down from St. Louis to do a little business.'
Millard took Longarm's hand in a bone-crushing grip. Longarm gave as good as he got and saw a flicker of respect in Millard's eyes. 'Just exactly what line of work are you in, Mr. Parker?' asked Millard.
'Just exactly whatever'll make me the most money,' said Longarm with a grin. 'That's the best kind of business, don't you think?'
'Damn right.' Millard angled his bald head toward the bar. 'Have a drink on me, Parker. And you two as well, of course, Clement.'
Longarm was doubtful that Annie would be able to get a glass of wine here in this rough-and-tumble spot, but the bartender surprised him, holding out the delicate crystal glass to her without even being told what the lady wanted to drink. Clearly, this wasn't her first visit to the Brass Pelican either. Clement asked for bourbon, while Longarm ordered Maryland rye, as always. Both requests were quickly honored.
As Longarm drank, he studied Jasper Millard with the same frankness with which the bald man was appraising him. Millard practically radiated power, and his eyes glittered with ruthlessness. Longarm had already spotted several bouncers lounging around the room, but he had no doubt that Millard could handle troublemakers every bit as well as his hired help.
Holding his glass of bourbon, Clement turned away from the bar and said excitedly, 'I'm going to try my luck at the roulette wheel. Come along, Annie.'
'You know, Paul,' said Annie, 'there might be other things which I wished to do more than watch you gamble.'
'But you are my lucky charm!' Clement reached out and grabbed Annie's hand. 'Come, cherie, the wheel awaits.'
Annie gave Longarm a look of resignation and allowed her brother to steer her away from the bar and toward one of the roulette wheels. Clement crowded up to the table and reached into an inner pocket for a wallet. He took several bills from it and dropped them on the table as the croupier prepared to spin the wheel. He was still clasping Annie's hand, and he grinned over at her excitedly as the wheel spun and the ball danced madly around it.
Longarm stayed at the bar and sipped his rye, but he turned so that he could watch the Clements while he did it. With a glance at Millard, he said, 'Paul seems to know how to enjoy himself, but I'm not sure he should be waving that billfold around. Never know who might be watching. M'sieu Clement--and his money--are perfectly safe in here,' said Millard, 'and on the street outside too. That wouldn't be true of most people, mind you. But the denizens of Gallatin Street know that he and his sister are my friends. They know that if anyone were to harm them in any way, I would know who the guilty party was within an hour, and my vengeance would be terrible to behold.'
'You mean they've got friends in high places, so to speak.'
Millard smiled humorlessly. 'Most people would consider my associates and me to be friends in low places.'
Longarm shrugged and said, 'All a matter of perspective, I reckon.'
'You're a Westerner,' Millard said as he came closer to Longarm. 'I can tell.'
'I've spent considerable time west of the Mississippi,' admitted Longarm, 'but I was born and raised in West- by-God Virginia. Started to drift and make my own way after the war.'
'You fought in that unfortunate conflict?'
'Yep, but don't ask me on which side. I tend to disremember.'
Millard chuckled. 'As do I, sir, as do I. There are some allegiances a businessman can't afford to maintain, however much he might like to.'
Longarm nodded sagely and said nothing. At the roulette table, Paul Clement threw back his head and grimaced as the ball dropped into a slot and the wheel slowly came to a stop. Longarm heard Clement say, 'That's always the way. You play the black, and the red comes up.' Beside him, Annie just looked bored. She cast occasional glances in Longarm's direction.
With a sly grin, Millard commented, 'Mademoiselle Clement seems a bit taken with you, my friend.'
Longarm was about to ask Millard when they had become friends, but he never got around to it.
The sudden screams and the deafening bang of gunshots sort of distracted him.
CHAPTER 4
Longarm twisted instinctively toward the entrance, where the unexpected disturbance was coming from. He had worn his gun tonight, like most of the other men in the Brass Pelican, and his hand flashed toward the butt of the Colt as he saw the massive doorman Luther stumble into the building, clutching his belly as blood welled between his fingers. The crowd happened to part so that Longarm had a good view of the wounded man, who had obviously been gut-shot.
'Look out, Mr. Millard!' shouted Luther. 'Royale-'
A man in a derby hat with a bandanna tied over the lower half of his face stepped into the club behind Luther and brought up a pistol, aiming it at the back of the doorman's head. The weapon cracked spitefully, and Luther jerked and pitched forward, dead before he hit the floor, the back of his head a gory mess from the bullet that had just bored into his brain.
'Son of a bitch!' snapped Millard. He practically dived for the area behind the bar and came up with a sawed-off shotgun.
The scattergun would be worse than useless in these close, crowded quarters, thought Longarm, and he hoped Millard had the sense not to fire it. Too many innocent people would be hurt if he did. The room was filled with chaos now as more of the masked, derby-hatted figures rushed into the club brandishing guns. The crowd of gamblers tried desperately to get out of the line of fire. Some dived under tables while others stampeded wildly, trampling anyone smaller who got in their way.
Longarm glanced toward the roulette table where Annie and Paul Clement had been a moment earlier. He saw no sign of either of them in the mob and hoped they hadn't fallen. If they had, they might be stomped to death.
