Ross Thomas - The Fourth Durango

But Jack Adair only nodded and said, “You mean Theodore Contraire, right? Also known as Teddy Smith or Jones.”

Leonard Deep lost a little of his almost studied poise, but recovered it quickly and said, “I’d very much like to know how you learned about Contraire.”

“Chief Fork figured it out and told us. Contraire’s the one who’s apparently been killing all these folks in Durango, including Soldier Sloan, which got me and Kelly pretty upset because we’d both known Soldier for years. Chief Fork, of course, doesn’t have the FBI’s resources but he’s shrewd and persistent. Seems to me they ought to get together with him and compare notes.”

“I’ll recommend it,” Deep said as he rose from the cemetery bench.

“You and Paul were good friends, I take it?” Adair said.

“Extremely close.”

“Well, I’m glad he had someone.”

“Another couple of questions, Mr. Adair-completely unofficial?”

Adair nodded.

“Why’re you in Durango?”

“On the day I was to get out of Lompoc, somebody put a price on my head.”

“I heard. Twenty thousand dollars.”

“So I figured Durango’d be as good a place as any to hide out or lie low or whatever you want to call it.”

“Who recommended it?”

“Soldier Sloan.”

“What was Soldier doing here when he was killed?”

“He never got the chance to say.”

“If I were either you or Mr. Vines,” Deep said, “I’d get out of Durango as quickly as possible.”

“Kelly and I’re leaving on the evening of the fourth.”

“Why not before?”

“We don’t want to miss the parade,” Vines said.

Merriman Dorr’s small office in Cousin Mary’s was two doors down the corridor fromthe poker room where the weekend table-stakes games were played. The office was about the size of the average living room rug and contained a large Chubb safe, three bar-locked steel filing cabinets and two wingback chairs.

There was also a desk-a child’s desk Dorr had salvaged from the old schoolhouse-with a wooden top that lifted up, a round inkwell and a fold-up seat he had moved back a foot or so to make room for his knees.

Dorr was now seated at the desk, shaking his head at B. D. Huckins, who sat in one of the wingback chairs, her legs crossed and her navy-blue dress pulled well down over her knees.

“Sounds like gore on the floor to me, B. D.,” Dorr said after he stopped shaking his head no.

“Five thousand, Merriman, for the use of two rooms and your safe for one hour.”

“If you need two rooms and a safe, that means you’ve got two people or two groups of people involved. One of ’em’s got the goods and the other’s got the money and nobody trusts anybody. If one of ’em forgets to bring the money or the goods, then there’s liable to be some bang-bang. And if that happens, five thousand won’t even come close to paying for the misery I’ll get from Charlie Coates or maybe the DEA.”

“I don’t need to tell you it’s not drugs.”

“Yeah, but it’s something that needs two rooms and a safe for an hour, and that means big bucks’re changing hands because, if they weren’t, they could do it down near the teeter-totters in Handshaw Park.”

“Ten thousand,” she said. “Final offer.”

“In advance.”

She hesitated, nodded reluctantly and said, “All right.”

Dorr rose from the child’s desk, smiling. “Now how’s this sound for lunch, B. D.? A ham loaf made out of real Virginia ham; fresh peas, new potatoes, an endive salad and, for dessert, homemade peach ice cream?”

“If it comes out of your ten thousand, it sounds fine,” Huckins said.

Once again lunch had been served at the round table in the large room with no windows. When they had all finished their peach ice cream, except for Kelly Vines, who hadn’t wanted any, Parvis Mansur lit a cigarette, blew smoke at the ceiling, smiled his most genial smile and said, “Shall we begin, B. D.?”

The mayor looked at Vines and said, “Merriman wants ten thousand in advance.” She paused. “Today.”

“What do we get in return?” Vines asked.

“A safe and two rooms-this one and the poker room. And since you’re paying, you get first choice.”

“I’d like to see that poker room first,” Vines said.

“Merriman’ll let you see it after he gets his ten thousand.”

“I know what it looks like,” Sid Fork said. “It’s got the standard poker table and chairs, a couple of couches, a little bar, a refrigerator, a toaster oven, a commercial coffeemaker, a bathroom and no windows.”

“What about the door?” Vines asked.

“Steel door.”

Vines looked at Jack Adair. “What do you think?”

“I like the steel door.”

“So do I,” Vines said and turned to Huckins. “Where’s Merriman?”

“In his office.”

Vines pushed his chair back from the table and rose. “Then I might as well go pay him his money.”

After he knocked and the voice said come in, Vines entered Merriman Dorr’s small office and looked around curiously. “Nice safe,” he said. “I also like your desk.”

“Will I need to open the safe?”

“I think so,” Vines said, went over to Dorr, took a thick white No. 10 envelope from his jacket breast pocket and placed it on the desktop. Dorr picked it up, lifted its flap and looked inside. “Think I’ll count it,” he said.

Vines nodded, turned, went to one of the wingback chairs, sat down and watched Dorr count the $10,000.

“All there,” Dorr said when the count was finished.

“Tell me something,” Vines said. “What’s the contingency plan?”

“In case of what?”

“In case the sheriff raids the game.”

Dorr shrugged. “Out the back door.”

“And into the arms of the deputies? I don’t mean that plan. I mean the real one.”

“Well, sir, if I was sitting in that game-although I never do-and heard Charlie Coates and his deputies trying to beat down the poker room door, which oughta take ’em at least four minutes, maybe five, well, I’d pick up my money and head for the bathroom that doesn’t have a bathtub, but does have a tin shower stall.”

Dorr rose, went to the safe, turned his back on Vines to protect the combination and began turning the dial.

“Then what?” Vines asked as Dorr tugged open the safe door and placed the money envelope inside.

Dorr left the safe door open as he turned back to Vines and said, “Hardly seems worthwhile to close it and then open it up again for less than a thousand, does it?”

“Leave it open and I’ll put a thousand on your little desk. You tell me what happens in the shower stall. If I like it, you put the thousand in the safe. If I don’t, you only put five hundred in.”

“You’ll like it,” Dorr said.

Vines took ten one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet, placed them on the child’s desk, returned to the wingback chair, sat down and nodded at Dorr. “Let’s hear it.”

“Once I got inside the shower stall with all my clothes on,” Dorr said, “I’d turn the cold water handle to the right and push pretty hard. The metal panel would open up on an old flight of wood stairs that leads down to the school basement. On the landing there’s a flashlight. I’d turn that on, shut the shower panel real tight, go down the stairs, take a seat and wait.”

“For what?”

“For the sheriff to leave.”

“No way out of the basement then?”

“It’s just a hidey-hole, Mr. Vines. Only way out’s the way you come in.”

“It’d be better if there were another way out.”