Strangely enough, he had no feelings one way or another about Morton Colton. He had just seemed like a damned fool that had gotten in over his head trying to cheat the wrong kind of folks. Maybe he did have connections with the sheriff and maybe he did run with a rough group. That didn't necessarily put him in the whiskey business. But if it did, Longarm had an idea that he wasn't very high up in any organization selling bootleg moonshine in big quantities.
No, of all the leads he had seen thus far, Frank Carson wouldn't leave his mind.
It had been a long day and he was just starting the job, and he wasn't going to be any farther along if he sat up in his room all night long than he would if he went ahead and had a good night's rest. He smoked one more cigarillo, downed one more drink of his good Maryland whiskey, and then blew out the lamp and climbed under the covers with thoughts of several delectable ladies he'd been pleasured to know in the past going through his mind. But he was too tired for such thoughts and it wasn't long before he fell asleep.
CHAPTER 3
Longarm was staying at the Albert Pike Hotel, which was grandly and oddly in contrast to the rest of the small, shabby city. The Albert Pike was a four-story brick affair with a big marble lobby and indoor plumbing. Some of the rooms even had built-in bathtubs. Longarm had been told that the place had been modeled by the builder and owner after the Grand Hotel in Saint Louis. He was glad of the comfort, but he thought it looked a little strange in the shoddy city. Fortunately, it boasted a good dining room and a bar that was quiet and had good brands of whiskey, even the special Maryland blend that he preferred.
He was up early the next morning, dressed and shaved and ready to go about finding a door that would open into the illegal whiskey business.
He sauntered through the resplendent lobby, his boots echoing off the marble floor. There were throw rugs here and there and big overstuffed chairs occupied by men in business suits who were reading newspapers and dropping cigar ashes down their fronts. He found the dining room and went in to the pleasant smell of ham and eggs and baking-soda biscuits. As he stood in the door, he spotted a man from the poker game of the previous day, the one who had been sitting to the left of Morton Colton and who had dealt the hand from the cold deck. Longarm stood a moment, glancing toward the man. He was middle-aged, with a pleasant face, and was wearing a pinched-back suit coat and a white shirt and collar with a foulard tie. On a whim, Longarm decided to walk over and say hello. The man glanced up as he neared and nodded in a friendly way. Longarm came up to his table and stopped. He said, 'Well, look here. It seems we meet again.'
The man indicated a chair opposite him with a nod of his head. He said, 'I'm about to order breakfast. Would you care to sit down and join me?'
Longarm pulled out a chair and sat down. He said, 'Don't mind if I do.'
The man stuck out his hand. He said, 'The name is Bob Greene, that's green with an e on the end.'
Longarm shook the man's hand and gave his name, Custis Long. He said, 'Glad to meet you, Mr. Greene. It's a shame we had to be involved in that scruffy business yesterday with Mr. Colton.'
Mr. Greene nodded. 'Yeah, I can't say that I cared much for that, myself. I'm a peaceful man by nature and don't care much for trouble.'
Longarm looked around the dining room. He said, 'You staying here at the hotel, Mr. Greene?'
Greene shook his head quickly. 'No, Mr. Long, I'm a widower and not much of a hand in the kitchen. I take my breakfast here at the hotel and sometimes my dinner. There's a little cafe down the street, near the bank where I work, where I generally eat the noon meal.' Longarm said, 'Ah, you're a banker?'
Mr. Greene shrugged. 'You might say that. Actually, I was a land speculator before I kind of got in the banking business in a left-handed way. Before that, I was mainly in the timber business.'
'So you were in the businesses that needed capital. I guess that's the way you got to know the banking business.'
Mr. Greene smiled. 'Not many would understand that, Mr. Long. My congratulations.'
'Well, without seeming nosy, is that what you do down at the bank? Make loans?'
A little frown flitted across Mr. Greene's face. He said, 'Not exactly, Mr. Long. I, well, I sort of advise them on different investments.'
Longarm said, 'I see.' But he didn't really. It was an odd sort of work for someone to advise banks on how to run a bank. At that moment, a waitress came up and their conversation ceased while they ordered. Longarm asked for ham and a half dozen fried eggs with biscuits and brown gravy on the side and coffee and he decided to order a slab of apple pie to top it all off.
Mr. Green looked amused. He was not a very big man, but he was carrying a little extra weight. He said, 'Oh, Mr. Long, I remember the days when I could eat like that. Now, with this sour stomach of mine, I've got to be careful. I'm just going to have some soft scrambled eggs and some dry toast.'
Longarm nodded sympathetically. 'It's a shame when a man's stomach goes to acting up on him. I guess that's the second most tender area a man hates to see put out of business.'
Mr. Greene said, 'Ain't that the truth.'
When the waitress was gone, the thought fluttered through Longarm's mind that Mr. Greene, who appeared tohave been a longtime resident of the Little Rock area, might be a source of information about the whiskey. He intended to pass himself off as a buyer, just as Billy Vail had suggested, and Mr. Greene seemed to be an innocent enough person to begin with. He had no earthly idea if the man would talk to him, but it was certainly worth a try. He intended to ask very openly around town and get some word circulating until someone came up to him and started talking whiskey.
But during the meal, Longarm kept the talk general. At one point, Mr. Greene inquired what business might have brought Longarm to Little Rock. The deputy marshal had sidestepped the question, passing up the opening and giving some inconsequential answer. He had earlier in the conversation described himself as an investor, a man who looked for an opportunity to make money in any variety of ways. He said he was from Phoenix, Arizona, and had investments in land and cattle.
Mr. Greene had looked up at him with a slight twinkle in his eye. He said, 'You seem to have come over quite a lot of ground to end up in a place like Little Rock looking for business opportunities.'
