was his own grand notion to get drunk on duty.'
Longarm sighed and said, 'Neither of us are running for re-election this fall, and he was trying to be friendly. What do you have to do that's so all-fired important with the afternoon sun so low?'
O'Brian said, 'Send a wire back to my real boss for openers. Now that we've talked I ain't sure whether they want me to stay and back your play or head on home. No offense, and I know you're supposed to be good, but you don't seem to have any play in mind.'
Longarm only shrugged. He didn't want another lawman, or any man at all, backing his play with pretty Vigdis Magnusson, now that the bank had closed for the day and most everyone but Viggy would be on their way home before long.
CHAPTER 24
After the man from Saint Paul was gone, Longarm helped himself to some wanted flyers, took another seat, and smoked and read the ugly statistics of wanted men and women until, a million years later, that senior deputy he'd already met came in, nodded morosely at the top of the sheriff's gray head, and muttered, 'I see we've been into that old aquavit again. Thanks for holding the fort, Longarm. I can handle it from here, as long as nobody sets fire to the church or robs the bank!'
Longarm rose so they could shake hands and part friendly. Then he picked up his Winchester and headed for the Western Union himself.
He hadn't heard from old Jay Gould as yet. The railroad robber baron was doubtless already dining on fish eggs and green turtle back East, where it would be suppertime by now. But good old Whispering Smith, riding herd on gold shipments out of the Black Hills for the U.P. line, had wired he knew the Bee Witch well. Only her real name was Miss Judith Wright and she'd been a Union spy for old Allan Pinkerton's Secret Service.
But Whispering Smith said she hadn't stayed with Pinkerton when the gruff old Scotsman started his private agency after the war. Smith said the sly old colored gal worked free-lance for both railroad and land-developing outfits, having been taught to make pretty good contour maps when she wasn't pretending to be a laundress, a midwife, or some other sort of harmless dumb coon.
Longarm had already figured what the sly old gal had been up to in these parts. He wired Whispering Smith an urgent request to ask all about and find out whether the dusky old detective gal was alive. He explained he wasn't interested in any other secrets she or her real outfit might want to keep.
After that, knowing in advance how Viggy's notions of supper were doubtless better for her waistline than his own, Longarm stopped at a stand-up beanery to down some Swedish meatballs and potato pancakes with two mugs of black coffee.
Feeling refreshed by his light snack, Longarm consulted his pocket watch and decided it was safe to take his saddle gun to the bank. Viggy let him in, as he'd expected, but giggled at his saddle gun and said, 'I surrender, dear. Everyone else has been gone for some time, so where do you want to come, on that same chesterfield in the rear office?'
Longarm chuckled, hauled her in, and kissed her with enthusiasm inspired by chastely thinking of other women all that damned day.
But then he said, 'There's no sense having to get dressed over and over when it's this close to sundown to begin with and I got some bank examining to do whilst there's still some daylight.'
The beautiful blonde sighed and said, 'Pooh, I thought you were only after my body. Didn't you go all through that ledger for last December last night, darling?'
He said, 'I did, and I'm pretty sure I made out no more than two styles of handwriting. But I'd like to make certain, so...'
'I can tell you who made each entry, dear.' She led the way around to the backs of the teller's cages as she continued. 'You just missed them. I thought it was me you were interested in. But we have two more tellers, and we naturally transcribe all our daily transaction in the day book for that month at the end of every working day.'
As she hunkered down to rummage for that ledger from the year before, Longarm said, 'Hold on. Did you just tell me old P.S. Plover would have never made any entries in his own handwriting?'
She panted, 'Here it is. I thought you'd finished with the clumsy old tome. Why would Mister Plover be making entries in deposits and withdrawals, dear? He's the manager.'
Longarm started to make a dumb objection. But he could see without asking how the front office would tally all the real cash on hand in person before locking it in the vault overnight.
Viggy rose to full height and flopped the heavy gray ledger atop the long work counter running the length of the teller's hidey-holes. As she opened it for him she idly asked what they were doing. So he brought her up to date on that old drunk and the missing colored lady as he found the entries dealing with the both of them. Then he sighed and muttered, 'Thunderation! Neither withdrawal seems to have been tampered with, other entries above and below them confirm the dates for both of them, and worse yet, the two withdrawals on different days were recorded in different scripts!'
Viggy put a polished nail to the paper, saying, 'This would have to be Mister Spandau's handwriting. Isn't it pretty? Mister Quinn writes clear enough, I suppose, but he's not as tidy a penman as Mister Spandau.'
Longarm said he didn't care, and asked if any one teller got much time alone back there.
Viggy thought and decided with a giggle, 'Playing detective is a lot of fun, albeit I'd still rather play house. I see what you suspect one of us sneaks of doing, dear. I suppose it would be possible for one teller to alter the books whilst the other was out of the cage to heed the call of nature or run some other quick errand. But he'd have to be awfully fast as well as awfully clever, don't you agree?'
Longarm swore under his breath and nodded. 'I sure wanted to arrest me a banker too. Another lawman I was just jawing with had the same motive for my demise figured out. But old folks do withdraw all their savings and leave town or get run over by a dray.'
She asked if he was through back there. He kissed her again and said he was ready to play house instead of bank examiner. So she led the way back to that chesterfield.
But once they got to old Plover's office the sunset was peeking fire-engine red through the drawn blinds. So Longarm repeated what he'd said about just getting undressed once the right way, with her grand old bed to play
