Longarm 243: Longarm and the Debt of Honor (19 page)

On a whim he ambled over to Luke Baldwin's shop for a hot-towel shave and a trim.

Longarm still wasn't sure where Baldwin fit into this thing. If the man fit in at all. Far as Longarm could determine, the town barber had no reason to hold anything against Norm or Dinky, no motive for burning official records. If anything, he seemed unusually clean and civic-minded. Yet he'd lied about not having any kind of relationship with Dinky, hadn't he? Mmm, maybe he had and maybe he hadn't, actually. There could be some rational, reasonable explanation why Baldwin denied talking with Dinky even though Eleanor saw them together, saw Baldwin hand the boy a bundle that might, or might not, have been shaped like a pistol would be.

Shit, it was all so tenuous. Longarm wasn't sure what to think.

He sat there in the barber chair while Baldwin ran a razor edge up and down on his cheeks and throat. Baldwin's hand never trembled. Longarm would have sworn to that. If the man had anything to hide, he was almighty good at it.

Like if he was the one who crept near in the night, just hours back, and set fire to an entire house just in the hope of killing a man.

It seemed fairly hard to believe Baldwin could have done that under the cover of night and now be able to shave his intended victim without the least tremor of uneasiness making itself felt in the feather-delicate touch of his razor.

Longarm told himself it wasn't his to worry about any longer. He'd done his job here. He'd come in and shown the folks that mattered that his old friend Norm was innocent of arson. Now Longarm could go home with a clear conscience and leave Crow's Point's problems to the people of Crow's Point and Hirt County.

Norm and Jonas Brown could handle it just as well as Longarm could.

Well, so maybe nobody could handle things quite
that
well, Longarm told himself inside the privacy of his own thoughts Wouldn't Billy Vail get a guffaw out of hearing a brag like that? Or Norm or Jonas too, for that matter? Longarm damn sure knew better than to boast out loud. It was his experience that once a man started patting his own back, he was setting himself up to take some hard licks.

Better to admit that he'd done all he really needed to do here and let it go at that. Tonight he would get a good night's sleep; tomorrow morning he would swear out his deposition, and by evening, depending on the stage schedule, he should be on the road for Denver and the dressing-down Billy was sure to give him once he got there.

As for this afternoon, well, the rest of today he figured to loaf, eat, maybe have a few drinks. He would consider himself on vacation the rest of his time here.

Longarm came awake with a start, his hand reaching for the comforting presence of the .44 Colt before he could consciously think about the reaction.

He'd heard something disturb his sleep—he did not recall exactly what—and did not intend to take any chances.

After all, he'd twice been the target of attempts on his life here. And by two different people, at that.

There were times when he had the uncharitable notion that maybe this was not really the friendliest town in Kansas as it sometimes seemed.

And if two attempts had been made, he had to conclude that it was not altogether impossible for some asshole to make a third.

The sound that had wakened him was repeated, and Longarm felt taut muscles relax.

Someone was walking through the alley that ran behind the shed where, since his things were already there anyhow, he'd bedded down for his last night in Crow's Point.

Whoever it was, they weren't sneaking along, weren't tiptoeing around, didn't seem to be making any particular attempt to hide their passage.

Longarm returned the revolver to the holster laid close beside his head. As far as he knew it wasn't a shooting offense for someone to walk through a public alleyway after dark, so he reckoned he'd best calm down and quit being so jumpy.

Hell, he was done here, right? Wrap things up first thing in the morning and he could be on his way and never have to think about Crow's Point again. Or about whoever it was that had tried to kill him just about twenty-four hours back.

That part didn't sit well in his belly. But he could ask Norm to be sure and let him know what they turned up when Norm and the sheriff dug their way down to the bottom of the multiple arsons.

The person whose footsteps had wakened him walked on past the open mouth of the shed. Longarm didn't bother trying to peer out between the rails of the stall wall to see who it might be. It wasn't any of his business.

His attention did perk up again, though, when he heard whoever it was turn off the gravel of the alley into the thick weeds at the side of the shed.

Someone stopping in the shadows to take a leak? Probably, Longarm told himself.

But the party kept moving. Longarm could hear him plain enough. He left the alley, walked by the side of the shed, and seemed to be approaching the back of what used to be Norm's house.

Longarm wondered what the hell someone would want there in the middle of the night. The fire was completely gone now, so they weren't checking on that. There wasn't even any smoke rising off the wreckage now, although the smell of ash and charcoal remained unpleasantly strong, to the point that Longarm was hoping there wouldn't be a shift of wind direction during the night. As it was, the light evening breeze was carrying the stink in someone else's direction. He would be just as pleased if things stayed like that.

He sat up, yawned, and gave in to his curiosity, sliding over against the back wall of the shed, the wall facing toward the ruins of the house. He found a gap between two of the age-warped laths that formed the wall, and peered out between them.

Someone was there, all right. He could see a formless, shadowy figure moving, faint and pale against the hard black of the burned-out house foundation. The moon had already set for the night, and there was not enough star-light for him to make out much beyond the fact that someone was there. Longarm could not see what the figure was doing.

He heard a dull clatter as something, a board probably, was dislodged. The person was entering the ruins? What the hell for? Longarm wondered.

He grunted. Some son of a bitch picking through in search of valuables, he guessed. Bastard. This place was shot all to hell and gone, but it was still Norm's damned place. Whatever was still in that junk still belonged to Longarm's friend. Longarm did not particularly appreciate any asshole who would come along and try to steal from a man who'd already lost just about everything he owned. That wasn't exactly a decent way to act.

Longarm pulled his trousers on, stepped into his boots, and strapped the gunbelt snug around his waist. It might be considered un-neighborly in Crow's Point to shoot folks in the night. But he expected no one would mind all that much if he scared the shit out of somebody.

Some damned kid, more than likely, he thought as he light-footed out of the shed and followed along the way the intruder had just gone.

Longarm figured to put the fear into some inconsiderate soul this night.

He ducked low so as to avoid being spotted before he was ready to make himself known, then crept silently toward what once had been the back of a nice little house.

“My God, Longarm, you frightened me half to death.”

“Eleanor? Is that you?” Damn, he expected it was. And he believed her. She sounded like she'd been scared out of ten years growth.

Well, she was a big girl. She didn't need any more growing. Still and all ... “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing, dear.”

“Yeah, but I asked first.”

“Longarm, dear!” she gently chided.

“All right. I was sleeping in the shed over there. Didn't have any place better to go tonight.”

Eleanor snickered. “You could have come to my back door, you know.”

“Yeah, I bet your neighbors would've enjoyed that. It would've given them something to talk about the rest of this whole year.”

Eleanor made a face. He could barely see her in the darkness even though he was close to her now. She grimaced. “You are right, of course. Thank you for thinking about my reputation.”

“You haven't told me why you're here prowling around in the middle of the night.”

“I can't exactly be seen doing it in daylight, can I?”

“Doing what?” he asked.

“If you must know, dear, Norman and I have exchanged some ... how shall I put this ... some rather indelicate notes. It became something of a game between us, one trying to shock the other, you see. I know Norman kept them in a metal box. And I was afraid if ... oh, little boys or who knows who else might root through all this debris ... I was afraid those notes may have survived the fire. If anyone found them, dear, I would be ruined in this town. And not only for the remainder of the year either. I might as well brand myself with a scarlet A on my forehead and take the first available transportation elsewhere. Certainly I wouldn't have a friend left here. Norman might get away with it. After all, everyone expects men to act like little boys. Women are held to a rather more exacting standard.”

Longarm had to admit that that much was true enough. “Look,” he said, “you aren't gonna find anything in the dark like this. I doubt you could lay hands on the box even if you knew exactly where it was. Which, by the way, do you? I mean, I might could help you find it if you tell me where to look. But underneath the surface those ashes are still too hot to touch. If you go poking around through that shit, you're gonna end up burned and not accomplish anything in exchange for it. Do you know where to look?”

“No, I'm sorry,” she admitted.

“Well, don't worry about it. By the time the ashes cool off enough for anyone to sift through them, Norm will be home.”

“He will? Why didn't you
tell
me, dear?”

“You didn't know?” Longarm had naturally assumed that in a town the size of Crow's Point, everyone would know by now that the marshal was innocent and would be released from the jail come tomorrow. Longarm went through the whole story for Eleanor's benefit.

She listened with rapt attention while he explained it all. Then she said, “Why, I needn't worry at all then, right? Norman will be here tomorrow. He will know where to find his lockbox. And of course it will be perfectly proper for him to go through and see what he can recover out of all this.” She was smiling.

“Right,” Longarm agreed.

“So I needn't worry myself about it tonight,” Eleanor said.

“Right,” Longarm repeated.

Her smile got bigger. “So I have some unexpected time on my hands this evening.”

“Well, uh, I'd have to say that that's right too.”

Eleanor was positively beaming with pleasure now. “Longarm, dear.”

“Mmm?”

“You know how I feel about Norman.”

He grunted. The truth was that in fact he didn't know how Eleanor felt about Norman. She sure was willing to pin horns on the man's head. Longarm felt more than a little bad about that already, dammit. Funny too how it hadn't seemed quite so awful when Norm was still in jail. But now that his friend was about to be released ...

“Longarm, dear ...” Eleanor stepped forward, standing close in front of Longarm. Despite the smell of the fire, he was very much aware of the woman-scent that emanated from her. He could practically feel her presence, a sense of her crossing the short distance that separated them. She was large and lusty, and Longarm couldn't help but be aroused by her nearness.

“Longarm,” she repeated in throaty whisper.

“Mmm.” He might have said more. Except Eleanor's mouth was covering his, wet and warm and softer than down. Her tongue dipped impishly into his mouth and out again, and she pressed her belly to his crotch, then withdrew her kiss so she could laugh. “That big, beautiful thing of yours, dear ... may I have it one more time, please? Norman is a dear, dear man and I love him to pieces. But, well, he doesn't have anything to compare with this, dear.” She reached down and gave him a sharp squeeze, just in case he was in some doubt about the focus of her interest.

Eleanor kissed him again. “Please?” she whispered. Longarm felt like the worst kind of son of a bitch. On the other hand, it wasn't as if it would be for the first time. And an egg once broken couldn't exactly be put back together again.

“Mmm,” he grunted, his cock beginning to throb with newfound interest as Eleanor groped and grabbed and practically knocked him over backward in her hurry to lead him away from the house and into the dark privacy of the shed.