Spur Giant: Soiled Dove

by Dirk Fletcher

  Doug had ducked in time after his shot, and now peered over the desk again figuring it was a double barrelled weapon. He saw the big black butler leaning against the inside wall. His hands were empty. One pressed against his chest, the other scratched to grab hold of the wall.

  He looked at Doug, then slowly slid down the door jamb and rolled over on the floor on his back. His lifeless eyes stared upward at the library's ceiling.

  Doug stood, made one last look at the top of the desk, found another bearer bond worth tenthousand dollars and pushed it inside his shirt as well.

  Then he ran out of the house by the back door into the blessed blackness of the night and hurried along the streets to his small rented house. There were few lights on in the houses he passed. None was close enough to have anyone inside who could have heard the shots.

  He had to get ready to leave. How? He still had his horse. He worked on it quickly as he packed a few clothes and some personal things in his carpetbag. He took out the bonds, flattened them and put them between sheets of the local newspaper and lay it all in the bottom of his bag. Then he piled in everything else including the bundles of new and used currency.

  By the time he had his bag packed and his sixgun reloaded, he knew what he would do. No sense in taking a chance on someone spotting him getting on the downriver boat here in Fort Smith.

  The steamer made its first stop downstream from Fort Smith at B 16 Bend. There was a small settlement there. He'd ride his horse the five miles, sell the horse and get on the steamer there. Then a quick trip down to Little Rock and he'd be away free and clear.

  Doug grinned as he mounted the horse and be gan to ride slowly out of town. There was no hurry. The first boat didn't leave Fort Smith until nearly ten tomorrow morning, and it would be near eleven before it left B16 Bend. Yes. That would be the way to go.

  As he rode down the south river road, he kept thinking about what he had tied on the back of his saddle. Almost $50,000 in cash money, and another $100,000 in cashable bearer bonds. Doug grinned. He'd never have to do another day's work in his life. Yes, yes. He'd also have Amy Hellman and her delightful body and inventive ways of making love to keep him happy.

  The next morning, Spur McCoy was talking with the sheriff when a woman came screaming into the office. When the sheriff got her calmed down, she explained that she went in each morning to clean house and do some cooking for Mr. Lowell. When she went up there this morning, she found Lowell and his butler both shot dead.

  Five minutes later, Spur and the sheriff looked over the murder scene.

  "Someone in front of the desk shot both men," Spur said. "Could have shot Mr. Lowell first, then the butler came running in with his shotgun and the killer took him out with one shot just before or just after the shotgun fired once."

  "One round in each man," Sheriff Grimm said. "The gunman knew how to kill a man."

  Spur looked at the desk. It held an account book opened to a page marked "Bearer Bonds Now Owned."

  He saw quickly that this was the same list of bearer bonds that Lowell had shown him before. Sticking out from under one corner of the ledger was an intricately printed edge of paper. Spur moved the account book and found a bearer bond.

  "Look at this," Spur said. "A one-thousand dollar certificate. It's from the city of Atlanta. That's one of the bonds that Lowell listed as being stolen from the registered mail."

  "So, if he has them back, that proves that he was in on the robbery," Sheriff Grimm said. "Stole his own damn bonds. That way he'd make an even hundred-thousand when the Railway Express paid off on his claim."

  "But where are the rest of them, the other ninety-nine thousand worth?" Spur asked. "Maybe that's what got Lowell shot. The man shot him for the bonds."

  "Could be. If Chandler was involved with the kidnapping, do you think he was a part of the bond robbery as well?"

  Spur grunted as he checked the bond again. It was real. "Starting to sound like he was behind the whole thing. Now, all we have to do is find him."

  "I'll send two deputies out to the ranch, and we'll check his usual haunts here in town. I hear he's rented a house somewhere but I don't know which one. I'll also wire the Railway Express not to pay off on those bonds until our investigation is complete."

  "You know Lillian, a part time chambermaid at the Wentworth Hotel?"

  "Heard of her. She's a part time soiled dove I hear as well, but never been in any trouble I know of. She doesn't have any kind of a record with us."

  "She have much to do with Chandler? She told me that she knew him."

  "Yeah, now that you mention it. Hear they were seen around town together a lot for a while. Nothing recent."

  "Saw her go into a house the other night that didn't seem like it was hers. Think I'll go down there and check. I've got no other leads on Doug Chandler."

  Two men came to take away the bodies and Spur left letting the sheriff seal up the house and take care of the rest of it. He walked four blocks, had to go back a block and take another try at it. Then on the second run he found the house where Lillian had slipped away to that night several days ago. He knocked but no one answered. The front door wasn't locked.

  Inside he found no one and it looked like the place had been abandoned. There was some trash, a little food, some furniture, but no sign that anyone was coming back. No clothes, no bags, no personal gear.

  He searched the place carefully. Under one cushion on the worn couch he found a new $20 bill. It had one of the serial numbers from the missing $20,000 bank money. So the bank money had been in this house. A start.

  On the living room table, he found the local newspaper with an advertisement for trips down the Arkansas River on the riverboat. It was circled with a pencil. He tore out the ad and put it in his shirt pocket. It would be a quick way to leave town if you didn't use the railroad.

  In the bedroom, he saw the unmade bed and under one blanket lay a pair of pink bloomers. He wondered if they were Lillian's. A magazine lay on the floor. He picked it up and was about to toss it on the bed when he saw some pencilled numbers on the cover. They were: 20... 30... 100... 150,000. He stared at the figures for a minute and then connected them.

  There was $20,000 in bank notes, $30,000 from the kidnapping and $100,000 in bearer bonds at Lowell's place. That made a total of $150,000. The numbers matched exactly the amount of money that Chandler could have now if he had stolen the bonds. The killer could have made those notes before or after going up to kill Lowell and taking the money. Was it Doug Chandler?

  Lillian might know. He went to the hotel and found the manager. The little man said that Lillian wasn't working today. He had her address if it was important. Spur showed him his identification and said it was police business. The manager nodded and gave Spur her address. It was just a block off the main street.

  A man came out of the door as Spur started to knock.

  The man was drunk and he laughed. "Hell, don't have to knock, just walk in," the man said. He grinned and swaggered down the walk.

  Spur went inside and saw Lillian come out of a door across the room. She wore a short, seethrough gown that barely covered her crotch. The front of it hung open. The raised her brows in surprise when she saw him.

  "McCoy. You didn't have to come here. I do house calls." She laughed and crooked her finger. "Right this way, I happen to be free at the moment. How did you find me?"

  "I asked the hotel manager. He didn't want to tell me, but he did."

  "The bastard. I give him a free one every Tuesday for him doing me some favors. I won't be fucking him for free any more. You must be here for pleasure. Come on in my bedroom. It's right down here."

  They went down a short hall to a door she opened for him and he walked into her bedroom. It was done all in pink ruffles and flounces, even pink wallpaper and carpet, a woman's room if he'd ever seen one. She closed the door.

  Lillian slipped off the thin robe and stood there naked and delightful. She was a little heavy around the hips but had a de
licious young body with breasts surging and bouncing and big and beautiful.

  "You want to talk, I can see it. We can do that anytime. Should we fuck first or afterwards?"

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed and eased her down on her back. Her knees came up and spread. He sat down beside her.

  "How well did you know Doug Chandler?"

  "Oh, hell. I knew it was gonna be about him. I knew him, but I didn't know him well. I mean, he was my regular poke for a while there, once every night for two months. Then he doesn't come around for a while."

  "That's all he was, just a customer?"

  "Yeah, so what?"

  "I think there was more to it than that."

  "Why?"

  "One night after we made love you said you had to get home. Only you didn't come here. You went to a house where Doug and some other people lived here in town. Why did you go there?"

  "You followed me?"

  "You're a rotten liar. I knew you weren't going home."

  "Yeah, well, I try. Let's get it done first."

  She brought his hands up to her breasts and he left them there. She undid his pants and pulled them down around his ankles, then his shorts and pulled him over on top of her.

  "See, junior down there is all hard and ready. Do me hard and fast, then we'll talk."

  He pushed his hand down to her crotch and found her hard node and strummed it six times.

  "Shit, you know what that does to me? Makes me go wild. Most men don't even think to do that. Just want to get their rocks off. Oh, damn but that feels good."

  "Why did you go to that house that night?"

  "Went there lots. Business, just business."

  "You were whoring the men in the house?"

  "No, some other business."

  He strummed her node again four times and she almost climaxed, but not quite.

  "Do that again, Spur. Please rub me more down there. Feels so wonderful."

  "So why did you go to the house?"

  "To see a man. Now do me, finish me off or I'll die for sure."

  He rubbed her once. "So who did you see at the house?"

  "A man... oh, shit, all right. I went to see Doug Chandler."

  "Doug. Why?"

  He strummed her again and she shivered but didn't quite go over the edge into her climax.

  "Damn you! I went to tell him everything you told me. He made me spy on you. Said he'd give me two-hundred dollars if I found out what you were doing in town and what you knew."

  "From the very first, from that first night?"

  "Hell, yes. You think I was bowled over by your charms or good looks or something?"

  "It was an idea. Why did Doug want to know what I did?"

  "Because he engineered the damn train robbery. He hired the men, set them up, got them the rifles. Yes, he set up the kidnapping with the woman, the dumb blonde with the stretched out pussy."

  "What about the bearer bonds?"

  "Don't know nothing about them. Know he did go up the hill to see the rich guy after it got dark a couple of times. Took something with him, a big envelope."

  "Now, we're getting somewhere. Know what Doug is doing right now?"

  She shook her head, held his finger and strummed her clit again and again until she shuddered and roared into a wailing, shouting climax that left her limp and panting.

  "Damn you, McCoy. Damn you for leaving me hanging that way for so long."

  "So, where is he now?"

  "Doug? Probably with that washed out blonde slut."

  "She went downriver with the Attorney General late yesterday. Must be in Little Rock by now."

  "Yeah, I heard. They pulled it off, the fake kidnapping. Give them that. But Doug knows where Miss Pussy lives in Little Rock. Doug will be going downriver, too. He's hooked on that little whore's cunnie. Can't figure out why. I'm twice as good at fucking as she is."

  "You weren't worth thirty-thousand dollars in cash money," Spur said. He caressed her breasts and she started to get hot again. "So Doug Chandler is probably running downstream, at least to Little Rock where he'll hook up with her again."

  "Best I can do for you. Now get your big whanger inside me and just poke the hell out of me. I'm getting a'itch down there and you got to put it out."

  "You know who the men were who robbed the train?"

  "Sure. Guy named Russ Dolan, tall skinny guy."

  "He's dead and buried. Who else?"

  She looked at him. "Dead? You do it?" She watched him. When he didn't reply she went on. "Knute Safire, something like that, was another one. Big ugly guy who must have an enormous whanger. He got paid off and went down river, I'd guess. The other one was Sully. Smallest and youngest of the three. Don't know where he is."

  "I do. Time to go find Sully and have a few words with him." Spur sat up and pulled up his shorts and pants and began to button up his fly.

  "Hey, you ain't done me yet. You won't get your money's worth this way."

  "I never pay for fucking, pretty lady. That's my first and unbreakable rule."

  She sighed. "How you expect a working girl to make a living?" Lillian pouted for a moment. "Oh, hell, go ahead, break off a piece and do me good. I mean real, damn, hard and fast good."

  Spur grinned. He shouldn't waste the time, but he was only human. He pushed his pants down and went between her creamy white thighs and found the right place.

  She humped to meet him and before he wanted to, nature took over and planted his seeds deep inside her willing soil. She locked her arms around him and wouldn't let him move for five minutes.

  "Sometimes this is when I feel the best," she whispered. "I just got fucked good and proper and I'm all warm and happy and want to stay this way forever."

  She sighed. "Hell, I know that I can't. So you get out of here and go find Sully and then get Doug, but try not to kill him. He ain't such a bad guy, as fuckers go."

  She lay there watching him as he pulled up his short underwear and his pants. Her legs opened wantonly and she ginned. "One more quick one?"

  "Later, maybe later. As you say, I have some business to do."

  Spur left the house and hurried down to the sheriff's office. The man was back. Two clerks were busy working on details of the double murder. Spur filled in Sheriff Grimm on what Lillian had told him.

  "Nothing we can hold her for or charge her with, but it gives us an eye witness that places Doug Chandler at the heart of the train robbery, the kidnapping and the fake bond theft. If it comes to that, we can get her to testify with no problem."

  "So we need Chandler."

  "And we need Sully, who we let go yesterday. Is he still in town?"

  "I'd guess," Sheriff Grimm said. "He feels safe after getting away with the deception yesterday."

  "He have a favorite saloon and whorehouse?"

  "Don't know. Use two deputies and go into every dive in town until you find the little bastard."

  Two hours later, one of the deputies hurried up to Spur when he came out of a saloon.

  "Located him, Mr. McCoy. He's down at Flossie's Parlour. It's the best in town. They offer drinks and food along with the girls. Expensive."

  "Personal experience?" Spur asked.

  The deputy laughed. "Gosh no, Mr. McCoy. I'm a happily married man."

  "Good. Let's go rout him out."

  "I don't know, Mr. McCoy." The deputy looked away. "I mean, I never been in one of those places before. Not even on duty. My wife would roast me good."

  Spur grinned. "You point me at the place and I'll go in. I don't have a wife to roast me. Where is this place?"

  They walked down the main street for a block, then halfway down the side street they came to a well cared for building of two stories with a fancy door but no front windows. Over the door was a small sign, discreetly painted by a professional hand. The sign read:

  Flossie 's Parlour house, Food and Drinks.

  "Not your usual kind of an eating place, Mr. McCoy. I...I could watch out back in case he t
ries to get out that way."

  Spur nodded, his grin a yard across. "Good, you go around back and wait. If somebody comes racing out trying to get his suspenders on or buttoning up his fly, you grab him."

  The deputy took off around the side of the building heading for the alley in back. Spur never did get the man's name. He eyed the fancy whorehouse door. This whole case was getting messy. Three men dead now to go along with the robbery. Time to wrap it up.

  He opened the door and stepped inside. An el egantly dressed woman with her brown hair attractively piled high on top of her head came forward at once. She smiled sweetly and for a moment Spur figured this was a legitimate eatery. Then he heard some wild, raucous laughter from somewhere upstairs and he got back on track.

  "Good morning, sir. How may I help you? Are you interested in some lunch? We have a fine pheasant under glass today with an extremely dry wine and a cucumber and dandelion salad that some of my customers say they would die for."

  "Sorry, not this time. I need to see the manager, and quickly."

  Her friendly face lost its appeal. She frowned and stared at him a minute, then nodded and led him to a door at the side of the entryway. Behind them he heard a piano playing some classical music softly. Beethoven, he thought, and the clink of glasses and silverware. It was a restaurant after all, with all the trimmings, especially the naked girls upstairs.

  The door opened and Spur saw an older woman with a large mole on her right cheek. She wore a fancy dress that had seen better days, and her henna red hair had a will of its own refusing to lie down or stay under several silver combs.

  "This gentleman says he wants to see you," the hostess said and stepped back.

  "I'm looking for Sully, law business. Best if you just tell me what number room he's in so I don't have to kick in all the doors upstairs. You understand."

  "You're not the sheriff," she said.

  Spur pulled out his identification card and badge and showed them to her. He gave her time to read them.

  She nodded. "Don't hanker to have no trouble with the United States Government. Donna, look at your schedule and give the gentleman Sully's room number. You go up and pave the way so we don't have any trouble, and don't make a scene."