tavern and found two places at the bar.
“You think they’ll come today?”
“The sooner the better.”
“What if they just stay outside and wait for us to come out?”
“If somebody called you out, what would you do?”
“I’d come in and get it over with, but these men—”
“Ego,” Clint said. “They’ll want to get it over with, too.”
“You’re talkin’ about Western ego,” Delvecchio said. “Willie O’Donnell is a wolf. He’s cunning. He’s not ruled by ego.”
“So what will he do?”
“He’ll try to do something you won’t expect.”
“Like what?”
“He’ll come up with somethin’,” Delvecchio said. “I’m just sayin’ be careful.”
“You know,” Clint said, “it would have been very easy for O’Donnell to separate himself from his men and the merchandise and come back early.”
“I’m surprised by one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Willie’s good at killin’,” Delvecchio said. “What happened on the steps of the Metropole was sloppy.”
“Maybe he rushed it.”
“Yeah,” Delvecchio said, “maybe. Still surprises me, though.”
FORTY
“Not the hotel,” Bull Benson said to Ben.
“What?”
Benson pointed next door.
“They’ll be in the tavern.”
“But—”
“Come on, boy,” Benson said. “A man needs a drink while he’s waitin’ ta die.”
Benson grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him over to the tavern.
“You go inside, you walk up to Adams, you talk to him for a minute, and then you pull the gun and shoot him right in the belly. You got it?”
“I guess . . .”
“This ain’t the first time you pulled a trigger, ya know.”
Ben blanched, then nodded, buttoning his jacket as he went inside.
“What’d you say about something unexpected?” Clint asked.
Delvecchio looked at the door and saw Ben enter with his jacket buttoned.
“Oh, no . . .”
“Go out the back and around,” Clint said. “I’ll take care of Ben.”
“Great,” Delvecchio said. “I can just imagine who’s waitin’ outside.”
He headed for the rear door as Ben made his way to the bar.
The gun felt heavy in Ben’s belt and he had the feeling that everybody in the tavern was looking at him, and could see the gun clearly. His heart was pounding because he thought he was going to die today.
And he deserved it.
Clint moved his beer mug so that it was sitting near his left hand. His right hand was hanging at his side where it would have been if he’d been wearing a holster.
When Ben reached the bar, he said, “Hello, Mr. Adams.”
“Ben. I thought you’d be at the hospital.”
“Ma sent me away.”
“To do what?”
“Huh?”
“What does she want you to do, Ben?” Clint asked.
“She, uh, wanted me to find Willie.”
“Is she mad at Willie? For shooting Bethany?”
Ben’s eyes slid away. Clint saw his hand move to unbutton his jacket.
“Mr. Adams,” he said, “I done somethin’ real bad.”
“What’s that, Ben?” Clint was wondering if Ben was going to confess to killing Libby Wellington in Denver. Had they been after the wrong man all this time?
“I—I let Willie, uh, talk me into . . .”
“Talk you into what, Ben?” Clint asked. “Come on, how bad can it be?”
“Oh, it’s bad.”
“Ben, did you kill that woman in Denver?”
“No!” Ben said. “I didn’t, I swear. It was Willie.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I— It was me . . . shootin’ at you in front of the Metropole.”
“What?” That wasn’t what Clint was expecting to hear. “Why? Wait . . . I heard two shooters.”
“Yeah, it was me and Willie. Mr. Adams, I may have shot Bethany.”
“Ben . . .”
“And now,” Ben said, putting his hand to his belt, “I’m supposed to shoot you.” He took the gun out, then laid it on the bar. “But I can’t.”
Clint, who had tensed
when the boy touched his gun, relaxed. He picked up the gun and tucked it into his own belt. The boy had hung his head and tears were streaming down his face.
“It’s okay, Ben,” Clint said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Where’s Willie now?”
“He went to the hospital.”
“For what?”
“He said I was supposed to kill you, and he was gonna go kill George Appo.”
Clint grabbed Ben’s arm and said, “Come on,” and dragged him to the door.
When they got outside, Delvecchio was standing over Bull Benson, who was out cold on the ground.
“What happened?” Clint asked.
“I hit him from behind,” Delvecchio said. “I told you, no ego here. You gotta be crafty.”
Appo saw Willie O’Donnell before Ma Mandelbaum did. From the look on Willie’s face, Appo wished he’d carried a gun.
Ma saw the look on Appo’s face and turned.
“Did you do this?” she demanded as Willie O’Donnell reached her. “Did you shoot Bethany?”
“That little bitch?” Willie asked. “You never had anythin’ good to say abut her, and now yer yellin’ at me, askin’ if I shot ’er?”
“You were supposed to kill Clint Adams, or him,” Ma said, pointing a finger at Appo. “Not Bethany.”
“What the hell is the difference, Ma?” Willie shouted. “Adams is bein’ taken care of, and I’ll do Appo right now.”
With that, Willie pulled a gun from his belt and pointed it at Appo.
“Hold it, O’Donnell!” Clint shouted from down the hall.
Willie turned, saw Clint, and brought his gun around. Clint’s gun was in his hand, and as he fired from down the hall he thought he heard another shot.
Willie staggered, his gun fell from his hand, and he collapsed to the floor, dead. Clint walked up to the body to examine it and saw that Willie had been shot in the chest—and in the back. He looked at Ma, saw her tucking a small gun away into the folds of her dress.
“Even if I did want that stupid girl dead,” she muttered, “I’d do it myself.”
FORTY-ONE
Clint looked around Grand Central Station terminal, then suddenly felt a hand in his pocket.
“That you, Red?”
“Ha, I was deliberately sloppy that time,” Red said with a smile. “Are you really leavin’?”
Clint looked down at the dirty-faced little urchin and said, “Yes, I’m really leaving.”
“Aren’t you glad Bethany is gonna be all right?” Red asked.
“I sure am, Red,” Clint said.
It had been touch-and-go for a while, but after three days the doctors were able to say that she would live. Clint did not have the time to stay and see how the whole Ma-Ben-Bethany relationship turned out. He hoped that Bethany would go through with her decision to leave Ma Mandelbaum, but he wasn’t sure that going with George Appo was the best decision, either.
“If you ever come back, look me up, huh?” Red said. “I’ll be older then.”
“Yes,” Clint said, “so will I, Red.”
Red spotted Captain Byrnes coming their way and said, “I gotta go. Bye, Clint. We’re friends now, right? I’m friends with the Gunsmith?”
“That’s right, Red,” Clint said. “We’re friends.”
Red disappeared in the crowd, no doubt putting the touch on as many of them as he could.
“Mr. Adams,” Byrnes said, “I’m glad I caught you.”
“Captain.”
They shook hands. They had not become friends, as Clint and Red had.
“I thought you’d like to know we recovered all the merchandise that was stolen from the murdered lady in Denver.”
“Oh, where?”
“In a warehouse on Varick Street. The odd thing is, we don’t know who the warehouse belongs to.”
“Can’t connect it to Ma Mandelbaum?”
“No, she’s too smart for that.”
“Well,” Clint said, “at least she doesn’t have Willie to do her dirty work for her anymore.”
“And she doesn’t have Ben, either.”
“What happened?”
“He’s gone, disappeared.”
Clint thought Ben must have still been wrestling with the guilt he felt, even though it wasn’t certain whether it had been his bullets or Willie’s that had struck Bethany.
“Well, I guess she won’t have Bethany anymore, either, once she gets out of the hospital.”
“I doubt any of that will slow Ma down much,” Byrnes said.
“I’ve got to catch my train, Captain,” Clint said. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” Byrnes said. “The waitress Angie. She asked me to tell you she’s mad at you for not saying a proper good-bye.”
He thought he had said a proper good-bye all night the previous night, but he had slipped out this morning without waking her.
“Give her my apologies, will you?”
“Only if you give my best to Roper,” Byrnes said in return.
They shook hands again.
“I’m sorry things didn’t go . . .” Clint said, then stopped.
“You have your own way of doing things, Mr. Adams,” Byrnes said. “Don’t we all?”
“Yes, Captain,” Clint said, “yes, I guess we do.”
Watch for
OUT OF THE PAST
319th novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series
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Five Points Page 11
