CHAPTER 23

Butler’s big advantage over most men at the poker table was his patience. He could wait forever for the right moment to make his big bet, the one that would win him that one hand of the night that would make or break him. The same patience usually extended to his real life, as well, and this was one of those times.

The man at the door had no patience. When he realized Butler hadn’t yet opened his door he turned, and was startled to find Butler looking right at him.

“Huh?” The sound came from him unbidden, and he couldn’t push it back down.

“Walk away, friend,” Butler said. “Whatever you’ve got planned for tonight isn’t worth it.”

The man’s eyes darted left and right. Was he looking for help? Did he have help waiting, perhaps for his signal?

Butler pushed back the flap of his jacket and laid his hand on his gun butt.

“What’s it gong to be?”

The man wet his lips, let his eyes dart about again, then shrugged and said, “I—I don’t know what yer talkin’ about. I—I got things to do tonight.”

“Then go and do them.”

The man hesitated, as if unsure which way to go, then turned and went down the hall to the stairway. Butler turned, quickly unlocked his door and entered, closing it firmly behind him. He stood there for a moment, his ear to the door, listening. When he was satisfied there was no movement outside he removed his hand from his gun, and moved away from the door. He went to the window and looked down at Front Street. He was waiting for the man to appear on the street, but it didn’t happen. He was either still in the hotel, or he’d left and had remained on this side of the street, where Butler could not see him.

Butler backed away from the window, removed his jacket and hung it on the back of the only chair in the room. He now had neither the time nor the inclination to take a bath. He’d clean himself up best he could for his supper with M.J. The last thing he wanted was to be caught naked in a bathtub, just in case the fellow was coming back with friends.

He kept his gun on while he washed.

When Sandland reached the stairs his two compadres, Dave and Willy, were there, standing just below the top step.

“What happened?” Willy asked.

“Did we miss the signal?” Dave asked.

“I didn’t give the signal,” Sandland said. “The sonofabitch wouldn’t go into his room—and then he braced me.”

“Why didn’t you—”

“Let’s go down to the lobby,” Sandland said. “I don’t wanna talk up here.”

The three men went down the stairs, but then Sandland decided they shouldn’t talk in the lobby, either.

“Let’s go get a drink,” he said.

“What about the gambler?” Dave asked.

“We’ll take care of him later.”

“Let’s go to the Lady Gay,” Willy said.

“No!” Sandland said quickly. He didn’t want to have to explain to Al Updegraff why they hadn’t taken care of the gambler yet. “No, the Red Dog is just down the street. We’ll go there. I don’t want to get too far from the hotel, in case the guy comes out again.”

“But what about—”

“Just shut up, Willy,” Sandland said. “Just shut up for now.”

“You’re havin’ supper with this man?” Lou Healy asked his sister. “You don’t even know him?”

“That’s the point of the supper, Lou,” she said. “To get to know him. To interview him.”

“What’s he done that makes him worth an interview?” her brother demanded.

“Well, for one thing he’s apparently friends with Ben Thompson.”

“They just met last night.”

“And already they’ve played cards together and drank together,” she said. “Now, I don’t much understand men, but that sounds like a new friendship to me. Throw in a whore and they’d be best friends! Isn’t that what you men do?”

Lou wasn’t hearing her.

“What am I supposed to do about eatin’?” he asked.

“We have some fried chicken left over from the other night,” she said, “or go to a restaurant and eat. Go to the Delmonico.”

“That’s expensive.”

“Look, Lou,” she said, “he’s going to be here any minute. Get all of this out of your system, all right? So you don’t look like a big baby in front of him.”

She straightened her dress and left him standing there in her bedroom, in front of her mirror. He looked at his own reflection, then muttered after her, “You’re a baby.”

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