“Yes, sir. With pleasure.”
As Clint started for the door, Perry Silver stepped into his path.
“Don’t get it my way, Adams,” Silver said.
“I’ll make a note,” Clint said, and stepped past him.
When Max slammed the door behind him, Clint hesitated. The cab had not yet arrived. He wondered if there was some way to get back inside to see Amanda before he left when he heard a whispered voice call to him urgently.
“Clint! Over here!”
He tried to see in the dark, finally saw her standing against the wall to the right, in the shadows, away from any of the windows. He joined her in the shadows.
“I wanted to see you before you left, but I knew Ben wouldn’t let me.”
“He’s warned me off,” Clint said. “Apparently he’s putting a lot of confidence in this fella Perry Silver. He doesn’t want me anywhere near you.”
“I don’t know who he is,” she whispered, pulling her shawl tightly around her as if she was chilled to the bone. “I’ve never seen him or heard of him.”
“Neither have I,” he said.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Are you—I mean, will you do what my husband asks?”
“Amanda, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to do what I can to keep you alive and well.”
She seemed relieved by that.
“Do you think—I mean, it isn’t possible that my husband…that Ben has something to do with that list?” she asked.
“Amanda, you’re the one who’s going to have to decide if he has a reason to want you dead.”
“I can’t—I don’t know—”
“If you think of something,” he said, “you know where I am. What will your days be like?”
She shrugged.
“I stay home, I shop, at night I go out to the casinos.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “the casinos. That’s where we can see each other.”
“If he still lets me go,” she said. “And if he does, I’ll probably have Max and that man, Silver, with me.”
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Clint said.
Suddenly, his cab appeared in front of the house.
“Now who can that be?” she asked fearfully.
“That’s for me,” he said. He touched her arm. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I hope so,” she said.
“Don’t doubt it,” he told her, and headed for the cab.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Clint walked into the lobby of the Lucky Strike, thinking about his next move. The clerk with the attitude who checked him in was behind the desk.
Clint approached the desk and the man flinched, as if he thought Clint was coming to hit him.
“Where’s your boss?” he asked.
“Um, he’s in the casino.”
“Any messages for me? Telegrams? Anything?” Clint asked.
“No, sir.”
“Okay,” he said. “If anything comes in—oh, never mind.” There would be no telegrams this late at night. “Thanks.”
“Yes, sir.”
Clint turned, walked across the lobby, eyed the entrance to the saloon and the entrance to the casino. And made his choice.
He entered the casino.
* * *
Dirker was dressed in a tuxedo and walking the room. He stopped and hovered near the blackjack tables, and then the poker tables.
“Miss it?”
He turned and saw Clint.
“Miss what? Playing poker?” Dirker asked.
Clint nodded.
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“You could still play in private games,” Clint said.
“No,” Dirker said, “once I give in, I don’t think I’d be able to stop. I’ll just have to settle for being the house and raking it in. Just get back?”
“Yup.”
“Anything interesting happen?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Dirker looked around. There were people all around them.
“Let’s go someplace quiet.”
“The bar?” Clint asked.
“No,” Dirker said. “My office. Follow me.”
He led Clint to the back of the casino in through a doorway into a small office.
“I keep two offices, this one, and one in the hotel. Have a seat and fill me in.”
They sat across from each other and Clint told Dirker about the dinner.
“Perry Silver?” Dirker asked. “I never heard of him.”
“I’ll check with Rick Hartman in the morning,” Clint said. “Even if he doesn’t know who he is, he’ll find out. And I’ll send a telegram to Talbot Roper with his description.”
“You think this guy’s the killer?”
“He’s very calm,” Clint said. “I wouldn’t put killing past him.”
“Why would he send you that list?”
“You’re a smart guy,” Clint said.
“I am?”
“Well,” Clint said, “you have the analytical mind of a killer. You tell me.”
Dirker took a moment, then said, “He wanted to try you.”
“Lots of people like to try me.”
“Yeah, but not in the street,” Dirker said. “He got a kick outta sending you ridin’ all over the country. He woulda loved it if he could’ve killed all ten people while you were doing that. But you outsmarted him, and came here. Now he’s here, too, to finish it.”
Clint stared at his friend.
“That’s possible,” Clint said. “Tolliver hired him, though.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t think he’d have a reason to come up with this plan on his own,” Clint said. “I mean, we’ve never met. There’s no vengeance here.”
“So Tolliver hires him to kill all these men all over the country. And then to kill his wife. Why?”
“Don’t know.”
“How are you gonna find out?”
“Don’t know that either,” Clint said. “Yet.”
He stood up.
“Where are you goin’?”
“I’m going to get a beer, do some thinking, then go to my room. I’ll write some telegrams so I can just send them in the morning.”
“Want me to have somebody do that for you?”
“No,” Clint said, “I’ll do it myself.”
“Well, I’ll be here ’til late, if you wanna talk later,” Dirker said.
“Okay, King,” Clint said. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For giving me the benefit of your devious mind.”
THIRTY-NINE
In the morning Clint was awakened by knocking at his door. He padded from the bedroom to the front room and answered the door.
He opened the door and found a bellman standing in the hall.
“Mr. Adams?”
“That’s right.”
“I was told to give these to you, sir.”
Clint saw that the young man was holding telegrams in his hand.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting them.
He closed the door, put the gun down on a nearby table, and read the telegrams.
Later he found Dirker in the lobby, and they went into the dining room for breakfast together.
“You sent the bellman up with those telegrams?” he asked.
“I did.”
“Did you read them?”
“Only the one from my guy, because it came to me first.”
“Well, the one from your guy says the same thing as the one from Talbot Roper.”
“The four men left on that list all came up with the same name.”
Clint nodded.
“Ben Tolliver as the only man they know who’d try to have them killed.”
“But why?” Dirker asked.
“I don’t think I need to know why,” Clint said. “I think the list is Tolliver’s, and the gunman is Perry Silver.”
“Well, Silver is here in San Francisco,” Dirker said. “I guess that means those
four are safe?”
“Unless Tolliver—or Silver—has somebody else to send after them,” Clint said. “Tolliver certainly has the money to hire a killer in each place. I’ll send telegrams back that the men are to continue to be covered.”
“I can send my man that telegram.”
“I’m going to the office, so I’ll just have a reply sent. You have your own work to do.”
“What else are you gonna do today?”
“I’m still going to send a telegram to Rick Hartman. I’m going to see what I can find out from both him and Roper about Perry Silver. I need to know who I’m dealing with.”
The waiter came with their steak and eggs. This time Clint consumed the whole meal before it could get cold.
As they walked out into the lobby, Dirker asked, “Have you thought about getting Amanda Tolliver out of that house?”
“I have,” Clint said. “I don’t think Tolliver would have her killed in his own home, though. Too many questions.”
“Well, if you do decide to get her out of there, you can always bring her here. We’ll make her very comfortable in the hotel.”
“I appreciate that, King,” Clint said. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“Do you think you have that much time?” Dirker asked. “If she goes to the casinos tonight with her bodyguards, Silver might decide to go ahead and do the job.”
“But Max will be with them,” Clint said, “and if I’m any judge of people, the big bodyguard is in love with the lady.”
“Really?”
“Looks at her like a lovesick puppy. Silver’s going to have to deal with Max before he can dispose of Amanda. But don’t worry, I’ll be in Portsmouth Square tonight.”
“If you need me,” Dirker said, “you know where to find me.”
“I know,” Clint said, and left.
He stopped at the telegraph office, replied to the telegrams he had, then sent a couple of his own. He sent the same question to both Rick and Roper: Who is Perry Silver?
After that he decided to do some research of his own. He went to the offices of the San Francisco Chronicle and spent some time in their morgue looking for any mention of Perry Silver.
He didn’t find any, but there were a few stories about opponents of Ben Tolliver who’d showed up dead. There was no mention, however, in any of those cases, about Tolliver ever being questioned by the police.
So it appeared Ben Tolliver was protected.
No surprise.
FORTY
Clint got dressed for Portsmouth Square.
He’d reviewed his options during the course of the day, and decided to get Amanda Tolliver out of the line of fire before anything else happened. He’d take Dirker up on his offer of a room for her. Once that was done, he could deal with Perry Silver.
During the course of the day he’d received the replies from his telegrams. Rick Hartman and Talbot Roper gave him the same information. Perry Silver was a killer for hire—a high-priced one. But there was nothing in his background that matched this death list thing. This was totally different.
He left his room, went down to the lobby. He hadn’t told Amanda which casino to meet him in, but he felt sure he’d find her at the Alhambra again. She struck him as a smart woman. May not have been the smartest thing in the world to marry Ben Tolliver, but on the other hand, she’d only been nineteen at the time.
He didn’t see Dirker on the way out, didn’t look for him. Out front he had the doorman get him a cab, and told the driver to take him to the Alhambra.
He spent a couple of hours in the casino, played a few hands of blackjack—a game he didn’t really like—spent some time at the bar. He didn’t bother getting involved in a poker game. That required a longer commitment, and he didn’t have the time to spend.
Finally, Amanda appeared. Perry Silver came in ahead of her, Max was right behind her, both of them dressed all in black. She was dressed in a long blue gown, had a shawl on over bare shoulders and generous cleavage. She came down the steps, her eyes sweeping the room. Clint was right there in her line of sight, but she gave no indication that she saw him. She did, though. He was sure of that.
He watched her as she walked around the room. Max kept his eyes on her, but Silver watched the whole room. Clint was sure the killer—and he was sure Perry Silver was a killer—had seen him.
Clint was curious—curious enough to ask some questions. He decided the direct approach was the best way to go. So he walked across the room to where Amanda was playing some faro. Max was standing right behind her, but Silver was off to the side of the table.
“Buy you a drink?” he asked Perry.
Silver looked at him without surprise.
“Why not?”
He tapped Max on the shoulder, told him where he was going. The big man reacted with a careless shrug—the kind that said he couldn’t care less.
Perry followed Clint to the bar. The killer had no holster on his hip today, but Clint could see the bulge beneath the man’s jacket. He was wearing a shoulder rig.
“What’ll you have?” he asked.
“Beer.”
“Two beers,” Clint told the bartender.
When the bartender put them on the bar, Clint picked one up and handed it to Silver. At the same time he handed him the list. Then he looked over at the faro table, saw that Amanda was looking at them over her shoulder.
“What’s this?” Silver asked.
“I thought you’d like that back.”
Silver looked at the list.
“Five names are crossed off.”
“You know why.”
Silver didn’t respond, he just looked back at the list.
“What about these other four?”
“Oh, they’re safe.”
“Are they?”
“Oh, yes,” Clint said. “I made sure of that. They’re safe.”
Silver looked at Clint, sipped his beer, then smiled and put the list away in his pocket. He turned his attention back to his half-finished beer.
“Why the list, Perry?” Clint asked. “I know what you do for a living, but that kind of game has never been in your background. Killing nine men, that was an easy job for you. Especially shooting them in the back. But why send me the list?”
Silver studied Clint for a few moments, and Clint thought he’d lie.
Instead he said, “Boredom.”
“Murder for hire started to bore you?”
“You can get bored with anything,” Silver said. He looked across the floor at Amanda. “Even a beautiful woman.”
“Is that why Amanda is on your list?” Clint asked. “Because her husband is bored with her?”
“You’d have to ask him why she’s on the list,” Silver said. “I don’t ask why. Knowing why is not part of my job.” He put the mug down on the bar. “Thanks for the beer, and the chat.”
“Max is not just going to let you kill her, you know,” Clint said.
“Max won’t be a problem.”
“I’m not just going to stand by and watch you kill her either.”
Silver grinned.
“Well, you might be a problem,” he said, “but it’s one I can handle.”
“Are you sure?”
“Dead sure,” Silver said, “or I never would have sent you that note.”
“Well, then, maybe you and me, we should settle it,” Clint said. “That is, before you kill her.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Silver said. “Money first, then fun. Again, thanks for the beer.”
Silver walked away from the bar, back to the faro table.
FORTY-ONE
Amanda—probably confused about what was to happen—finally decided to play poker. That put her at a table with five men, in full view of the entire casino.
Clint walked over to the table. Once again Max was standing right behind her, and Silver was off to one side of the table, watching the people.
Clint sidled up next to Max and said, “How about taking a little b
reak, Max. Buy you a beer?”
Max turned his head and gave Clint a cold look.
“Come on,” Clint said. “I’ve got something to tell you. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Max turned his head back to the table.
“Come on, Max,” Clint said. “It has to do with Amanda.”
Max gave him another look, this one with a flicker of interest in his eyes.
“Come on,” Clint said. “Silver took a break. Now you take one.”
Max looked over at Silver, then back at Clint. Finally, he leaned over and said something to Amanda.
“Fine,” Clint heard her say, “go.”
Max walked over to Silver and said something to him. Silver laughed. As Clint and Max walked to the bar, Silver stood behind Amanda. It would have been very easy for him to kill her if there hadn’t been all those other people in the room.
At the bar Clint didn’t bother to ask Max what he’d have. He just ordered two beers. When he handed one to Max, he handed him the two telegrams he’d received, identifying Perry Silver as a killer for hire. Max frowned, read both telegrams. Clint was glad he was able to read.
“What’s this mean?” he demanded.
“It means your friend Silver over there hasn’t been hired to protect Amanda. He’s been hired to kill her.”
Clint didn’t bother trying to explain to Max about the list. It was enough to let him know that Amanda was in danger.
“But…w-who?”
“Who do you think?”
Max stared at him without comprehension.
Oh boy, Clint thought. This is going to be harder than I thought.
“Max, Perry works for the same man you work for.”
“But…why would Mr. Tolliver hire him to kill Mrs. Tolliver?”
“I don’t know,” Clint said. “Does that matter? Look across the room. He could kill her real easy, standing behind her like that.”
Max took a quick step away from the bar, but Clint stopped him.
“He won’t do it, not in front of all these people.”
Max stepped back.
“What do I do?”
“Well, you could kill him before he kills her.”
Max stared at Clint, his eyes wide, and suddenly he looked more like a scared boy than a bodyguard.
The Death List Page 10