“It wouldn’t be smart to kill a lawman.”
“Maybe he’d make it look like an accident.”
“Come on,” Clint said, “I’ll buy you a beer.”
They went into the bar and found it practically empty at that time of the day.
“Two beers,” Clint told the bartender.
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay,” Clint said to Callahan. “Just because the girl was found in an alley next to a building owned by Barrett doesn’t mean he had anything to do with killing her.”
“Agreed,” Callahan said, “but on the other hand, he wasn’t very cooperative.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“And Randy is still tailin’ us—you.”
“That’s okay,” Clint said. “We may have some use for Randy again.”
The bartender brought their beers and they went to a back table.
“Is it true that the gunmen of the old West always sat with their backs to the wall after Wild Bill Hickok was killed?”
“Let’s just say it’s smart to sit where you can see the entire room.”
“Much like you are now?”
“Exactly.”
Callahan moved his shoulders, then adjusted his jacket.
“You’ll get used to it,” Clint said.
“What?”
“The bigger gun. It’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t know,” Callahan said. “Maybe I should just wear it on my hip, like you do.”
“Have you ever worn a gun and hip holster?”
“Years ago,” Callahan said. “I wasn’t very good with it.”
“Stick to the shoulder rig then,” Clint said. “Go back to your smaller gun after I leave town.”
“Like you said,” Callahan responded, hitching his shoulders again, “I’ll get used to it.”
They sipped their beer in silence for a few moments, and then Callahan said, “What do we do now? I need to make something happen.”
“So do I,” Clint said. “I’m still trying to find my friend. I only hope he’s alive.” Then he decided to tell Callahan something he hadn’t told him yet. “Charlie, do you know a woman named Amanda Tate?”
Callahan sat up straight.
“What do you know about Amanda Tate?”
“I met her the same day I met Julie,” Clint said.
“Under what circumstances?”
“Much the same.”
“You mean . . .”
“She stuck a gun in my face.”
“So she’s looking for this . . . whatsit, too?”
“Apparently. Who is she?”
“She runs with a man named Ben Avery.”
“And who is Ben Avery?”
“He’s what Victor Barrett was a few years ago,” Callahan said. “He hopes to compete with Barrett someday soon.”
“Do you know where to find Ben Avery?”
“I do,” the young inspector said, “but tell me more about you and Amanda first.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Did she know the other girl? Julie?”
“I think she may have.”
“And your friend?” Callahan asked. “Singleton? Did she know him?”
“She claims she did.”
Callahan digested the information for a few moments before speaking again.
“Have you checked hospitals for your friend?” he asked.
“No,” Clint said. “Couldn’t quite bring myself to do that, yet.”
“If he’s been involved with Victor Barrett and Ben Avery,” Callahan said, “I think it may be time.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Ben Avery may have wanted to compete with Victor Barrett, but he didn’t want to live on the docks. Instead, according to Callahan, he lived and operated out of a hotel on K Street.
But they didn’t want Barrett’s man, Randy, following them there.
“You get us a cab out front,” Clint told Callahan while they were still in his hotel, “and I’ll get rid of Randy.”
“Get rid of—” Callahan said. “You’re not gonna—”
“No, I’m not going to kill him,” Clint said. “You can’t believe all the stories you hear, Charlie.”
“Sorry,” Callahan said, “I didn’t mean—”
“Forget it, kid,” Clint said. “Come on, get that cab and I’ll join you in a minute.”
They went out the front door together. Callahan stopped to wave down a cab while Clint crossed the street and approached an apprehensive-looking Randy, who put both his hands up.
“Wait, wait . . .”
“Randy,” Clint said, handing him some money, “go into my hotel and wait in the bar.”
“Huh?”
“Buy some drinks and wait. We’ll be back soon.”
“B-but—”
“Look, I’m keeping you out of trouble,” Clint said. “I don’t want you to follow us, and if you have to tell your boss you lost us, he won’t like it. Right?”
“Uh, yeah, r-right.” He still looked confused.
“So go into my hotel, have some drinks, and wait. We’ll be back.”
“Well . . . o-okay,” Randy finally said. “I guess that’s okay.”
“Sure it is. Come on.”
Clint walked Randy across the street and into the hotel, then joined Callahan in the cab.
“What’d you do?”
Clint explained.
“That was . . . brilliant.”
“I know,” Clint said. “Did you tell the driver where we’re going?”
“Yep. Drive on, driver!”
The driver snapped his reins and the cab started moving.
When they reached the residential hotel where Ben Avery lived, they had to present themselves to a doorman who looked—and talked—like an ex-fighter.
“State yer business,” he said.
“This is my business,” Callahan said, showing his badge.
“And him?”
“He’s with me.”
“I gotta go up and announce ya.”
“Then do it,” Callahan said. “We’ll wait.”
The doorman nodded, then went up the stairs to the second floor.
“Get that,” Avery told one of his men. There were two in the room, Daly and Gomes, and both were armed. Amanda was there, but she was in the bedroom.
Gomes went to the door and opened it.
“It’s the doorman, Boss.”
Avery didn’t look up from his desk.
“What’s he want?”
“He says there are two policemen downstairs to see you.”
Avery looked up. “Where are they?”
“In front of the hotel.”
“Not inside?”
Gomes asked. “No, out front.”
Avery got up and went to his window. He opened it and peered out and down. One man looked like a policeman, one didn’t. In fact, one looked like—
“Daly, get Amanda.”
“She might not be dressed, Boss.”
“I don’t care. Get her out here.”
“Sure, Boss.”
Daly went to the bedroom, let himself in and was greeted by a shriek. Moments later he came out with Amanda, who was trying to tie a robe around herself. One big breast was in full view, pink nipple and all, and she hurriedly buried it.
“What the hell—”
“Shut up and come here,” Avery hissed.
She knew that tone. She joined him at the window.
“What?”
“Look down there.”
She looked.
“Two men,” she said.
“Look again.”
She sighed, looked again, then stared hard. “What the—”
“Who is that?”
“I don’t know who the bowler hat is,” she said, looking at him, “but the other one is Clint Adams.”
“The bowler hat is a policeman,” he said, closing the window. “Okay, you go in the bedroom, and stay there.”
>
She hurried to do that.
“Daly, tell the doorman to let them up.”
“Okay, Boss.”
“Gomes,” he said, “you stand in that corner and watch them the whole time.”
“Should I take out my gun—”
“Not unless I tell you to. Daly, you let them in and then stand in that corner. Same thing. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t know what these fellas want,” Avery said, “but if I say the word, they’re dead. Not before. You got it?”
“We got it, Boss,” Daly said, and Gomes nodded.
Avery went around behind his desk and waited to greet his visitors.
TWENTY-SIX
The doorman let them go up and stayed behind. The stairway to the second floor was narrow, and Clint realized that if this was an ambush they were as good as dead. Luckily, they made it to the top of the stairs without incident.
At the top they encountered another man, built along the lines of the doorman.
“You got guns?” He looked pointedly at the gun on Clint’s hip, then looked at Callahan, who pulled back his jacket to show his.
“And we’re keeping them,” Clint said.
The man gave him a hard look, but finally stepped aside to allow them to enter. Clint immediately detected the scent of Amanda’s perfume in the air, but she was nowhere in sight.
There was a desk at the far end of the room, and a man seated behind it. Around the room were several pieces of expensive furniture, but there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to how they were situated.
Clint noticed one bodyguard type standing in one corner with his big hands clasped before him, and the man from the stairs moved to another corner. Now they were in position for a crossfire.
As they approached the desk, Clint made sure to bump into Callahan, pushing him farther away from him. The younger man took the hint and moved until they were several feet apart by the time they reached the desk.
“Ben Avery,” Callahan said, showing his badge, “I’m Inspector Callahan.”
“Inspector,” Avery said. “Who’s your friend?”
“His name is Clint Adams.” Callahan didn’t explain any further.
Avery looked at Clint. The man was clean-shaven, young-looking, maybe twenty-six. It was surprising that he was in a position of such power—if, indeed, he wielded any power outside this room.
“I’ve heard of you,” he said. “Your legend precedes you. It’s an honor.”
Clint just nodded at the compliment and waited for Callahan to speak.
“Mr. Avery, do you know a girl named Julie Silver?” the inspector asked.
“Julie Silver?” Avery stopped to think a moment. Clint knew what he was going to say before he said it, and thought that Ben Avery was possibly the worst liar he’d ever met.
“No, I can’t say I do.”
“And Amanda Tate?” Clint asked.
“Amanda? Sure, I know Amanda. Why? Is she all right?” he asked.
“As far as I know,” Clint said. “But, see, Amanda knew Julie, so I think it would make sense that you knew her, too.”
“Knew her?”
“She’s dead,” Callahan said. “Murdered two nights ago.”
Avery looked surprised, and Clint believed that the man had not known that.
“That’s . . . terrible.”
“Shot twice and left in an alley next to a building owned by Victor Barrett.”
“Victor? Well, there’s your answer. Why aren’t you askin’ Victor if he knew her? Or killed her?”
“We did ask him,” Callahan said. “He claims not to have known her.”
“So why come to me?”
“Amanda,” Clint said.
Avery looked at Clint.
“If Amanda knew her, talk to Amanda. That doesn’t mean I knew her.”
“Amanda was here today,” Clint said. “I can smell her perfume.”
“You have a real good nose,” Avery said. “Yeah, she was here, but now she’s not.” He turned his attention to the policeman. “Are you here to arrest me?”
“No, sir,” Callahan said. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions.”
Clint saw Avery look at his two men, and felt them relax. Somehow he’d sent them a message to “stand down.” He might have felt he was in danger from Clint and Callahan when they first arrived, but he didn’t anymore. And he was lying about Amanda. She was probably in another room.
“Have I answered them?”
“Yes, you have.”
“Then I guess we’re done here.”
Callahan looked at Clint, who nodded slightly.
“All right, then,” Callahan said. “Thanks for your time.”
“No problem.”
“We can find our way out,” Clint said.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Adams.” Avery stood and shook hands with Clint, then clasped his hands in front of him before Callahan could think he was going to do the same.
Clint and Callahan turned and went back down the tight hallway stairs.
TWENTY-SEVEN
When they got outside in front of the building, Callahan said, “I had more questions.”
“We found out what we needed to know.”
“And what was that?”
“He knew the girl.”
“How could you tell that?”
“He was lying.”
“And how could you tell that?” Callahan asked, frustrated.
“Because he is very, very bad at it,” Clint said.
“What exactly did he lie about?”
“He lied about knowing Julie Silver, and he lied about knowing where Amanda was.”
“What about killing the girl?”
“No,” Clint said, “he didn’t do it, and before you ask me how I knew that—he was surprised that she was dead.”
“Yeah,” Callahan said, “I thought that, too.”
“You just have to learn how to read people Charlie,” Clint said.
“Okay,” Callahan said, “so if he knows where Amanda is, where is she?”
“My guess is she’s still up there.”
“So now we watch?”
Clint turned and looked at the doorman, who was eyeing them suspiciously.
“So now we find a place to watch from,” Clint said, grabbing Callahan’s arm.
When Amanda came out of the bedroom, she was dressed.
“You two,” Avery said to his men, “out.”
Without a word they left.
“Did you know Julie was dead?” he demanded.
“No, lover,” she said, “but I don’t mind a bit that she is.”
“Damn it, Amanda.”
She came up behind him and wrapped her hands around his chest, leaning her breasts against the back of his neck.
“It was just an infatuation, darling,” she told him in his ear.
“You had her killed, didn’t you?” he demanded.
“How could I do that, Ben?” she asked. “Everyone knows you’re the boss.”
He lifted her hands off him and stood up, turning to face her.
“Are you going to hit me now?”
“I should,” he said. “I should give you a beatin’.”
“If you do that,” she said, chuckling, “you know what will happen. We’ll end up in bed, fucking our brains out. That girl, that Julie, she would never have understood that kind of passion.”
“She might have learned.”
“Not that one,” Amanda said. “She was a straight arrow.”
He stood there, almost pouting. She walked up to him and took his face in her hands.
“Believe me, Ben,” she said, “she wasn’t for you.”
“You didn’t kill her?”
“No.”
“Because if I thought you did—”
“But I didn’t.” She kissed him shortly on the mouth. “Now, I have to go and run some errands, sugar, but when I come back, Mama wants to fuck. Okay
?”
When she kissed him this time, she sucked his tongue into her mouth and slid one hand down between them to feel his hardness through his trousers.
“Oh yes,” she said, petting him, “when I come back, you’ll forget all about Julie Silver.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Clint and Callahan had barely secured a spot across the street when Amanda came walking out the front of the building. She said something to the doorman, who almost bowed to her, then followed her progress with a hungry look as she walked down the street.
They were lucky she didn’t wave down a cab, because at that moment only one went by. They would not have been able to follow.
“Let’s go,” Clint said.
“Stay on this side of the street, Clint,” Callahan told him.
“I know how to follow somebody, Callahan,” Clint told him.
“Yeah, but this is the city.”
“I’ve been to cities before,” Clint said. “Come on, we don’t want to lose her.”
“Are we hoping she’ll lead us to the killer?” Callahan asked.
“Or to Ted Singleton.”
“They might be one and the same,” Callahan said.
“I sure hope not.”
Ben Avery watched from his window as Amanda Tate went walking up the street at a brisk pace. Their relationship was confusing to him. The sex was amazing, even though she was almost fifteen years older than he was. And she was an excellent confidante and adviser to him as he tried to build his business into something that would compete with Victor Barrett. But somehow, he felt there was a barrier between them. She’d flown into a rage when she found out he was attracted to Julie Silver, who was closer to his age. He couldn’t be sure, but he was afraid that she’d had Julie killed, and if she did, she’d used one of his men to do it. That meant she was undermining his authority and using his men—at least one of them—behind his back.
Avery had been thinking lately that it might be time to break away from Amanda Tate. And if she had, indeed, orchestrated Julie’s death, he knew just how he was going to do it.
That was why when he saw Clint Adams and Inspector Callahan follow her up the street, he simply turned and walked to his desk.
Amanda’s pace was quick, as if she knew where she was going and was in a hurry to get there. And where she was going was literally only a few blocks away and around a corner and then she was there. A hotel.
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