“I would suggest,” Billy Vail said, dragging Longarm out of his somber reverie, “that you go to interrogate Miss Frank this very hour and then pack and be at the train station within-“
“Two hours,” Longarm said. “I’ll need at least that much time.”
“We’ll give you one and a half,” Governor Ganzel said, jumping to his feet. “And we’ll give you another three days to apprehend Mr. Cox.”
“You can give me three days or three weeks,” Longarm said, “but it may take three months if Cox has already left Cheyenne and is on the run. If he went east it will take me longer to track him down in those big cities.”
“We think he went westward,” Commissioner Hall said.
Longarm folded his arms across his chest. “Why?”
“Because Nathan Cox was raised on a cattle ranch somewhere near Prescott, Arizona. Those we’ve questioned say that he talked constantly about his family’s ranch. Apparently, his father made some very unwise investments a few years ago and the ranch was foreclosed.”
“And you think that Cox intends to go to Arizona and buy back his ranch?”
“It’s a real possibility.”
“A very obvious possibility,” Longarm said. “If the man is smart and ruthless enough to have planned out the theft and then broke his partner’s neck, I doubt he’d be stupid enough to be predictable.”
“Unless,” Billy said, “he does think with his heart as well as his head.”
“I’ll need photographs and a file on everything you can put together on Nathan Cox. I want to know his personal likes and dislikes. How he spends his free time and-“
“He doesn’t believe in free time,” Hall said. “He’s either chasing women or bedding them.”
“Or gambling,” Billy said. “He likes poker and faro. I’ll bet that even as we are speaking, he’s gambling away our money.”
The governor nodded. “Or in bed with a beautiful woman and tickling her with … well, what else but crisp, new hundred-dollar bills?”
Longarm started for the door. “What kind of woman is Miss Frank?”
“A looker, like all the others that attract Nathan Cox,” Commissioner Hall said. “She’s tough, so don’t expect to get her to open up with any new information. I think you’re wasting your time and ought to just leave for Cheyenne.”
“He could save us money by catching the regular train to Cheyenne,” the governor said hopefully.
“No,” Billy Vail insisted. “Marshal Long really does need to interrogate Miss Frank. The savings would be minimal.”
“Are you kidding!” the governor exclaimed. “It will cost the citizens of Colorado at least five hundred dollars to put your deputy on a private train and rush him to Cheyenne.”
“You never worried about the expense during your last campaign,” Commissioner Hall snapped.
“That’s uncalled for!” Ganzel erupted.
“Gentlemen!” Billy Vail cried. “This is not the time or the place for wrangling.”
“Mr. Vail is right,” Longarm said, “and I’ll carry out the investigation my way, or you can find another man.”
Malcomb Hall’s cheeks blazed. He was Billy Vail’s boss and could have raised a stink, but instead, he clamped his jaws shut and let Longarm hurry away to find Diana Frank.
Chapter 2
Diana Frank’s apartment wasn’t exactly in a seedy part of town, but it certainly didn’t qualify as being upscale either. The brownstone was showing signs of early decay, and Longarm saw that there were several vacancies in the building. Her apartment was numbered fourteen, although Longarm doubted that there were anywhere near that many units.
Longarm hurried inside and down a long, dim hallway. The apartments all had big white letters on their doors but when Longarm knocked at number fourteen, there was no answer.
“Damn!”
He knocked louder, and a small dog began to bark in the adjoining apartment, number nine. Longarm knew that he had to have some answers, so he banged on that door as well until he heard the rattle of a chain and the door opened a crack. The muzzle of a little dog burst through the opening at ankle level. It tried to bite Longarm, who would have kicked the little bugger if a heavyset woman hadn’t pressed her cheeks to the crack and stared out at him.
“What do you want?” she asked, her eyes taking Longarm in from his boots to the flat crown of his snuff-brown Stetson. “My, my, you’re a big one, aren’t you?”
Longarm removed his Stetson and tried hard to ignore the yapping, snapping little mongrel who was actually foaming at the mouth, so intense was its desire to bite. The woman was middle-aged with dyed blond hair and dressed in worn pink pajamas. Longarm could smell whiskey fumes strong enough to anesthetize flying insects.
“My name,” he said, fishing into his brown tweed suitcoat and then vest, “is Deputy Marshal Custis Long. I’ve got a badge in here somewhere, if I can just find the damned thing.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the woman said. “My name is Rose. Would you like to come in?”
“I don’t have time,” Longarm said. “I’m looking for Miss Frank. Can you tell me where she has gone?”
