“I guess,” Tucker said. He was a big, florid faced man in his fifties who had long since run out of holes on his belt and was making his own.
Decker took out the poster on the woman and handed it to the sheriff.
“What do you know about this woman, Sheriff?”
The lawman looked the poster over and said, “Not much more than is written there. This your next target?”
“Yes.”
The lawman handed the poster back.
“How the hell would you start looking for a woman who can change the way she looks?” the sheriff asked. “Where would you start looking?”
“She’s a con woman, Sheriff,” Decker said. “I happen to know the man who invented the word ‘con.’”
Chapter One
Duke Ballard had gone by many names during his fifty-one years, but the one his friends always used was Duke.
Duke had been “on the con” since he was ten years old. He had truly refined the art of being someone he was not, and selling someone something that didn’t exist.
If the number of trusted friends he had made over the years could be counted on one hand, then the index finger was Decker.
Decker knew where to find Duke these days. He owned a hotel in San Francisco, just a few blocks away from Portsmouth Square, where all the larger hotels and gambling establishments stood.
When Decker rode into the jaded town of San Francisco astride John Henry, his nine-year-old gelding, he commanded attention.
He sat tall and straight in the saddle beneath a flat-brimmed black hat. A well-built man who rode with enough confidence that both women and men looked his way.
If the man alone did not attract attention, there was the hangman’s noose, which quickly identified him to one and all, and the weapon he wore on his hip. It was a shotgun that had been sawed off at both the barrels and the stock, and then slipped into a specially made holster. The whole rig had been designed for him by a gunsmith friend when Decker discovered that he was almost hopeless with a handgun. With the shotgun he rarely had to aim to hit what he was shooting at, and with a rifle he was…adequate.
After putting John Henry up in the hotel livery, getting in to see Duke wasn’t easy, but once Decker convinced the desk clerk that it was in his best interests to announce Decker’s presence, he was shown to Duke’s suite.
“Decker, goddamn!” Duke said as Decker entered the room. “It is you.”
The woman behind Duke was still straightening herself out, and beyond both of them Decker could see Duke’s rumpled bed.
“Sorry if I interrupted something, Duke.”
“Interrupted,” Duke said, looking genuinely puzzled. “Oh, you mean…” he said, finally catching on. “No, no, I was just…interviewing her for a job.” He turned around and said, “Why don’t you go down to the dining room and have a lunch on me, Laura. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sure, Duke.”
The woman was tall and blonde, with beautiful blue eyes that held a somewhat vacant look. She had virtually everything a woman should have, except a brain.
After the woman left, Duke rushed Decker and embraced him. It was an odd embrace because Decker was over six feet, while Duke laid claim to being five-foot-five. He had enough power in his arms, however, for a man a foot taller.
“Easy on the ribs!” Decker yelped.
“I’m just so glad to see ya!” Duke said, releasing his friend. “You look fine.”
“You look fine,” Decker said. “You look younger than I do.”
“What brings you to San Francisco, Deck? Not hunting a gambling man, are you? They’re my meat, you know.”
“And potatoes, I know,” Decker said. “Speaking of which, how about springing for a meal for an old friend, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”
“You got it. Let’s go downstairs. I’ve got the best cook in town.”
“I’ll bet they’re glad to hear that over in Portsmouth Square,” Decker said.
Once they were seated at a large table at the back of the dining room and Duke had ordered enough food for ten men, Decker told Duke his story.
“Let me see the poster,” Duke said, and Decker passed it over. “Are these drawings accurate?”
“Can’t tell, but there is sure a similarity between them, don’t you think?”
“Sure in the eyes, especially. If she was really good she’d shave off her eyebrows, and then paint them on to suit her identity for the con.”
“She’s been real successful up to now, Duke.”
“Yeah, but who has she been fooling, Deck?” Duke asked. “Sorry, but I ain’t ready to elect her queen of the con women. Not while Lily the Lover and Nowhere Nellie are still plying their trade.”
“Nowhere Nellie? I thought she was dead.”
“She wanted people to think that for a while, but she’s back in circulation, now.”
“Jesus, how old is she?”
“Must be sixty, but I swear she’s still a goodlooking woman—and she can look forty, if she wants to. Now, there’s a woman who knows her business. This one,” Duke said, tapping the poster, “this one’s an amateur.”
“Can you find out anything for me about this one?” Decker asked.
Duke touched the poster again.
“I can try. Where was her last job?”
“Nevada.”
“Jesus, that means she could even have come here afterward.”
“That’s possible. That’s why I didn’t mind coming here to see you.”
“Well, if she’s in San Francisco I’ll find her, that’s for sure. If she’s not…where else has she pulled her jobs?”
“She moves around. New Mexico, Texas, Colorado. If I could find out where she lays low after each job—they’re usually a month or two apart.”
“Well, there are some places where the people in our fraternity cool off,” Duke said. He wasn’t talking about him and Decker when he said “our fraternity” but about himself and the other people in the business of running a con. “I could check them, but only because we’re friends—and only because she’s an amateur. Only an amateur would go after a bank.”
Decker knew what Duke Ballard meant. Duke had a lot of friends in the business, and would never help Decker catch any of them. Duke had never gone after a bank—he kept to private people and private concerns.
“Banks, railroads, they’ve got too much money, and can hire too many people to go looking for you for a long time,” Duke had told him a long time ago.
“This could take a few days, you know,” Duke said, as the waiter came with the food.
Decker waited until the man had served everything, and then said, “You keep feeding me like this, and it could take a week.”
“You eat your fill while you’re here. Deck. There’s no charge for your room or your meals.”
“What about gambling?”
Duke smiled and said, “I got to make my money someway, Decker—and don’t let me see you gambling in them fancy Portsmouth Square hotels.”
“Duke,” Decker said, “your hotel is the last place I’d want to break.”
After lunch Duke asked Decker, “You still work the same way?”
“I don’t know. What way do you mean?”
“If I know you, you mean to check out the location of her last job. That means you’re going to Nevada.”
“Already been,” Decker said. “Went there before I came here.”
“Have any luck?”
“Not much.”
“Well, maybe you’ll do better here,” Duke said, standing up. “I’ve got some work to do, and I’ll get my inquiries started about your lady. Where will you be?”
“Either in the saloon or gambling. You do have a saloon, don’t you?”
“Saloon’s that way,” Duke said, nodding his head in one direction, “and the gambling’s that way. I’d appreciate it if you’d take it easy on the first, and overindulge on the second.”
“Might do it the other way around.�
�
“Not if I know you,” Duke said. “See you later.”
As Duke started away he suddenly stopped and then turned.
“Hey Deck? You still carrying that noose around with you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Duke shrugged and said, “No reason,” and left the dining room.
After Duke left, Decker decided to finish the coffee that was left in the pot and think about his new quarry. Instead, he found himself thinking about the noose that had almost killed him.
Chapter Two
It happened in Kansas when Decker was about twenty-one. A woman was killed and he was blamed.
He had been hired by the woman’s husband to do odd jobs around their ranch and she showed more than a passing interest in him. She was older than Decker by about ten years, and married, and although it wasn’t easy, Decker managed to decline her advances. Although she was very beautiful, her husband had hired him to work, and that was what he wanted to do.
Unfortunately, she did not take his rejection kindly, and told her husband he tried to rape her, so he fired Decker.
That was an oversimplification, really. What actually happened was that Decker and the man had a big fight, during which Decker knocked the man down in front of his wife. Doubly embarrassed, the man fired Decker and never paid him the money he owed him for the work he’d already done. That was fine with Decker, though. He just wanted to get away from the two of them.
He was leaving town on foot when the posse rode up on him and arrested him for raping and killing her.
The husband had told them that Decker did it and the case got all the way to court. The judge, eager to make a name for himself with a sensational case, convicted him on flimsy evidence.
The sheriff of the town, a man named Mike Farrell, had believed in Decker’s innocence, but Decker was convicted and sentenced to hang.
Even now Decker could feel the noose around his neck.
He actually got as far as the gallows, with the hangman putting the noose over his neck before Mike Farrell brought the real killer in and made him confess.
It was the husband.
Apparently Decker wasn’t the first one that the woman had thrown herself at, and that, combined with the fact that Decker knocked the husband down in front of his wife, made the man angry enough to attack his own wife, raping her and then killing her.
Nobody apologized. By the time Decker stepped down from the gallows, everyone had left. They’d gone home disappointed that they weren’t going to see a hanging.
The sheriff resigned and left town after that. Decker rode with him for a short time. Farrell tried to get Decker to take up being a lawman, but he had other ideas.
He became a bounty hunter. His reasoning was that he wanted to get to the ones who were going to be hanged and satisfy himself that they were guilty before he handed them over to the law. He didn’t want what happened to him to happen to any other innocent man—ever.
The noose that he carried was a reminder of what almost happened to him, and of why he took up bounty hunting. He lost sight of his reasons once in a while, but the noose always brought it back to him.
Decker shook his head, dispelling the thoughts of the past, and thought instead of his very recent trip to Kenner’s Junction, the scene of the last bank robbery.
Chapter Three
When Decker rode into Kenner’s Junction, Nevada, he wasn’t impressed. He wondered how the woman on the poster had known that there would be a substantial sum of money in the bank safe. She must have known that even before she took a job there, or else why pose as a teller?
He put his horse up at the livery and since it was late afternoon went to the hotel to book a room. It would take some time for him to ask his questions, and by then it would be getting dark. Better to spend the night.
He got his room, unloaded his gear, and went looking for the saloon. Bartenders were usually the first ones he spoke to in a new town. They knew more than most people, and usually knew more than they would tell.
“What can I get ya?” this bartender asked. He was a tall, skinny man in his forties with a big nose and jutting jaw. The fact that his neck could only be described as scrawny made the picture all the more odd.
“Whiskey.”
“Bottle?”
“Did I ask for a bottle?”
“Nope. I just figured you for the thirsty type.”
The bartender set down a shot glass of whiskey and said, “Two bits.”
Decker dropped the coin on the bar and asked, “Who’s the law hereabouts?”
“That’d be Ed Friendly.”
“Are you kidding?”
The bartender laughed and said, “That’s his name, friend.”
“Been here long?”
“Me or the sheriff?”
“The sheriff.”
“‘bout two years. Up for reelection soon, and I reckon he’ll make it.”
“This bank robbery I heard about. That won’t hurt him in the election?”
“Naw. Only people that hurt was Mr. Kenner and Willis Holden.”
“Who’s Holden?”
“Bank manager.”
“He get blamed for the robbery?”
“Who gets blamed for a robbery?” the barkeep asked. “It happens. Caught hell from his wife, though.”
“What for?”
“Hell, he was found naked as a jaybird in the vault, and that mousey little teller turned up missing.”
“Mousey?”
“Well, some might have thought she was attractive, but she kind of just blended in with the walls, if you know what I mean. Most men prefer their women a little more…noticeable.”
Unless she was deliberately trying to go unnoticed.
“And what about Kenner?”
“Kenner, as in Kenner’s Junction. He’s got a big spread nearby, and it was his payroll got stolen. He had to front another one for his men.”
“Sounds decent enough.”
“Oh, he’s a decent man, all right. He didn’t fire Holden.”
“Kenner owns the bank?”
“Sure, and several other businesses in town.”
“I see.” Decker set his empty glass down.
“Another?”
“No, thanks. I suppose if Willis Holden didn’t get fired I’d find him at the bank?”
“Sure enough.”
“Which way?”
“Out the door, make a right and two blocks.”
“And the sheriff’s office?”
“A block beyond that.”
“Much obliged.”
“Sure.”
When Decker left the saloon he decided to make his stops in order. First he’d stop by the bank and talk to Willis Holden, and then by the sheriff’s office to talk to the lawman with the unlikely name of Ed Friendly.
Chapter Four
Decker found Willis Holden a singularly unimpressive individual. He was slight, weak-chinned and quite possibly weak-willed. He looked like the perfect picture of a henpecked husband. How, Decker wondered, had he managed to end up naked in the vault?
Decker got in to see Holden by mentioning the bank robbery. Holden came rushing out, as if he thought Decker might have brought the money back.
“Mr. Decker?”
“Yes.”
“So nice to meet you, sir,” Holden said, pumping Decker’s hand. “You said you had some information about the bank robbery that took place a couple of weeks ago?”
“Would it be possible for us to talk in your office, Mr. Holden?”
“Hmm? Oh, of course. Follow me.”
Willis Holden led Decker into an office that was equally as unimpressive as the man himself. Decker guessed that Holden had probably furnished it himself, apparently as inexpensively as possible.
“Now, this information that you have—” Holden began, but Decker cut him off.
“I didn’t say I had information on the robbery, Mr. Holden.”
“I’m sorry, but I though
t—”
“I just want to ask you some questions about it, Mr. Holden.”
“Questions?” Holden asked. Decker noticed that his voice rose a bit, and almost squeaked nervously. “What sort of questions?”
“How it happened, really. You see, I’m hunting the woman who held you up.”
“Hunting?”
“Yes, I’m a bounty hunter, and anything I can learn about her would aid me in finding her.”
“And getting my money back?” Not bloody likely, Decker thought wryly.
“Possibly.”
“Well…I’ll help in any way I can.”
“I would need the truth, Mr. Holden.”
“Of course.”
“And it would go no further than this room.”
“Hmm?” Holden did not look completely convinced, but finally agreed. “Well, what questions do you have?”
Decker leaned forward and said, “Just how did it come about that you were…naked?”
“Well…” Holden blustered, “she had a gun—”
“But what happened before that?”
“I…don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, did she use her…charms on you?”
“Mr. Decker, anyone will tell you that Miss Brown…or whatever her name really was, was quite plain looking.”
“Perhaps that’s what she wanted people to think? I have a poster on her, and along with your description, it has three other drawings of her.” Decker handed Holden the poster and said, “As you can see, in the other three drawings she’s quite attractive.”
“Hmm,” Holden said, studying the drawings intensely.
“Perhaps you were able to see past her disguise? I mean, a man as observant as yourself…”
“Well,” Holden said, handing the poster back, “perhaps I did see through her…somewhat.”
“And found her attractive?”
Holden attempted to loosen his collar and said, “Uh, yes, somewhat.”
“Believe me, Mr. Holden, our discussion will go no further than this room.”
“Perhaps I was a bit…taken with her, which made it easier for her to…get me into a compromising position and then…take advantage of it.”
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