Chapter II
Decker, refreshed and fed, stopped off at the telegraph office before going to the saloon for a beer. He composed a short telegram to the sheriff of Doverville, Arizona, asking for a complete and de-tailed description of the man who had held up their bank the month before. He also asked for a quick reply. He paid for the telegram and told the clerk he’d check in for an answer later.
When he entered the saloon, the bartender recognized him.
“Another beer?”
“Yep.”
“And another story?”
“Just the beer. I’ll make do with the first story.”
“Coming up.”
When the bartender came back with the beer, Decker said, “Tell me about the sheriff.”
“What about him?”
“What kind of a lawman is he?”
The man shrugged.
“Fair Tomiddlin’, I guess. He keeps the peace, stops in for a free drink every once in a while.”
“He looks like he’s getting a lot of free meals.”
“Might be, but he was shaped like that when he ran for the office.”
Decker noticed something odd in the bartender’s voice and mentioned it.
“Well, to tell you the God’s honest truth, Mr.…”
“Decker.”
“Name’s Ted Daniels,” the bartender said, and they shook hands. “To tell you the truth, Decker, Hack Wilson ran unopposed for the office because nobody else wanted the job.”
“Why’s that?”
“Would you like to be the sheriff of a town called Heartless?”
“That’s another thing. Why is the town called Heartless?”
The bartender leaned on his elbows and said, “Somebody was in a piss-poor mood when they named it.”
Wilson was waiting at his office when Decker arrived.
“Ready?” Decker asked.
“I’m ready.”
They left the office and Wilson dictated the direction they would take.
“How many people were in the bank that day?”
“Four. The manager, the teller, and two customers.”
“Let’s do the customers first. We can find the other two at the bank.”
“It closes at five.”
“We’ve got an hour. I just have a few questions.”
The first witness was Thaddeus Bidwell, who ran and owned the hardware store. He replied willingly enough to Decker’s questions. He said that he wasn’t particularly familiar with Brian Foxx’s face, but that the man in the bank had red hair and freckles and had made absolutely no attempt to cover his face.
“Crazy huh?” the hardware man said.
“Not so crazy when you consider his motive,” Decker replied.
“Which was?”
“He wanted Tomake sure he got the credit.”
The second witness was a young woman who was a waitress in the hotel dining room. In fact, it was the waitress who had waited on Decker earlier.
She had been in the bank Tomake a deposit.
“A small deposit, mind you,” she said, smiling crookedly. “On my salary, that’s the only kind I can make.”
She was a pretty little thing with brown hair and eyes. Probably had suitors up the ass, Decker thought—a pretty ass it was, too.
She described the man exactly as Bidwell had, and added that she knew it was Brian Foxx as soon as she saw him.
“How did you know that?”
“I read the papers, Mr. Decker. I’m not just another pretty face, you know.”
“Pretty enough, though, miss,” Decker said, tipping his hat. “Darned pretty enough.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Decker.”
“And you’re a good waitress, too.”
“Tell my boss.”
“I will. Thank you, miss…”
“Benbow, Julia Benbow.”
“Miss Benbow.”
As Decker and the sheriff left, Julia Benbow experienced a breathless feeling and a tingling in the pit of her stomach.
In the bank Decker asked the same questions of Wilbur Posten, the young teller, and Andrew Billingsworth, the bank manager. Both men described Brian Foxx. Posten added that he had recognized him right away.
“I read the papers,” the young man said.
“Do you know Miss Benbow at the hotel?” Decker asked.
The man blushed and said, “I, ah, may have met her.” He had obviously met her, since she had an account in this bank, and he had just as obviously noticed her.
“You should go and talk to her. You and she have a lot in common.”
“Really?” the man asked, brightening.
“Yeah. She reads the papers, too. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”
“Anything else I can do for you?” Wilson asked, outside the bank.
There was, but Decker didn’t want to tell him. He shook his head no and walked away.
He stopped at the telegraph office and found that a reply had come in. He read the message, and it told him just what the four witnesses here had told him.
The bank had been held up by a man in his twenties, with red hair and freckles, who made no attempt to hide his face from three witnesses.
By all accounts, Brian Foxx.
Impossible.
There was only one difference between the two jobs. Here in Heartless, no one had been hurt. In Doverville, a man had been shot and killed.
Brian Foxx was now wanted for murder, as well as bank robbery and train robbery.
That meant an increase in the reward.
