pestering me, until it occurred to me you couldn't be serious about wanting to fight me.'
Homagy blew some bubbles and groaned, 'I told you why I didn't want to kill you after all. I wish I had now.'
Longarm grimaced and said, 'Yeah, let's talk about that sloppy blasting at the Dexter Hotel. Your foreman assured me you could dust a room with dynamite and never bust a window. Yet Zoltan Kun wound up on the roof and there was structural damage down to the basement. How come you used so much dynamite unscientifically, old son?'
Homagy didn't answer. The doctor said, 'He's gone.' Longarm asked, 'What's he trying to say if he's dead then?'
The doctor said, 'Nothing. That's called the death rattle because you have to be dead to make that funny sound. It's a change in the acid balance in the throat tissues. It'll stop in a moment.'
Longarm stared down at the dead man's glassy eyes and muttered, 'You sneaky old son of a bitch. You knew I'd never be able to prove my case against you unless I could get you to confess. So you up and croaked on me without confessing!'
Then he smiled ruefully and added, 'What the hell, mayhaps it's just as well this way. It's not as important how you murdered your wife, now that you've saved the taxpayers the expense of trying, convicting, and hanging you for it!'
CHAPTER 25
Some time later, Longarm was washing down some of the fine free lunch served by Denver's Parthenon Saloon when his boss, Billy Vail, grumped in with a manila file folder in hand. Longarm had hoped that might not happen. The file looked thicker today than it had when he'd had young Henry type up his official report.
Vail joined Longarm at the free lunch counter, grabbed a ham-on-rye sandwich with his other hand, and said, 'We got to talk. Let's go back to one of the side rooms.'
They did. Like most first-class saloons, the Parthenon provided a maze of semi-private chambers, great and small, for the discreet get-togethers of patrons too delicate-natured for the main taproom up front.
Along the way, Longarm caught the eye of a barmaid carrying a tray of beer schooners, and pointed his own half-consumed beer at the doorway they were headed for.
Billy Vail led the way in and plunked his stubby form down on one side of the table, taking up a good part of the space in there. Longarm left the sliding frosted-glass door slightly ajar as he took his own seat across from his boss, placing his beer schooner on the table between them.
Vail said, 'You'd best shut that door all the way. This is private.'
Longarm said, 'Trixie will be coming to take our orders. You'll be glad I was so thoughtful when it sinks in how salty that ham you chose really tastes. What's so infernally delicate about the report I just filed for you, Boss?'
He was bluffing, of course. Billy Vail tracked as good across a report as a Digger Indian across fresh snowfall. But Longarm hadn't been dumb enough to write down any lies.
Vail said, 'Most of it's just swell. Considering I was only out to keep you from getting shot as a skirt-chaser, you done us proud in the Indian Territory. The War Department is pleased with you, the Bureau of Indian Affairs is pleased with you, and even the Indians are glad you showed up when you did.'
Trixie came in with a flounce of her Dolly Varden skirts to ask what they were drinking back there. Longarm suggested a pitcher of draft and an extra glass. When Vail didn't argue, he asked Trixie if she could throw in some of those devilish eggs and mayhaps some good old pickled pig's feet.
Trixie said she knew how to serve a growing boy, and flounced out. Vail cocked a thoughtful eyebrow and said, 'I'd ask, if I thought I'd get a straight answer.'
Longarm shook his head and said, 'Don't talk dumb. I like this place too much to trifle with the hired help. I told you in the very report you're holding how Fred Ryan was augmenting his four-figure salary as a junior Indian agent. Catching him was no big deal.'
Vail said, 'Chief Quanah seems to think it was. Thanks to the prestige the Comanche Police gained at the expense of those crooked Cherokee, your Sergeant Tikano is turning away Kiowa and even Kiowa-Apache volunteers!'
Longarm said that was why he'd let the Indians tidy up the loose ends themselves.
Vail said, 'Let's talk about loose ends. Are you sure you really put down everything about them crazy doings around Trinidad at the last, old son?'
Longarm met Vail's thoughtful gaze--it wasn't easy--and managed to reply, 'Like I wrote, me and Las Animas County agreed Attila Homagy broke no federal laws when he lost his temper with his wife. Coroner in Trinidad says he strangled her. Despite the condition of her body, there's this small ring of bone wrapped halfway round your windpipe, and when it's busted-'
'You're shitting me,' Vail cut in. 'I know Homagy killed his wife when she confessed her affair with Zoltan Kun. I see why the desperate cuss put us through that charade to avoid a showdown with a meaner Bohunk who had the Indian sign on him. But after Homagy chased you to the Indian Territory and back, I'm supposed to believe he all of a sudden found the nerve to kill his big boo after all, clumsy as hell for any professional dynamite man?'
Longarm smiled sheepishly and said, 'I wish you weren't so smart. Are we talking off the record, Billy? I've good reason for asking, and I told you that case wasn't federal.'
Vail frowned thoughtfully and decided, 'Tell me the whole story and I'll decide whether it was federal or not, damn it!'
Longarm sighed and said, 'You got to understand Zoltan Kun was a human wolverine who got what he had coming, Billy.'
Vail nodded and said, 'You put down how the shitty labor recruiter plucked immigrant gals like flowers from his private garden, whether they were spoken for by lesser men or not. You explained how Homagy was terrified of him but had to do or say something to somebody when his neighbors saw him as a pathetic excuse for a Hungarian husband. Now explain that unprofessional dynamiting at the Dexter!'
