Longarm 241: Longarm and the Colorado Counterfeiter (18 page)

Longarm had to have some lever, some come-a-long to make him reveal the hiding place of his counterfeiting operation. But he was afraid he was going to have to bide his time. That was exactly what he didn't want to do. He was sick of this place, sick of this ranch, sick of this house, and most of all, sick of this job that wasn't his to do. It wasn't in his line. He chased bank robbers, he chased rustlers, he chased murderers, he chased men who were used to a fight. This little fool across the table from him was just a kid on a sugar tit.

Longarm glared at Vernon Ashton as he thought. The whiskey wasn't going to help the pain very much. It would help a little, but not much. But besides that, it was just brandy. It didn't pack the wallop of that good Maryland whiskey he had back at the hotel.

Just as he was muttering about what he was going to do, he became aware of the faint knocking at the door again. He whirled around, uncertain of what he'd heard. The knocking came again.

It was hard for him to believe. The only thing he could think of was that it was that damned girl again. Would she never stop and leave him alone again until this whole business was over? If she would do that, he'd be more than happy to give her what she wanted.

The continued knocking irritated him. He jerked out his pistol and yelled, “Come in, damn it! Come in.”

The door was just slightly ajar. Someone gave it a faint push, and it swung wide open. But instead of the girl or anyone else that Longarm was going to use his pistol on, there stood the short, slightly fat Chinese man in his white coat and little black hat, with a pigtail coming out from beneath that. He had his hands folded over his round belly, and he bowed several times before he spoke.

The Chinese man said, “So sorry. Think maybe you need some one little thing.”

Longarm just stared at him. “What?”

“Think you catch some good eats. Fix you some good meal? Okay? For you and boss?”

It should have been obvious to the man, Longarm thought, that his boss was laying face-down on the small rosewood table with his right hand all bandaged up in his own silk scarf. But the man didn't seem to get it. Longarm said, “You want to fix us some food?”

The Chinese man nodded his head. “Yes, me fix food. Catch good meal.”

Longarm scratched his head. He wasn't at all hungry, but a thought had occured to him. “You savvy laudanum? White stuff in little bottle?”

The little man nodded his head vigorously. “Ah ... soo... Yes, me catch laudrum for bad hurt. Yes, me catch.”

Longarm said, glancing around at Vernon Ashton, “Then chop, chop. Bring it back here. Chop, chop.”

The little man went shuffling off, his slippers making very little sound on the carpeted floor of the library. Longarm was doubtful that he really understood about the laudanum, but if he could produce some, it would go a long way toward helping him with Vernon Ashton.

He looked over at his suspect. Ashton was beginning to groan and move his head slightly. In another moment or two, the man would be fully conscious and yelling his head off about what remained of his little finger. It was going to be very difficult to get him to talk while he was hurting so bad. In preparation for his awakening, Longarm poured out a big drink of brandy in both glasses, one for himself and one for Ashton when he was awake enough to take it. But Longarm saw no reason to wait himself. It had already been a long enough night that he figured he had earned a drink or two. He put the glass to his lips and took it down in one long shot. It made a very satisfying glow as it ran down his gullet and spread around in his stomach. He poured his glass full again, watching Vernon Ashton, waiting for him to come awake. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarillo, and lit it with a match. It tasted very satisfying. Of course, what would have tasted even more satisfying was a steak and some fried eggs. He realized that maybe he was getting pretty hungry, but there would be no time until he got his hands on what he wanted.

To his surprise, the Chinese man was back before he expected. Vernon Ashton was moving around when Longarm noticed the houseboy come shuffling across the library, a small glass bottle in his hand. Longarm could even see that it was full of white liquid. In another moment, the little man came through the door.

Longarm said, “Let's see what you have there.” He put out his hand.

“Me catch laudrum,” the little man said. “Like you say. Laudrum for big hurt.”

Longarm took the bottle and turned it. Indeed it was labeled as laundanum, and was from a pharmacy. “Well, I believe you. Damn right, this is the real stuff.” He took the glass stopper out and smelled it. It smelled like what he remembered laudanum smelled like. “Very good. You did very good. What is your name?”

“My name is Lei Chang. I make meals, serve the boss. You want me to fix some things to eat?”

Longarm said, “No, you better wait outside. I still need to talk to Mr. Ashton. Just close the door after you when you leave.”

Longarm waited a moment until Lei Chang was out of the room and had pulled the door somewhat closed. He turned and poured a good dollop of the laudanum into the glass of brandy he had poured for Ashton. He thought if he could get it down the man, it would knock out the worst part of the pain.

Ashton sat up slowly and opened his eyes. He blinked for a second, looking around as if he wasn't quite certain where or who he was. There was an angry red blotch on his left jaw where Longarm had punched him to knock him out. With his left hand, he reached up and worked the jaw back and forth for a second, a wondering look in his eye. Then Vernon Ashton glanced down at his hand and saw the kerchief around his little finger. He blinked. He said, slurring his words, “Is that blood?”

Longarm put the drink right in front of the man, and said, “You're fixing to start hurting pretty bad here in a moment. You'd better drink this.”

For answer, Vernon Ashton suddenly let out a howl. He screamed, “My God, you've shot my finger off! You sonofabitch! My God, you've killed me! Oh, it hurts!”

Longarm pushed the drink closer to the man's left hand. He said, “Drink this quick.”

Vernon Ashton was rolling around in his own pain. He said, “Oh, hell, this hurts. You sonofabitch, you stuck my finger in your gun and shot it off.”

Little by little, Longarm was able to convince the man that if he would drink the mixture of brandy and laudanum down, he would feel better. Finally, with a trembling hand, Ashton got the glass up and drank off about a third of it.

Longarm urged him on. He half rose from his seat and put out his hand to support Ashton's wrist as he said, “Drink it all. It'll save you a lot of pain.”

With a trembling hand that spilled some of the mixture, Ashton got the glass to his lips again and finished it off. Immediately, Longarm poured the glass half full of brandy and put in a little more laudanum. He didn't know how much it was safe to take, but he was going to get this man out of his pain to where he could concentrate on where the counterfeiting paraphernalia was located if it killed him. He didn't want him distracted by a little thing like a shot-off finger.

Ashton's face was still full of pain, but it was clear that the mixture of alcohol and the potent drug was starting to take effect. He had ceased to moan and wail, and now he took the second glass down with a swift move. This time, Longarm refilled it with only brandy.

Vernon Ashton stared at Longarm. He said, “Didn't you show me a badge? Didn't you say you were a United States deputy marshal? A lawman?”

Longarm nodded slowly.

“Then what gives you the right to torture me like you just did? You're more outlaw than you are law.”

Longarm said, “Mr. Ashton, you made me just more than a little mad when you dismissed me out of here the other day and were going to have me shot just because I didn't measure up to your idea of what a horse trader was supposed to know. It happens that I am a horse trader, but I've never bred the kind of stock you were talking about, so if I'd really been some horse trader coming by here and not a man able to take care of himself, you'd have had your boys drag me up there in those rocks and leave me where the crows could pick the meat off my bones. Now, ain't that a fact?”

Ashton grimaced. Longarm couldn't tell if it was from the pain or from being faced with his own actions. The man said, “I had nothing to do with that. Early was the man who gave that order.”

Longarm looked at him dryly. “And who did Mr. Early work for?”

“That had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, I reckon we both know it had everything to do with it. You gave the order to Early. Or was it just a standing order? If you didn't like somebody, take the sonofabitch out and shoot him, is that it? Early is just the one that did the job so you didn't get your delicate little fingers soiled.”

“You wait until I tell them about you shooting off one of my fingers. You are going to be in big trouble.”

Longarm put his revolver back on the table. “Maybe all the shooting ain't done yet, Mr. Ashton. You've lost one finger. Do you want to try for two?”

Vernon Ashton cringed backward in his chair. “You wouldn't dare! You are a horrible beast! But even you wouldn't be that cruel. You couldn't do that again.”

Longarm smiled at him. “You just try me, Ashton. Now, you are going to show me where you've got this counterfeiting operation if I've got to take your fingers off one at a time.”

“You are acting illegally. You know it's illegal for you to even be here. You have no right here. You came on this property masquerading as something you're not. You never declared you were a lawman.”

Longarm took a drag on his cigarillo, which was still burning. He said, “Ashton, in your particular case, I don't plan on following none of the rules. I've got a personal feeling toward you that's even beyond my duties as a law officer. Now, you have defrauded an awful lot of innocent folks that can't afford to lose twenty dollars. The word I got from the boys in the Treasury Department was that a whole lot of folks had to turn in those phony twenty-dollar bills and they didn't get anything in return. And then there's that busines about you were going to kill me. I guess you can see that I'm just not real pleased with you. You might also see where it doesn't make me any difference how I have to operate to get your cooperation. Do you take my meaning? Now, how is it going to be? Do you want to get another finger in the wrong place, or do you want to show me where that operation is that you make that phony money?”

Ashton was full enough of the laudanum and brandy that he was getting whiskey-brave. He drew himself up and said, “You wouldn't dare.” By now, he was literally feeling no pain.

With a swift motion, Longarm shot out his left hand and grabbed Ashton's left hand. He pulled it toward the barrel of his revolver. He had Ashton almost flat on the table, his arm outstretched. He rammed the other small finger into the muzzle. Ashton screamed and began to sob and beg.

Longarm paid the man no mind. He worked the finger carefully in until it was just up to the middle knuckle. He'd take off a little more this time. He conveyed this impression to Ashton.

Ashton was crying and half screaming. “No, no, no. You can't do this. No!”

“Then show me where the money is.”

“There is none. You're mistaken. I don't counterfeit. You are wrong.”

“Ashton, I'm going to count to three, and I count by twos, and then you are going to lose this finger.” He pulled the hammer of his revolver back. It made that deadly
clitch-
clatch sound. He was careful, however, to keep his finger away from the trigger. He really did not want to shoot off part of Ashton's other finger. One could have been an accident. Two would have been a little harder to explain.

At that instant, the door opened and Lei Chang came in, bowing and nodding his head as he came. He said, “Very sorry... very sorry, mister. Me, Lei Chang, me catch where money is. You want me to catch you where monies are?”

The howl that came from Vernon Ashton was enough to convince Longarm that Lei Chang really knew where the counterfeiting operation was located. He said, over Ashton's howling, “Yes, Lei Chang, I would greatly appreciate it if you'd show me where I can catchey monies. Very interested in catchey monies. Make my boss feel much better if I catchey monies. You show?”

Vernon Ashton yelled, “No, you silly Chink! No, damn it!”

Longarm suddenly got up, pulling a bandana out of his pocket, and shoved it into the open mouth of Vernon Ashton. He turned to Lei Chang, whose eyes were still riveted to the revolver lying on the table with Vernon Ashton's finger in it. Longarm said, “Very good for your boss, you showing me where to catch monies. You savvy?”

Lei Chang backed out of the room, bowing and nodding. He said, “Yes, sir. Very good. Lei Chang show place where monies is.”

Longarm said, “I'll be right with you.”

He turned, sat down at the table, and carefully worked Ashton's finger out of the muzzle of his revolver. He said, “Now, this doesn't mean that we're through shooting your fingers off. If Lei Chang is leading me on a wild-goose chase, we're going to come right back up here and do this all over again. Only this time, I ain't going to be so slow about waiting for you to answer. Do you understand?”

Ashton looked at him with vicious hatred in his eyes. He couldn't speak with the bandana shoved in his mouth, and he was afraid to reach up with his free hand and remove it. Finally, Longarm reached out and jerked the handkerchief out of his mouth, and then shoved it back in his pocket. He said, “Do you understand me, Ashton? Don't try and stop Lei Chang from showing me. I'll tell you the truth, it's for your own good. I have no plans to do anything but to make you hurt until you show me what I want to see. Understand?”