“I told you,” Jacobs said, “he’s ambitious. Keeps things to himself, hoping they’ll do him some good.”
“What’s the story on this fella?” Lancaster asked.
“Frank Witt,” Jacobs said. “Lost his wife, Ella, a few years ago, and she always wanted to run a rooming house. So he bought this one and runs it in her name.”
When the door opened, a man Lancaster assumed was Witt looked out at them.
“Jimmy, what the hell? I didn’t know you was droppin’ by.”
“Got some time, Frank?” Jacobs asked. “We’d like to talk about somethin’.”
Witt looked at Lancaster, then back at Sheriff Jacobs.
“This fella is Lancaster,” Jacobs said. “He needs some help.”
“From me?”
“You and me,” Jacobs said.
“Well, hell, sure, come on in,” Witt said. “I got some good whiskey around here somewhere.”
They followed Witt into a sitting room, where he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and three glasses.
“Not for me, thanks,” Lancaster said.
“It’s good stuff,” Witt assured him.
“Probably too good,” Lancaster said. “I used to be a drunk.”
“Oh well…Jimmy?”
“Naw, I guess not, Frank,” Jacobs said.
Witt reluctantly put the bottle away.
“Well,” he said, “then just what is it I can do for you fellas?”
“You’ve got two boarders…” Jacobs started.
Fifty-seven
Fielding and Williams left the whorehouse, feeling satisfied in more ways than one.
“Why didn’t we check these places before?” Williams asked.
“Just seemed to me Sweet would spend more time in a saloon.”
“And maybe he did,” Williams said, “but he left us a message with a whore.”
“Probably figured that’s where we’d spend most of our time,” Fielding said.
Both men laughed.
“He probably woulda been right, if we hadn’t been lookin’ for his sorry ass all over creation,” Fielding said.
“Wanna get a drink?” Williams asked.
“Naw,” Fielding said. “Let’s turn in and get an early start. Maybe we can catch up to him in a day or two.”
“Yeah,” Williams said, “okay.”
They headed back to the rooming house.
The two men entered the rooming house, both wanting nothing more than to get to their beds. They’d been drinking all day, and being with those whores had worn them out.
When they got to the main sitting room, though, they stopped. There were three men there. The only man they recognized was the old-timer who ran the place, but one of the other two was wearing a badge.
“What the hell—” Fielding said.
“Just stand easy, men,” the sheriff said. “I’ll need you to toss your guns on that sofa over there, and do it slow and easy.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Williams asked.
“Just get rid of the iron and then we’ll talk,” Jacobs said. Lancaster stood ready, just in case the men tried to shoot it out. The rooming house owner stood off to one side, out of the way.
Williams and Fielding tossed their guns onto the sofa.
“Good,” Jacobs said. “Frank here says your names are Fielding and Williams. That true?”
Fielding nodded.
“Which is which?”
“I’m Fielding,” the man said.
“Okay, now we need to talk to you about a man called Sweet.”
Both men stared at him.
Lancaster said, “The two of you jumped a bartender in Flagstaff, tried to give him a beating, but he fought back.”
“We don’t know what you’re—”
“Don’t even try it,” Lancaster said. “We know it was you, and we know you were warning him about a man named Sweet.”
“And we also know you came here to meet Sweet,” Jacobs said. “He was here about a week ago, but now he’s gone.”
“Figure he left you a message, which you may or may not have already picked up.”
Then two men looked at each other.
“I need to know where he is,” Lancaster said. “I don’t care about you two.”
“You’ll let us go?” Williams asked.
“That’s right.”
“I want him to say it,” Fielding said, indicating the lawman.
“You ain’t done nothin’ here,” Jacobs said. “At least, nothing that I know of. You give this feller what he wants and you can go. But you gotta get out of town.”
“Tonight,” Lancaster said.
“Tonight?” Williams whined. “Man, I’m beat—”
“We’ll go,” Fielding said. “We picked up Sweet’s message tonight. He left it at the whorehouse with one of the whores.”
“That’s good,” Lancaster said. “Now all you’ve got to do is tell me where he is.”
“You gonna kill ’im?” Fielding asked.
“I just may do that,” Lancaster said.
“Naw, you gotta kill ’im,” Williams said. “If he finds out we gave him up he’ll kill us.”
“Don’t worry,” Lancaster said. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“I didn’t hear that,” Sheriff Jacobs said. “You hear that, Frank?”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Frank said.
“That good enough for you?” Lancaster asked the two men.
“That’ll do,” Fielding said.
Fifty-eight
Jacobs put the two men in a jail cell.
“You said we had to leave town!” Fielding complained from inside his cell.
“You do.”
“But you said tonight.”
“Well, maybe I misspoke there,” Jacobs said. “I’m just gonna keep ya here for a while, so you can’t get to Sweet and warn him.”
“We don’t wanna warn Sweet,” Fielding said. “We want you to kill ’im.”
“I’m just makin’ sure,” the sheriff said. “Relax, I’ll feed ya good and let ya out in a couple of days. Just consider yourselves my guests.”
“Guests?” Williams asked, rattling the door of his cell. “With locked doors?”
“Don’t want you to get out and hurt yerselves,” Jacobs said.
He left the cell block, went out into the office where Lancaster was standing with Deputy Bodeen.
