Longarm #399 : Longarm and the Grand Canyon Murders (9781101554401) (13 page)

“Could I have that bottle back, sir?”

“Certainly. After all, you paid for it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“With the money you took off your dead cousin’s body before you covered him up out in some ravine.”

“Carl would have done the same to me. And what would be the point of leavin’ money on a dead man who couldn’t spend it?”

“I see your logic, Al. But now we have a big problem.”

“I can take care of my problems,” Al blurted. “I won’t bring you any grief, and I won’t hold it against your man there for nearly drownin’ me. Honest I won’t.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, sir!”

Virden blew another smoke ring in Al’s face, and then he stood up and walked around the room a few times, head bowed in thought. Al’s heart was really hammering now, and when he looked into Seth’s eyes, he saw nothing. No pity, no understanding, no nothing—the same as when you looked into a varmint’s cold eyes.

The bath was warm, but Al suddenly shivered.

“Sir, I will do whatever you ask me for very little pay.”

“Oh, I know that,” Virden said. “Did you come here to kill the marshal out of revenge for the way he beat your cousin?”

“No, sir.”

“I’m very glad you said that, because I know that was an honest statement.”

“But I
would
kill the marshal, if you asked.”

“But you’ve already failed once.”

“It was Carl that messed things up back at that gap between the hills! Not me.”

Virden stopped his pacing. “I would like the marshal…finished off. It would take care of a big problem for me. Much better if you did it instead of Seth, but either way, I…”

“I’ll do it! I’ll even do it tonight if you want.”

“And exactly how would you kill the marshal?”

“I’d creep into his room and stab the big bastard to death in the dark.”

“And what about his wife?”

“I’d do her too, if you wanted.”

“No,” Virden said, “I definitely wouldn’t want the woman killed.”

“Then I’d cover my face with a mask, kill the marshal, hit the woman in the head but not hard enough to put her under, and I’d run out. In the morning, I’d sit at your breakfast table, and no one would know I’d been the one that stabbed the marshal to death. No one at all.”

Frankie Virden looked to Seth. “It’s a plan. Simple, but it would probably work. What do you think, Seth?”

“Why not?”

Virden turned back to Al Hunt. “All right. I’ll give you a second chance to kill the marshal. But if you fail…”

The words left unsaid were enough to suddenly sober Al up as right as rain.

“Give me that bottle,” Virden ordered.

“I ain’t had enough yet.”

“Yes, you have. Do the job right this night and I’ll see
that you have enough whiskey money to last you until New Year’s Eve.”

Al swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Dinner is at eight, and I expect you to be there clean, sober, and acting as respectable as you possibly can. But just eat and keep your dirty mouth shut at my table.”

“I will do that. Yes, sir. I surely will do that.”

Business over, Virden and Seth headed for the door, but after his boss had stepped into the hallway, Seth stopped and said, “Just one more question.”

“Why sure!”

“You feel bad about your cousin Carl dyin’?”

Al rubbed his face and stared into those cold fish-eyes. “Seth, we all got to die sooner or later. Reckon it was just poor Carl’s time.”

“Yeah, reckon it was,” came the quiet reply as the door closed and Al sank to his chin in the bathwater.

They were finishing dinner at the Rimrock Hotel, and it had not been a pleasant experience. The roasted sage grouse was tough and stringy and the potatoes only half-cooked. The only thing that had saved the meal was the large quantity of available wine, which was an outstanding Chablis.

Longarm had been trying to engage the new arrival in conversation, but without much luck. Still, as the dessert arrived, he tried once more. “So, Mr. Hunt, I understand that you have arrived here looking for work.”

Al Hunt nodded, remembering the warning that he should try to keep his mouth shut. Still, he couldn’t completely ignore a question for a United States marshal, could he?

“That’s right, Marshal. Looking for work.”

“On the river as a raftsman?”

Hunt glanced at Frankie, who was trying to hide a frown. “Well, Marshal, I’ll be an oarsman if that’s all that I can find. But I’m not real comfortable on the river. She’s a dangerous gal, she is. I’d much rather ride
a horse…or a woman….no offense, ladies…but that’s the gawd’s truth…than a river raft.”

“Yes,” Longarm said, “I’m sure that is very dangerous work. Have you ever rafted through the entire canyon?”

“No, and I don’t expect I ever will.”

Hunt sure wished that the marshal would focus his attention on someone else. Frankie Virden stepped in to divert the conversation. “Al is kind of a jack-of-all-trades. He’s a good cowboy and mustanger. He’s also worked in mines and at logging mills. Isn’t that right?”

“Yep.”

Longarm turned to the one called Seth. “And you do what?”

“I help Mr. Virden however he needs to be helped.”

Longarm studied the man, who was only a couple of years younger than himself. “What’s your background?”

“Is this some kind of interrogation?” Seth asked. “What interest could my life be to you?”

“Oh, I think it could be very interesting to me,” Longarm said, feeling the tension at the table rising. “I just like to know something about the people that I eat with. That’s all.”

Seth glanced at his boss, who said, “Seth doesn’t like to talk about himself, but I don’t think he’d mind if I told you that he came from Virginia City, Nevada, where he was in the saloon business.”

“Is that right,” Longarm said, tasting his apple pie and finding it to be better than expected. “I’ve been on the Comstock Lode a few times. Where did you work?”

“Bucket of Blood Saloon and the Silver Dollar.”

“Ah, yes. What a view out the back window of the Bucket of Blood.”

“It is if you like to look at cemeteries” was Seth’s cryptic reply.

“Virginia City is a wild mining town, although the boom has already come and gone.”

“Not completely,” Seth countered. “They’re still finding bodies of pure silver down deep under the town. The Ophir Mine and the Consolidated are still in business.”

Longarm nodded, satisfied that Seth was at least telling the truth about where he’d come from. “Were you a bartender at those big saloons?”

“I did whatever was needed, but mostly I was a bouncer.”

Seth was of average size and well built but didn’t fit the mold of a large and very physical bouncer. Former bouncers Longarm had known had fist-busted noses, and their hands were generally flat-knuckled, but Seth’s hands were almost delicate and his nose was thin and straight.

“So,” Frankie Virden said before Longarm could ask another question, “I suppose you and your wife will be leaving tomorrow for Lees Ferry and that murder investigation?”

“That’s right. Do you know anything about it?”

Virden shook his head. “Miss Blue and I came in from Flagstaff on the same stage with you. Remember?”

“Of course I remember. But you’ve been up here at your hotel off and on for months. I just thought you might have had a guest passing through who had some information that I’d find helpful…or that you and Miss Blue had been to Lees Ferry yourselves and heard all about those prominent missing tourists or the murders.”

“No, afraid not, Marshal,” Virden said, reaching for a cigar. “But I’m sure you’ll find out everything you need to know when you get there tomorrow afternoon. Are you feeling stronger?”

“Strong enough,” Longarm replied. He looked across the table at Al Hunt. “But like you, Al, I sure don’t want to go down that mighty river and over all those rapids.”

Hunt managed a smile and concentrated on his dessert. There was a maid that worked part-time in the kitchen, and although she was older and quite heavy, with a big mole on her chin that sprouted black hairs, he’d charmed her into bringing him a little something to drink in his room after dinner, and he was sure he could mount her for an extra dollar. The thing of it was that it was hard to think of mounting Shirley when right at this table sat two much younger and more beautiful women. But he still had hopes of getting between the legs of the marshal’s wife, and there was always Carrie Blue to think about.

“Well,” Carrie said, standing with a yawn, “I’m going to turn in for the night. It’s been a long day.”

“So early, my dear?” Virden asked with surprise.

“Yes, I’m really tired.”

“Very well. I’ll be along later. I might be able to work up a poker game with Mr. Potter and Marshal Long this evening.”

“Not me,” Potter said quickly. “We’ll be joining the marshal and his wife on their way down to Lees Ferry tomorrow. Going to be quite the experience, and we’ll need to be at our best.”

“I understand,” Virden said. “And what about you, Marshal?”

“I’m not up to a game of cards tonight. Maybe on the way out of the canyon, when we make our return visit.”

“Very well. Seth?”

“Sure,” Seth told his boss. “I’m in.”

“I’ll play a hand or two,” Al Hunt offered.

“Three it is then,” Virden said, not revealing his disappointment
until after his guests had excused themselves and gone to their rooms for the night.

“How’d I do?” Al Hunt asked when the three of them were alone.

“You did the best that you could. The marshal seemed especially interested in you, and I wonder if he suspects you might have been in on the ambush.”

“Not a chance!” Hunt said quickly. “And what does it matter when he’s going to be dead not long after midnight?”

“It doesn’t, I suppose.”

Hunt said, “I’ve been sleeping on the ground for the last few days, and I think I’ll go to bed now on a real mattress…if it’s all right with you, sir.”

Frankie Virden nodded. “Just don’t mess this up tonight. If you do…well, I think you know what will happen.”

Hunter gulped. “Yes, sir. Don’t worry. I’ll put a blade through the marshal’s gawdamn brisket. And I’ll just knock the woman out wearing a mask. It’s as good as done, Mr. Virden.”

“I hope so for
both
our sakes,” Frankie Virden replied.

Fifteen minutes later, Shirley knocked softly on Al Hunt’s door then tiptoed quietly into his room. She really was an ugly old horse, but she had a bottle in her hand, so Al didn’t care.

He reached for the bottle, but Shirley was quicker than expected and pulled back. “That’ll be two dollars, Al.”

He grumbled at the price but paid her. “Want to have a drink with me?”

“I really should get back to the kitchen,” Shirley told him. “But I wouldn’t mind a quick drink.”

“How about something
else
quick?” Al asked, taking a long pull on the bottle.

Shirley was missing all her upper front teeth so that when she giggled, she made a sound not unlike that of a kettle on the boil. “And what did you have in mind?”

“One dollar for one big poke in your ass,” Al said. “And I ain’t in the mood for dickering.”

“Two dollars and you can poke it in
all
my holes,” she said, grabbing the bottle out of his hands and taking a long pull. “What’s it to be?”

Al Hunt clucked his tongue and turned down the light. He unbuttoned his pants, pulled out his manhood, and said, “All right, you fat old pile, get down on your knees and earn your money.”

Shirley dropped down on her knees with such force that the floorboards shook under Al’s bare feet. But she knew what she was doing, and as Al stood wide-legged, it seemed that the gap in her mouth caused by all those missing teeth made things pretty interesting. Al had planned to take her in the ass next, but Shirley was so surprisingly good on her knees that he grabbed her head and lost his seed in a hot, humping rush.

“Worth it?” she asked, laboring to stand and spitting into his chamber pot.

“Yeah, it was worth it.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen until midnight if you want seconds, honey.”

“Get out of here.”

“Then maybe tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” Al heard himself say as he ushered her out into the lamplit hallway.

It was after midnight. Shirley was long gone and so was most of the whiskey she’d spirited into his room, but Al wasn’t worrying. He lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling with a smile plastered on his face. The candlelight
did a shadowy dance over his head, and he felt good and ready for what was next. Frankie had given him a large and very sharp butcher knife from the hotel’s kitchen, and he had a mask that would hide his identity. Now all that was left was to kill the bottle and then go down and finish the job that he and poor cousin Carl had botched.

Come morning, he’d be sleeping in, but all hell would be going on elsewhere inside the Rimrock Hotel when people discovered that the rich woman had been beaten into unconsciousness and that the federal marshal was sprouting a large knife from the middle of his chest.

Heidi and Longarm lay side by side in their hotel room bed, and although Longarm had been weakened, he was not without desire.

“Are you sure?” Heidi whispered.

“Positive.”

“All right, but you need your rest, and with your wound I think that I’ll do the physical part.”

“It’s
all
physical.”

Heidi laughed and then slid down to take Longarm’s manhood in her mouth. In only a few moments, he was standing tall and stiff as a spike.

“Well,” she said, climbing onto him. “We’ll just do this nice and easy.”

“No, we won’t,” he countered, pulling her down and kissing her mouth. “We’ll do it as good as we always do.”

Heidi began to move up and down on Longarm, and soon they were lost in their passion, each striving for the sublime moment when they would suddenly be caught up in wildness and ecstasy.

And just as they neared that lofty, lusty pinnacle of
passion, Longarm heard the sound of a key in his door’s lock and then a faint squeak as it was being pushed open. In a rush, he emptied his seed, as a dark and crouched form entered the room. Heidi began to cry out with pleasure as Longarm heaved her body off of his own, snatched the pistol at his bedside, and fired as the intruder lunged at him with an upraised knife.