'It belongs to the Union Pacific.'
Longarm reloaded his Colt. He pulled out his pocket watch and noted that it was ten minutes after twelve. There was still time, if Milly kept Blake Huntington occupied over lunch, to search the suspect's room for clues that would link him to the train robbery.
But he had to move fast.
'Hey!' Ned Rowe shouted. 'Where are you going? We got a dead man here!'
'I'll be back!' Longarm called, hurrying away before the shots brought a curious crowd.
CHAPTER 8
'Morning, sir!' the hotel desk clerk sang out as Longarm shot past on his way to the stairs.
'Morning!' Longarm called out as he took the steps two at a time.
He skidded to a halt in the upstairs hallway, and then walked slowly to Blake Huntington's room. First he knocked on the door, and got no answer. Then he tried his own key in the door just in case. When it got him nowhere, he produced a small wire device that had served him well in the past. Sticking it into the door's lock, he took only moments to get the door open. Then he stepped inside, gently closed the door behind him, and moved swiftly to inspect the room.
Longarm was still furious about having to kill the outlaw with the roan horse. If the man had not recognized him and called out his name, things might have worked out fine. But the dead outlaw had recognized him, while Longarm could not put a name on the man he'd killed. Even so, he was sure he'd seen the owner of the roan horse someplace.
'Put your mind on the business at hand and stop fuming about what you can't change,' Longarm said, forcing himself to concentrate on searching the room.
One thing that was obvious was that, while Blake Huntington might be a gentleman, he was also slovenly. There was a dirty pile of underwear wadded up and pitched in the corner, several empty whiskey bottles on the floor, and an overflowing tray of Royal Crown cigarette butts spilled across his night table.
Longarm went through the dresser first, hunting for some tie-in to the railroad robbery. He found nothing. The top of the dresser was littered with small change, matches, several empty sardine cans, and the tins of other meals quickly consumed.
'One thing for sure,' Longarm said. 'If he had money, he wouldn't be supping on tinned goods. The man is a fraud.'
Longarm searched through the clothes closet, the bathroom, the luggage, and even riffled the pages of several books. He found nothing that would incriminate Blake Huntington or in any way tie him to the train derailment.
'Damn!'
Longarm spied a trash basket filled with more whiskey bottles, a crumpled, week-old newspaper, and some more smelly food tins. Marshal Billy Vail had often preached that a lawman could find more evidence in a trash basket than almost any other place. Longarm carefully went through the contents, and only when he decided there was still nothing of interest and began to stuff everything back did he notice that the Laramie newspaper contained an advertisement for the Union Pacific, with a timetable for the service across the Laramie Summit to Cheyenne. The advertisement was boldly circled, and beside it were the penciled words 'ELI AND DEPUTY.'
Longarm's pulse quickened. These three words would not constitute evidence in a court of law, but they told Longarm that, without a shadow of doubt, Blake Huntington was a member of the train-robbing gang. That meant that Huntington was the only real link that Longarm now had with the gang, and that the man would have to be shadowed until more was revealed.
Longarm tore the page out, neatly folded it, and then stuffed it into his pocket. Satisfied that his inspection was complete, Longarm started for the door. Just as his hand clamped onto the knob, he heard the metallic click of a key being inserted in the outside lock.
Longarm whirled and sprang for the window. He tried to open it, but the thing was frozen shut. And even if it had been wide open it would have been a long, long drop to the alley below. He twisted to see the door handle turning, and heard Milly's forced laughter.
Longarm dove for the carpet. He rolled over onto his back, and barely managed to squeeze under the bed just as the door opened.
'Well, now!' the man said in his slightly British accent. 'I can see that the hotel needs to get someone up here to do some housekeeping, don't they!'
'I'll say,' Milly replied.
There was a moment of silence, and then the bedsprings groaned and sagged to rest against Longarm's chest. He heard the sound of kissing, and then felt the bedsprings moving as the couple began to roll around. Then heavy breathin , and then clothes hitting the floor.
Longarm ground his teeth and cursed himself for not leaving earlier. The last thing he wanted was to be under the bed while this pair coupled.
The bedsprings began to squeak and Longarm could hear Milly start to moan, and he knew from the sound of it that she was faking.
'Oh, baby,' the Englishman panted. 'What you got is what I want. Roll over.'
'No,' Milly said quite firmly.
'Aw, come on, beauty! You'll like it!'
'No, I won't! It hurts that way!'
Blake's voice hardened. 'Just do it!!'
'No! Blake, stop it!'
Longarm heard fear in Milly's voice. She began to plead and then struggle with the man. The springs pressed
