“What about that?”
“Yeah,” Virgil said, “there’s some folks hereabout want me to be constable. I’m not sure I wanna wear a badge again.”
“Yeah, I heard the same thing from Wyatt,” Clint said.
“Tombstone is still too fresh in our minds, I guess,” Virgil said. “I can still hear Morgan’s voice, ya know?”
“I understand.”
They walked past the little saloon Clint had already had a beer in.
“I had a beer in there,” Clint said.
“Small place,” Virgil said. “Not bad for just one beer. You’ll like the Gem better.”
“What’s this about no whorehouses?”
“That’s the way the prominent citizens of Colton want it,” Virgil said. “I’ll tell you what we do have, though. We got three newspapers, a telegraph, a Wells Fargo office, three hotels, two banks, churches and schools and cemeteries. And we got some telephones.”
“What’s the population?”
“About two thousand. Here’s the Gem.”
They crossed the street to a good-sized saloon with the word “GEM” above the door.
FOUR
The Gem Saloon was large, with many tables for both drinking and gambling.
“They’ve outlawed prostitution but not gambling?” Clint asked.
“I’m sure they’re workin’ on it,” Virgil said. “Come on.”
Virgil led the way to the bar, where a young man was tending.
“Hey, Mr. Earp,” the man said.
“I told you, Billy,” Virgil said, “it’s just Virgil. Is my father around?”
“In the office, as usual, Mr. Ea—I mean, Virgil.”
“Billy Kane, meet my friend, Clint Adams. Get us two beers, will ya?”
But the young man didn’t seem to hear Virgil’s order. He was staring at Clint.
“Adams?” he asked.
“Beer,” Virgil said, lightly slapping the young man’s cheek. “Pronto. And one for my father.”
“Y-yessir.”
Billy set three mugs of beer on the bar top nervously. Clint picked up two because, with his damaged arm, Virgil could only handle one.
Virgil tapped on the office door with his beer mug, and it was opened from the inside by Nick Earp.
“What the hell—” he said, then saw Clint. “Is that Adams?”
“It sure is,” Virgil said, entering the office.
“And I’ve got something for you,” Clint said, handing the older man a full mug.
With one hand each free they shook.
“Come on in and set down, boy,” Nick said. “Whataya think of my operation?”
“Looks good,” Clint said. “Always this dead this time of day?”
“Pretty much,” Nick said, sitting behind his desk—a bigger and better desk than his son had in his office.
“I guess you’re lucky you’re one of the places with a license to sell liquor.”
“Luck had nothin’ to do with it,” Nick said. “You gotta pay the right people.”
“The respectable ladies of Colton think decisions are bein’ made for the right reasons,” Virgil said. “But it’s the same old story. Money talks.”
“So then, there have to be some whorehouses somewhere,” Clint said.
“Oh, they’re here,” Nick said. “Are you interested in findin’ one?”
“No,” Clint said, “I’m just curious.”
“You just passin’ through, Adams?”
“Clint was in San Diego with Wyatt,” Virgil said.
“How’s the boy doin’?” Nick asked. “Still thinkin’ about Tombstone?”
“Yep, still,” Clint said. “Tombstone and Morgan. He’s havin’ a hard time dealin’ with Morgan’s death.”
“Yeah, well, we all are,” Nick said, “but ya gotta keep movin’ forward.”
“Oh, he will,” Clint said. “It’s just gonna take some time.”
“Well, if you’re lookin’ for booze, girls, or poker, you let me know,” Nick said. “If I can’t provide it, I know who can.”
“I appreciate it, Nick.”
“What about you, Virg?” Nick asked. “Any clients?”
“Not a one,” Virgil said.
“Maybe you should think again about that constable job.”
“Yeah,” Virgil said, standing, “I’ll give it some thought.”
Clint stood, shook hands with Nick Earp, and walked out with Virgil. They went back to stand at the bar and finish their beers.
“Sounds like Nick wants you to take that job,” Clint said.
“Yeah, and he’s thinkin’ about runnin’ for justice of the peace.”
“He’s not happy with the Gem?”
“Yeah, he’s real happy,” Virgil said, “but Nick’s always lookin’ to get happier. You wanna go and see James?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Maybe he’s got a room,” Virgil said. “We can get you out of the hotel, save you some money.”
“What’s James doing running a boardinghouse?” Clint asked.
“He don’t wanna wear a badge, neither,” Virgil said. “I tried to get him to come in with me, but he says bein’ a detective is too close to bein’ a lawman. And he don’t wanna work with Nick. That would drive any of us crazy.”
They finished their beers and set the empty mugs down on the bar.
“Come on,” Virgil said. “James’s house is at the end of K Street.”
FIVE
When they reached the end of K Street, Clint saw that James Earp’s boardinghouse was the biggest house on a residential block. He hoped he would not be insulting the Earps if he turned down a room, but he preferred to be closer to where the action and activity were.
They mounted the front steps and Virgil stopped to knock. The woman who answered the door was in her thirties, and Clint didn’t know where to look first, her beautiful, full-lipped face, her long luxurious black hair, or her obviously lavish body.
“Hello, Kate,” Virgil said.
“Hi, Virgil. What brings you here? Allie kick you out and you need a room?”
She had a deep voice that reached all the way down deep inside Clint, who felt he was lost in three different ways now.
“I’m lookin’ for James, Kate,” Virgil said. “A friend of ours came into town today.”
“Well, I think your brother is in the back, in his office,” she said. She looked past Virgil at Clint, gave him a frank appraisal. “Is this your friend?”
“It is. Kate Violet, meet Clint Adams.”
“The Gunsmith?” she asked. “That Clint Adams?”
“That’s the only one I know,” Virgil said.
She reached past Virgil to shake hands with Clint. She had a firm grip.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she said. “I knew when I started working for the Earps that I might end up meeting some famous friends of theirs.”
“Really? How many have you met?”
“Actually, you’re my first. Please, gentlemen, do come in.”
Virgil and Clint entered and Kate led them through a comfortably furnished sitting room to the office in back of the house.
“Just down the hall,” she said. “I’ll leave you gents to it.”
Both men watched her walk away.
“She’s a little old for your brother,” Clint said.
“Nothin’ goin’ on there,” Virgil assured him. “Bessie would cut it off. But I gotta warn you. A lot of men have tried.”
“I don’t have much choice,” Clint said. “That’s quite a woman.”
“Come on,” Virgil said. “Maybe little brother can give you a hint.”
They walked down the hall and entered the office. James Earp smiled broadly and stood up, sticking out his hand.
“I heard you were in town.”
“How’d you hear that?” Clint asked.
James pointed to his wall, and Clint saw the telephone there.
“Nick’s got one, too, only you can
’t see it in his office.”
Clint thought this was the first time his presence had ever been announced by telephone.
Virgil once again explained that Clint was passing through after having spent some time with Wyatt in San Diego.
“This ain’t exactly on the way,” James said.
“It would be a little bit of a detour if I was actually going someplace, but I’m not.”
“How long you gonna be here for? You’ll have to come to supper.”
“A couple of days, I guess.”
“I’ll tell Bessie to plan a big meal. Virg, you and Allie will come, too.”
“What are you up to here?” Virgil asked.
“Paperwork,” James said. “Worst part of runnin’ a business.”
“You sound like Nick,” Virgil said.
“I’m better at it than Nick is,” James said, “but not by much.”
“How’s business?” Clint asked.
“We’re about half-full. You want a room? On the house?”
“I guess that depends.”
“On what?”
“Clint saw Kate.”
“Oh boy,” James said.
“Does she clean rooms?” Clint asked.
“Not hardly,” James said. “Kate’s my partner.”
“Bessie let you be partners with a woman who looks like that?”
“Kate and Bessie were friends first,” James said. “We became partners later.”
“Well, I don’t think your partner’s going to like you giving out free rooms, so I think I’ll stay at the hotel.”
“Closer to the action, huh? What there is of it. Colton’s not exactly wide open.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“We’ll let you get back to your paperwork, little brother,” Virgil said.
“Have Allie talk to Bessie about supper,” James said. “Probably tomorrow night.”
“Sounds good,” Clint said. “See you then.”
Virgil slapped his brother on the back and then led the way back up the hall to the sitting room. Kate Violet was sitting there.
“James tell you I don’t clean rooms?” she asked Clint.
“He told me,” Clint said. “How’d you know?”
“It’s what most people think,” she said. “Don’t feel bad about it.”
“I do,” he said. “I’d like to make it up to you.”
“How?”
“James just invited me to supper tomorrow night,” he said. “Virg and Allie will be there, which makes me the fifth person. Would you come with me and even it out?”
She stood up, smiled, and put out her hand.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Adams.”
He shook her hand. She turned and started to walk away.
“Is that a yes?” Clint asked.
She turned, smiled, and said, “I’ll see you there.”
SIX
Clint walked Virgil back to his office, and as they passed the hardware store the owner came running out.
“You have a client,” he told Virgil.
“What?”
“A client, somebody who wants to hire you.”
“Where?”
“I let them into your office.”
“You did what?”
“I didn’t want them to get away!” the man said, obviously thinking about his rent.
“So whoever it is, they’re alone in my office?” Virgil said.
“Why? You got valuable stuff in there?” the owner asked.
Virgil shut his mouth, because the man had a point. What were they going to do, steal his desk?
“Okay, Mr. Daley, thanks,” Virgil said.
“Maybe I’ll get my two months’ back rent sometime soon?” the man asked.
Virgil waved.
“I’ll leave you to your business,” Clint said.
“You got somethin’ else to do?” Virgil asked.
“Well, no—”
“Come on up and hear what they have to say,” Virgil said. “I’ll introduce you as one of my operatives.”
“Okay,” Clint said, realizing that allowing Virgil to do that would impress the client. It wasn’t too much to ask of him.
They went up the stairs and Virgil opened the door. A young woman leaped to her feet and turned to face them nervously.
“Are you . . . the detective?” she asked, looking at them both.
“I am Virgil Earp,” Virgil said. “This is one of my operatives.”
“How do you do,” she said. “My name is Sally Quest. I would like you to find my sister.”
“Have a seat, Miss Quest,” Virgil invited. He walked around behind his desk and sat down. Clint stood off to one side, just behind the girl, so that she couldn’t see him without craning her neck.
“Tell me about your sister,” Virgil said.
“W-we live—lived in Nevada, in a mining camp, but she got tired of it and came to Northern California. I stayed behind, but after Pa died I decided to come and look for her.”
“What’s your sister’s name?”
“Well, her name is Maybelle, but she told me she was gonna change it when she got to California.”
“Change it to what?”
“She didn’t tell me,” Sally said. “She said she hadn’t made up her mind yet.”
“Did she write to you when she got to California?” Virgil asked.
“No,” Sally said, “she said she would, but she never did. That’s why I’m afraid somethin’ has happened to her. If she was all right she would have written.”
“How long ago did she come to California?”
“Oh, it’s been . . . months,” she said. “Almost a year, in fact.”
“Excuse me,” Clint said, “but do you even know that she got to California?”
She turned in her chair to look at him, so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck. He noticed she had a very pretty, fresh face. He guessed her to be about twenty years old.
“Well, no, I don’t. As I said, I never heard from her. You think somethin’ happened to her before she even got here?”
“I was just asking a question, miss,” Clint said. “We need as much information as we can get.”
“I see.” She turned back to Virgil. “Do you usually allow your operatives to interrupt?”
Clint smiled at Virgil behind the girl’s back.
“When they ask good questions, yes,” Virgil said. “It’s possible my operative might end up workin’ on this for me.”
“Oh, my, no,” she said. “You are the Virgil Earp who is related to Wyatt Earp, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Well, then, I want you to work on this personally,” she said. “Money is no object. I’ll pay whatever you want.”
“Do you, uh, have money, Miss Quest?”
“Oh, my yes, lots,” she said. “Between when Maybelle left and Papa died the mine came in. Silver. Lots and lots of it.”
“Lots?” Virgil asked.
“Oh, my yes,” she said, again. “I have loads of money, Mr. Earp. In fact, I’m quite rich.”
SEVEN
Virgil got a description of Sally’s sister from her, wrote it down, and then they agreed on a fee.
“Will cash be all right?” she asked, opening the small purse she was carrying. It seemed that all that was in it was money. She pulled out a thick sheaf of bills and started counting them, laying them on the desk.
“Uh, that’s enough,” Virgil said, reaching out and pulling the bills to him. “I won’t need more than that to get started.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he said. “Put the rest away.”
She did.
“You shouldn’t be carrying that much cash around with you,” Clint said.
“I don’t believe in checks,” she said, “or banks, for that matter, but Jason makes me use banks.”
“Who is Jason?”
“Hmm? Oh, Jason Biggs, he’s my lawyer . . . and he wants to marry me.”
“O
h,” Virgil said, “that’s nice.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“No, it’s not. He’s too old for me. He must be . . . thirty-five.”
“Ancient,” Virgil said, exchanging a look with Clint.
“I have taken a room at the Hotel Compton,” she said, standing up. “I’ll expect you to bring me any news.”
“This could take a while, Miss Quest,” Virgil said.
“I don’t care,” she told him. “As I told you, money is no object.”
She turned, stopped when she saw Clint standing there, and said, “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“And you, miss,” Clint said.
She moved to the door with purposeful strides and left the office.
“That’s quite a young girl,” Clint said, taking her seat.
“Quite a young girl with lots of money,” Virgil said, fingering the bills on his desk. “I think I’ll go give my landlord at least one month of his back rent.” He pushed his chair back.
“Why not both?” Clint asked.
“I don’t wanna spoil him.”
They went downstairs and gave the landlord his money, and then Virgil offered to buy Clint a steak.
“It’s a little early for supper, isn’t it?” Clint asked.
“Never too early for a good steak,” Virgil said, “and I found a place that cooks ‘em just right.”
“Talked me into it,” Clint said.
Virgil led Clint to a small café, where the middle-aged waiter greeted him by name, with a big smile.
“Meet my friend Clint, Jerry,” Virgil said. “I told him about your steaks, so we need two of ‘em, and don’t make me look bad.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Earp,” Jerry said.
As Jerry walked away, Virgil said, “Jerry’s the waiter and the cook.”
“How’s his coffee?” Clint asked.
“Just tell him how you like it, and that’s what you’ll get. Oh, shit, you still drink that strong, black trail crap, right?”
“Strong as I can get it.”
“We’ll get two pots,” Virgil said. “Jerry don’t have a license to serve beer.”
“You know,” Clint said, as they waited for their food, “I was wondering something about your new client.”
“Like how much money she really has?”
“No,” Clint said, “like if her sister was heading for Northern California, why did she pick Colton to come and find a detective?”
Virgil Earp, Private Detective Page 2
