“Sure, Mr. Decker.”
Tally gave Rosewood a pointed look and then followed Decker.
“Who showed you this place?” Tally asked. He looked around with disapproval. Decker noticed for the first time that Tally’s suit was a lot more expensive than his—a lot more.
“A lady friend.”
“You’ve been in town one day,” Tally said, “and so far you’ve found Billy Rosewood, a lady friend, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant and a mess of trouble. You work fast, Decker.”
“Listen, Lieutenant, I haven’t even started to work yet.”
“Aha. Then you are here working.”
“Let’s get a table.”
Tally looked around and saw that the place was empty.
“That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
There were two waitresses working. One of them was the same one who had served Decker and Linda Hamilton the night before. She came over and smiled at him.
“Hello. You’re Linda’s friend.”
“That’s right.”
“The eggs must have been good last night.”
“Are they still good?”
“The best.”
“We’ll have some.”
“This way.”
Tally gave his chair a good close scrutiny before sitting in it.
“I assume you’re used to better places than this,” Decker said.
“I usually frequent, uh, cleaner establishments, yes.”
“Wait until you taste the eggs,” Decker said. “You might find cleaner, but you won’t find better.”
“Coffee?” the waitress asked.
“Yes,” Decker said, “two cups.”
“One clean one.”
The waitress gave Tally a hurt look and went to fill the order.
“You’re a mean man,” Decker said. “You hurt her feelings.”
“She’ll live.”
“You have some questions for me?”
“Did you remember anything else from last night?”
“Not a thing.”
“Boil had six hundred dollars on him.”
“What about his brother?”
“Boil carried all the money for both of them.”
“Oh,” Decker said, “for a minute there I was almost flattered.”
“Anyway,” Tally said, “it looks like the brothers were paid to kill you.”
“That’s nice,” Decker said.
The waitress brought the coffee and the eggs. She slammed a cup down in front of Tally and said, “Here’s the clean one!”
After she left, Tally said, “Who wants to kill you that bad?”
“I just got to town, Lieutenant,” Decker said. “I don’t know anybody.”
“Well, somebody knows you. Somebody had them at the station waiting for you.”
Decker decided it was time for him to give the lieutenant something to occupy his time.
“Wait a minute.”
“You remember something?” Tally asked. He was eating the eggs without a hint of complaint.
“Yeah. The big one, Boil…he called me Dover.”
“Well, I guess they thought you were this Dover guy.”
“I guess so. Maybe you can find out if a man named Dover came into town on the same train I did.”
“I’ll check on it after breakfast.”
“How are the eggs?”
Tally stopped short as he was shoveling the last of his eggs into his mouth and said, “Uh, they’re not bad.”
“Here,” Decker said, dropping some money on the table, “eat mine.”
“Where are you going?”
“I told you,” Decker said, standing up, “I’m going to church.”
Chapter Eight
Decker found Billy Rosewood still waiting in front of the hotel.
“Are you in trouble with the police, Mr. Decker?” he asked.
“I picked up a bullet last night without paying for it.”
“A bullet? From where?”
“From that little gun you got me.”
“Well, don’t blame me,” Rosewood said. “I didn’t think you were going to shoot yourself with it.”
“I didn’t—It’s a long story, Billy. Wait for me here. I’ve got to check at the desk.”
Decker went inside and approached the desk.
“Are there any telegraph messages for me?”
“Mr. Decker? Yes, sir.” The man turned, took an envelope out of his box and slid it across the desk to Decker.
“Thank you.”
“Uh, Mr. Decker,” the man said, “we have another room available if you like—”
“No. The one I have is fine.”
“But the incident—”
“The incident was my fault. I should watch who I let into my room.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir.”
“Forget it.”
Decker went out to Rosewood’s cab and said, “Let’s go for a ride. I don’t know where yet. I’ll let you know.”
“You’re the boss.”
Decker got into the cab, and Rosewood climbed up top and got started. Decker opened the envelope and read Duke’s telegram.
DECKER,
PAPER ON READY RECENT. KILLED THREE PEOPLE UNDER THREE DIFFERENT NAMES. READY IS REAL NAME. DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT HIM, PERSONALLY.
SAY HELLO TO BOOKMAN FOR ME. 483 BROOME STREET. ENJOY NEW YORK.
DUKE
Decker stuck his head out of the window and shouted up to Rosewood. “You know where Broome Street is?”
“Course!”
“Four-eight-three,” Decker called out.
“Right,” Rosewood said, waving a hand.
Chapter Nine
In a rooming house on Delancey Street, Oakley Ready sat naked on a bed counting his money. He still had about sixty-five hundred dollars left from the last bank he had robbed—just before Dover got onto his trail. He was out travel money and the money he’d been spreading behind him, trying to make sure Dover ended up dead.
He knew that the men he’d paid in Harrison City had failed to kill Dover because he’d read about the shooting in the St. Martin’s Hotel in the newspapers. The two men he’d hired to watch the train station were dead, too. Ready hadn’t known either town, or he’d have been able to hire better men.
He knew somebody in New York, though. He would get in touch with him today. It had taken him three days to find out where the guy was. Through this man he’d get some quality guns to go after Dover.
Once he had Dover taken care of, he’d be able to trade in this Delancey Street rooming house for a respectable hotel. He hadn’t seen much of New York since arriving, but he’d seen enough to know that it was his kind of town. There was plenty of money to be had, and plenty of places to spend it.
The girl on the other side of the bed rolled over and looked at Ready, then at the money. Her brown hair was tousled, and her lips slightly swollen.
“How much have you got left?” she asked.
“Enough,” he said, smiling at her.
He’d picked her up waiting tables in a restaurant. She wasn’t a beauty, but she was attractive and had a nice, solid body. He liked women with solid bodies.
The sheet fell away from her as she sat up, and he stared at her breasts. Then she reached for the money, and he grabbed her wrist and held it so tightly that bones started to grind together.
“Jesus—” she said, wincing in pain.
“We’ll get along fine, Marcy, as long as you remember one thing.”
“W-what?”
He let go of her wrist and said, “Don’t touch my money.”
“A-all r-right,” she said, rubbing her wrist.
He swept the money off the bed onto the floor, then got onto the bed with her.
“Here,” he said, taking her hand, “let me kiss it and make it better.”
Only it wasn’t her wrist that he started kissing.