Crow Bait

Twenty-nine

The sheriff came out of the cell blocks and hung the key on a wall hook. He turned and looked at Lancaster.

“I got a telegram that said you were coming,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to solve the robbery so soon after you got here.”

“I got lucky, Sheriff Carver,” Lancaster said. “I happened to know Gerry Beck’s methods. And there was too much lead flying around that office for Worth not to have been hit. It had to be deliberate.”

“Do you think he did any of the shootin’?” Carver asked.

“I don’t know,” Lancaster said. “He had a gun in his top drawer. You could check to see if it’s been fired.”

“You didn’t do that?”

“Not part of my job,” Lancaster said.

“But you questioned him.”

“That was part of my job,” he said.

“Did you find out anything?”

“Only that he was in on the job with Beck,” Lancaster said.

“And you believe he doesn’t know where Beck is?” Carver asked. “That they’re not gonna meet and split the money?”

“No,” Lancaster said. “I believe he was cheated by Beck, who left him here to take the rap.”

Carver settled his bulk behind his desk. He was in his forties, had been sheriff of Henderson for over ten years. “So what are you gonna do now?”

“Try to find Beck.”

“How?”

“I’ll think about that over a steak,” Lancaster said. “Where can I get a good one?”

“Across the street. Bessie’s serves the best steak in town.”

“Thanks.”

Lancaster headed for the door, then stopped. “One other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever heard of a man named Sweet?”

“Sweet? No.”

“What about Adderly or Cardiff?”

Carver gave it some thought.

“I don’t know those names, either,” he said finally. “Why are you askin’?”

“I’m tracking them.”

“All three?”

“That’s right.”

“Because of this job for Wells Fargo?”

“No,” Lancaster said. “This is personal, and just happened to coincide with this job. I know that one of those three men came here in the past few weeks.”

“Well, if they did they didn’t have any contact with me,” Carver said. “Looks like you better start checking hotel registers.”

“And rooming houses,” Lancaster said.

“So does this mean you’ll be in town for a while?” the lawman asked.

“Overnight, at least,” Lancaster said. “And I’ll have to send a telegram back to Wells Fargo in Laughlin.”

“Why’s that?”

“To tell them they’ll have to close down the local office until they can replace Sam Worth.”

“They won’t take too kindly to that,” Carver said. “Bound to cost them some business.”

“Unless they can replace him locally, which doesn’t seem likely,” Lancaster said, “they’ll have no choice.”

“Well, they only had the three men,” Carver said. “Two are dead and now one’s in my jail.”

“I’m sure they’ll be sending somebody from the home office to handle everything,” Lancaster said. “I’m going to go and get that steak now, and then I’ll start checking around town.”

“For those three men?”

“And for any trace of Gerry Beck,” Lancaster said. “He must’ve spent some time with somebody, and knowing Gerry as I do, I’ll probably have to start at the local whorehouse.”

“Likes whores, does he?”

“He loves women, whores or not,” Lancaster said, “and they like him.”

“Well,” Carver said, “even if Beck was in town long enough to go to the whorehouse, I didn’t cross paths with him, either.”

Lancaster didn’t like the sound of that. Beck had to have been in town long enough to case the Wells Fargo office. And since he was working alone, he’d have taken his time. If the sheriff never came across either Beck or one of the other three, then he was the kind of lawman who ignored strangers in his town.

He was either a bad lawman or, after so many years at it in the same town, he’d become a lazy one.