the slender, balding man he was looking for and walked over to that desk, trailed by Dugan.
The reporter glanced up as they approached, then looked again with eyes grown wide with surprise. “Conrad Browning!” he exclaimed as he came to his feet. “I heard rumors you were in town, but I hadn’t been able to confirm them yet.”
“Hello, Jessup.” Conrad shook hands with the man. Despite the lack of hair on the reporter’s head, he was about Conrad’s age. In fact, they had been in college together for a while before Jessup Nash had decided he had no interest in running the textile mills his family owned and had disappointed them severely by going into journalism.
“Jessup, this is Patrick Dugan,” Conrad went on, having asked the big bodyguard his first name earlier. “Dugan, meet Jessup Nash.”
Dugan grunted as his hairy paw all but swallowed Nash’s smaller hand. “I’ve seen the name in the paper. Never thought I’d be meetin’ the fella it belongs to.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Dugan.” Nash turned back to Conrad. “What brings you to San Francisco? Business or pleasure?”
“For some people it’s the same thing,” Conrad pointed out.
“Yes, I remember when it was like that for you. But from everything that I’ve heard, ever since—” Nash stopped short and looked horrified. “Damn it, Conrad, I was so glad to see you that for a minute I forgot ... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for your loss. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about your wife, and then everybody said you were ... I mean—”
“I know what you mean”—Conrad nodded—“and I appreciate the sentiments, Jessup. But sympathy’s not why I’m here. I’m looking for information.”
“Of course.” Nash pulled a chair from an empty desk over beside his desk. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“You want me to stay, Mr. Browning?” Dugan rumbled.
“I think it would be all right for you to go down to the lobby where you’ll be comfortable. I’m confident no one will try to assassinate me here in the
Dugan frowned. “Sounds good, but I’m supposed to keep my eye on you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Conrad promised. “I’ll come get you when I’m ready to leave.”
“If you’re tryin’ to trick me, you know I’ll lose my job over this.”
Conrad smiled. “I wouldn’t do that to those four redheaded little ones of yours.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Dugan said ominously. He walked back to the stairs and disappeared down them.
As Conrad and Nash sat down, the reporter said, “Your friend Mr. Dugan has the appearance of someone who’s been hired to look after you. By Claudius Turnbuckle, say?”
“Jessup, before I tell you anything, or ask you anything, I have a request.”
Nash looked pained. “You don’t want me to print anything that we’re about to discuss.”
“That’s right.”
“That’s a very difficult thing for a journalist to promise, Conrad. Our business is finding things to print.”
“I know that. And I can give you a good story—maybe a better story than you’ve ever had—but only when the time is right.”
“You’ll promise me an exclusive in return for my discretion and cooperation now?”
“Exactly.”
Nash thought about it for a moment before saying, “Normally I wouldn’t agree to such a thing. But since we’re old friends ... and since I have a hunch you’re right about it being quite a story ... I’ll take a chance. What is it you want to know?”
“I have your word you won’t write anything about this until I tell you it’s all right?”
Nash nodded, although he still looked a little reluctant. “My word.”
“What can you tell me about a place in the Barbary Coast called the Golden Gate?”
“The Golden Gate what? Walk around this city and you’ll find everything from the Golden Gate Saloon to the Golden Gate Laundry. You mentioned the Barbary Coast, which leads me to think you’re more likely talking about the saloon.”
“There is such a place?”
“Oh, yes. One of the biggest drinking and gambling establishments in the area. Other things go on there as well, if you get my drift.”
Conrad reached in his pocket and took out the ivory token. “Is this from there?”
Nash barely glanced at the token before he nodded. “Sure. How did you get hold of one?”
“Never mind that now. What’s its purpose?”
“Twofold, actually. All the people who work at the Golden Gate carry them, and the owner also hands them out to certain customers so they can gain entrance to the second floor, where the real drinking and gambling and those other things I mentioned go on.”
“The owner,” Conrad repeated.
“That’s right. If you have one of those tokens, you must know him. His name’s Dex Lannigan.”
He had found D.L.
Chapter 13
Conrad tried to keep the reaction he felt from showing on his face. “Dex Lannigan, eh?”
“Are you telling me you
“That’s right.”
“Then how did you get that token?”
“That’s part of the story I’ve promised you when the time is right. What can you tell me about Lannigan?”
Nash grunted and spoke quietly. “He owns a successful saloon on Grant Street, smack-dab between the Barbary Coast and Chinatown. That ought to tell you everything you need to know about the man. Despite a veneer of smoothness, Dex Lannigan is no more honest than he has to be. He’s shrewd, ruthless, and dangerous. I suspect some of his competitors found that out to their regret. Before their bodies were dumped in the bay or out at sea, that is.”
“So you think he’s a killer?”
Nash leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know if he’s ever killed anyone personally, although it wouldn’t surprise me if he had. But I’m confident he’s ordered plenty of executions. So are the police, but they haven’t been able to prove it.”
“How long has he been around?”
Nash cocked his right ankle on his left knee and toyed with a pencil on the desk. “That’s an interesting question. He bought the Golden Gate about three years ago. Old Cletus Snyder owned it before that, but Snyder was in bad health and wanted out of the game. Lannigan came out of nowhere and took over the place. Some of us looked into his background afterward and found he’d been involved with some of the gangs along the Barbary Coast, but only as a low-level hoodlum. There was nothing in his history to indicate he had the money to buy a place like the Golden Gate or the skill to run it. Obviously he had both, since he’s made it more successful than it already was.” Lowering his voice he went on. “Some important people in San Francisco have been known to patronize the private rooms of the Golden Gate. I suspect Lannigan has a pretty good blackmail racket going on.”
Conrad nodded. He was intensely interested in everything Nash had said so far. The timing of Dex Lannigan’s rise to power was very suspicious. Pamela had arrived in San Francisco about three years ago, Conrad thought. If she had somehow made contact with Lannigan, she could have bankrolled his purchase of the Golden Gate Saloon. She wouldn’t have done that without getting something in return, though, such as his promise to send killers after Pamela’s former fiance if Conrad showed up in the city by the bay looking for his missing children.
It was also possible Pamela had enlisted Lannigan’s help in finding a place to hide the twins. Conrad knew he was going to have to have a faceto-face talk with Mr. Dex Lannigan, and soon.
“What else can you tell me about him?”
