by Erik Carter
Like the first time I saw him, Kurt was giving me a real strange look, a look of remembrance, almost, or familiarity. When my eyes made contact with his, he quickly looked away, and for a moment it looked like he was going to jump from his stool and run off.
Enough. I was going to get to the bottom of this. I walked over and sat beside him.
“Hey there, Kurt.”
He glanced at me only briefly before looking away. “Uh … Wilcox, right? Barnaby?”
“That’s right.”
He looked at the surface of the bar. I looked at the top of his head.
“There somethin’ wrong with you, Kurt?”
His eyes flicked up to mine again, then back down. “No.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
He slowly looked up and met eyes with me. He stared into me for a moment, waiting for some reaction from me. Then he gradually relaxed, his tense shoulders lowering slowly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wilcox. The other day when we met, you looked familiar to me. Guess I was wrong.”
Funny he should say that, because I had a similar feeling of recognition the day we met—except mine was in relation to Jake Adamson. Jake had reminded me of someone I’d known once. Vividly. Couldn’t place my finger on who it was. I didn’t want to remember.
Kurt looked away from me again. He was wet with sweat, yet it wasn’t hot. Probably about seventy degrees or so.
“You sure you’re all right?” I said.
He looked back at me. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“You’re shirt’s drenched.”
“You’d be nervous too if you traveled halfway across the country and ended up in a place like this.”
Frank came over and slapped down a glass of whiskey.
“Thanks, Frank,” I said with a toothy grin.
He growled and left.
I turned back to Kurt. “I understand Jake’s helping you adapt. Where you from?”
He looked at me for a moment, assessing. “The South.”
“What brings you out here?”
Again he paused. “Family issue.” He looked at his beer.
“You don’t say much, do you, Kurt?”
He didn’t reply.
“Well, you’re clearly not comfortable,” I said. “Must be one heck of a family issue for you to tolerate all this.”
He looked at me now. And smiled. Suddenly I’d gained his trust. “I’m here for love. No better reason in the world to risk it all.”
“Love?” The cynical part of me laughed inside.
His smile widened, bright and shiny, and he opened the floodgates. “What else could bring a man fifteen hundred miles from his home, surrounded by hostile people in a place he doesn’t understand? I’m nervous, I’m scared, but until I get this fixed, until I know she’s safe, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
He smiled again, sighed, and threw back a gulp of beer like a conquering king.
He was a passionate guy, that was for darn sure. Charming. Hell, he made me feel like hopping in the saddle and galloping off into the blazing sunset to defend a woman’s honor.
He continued. “I’d walk to the ends of the earth barefooted for my girl. I’d spar with the Devil himself.”
“You got a lot of zest, kid. I’ll give you that.”
“You have to protect your one and only. Think about something bad happening to your wife.”
“Do I look like I’m married to you?” I gestured to my overall shaggy aura. Clearly passion had clouded this guy’s basic perception.
“You ever loved a woman, Mr. Wilcox?”
“No,” I said and meant it.
Kurt nodded. “Have you ever cared about a woman?”
“Not really,” I said. But I thought of Fannie. The gal sure did enrapture me. I liked to think that I just enjoyed slapping uglies with her, but so help me the thought of anything bad ever happening to her gave me pause.
“Well, if you did, you might understand why I’m out here.”
I took a sip of whiskey. “I think I understand, Kurt.”
Another fella was walking toward us from the back door that led to the outhouse. I turned. It was Jake Adamson.
I now realized, as he was headed over toward Kurt and me, whom Jake had reminded me of when I was in his office.
Dodson.
I could thank Mory for that.
The sane part of me knew that Dodson was long gone. But as Jake walked up, it wasn’t hard to imagine myself in another time, another place. He was a little shorter than Dodson, a little stockier. But that face …
I thought of Dodson now. Dead.
Dodson’s face, staring into the gray sky. Blood-covered. Eyes, mouth open.
I shook my head and turned to my drink. I threw down the rest of the whiskey and then looked toward Frank, pointed at the empty glass. He glowered and turned his back to me.
As Jake walked up behind us, Kurt looked away from me again. He hunched over with his shoulders drooped. The romantic idealist had morphed back into the awkward loner in a second flat.
“Mr. Wilcox,” Jake said, eyes wide. He was surprised, almost jumpy. Did I have this effect on everyone? “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing as you, Jake,” I said. “Getting some liquid breakfast. It’s gettin’ close to nine. Shouldn’t you be headed to the bank?”
“Yes. Momentarily. Kurt was rattled by his family situation this morning, and I’ve been helping him out.”
“You seem awfully anxious this morning yourself, Jake,” I said.
“As do you.” He narrowed his eyes and flicked them toward my hand. The glass I was holding shook slightly. I couldn’t help it. Mory had planted the seed, and this guy really did look like Dodson. I could hardly look him in the eye.
Jake turned to his friend. “Kurt, I do believe we should be going.”
“Uh, yeah. Of course.”
“Good day, Mr. Wilcox,” Jake said.
“Likewise, Jake.”
Kurt got up, and they began to leave.
I called out to Kurt. “All that conversation and you’re not gonna say bye?”
Kurt met my eyes momentarily before looking away. “Oh … goodbye, Mr. Wilcox.”
“See ya ’round, Kurt.”
Jake glared at Kurt. They walked to the batwing doors, talking in hushed tones, the taller Kurt leaning down toward Jake.
There was something really strange about those two guys. And I didn’t like it.
Chapter Thirteen
Pattison opened the door and sneered slightly when he saw that I was the one who had knocked. Some attitude on this guy. You’d think he’d be a little more tactful considering he was a suspect in a kidnapping case. He was far from the prime suspect, to be sure, but until midnight tonight, no one was going off my list.
“Mr. Wilcox,” he said. “I trust your trip to Tucson was successful.”
Oh! Now he was acting like he had something to do with my investigation. This guy was stomping on my last nerve.
I didn’t answer him, just said, “Lilly home?”
“Miss Cosgrove said she would be returning home this evening. She has ventured into town yet again,” he said with a noticeable air of consternation.
“What’s the matter, Pattison? Don’t like Lilly to get too far out of sight?”
“Miss Cosgrove has never been away from the grounds this much,” he said, gesturing wildly. “Mr. Cosgrove had a very specific system for her rendezvous into town. Since his departure, she’s thrown it all out the window. She’s been gone each of the last three days.”
“You got something against a young woman broadening her horizons a bit?”
Pattison snorted and tilted his head up in a very poised manner.
“Or,” I continued with a grin, “are you worried she might be talking to more people like me?” I gave him a look that let him know he was still under my scrutiny.
Something finally clicked for Pattison. His lips parted. “I … I just wish for Miss Cosgrove to obey h
er father’s wishes even when he is away.”
“That’s darn decent of you, Pattison,” I said, holding my cocky grin. I liked to address him by name as much as possible. It seemed to annoy him. “Tell her I’ll be by later on, would ya?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Much obliged, Pattison,” I said and tipped my hat.
Yes, Pattison wasn’t off my list just yet. But he was certainly at the very bottom. As smart as the guy fancied himself to be, he didn’t seem to have a whole lot of original thought floating around in that bald head of his. Sure, he could maintain the intricate day-to-day operations of the Cosgrove home, but could he coordinate an elaborate kidnapping situation? I wasn’t so sure. I was confident that the midnight hour was going to clear Pattison’s name. If the killers did ice Cosgrove at midnight, Lilly would be able to verify that Pattison was home at that time.
With Lilly not returning home for several more hours, I now had some time for rumination. With every case I took, I had to be sure to build in time to simply think about things. This may sound self-explanatory, but when you get into the thick of an investigation, exploring all the various leads, you can easily lose sight of the fact that you need to make efforts to absorb all the information you’ve gained. Unfortunately I hadn’t had much time in this case for thinking, what with a mysterious gunman following me and Mory taking repeated jabs at my sordid history. But now that I had some, the hour was so desperate that it almost seemed pointless.
As I rode back into town, I glanced at my watch. Pattison said Lilly wouldn’t be returning until this evening, and it was only ten thirty in the morning. Yes, I had plenty of time indeed. Time enough, even, to arrange some comfortable environs for my rumination. Madame Fannie’s Funhouse was calling my name.
Yet I’d already stopped by a saloon that morning. Two bar visits before noon? Could I dare live the dream?
Well, I was a daring guy.
Is there anything more intoxicating than a cathouse in the morning? The parlor in the front area of the Funhouse was trimmed in opulent decor. Little chairs and couches with red velvet cushions. A doorway with a curtain of beads leading to the common room beyond. Dark wood walls with crown molding above and tall baseboards below. In the back, there was a hostess stand that Fannie populated with a rotation of cute girls.
Today’s gal was a little redhead. She was wearing a low-cut, frilly thing. She smiled at me as I entered, showing large dimples on either side of her face.
I strolled over to the stand. There was some casual piano music and the tinkling of glasses coming from the common room. I tipped my hat back.
“How may I help you, sir?” the hostess said, beaming.
“Here to see Fannie.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Madame Fannie is very busy, but we have many talented women available this very moment.” She gave an even bigger smile.
“No, no, no. You don’t understand. I’m one of her special clients.” I winked at her when I said special.
“Oh, I see. Is she expecting you?”
“She’s always expecting me,” I said. “The name’s Wilcox.”
The hostess’s smile dropped. “Barnaby Wilcox?”
“Yup.”
“Mr. Wilcox,” she said, “Madame Fannie has instructed us that she is not to see you.”
I laughed inside. So, Fannie had told her staff to keep me away from her. Wow. I must have really pushed a button the other night. I tried to remember what it was I had said that made her so mad. Yes, yes, I remembered now. It was the comment about Jimmy Blue Eyes. I’d insinuated that maybe Jimmy had scampered among the ripe fields of Fannie. She’d gotten very defensive about that. Considering the note I found in Jimmy Blue Eye’s ledger, I wasn’t surprised.
She’d never had me turned away at the front door before. She was upping the stakes. I’d have to double my efforts.
I gave the hostess a smile. “Listen, she’s just playin’ hard to get. I know all her little tactics. Go get her, would ya?”
“Sir, we’d be happy to oblige your needs. Any of our other girls—”
“No. You see, Fannie and I—”
Fannie burst into the room. “Okay,” she yelled. “What the hell is going on out—Oh. Hey, Barney.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The hostess said, “Mr. Wilcox requests your services.”
“He does, does he?” Fannie said and turned to me. “You’re awful snippy for someone wanting my ‘services.’”
I flashed her a grin. A real winner. A Barnaby Wilcox smile. “Let’s go upstairs, Fannie,” I said with a knowing nod. The trick is you gotta act like it’s a foregone conclusion.
Fannie looked at me fiercely, though. Her arms were crossed. She was trying hard to resist. She couldn’t keep this up for long. She’d melt. “Why should I?” she said.
“Rumination,” I said. “I need to relax the old brain if I’m gonna get this case figured out. And the clock’s ticking. Don’t you want to do your part in a criminal investigation?”
She scowled. “You and your ‘rumination.’ This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to pull this stunt on me.” She was right. It wasn’t. There was a long pause, then she said, “You can come with me. For a drink.”
Fannie turned and headed through the curtained door behind the hostess’s stand. I followed her and winked at the hostess again as I walked by.
It was fairly quiet in the common room. There were a couple old drunks sitting at the bar. The stage was empty. The shows would start around dinnertime. There was, however, a lot of noise coming from upstairs. Laughing, flirting, noisy headboards.
We walked over to the bar, and Fannie motioned to the bartender who walked down to us.
“Yes, Madame Fannie?” the bartender said.
“Two whiskeys,” Fannie said.
“Yes, ma’am.” The bartender set about preparing our drinks.
Fannie turned to me. “How’s the investigation going?” She spoke flatly, as though she wasn’t genuinely interested, like she was just going through the motions. But Fannie always took a vested interest in my work. It was sort of cute.
“The kettle’s in Tucson somewhere,” I said.
“Tucson? So are you gonna go out there?”
“Already been,” I said. “I know who has it, but he’s not giving it up. Name of Connor Macintosh.”
I purposely avoided mentioning the fact that the Blue Eagles were indeed the gang that intercepted the kettle. Fannie had given me the information that led me to Jimmy Blue Eyes. Yet she’d also told me that Jimmy never went to her club. The ledger I stole from his pocket said otherwise, and she’d been awfully defensive when I made insinuations about the nature of their relationship. That said, I’d wait and see if Fannie mentioned the Blue Eagles on her own.
“Oh, yes, Connor Macintosh,” Fannie said, her face getting even more joyless. “I know him well. He’s not welcome here. He scared a couple of my girls one time when he came through.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
The bartender handed over the drinks.
“Thank you, Gregory,” Fannie said. She motioned for me to follow, and we headed toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
We went upstairs and sat on one of the decorative couches that looked down upon the first floor. Behind us was a row of numbered rooms. Prostitutes and happy men shuffled in and out of the rooms.
“So you know Macintosh has it,” Fannie said. “Where do you go from here?”
“I talk to Lilly. Let her know.”
“‘Lilly’?” she said. “Not ‘my client’? Have you been sleeping on silk sheets lately, Barney?”
First Mory, now Fannie. How many people were going to try to get under my skin today? “Jealous, Fannie?”
“You wish.”
I continued with my explanation of the case. “Lilly won’t want to go to the police. The kidnappers said they’d kill the old-timer if she told anyone.”
“And the police wouldn’t be able
to do anything anyway,” Fannie reasoned, “since Macintosh wasn’t actually the one who stole it. Well, Mr. Wilcox, it looks like you got yourself a real pickle there.”
“You’re right. I do have a real pickle.” I smiled and put my hand on her leg. “Nothing a little Fannie won’t cure, though.” I felt the lace of her stockings around her full thigh. Nice. Now was the time to work on my goal of winning some of her companionship before the case’s end.
Fannie motioned towards all the gals meandering about us. “My girls aren’t good enough for you?”
“Why have hamburger when you can have steak?”
Fannie chuckled at this. “I’m twice their age,” she said. “I’m more like leather.”
“The thing about good leather is it needs to be oiled every now and then.”
“You don’t say,” she purred, playing along beautifully.
“But I bet Jimmy Blue Eyes has been taking care of that problem for you,” I said, bringing our fun to an abrupt end. “He comes in here, doesn’t he?” I couldn’t hold out any more. Fannie hadn’t fallen for the trap. If I didn’t bring up Jimmy Blue Eyes, we weren’t going to discuss him.
Fannie replied matter-of-factly. “He’s been here, yes.”
“That’s not what you told me the other day,” I said. “Why’d you lie to me? I know he was in here last week.”
Fannie looked away and laughed. I could tell she wasn’t going to deny it. She didn’t know how I got all my information, but she knew it was reliable.
She turned back to me. “Do you feel slighted?” she cooed. “Or are you the one feeling jealous?”
I just raised my eyebrows at this, gave her a not quite sure look. Honestly I really wasn’t sure which way I felt. “Did he tell you he was taking the kettle to Macintosh?”
“Oh for goodness sake, Barney, don’t be so suspicious,” she said. “Jimmy’s not much of a conversationalist, as you can imagine.”
“More of a hands-on kind of guy, in my experience,” I said. I pointed at my nose, still slightly swollen.
“That a fact?” Fannie said with concern. It was concern not for my poor nose but for her girls. She was always looking out for their welfare. “I’ll have to keep an eye on him the next time he’s in here.”