Texas Bluff

CHAPTER 47

After breakfast Butler and Short took a cab to Al Newman’s neighborhood. They found a doorway down the street from his home and waited.

After an hour Short said, “This is starting to feel silly.”

“How so?”

“I’m loitering in a doorway with you,” Short said. “Somebody might notice the two of us here and send for the law.”

Butler studied the establishment whose doorway they were standing in. It was a leather shop, and according to a sign in the window it would be opening in half an hour.

“We’re going to have to move, anyway,” Butler said, but before he could say why, Short cut him off. “Look.”

The front door of Newman’s house opened and he came walking out. He was wearing a light jacket and a hat; he headed down the street away from them.

“Let’s split up and follow him,” Butler said. “I’ll do it from across the street.”

“Okay,” Short said, “but if he spots me we’ll have to make one of those quick decisions you were talking about.”

“Fine.”

They followed him for two hours without either of them being spotted. He stopped in a cigar store, a telegraph office, a saloon for one beer, and a restaurant for something to eat.

Butler crossed over and stood next to Short as they looked in the window of the small café.

“Maybe we should have braced him in the telegraph office,” Short said. “Maybe he was in there because of something to do with us.”

“I say we go in now, while he’s eating,” Butler said, “catch him off guard.”

“And have some coffee,” Short added. “I could use some coffee.”

“So could I.”

“You do the talking,” Short said. “He feels friendlier toward you, since you’re the one who got him into the game.”

“Okay,” Butler said, “just follow my lead.”

He opened the door and they walked in, approached Newman’s table. The man was enjoying a cup of coffee and slice of pie. He looked up. Butler thought he looked momentarily annoyed, but then he plastered a smile across his face.

“Butler, Luke,” he said. “What are you two doing here?”

“Somebody told me this was a good place for pie,” Butler said. “And then this morning Luke said he was in the mood for pie. So…” Butler spread his hands. He did not see the pained look on Short’s face, but his explanation sounded lame even to him.

“Well, whoever told you that was right,” Newman said. “Sit down and join me. I’m having apple, but the peach is just as good.”

When the middle-aged waitress came over, Butler ordered peach and coffee while Short asked for coffee and apple.

“How are you guys doing trying to scare up a game?” Newman asked.

“Not well,” Butler said. “We still have this problem of trying to find Sutherland.”

“Suther—oh, that man you told me about yesterday,” Newman said.

“That’s right,” Butler agreed. “You said you’d keep your ears open, check with some of your contacts.”

“I’m sorry, fellas,” Newman said, “I’ve come up with nothing on the man.”

Butler made his decision quickly. He didn’t want the pause to stretch out too long.

“That’s funny, Al.”

“Why do you say that?”

“We have information that says you know Sutherland,” Butler said.

“Is that a fact?”

“Furthermore, that he was in your house just before I arrived, yesterday.”

Newman put his fork down and sat back. Both men were looking at him. The waitress came with their pie and they waited for her to dole it out before they spoke again.

“Who told you this?” Newman asked.

It seemed apparent now that Newman’s wife had not gone home and told him about her conversation with Butler.

“Just a source,” Butler said. “You know about sources, right?”

“Oh, yes. I know about sources. I know that some are reliable and some aren’t.”

“Oh, well, this one’s pretty reliable,” Butler said.

“So what would you say if I told you your source was wrong?” Newman asked. “That I don’t know Sutherland and that he certainly has never been in my house?”

“Well, Al,” Butler said, “I guess I’d say you were bluffing, and I’d have to call you on it.”