Crow Bait

by Robert J. Randisi

  “That’s what Beck paid us for, Wes,” Kent said. “Stay here one week, kill anybody who was lookin’ for him.”

  “You know I’d rather earn my money sittin’ around drinkin’ beer, right?”

  “I know it, but we can’t do it.”

  “Why not?” Kent asked. “We can just pretend like we never heard what the bartender said.”

  “Beck will find out.”

  “We can blame the bartender.”

  “Beck will find out.”

  “Pretend like we left town without ever hearin’ about it—”

  “Beck will find—”

  “I know, I know!” Kent said. “Beck will find out and he’ll kill us. I get it.”

  They sat there for a few moments in silence, and then Kent said, “Let’s finish these fresh beers and then go get it done.”

  It took them a couple of hours to track down the man who’d been asking questions about Beck. They didn’t mind that, because by now the fella would be in his bed, sound asleep.

  “Always easier to kill a sleepin’ man,” Kent said to his partner.

  “I know.”

  They were standing outside the hotel, getting themselves ready to go in.

  “We’re gonna have to kill the clerk, too,” Kent said, “because he’s gonna see us.”

  “Course he’s gonna see us, because we have to ask him what room this Lancaster’s in.”

  “Lancaster,” Kent said. “Damn, but that name’s familiar. I just can’t place it.”

  “Never mind,” Tyler said. “You can think about it later, after he’s dead.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Kent said. “Look, after the clerk gives us the room number, lemme kill ’im, okay? I hate hotel clerks. Snotty little bastards.”

  “Sure,” Tyler said, “the clerk’s yours. Are you ready to do this?”

  “I’m ready,” Kent said. “Let’s go in.”

  They started in and Kent put his hand on Tyler’s arm. “Wait, we gotta kill the bartender, too?”

  “We’ll talk about that later.”

  “Okay, but if we gotta kill the bartender, lemme do it,” Kent begged. “I hate bartenders. Snotty little bastards!”

  Thirty-one

  Kent and Tyler decided the best course of action was the direct one. They’d kick in the door of Lancaster’s room and gun him down while he was in bed. What could be easier?

  They crept down the hall, guns in their hands, after leaving the clerk behind the desk with a fatal knife wound in his chest. They had flipped a coin to see who would kick the door in. Tyler had won, so Kent was upset, even though he’d gotten to kill the clerk, like he wanted.

  The floor creaked slightly beneath their combined weight, but neither of them noticed it. They were intent on what they had to do.

  They came to the door and positioned themselves. Tyler was in front, Kent just behind him, ready to fire. He could hardly stand still, he enjoyed killing so much.

  Tyler slammed his heel into the door just beneath the doorknob. The door opened with a loud, splintering sound, but to the surprise of both men the first shot came from inside the room…

  Lancaster was ready for the two men. Because he knew Gerry Beck’s methods, he figured the man had left one or two men behind to take care of anyone asking questions about him. It was the main reason he’d decided to retire to his room early. He hadn’t expected them to take so long to find him, though, and had almost fallen asleep. When the floor creaked beneath their weight, he heard it, because he had noticed it when it creaked beneath him earlier in the day.

  You had to notice things like that if you were going to survive as long as he had.

  When he heard the creak, he sat up straight on the bed and palmed Mal’s borrowed gun. He had spent some time earlier cleaning it, and dry-firing it to make sure it would function properly. He had supreme confidence in it as he waited for the door to open.

  He was not, however, unmindful of the fact that someone might come through the window. He had perched the room’s pitcher and basin there as an alarm system, and was prepared for a double attack from both directions.

  The door slammed open with a loud, splintering sound. A man with a gun was framed in the doorway and Lancaster fired once. He would have preferred a nonfatal wound, but didn’t have the luxury of being that precise. He simply fired dead center and hoped for the best.

  However, there was a second man behind the first, partially blocked from view, and suffering the same disadvantage.

  Lancaster decided to get off the bed so as to present an off-center target.

  Kent was shocked by the sound of the shot and the flash of the gun from inside the room, but not as shocked as Tyler, who took a bullet in the chest. He staggered back against Kent with a grunt, his gun falling from his hand.

  Kent took a step back to let Tyler fall to the floor, and when he got a clear view of the room, he was looking at a man down on one knee, pointing a gun at him.

  “Just twitch and you’re dead,” Lancaster said. “Be smart and drop it.”

  Kent had his gun in his hand and was tempted, but at that moment a memory clicked into place.

  “Oh, damn,” he said, “Lancaster,” and dropped his gun.

  Thirty-two

  “Inside,” Lancaster said.

  Kent moved into the room with his hands up.

  “Close the door.”

  “Lancaster,” Kent said, closing the door on his dead partner. “Now I remember. You used to ride with Beck.”

  “Long time ago,” Lancaster said.

  “I thought you were dead,” Kent said. “I think even Beck thought you were dead, and now you’re huntin’ him?”

  “That’s right,” Lancaster said. “And you’re gonna tell me where he is.”

  “That’s gonna be pretty hard,” Kent said, “since I don’t know where he is.”

  “Then he paid you in advance?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you and your partner are just so honorable you did the job anyway, huh?”

  “Don’t kid yerself,” Kent said. “If I thought I could’ve got away with it, I woulda left town the day after he did.”

  “So you’re afraid of him?”

  “Damn right.”

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Hell, no.”

  Lancaster cocked the hammer on his gun and said, “You should be.”

  “You were somethin’ once, Lancaster,” Kent said, “and you killed my partner, but you’ll just kill me. What Beck will do to me…” He let it trail off.

  Once Lancaster and Beck were alike. It seemed, over the years, that they had become very, very different. What was Beck like now that a man like this would rather die than face him?

  “I tell you what,” Lancaster said.

  “You got an offer for me?”

  “I do.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Let’s you and me go lookin’ for Beck.”

  “You crazy?” Kent asked. “After I screw up killin’ ya, I’m gonna go with ya to find him? You know what he’d do to me?”

  “No, but you keep asking me if I do, so I think I’d like to see.”

  “You’re crazy,” Kent said. “The law here won’t let you take me.”

  “The law here’s pretty lazy, or haven’t you noticed?” Lancaster asked. “What’s your name?”

  “Kent.”

  “Okay, Kent,” Lancaster said. “Even if he is lazy, the sheriff should be here soon. Make up your mind. Tell me what you know about Beck, or come with me to find him.”

  “I told ya, I don’t know nothin’—”

  “You may not know, but you’ve got some idea where he went,” Lancaster said. “Or where he’ll be.”

  “You want me to guess?”

  “If you give me your best guess, I’ll leave you here when I go lookin’ for him.”

  “You serious?”

  “I am.”

  “And you’ll believe me?”

  �
�It ain’t so much that I’ll believe you,” Lancaster said, “as it is I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  Kent looked as if he was giving the proposal some thought.

  “I’d think in a hurry if I was you,” Lancaster said. “You got until the sheriff gets here to make up your mind.”

  Kent looked at Lancaster and then said, “Okay, you got a deal.”

  Thirty-three

  When the sheriff showed up, Lancaster turned Kent over to him. The lawman collected some men and had the body of the dead Tyler carried out of the hotel.

  “Looks like you’ll need a new room,” he said to Lancaster after the two men had been removed.

  “Looks like.”

  “I wouldn’t sleep too sound if I was you, though.”

  “Why? You know something I don’t? Anybody else planning to kill me?”

  “Not that I know of, but…”

  “Don’t worry, Sheriff,” Lancaster said. “I’ll try not to kill anyone else tonight.”

  “Yeah, well…I’d be much obliged. You leavin’ tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, but not too early. I got some of what I needed, but I hope to get the rest of it tomorrow.”

  “Let me know when you’re ridin’ out,” Sheriff Carver said. “Then I can let out the breath that I’ll be holdin’.”

  “I’ll do that. I better go down and get another room from the clerk.”

  “Just grab any key,” the sheriff said. “They killed the clerk.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  They walked down to the lobby together.

  Lancaster woke in his new room the next morning. There was a pitcher and basin balanced on the windowsill, and a wooden chair wedged beneath the doorknob. No one else had tried to break in and kill him during the night.

  He dressed and went to Bessie’s to see if they were open for breakfast. They were, and apparently much of the town ate breakfast there. He had a short wait before he was shown to a table. The steak was so good the night before that he ordered steak and eggs.

  He was working on his last cup of coffee when something occurred to him. His waitress was young and very pretty, and this was apparently one of the best places to eat in town.

  This was Gerry Beck’s kind of place.

  “Excuse me,” he said to the waitress as he paid her.

  “Yes?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Lorna.”

  “Lorna, I’m looking for a friend of mine who was supposed to have passed through town in the last few weeks. Maybe you ran into him.”

  “Why do you think that?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if you checked with a bartender?”

  “No,” he said, “this is the kind of place he would have come. Good food, and a beautiful waitress.”

  She blushed. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  Actually, she was young and pretty, but that was close enough for Beck.

  “Of course I do,” Lancaster said, “and my friend would, too. His name is Gerry…Gerry Beck.”

  Her eyes widened. “I know Gerry!”

  “You do?”

  “He was here for a few days, and he ate here every morning and every night.”

  “I thought so,” Lancaster said.

  She leaned in and said, in a low voice, “He even asked if he could take me to supper.”

  “And did he?”

  “No,” she said, as if the very idea was appalling. “He was…too old.”

  “He’s my age.”

  “Really?” she said. “He looks older.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you did talk to him, right?” Lancaster asked.

  “Well, of course,” she said. “I had to be polite. My mother is Bessie.”

  “Bessie?”

  “The owner? I have to be polite to the customers.”

  Like now, he thought.

  “Well, I’m not gonna take up your time,” he promised. “I just need to catch up to Gerry, and I was wondering if he told you where he was going after here.”

  “No.”

  “Can you give it some thought—”

  “He didn’t tell me exactly where he was going,” she said. “But he did say he was going to Texas.”

  “Texas? Texas is a big place, Lorna. Did he tell you where in Texas?”

  “He didn’t say where,” she said. “Or I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, so am I,” Lancaster said. He gave her the money for his breakfast and got up to leave. He was about to go out the door when she caught up to him and grabbed his arm.

  “The panhandle.”

  “What?”

  “He said he was heading for the Texas panhandle. Does that help?”

  “Yes, Lorna,” he said, “that helps a lot. Thank you.”

  The panhandle.

  If Beck had said that to anyone but a young, pretty girl, Lancaster would have discounted it. Beck only lied to young women when he knew he was staying in town. So mentioning to Lorna that he was headed for the Texas panhandle was probably true.

  Now all Lancaster had to do was get a lead on one of the other three—whichever of them came here to Henderson.

  He had planned to check the whorehouse for Gerry Beck, but now that he’d found Lorna that wasn’t necessary. On the other hand, Sweet or one of the others might have needed a whore, too. Lots of men did when they came in off the trail.

  So he headed for the whorehouse.

  Thirty-four

  “Adderly.”

  “He was here?” Lancaster asked.

  The girl looked at him and said, “That’s what I just said. He was here.”

  There were two whorehouses in town, and this was the second. The girl was a pretty, slightly faded, and plump girl of about thirty. Her name was Angel. She was sitting on a bed with grimy sheets in a tiny room with one dirty window. Lancaster had seen cleaner campsites.

  “His name is kinda weird,” she said. “That’s why I remember him.”

  “Adderly?”

  “No, his first name,” she said. “It’s Chester.”

  “Chester.”

  “He said his friends called him Chet, but he wanted me to call him Chester while we did it.”

  “How many times was he here?”

  “A few,” she said. “He was in town for about a week, and then he left.”

  “Did he come by to say good-bye?”

  “What the hell?” she said. “I’m a whore, I wasn’t his girlfriend. Who says good-bye to a whore when they leave town?”

  She was right, of course.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Hey,” she said as he turned to the door.

  “What?”

  “My money?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Lancaster gave her the money he’d promised her.

  “Don’t forget to tell that bitch downstairs what a good ride I gave you.”

  “I won’t forget,” he promised.

  “Thanks.”

  He opened the door, but before leaving he asked, “Did Adderly go with any of the other girls?”

  “One,” she said. “He went with Lisa first, but after that he was with me, and he stayed with me. That Lisa, what a skinny bitch.”

  “Lisa,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “Tell that bitch downstairs to send up the next one,” she said.

  “Right.”

  “Another one?” the bitch downstairs asked.

  “Yeah, Lisa,” Lancaster said.

  “What, Angel wasn’t enough for you?”

  “Angel was great,” he said. “Worth every penny. But then she told me about this skinny girl—”

  “You like ’em skinny?”

  Lancaster was getting impatient. He took out some money and shoved it into the woman’s hand. “Look, I need to talk to Lisa. Five minutes. She knows something about a man I’m looking for.”

  She looked at the money in her hand. “For this you can talk for half an hour.”

  “Five
minutes.”

  “Go ahead,” she said. “Room three.”

  He started up the stairs, then turned and said, “Angel said to send up the next one.”

  “Already?”

  “She’s a helluva worker.”

  “I guess so,” she said. “Okay.”

  He went up the stairs, walked to room three, knocked, and went in.

  Lisa didn’t know a thing about a man named Adderly.

  “Oh, Chet!” she said, when he explained who he was looking for. “I didn’t get his last name.”

  “You called him Chet? His name was Chester, right?” Lancaster asked.

  “Yeah, but I called him Chet.”

  He could see her shoulder and hip bones through the thin robe she was wearing. She was older than Angel, but either not as busy or cleaner, because the room—and the sheets—were not as grimy.

  She screwed up her face.

  “Maybe he didn’t like that, because he never came back to me. Started using that bitch Angel.”

  “You don’t like Angel?”

  She wrinkled her nose and said, “She’s dirty.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “So you’re lookin’ for Chet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You gonna kill ’im?”

  “Probably. What made you ask?”

  “You look like a gunman,” she said. “He looked like an outlaw.” She shrugged. “I slept with so many men—cowboys, gunmen, gamblers, lawmen—that I can tell them apart.”

  “And can you tell me anything about him?” Lancaster asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Like where he was going when he left Henderson?”

  “We didn’t talk much,” she said. “In fact, he was finished with me pretty quick.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  “No, no,” she said, “those are the best kind of customers, the ones who finish fast, roll over, break wind, and then leave. Well, except for customers like you.”

  “Like me?”

  She nodded. “The kind who pay to talk.”

  “Oh.” He took out the money he promised her and she shoved it into the pocket of her robe.