Read Online Twisted Trails by Orlando Rigoni - Free Book Online

in the gloom. He made out the rectangular outlines of three doors on either side of the corridor. Soundlessly he approached the first door and paused. He heard a man's low voice, and a girl's answering laugh. He turned away.
    The next room across the hall was dark, with the door slightly ajar. Quietly he entered, cursing the squeak of a hinge. His hand explored the bed and found it empty. There was a hazy thread of light under the next door, and he raised his knuckles hesitantly and knocked. There was the swish of clothing inside, and when the door opened, a girl, dressed in a bright silk kimono, was silhouetted against the light.
    "I'm looking for a man," Paul said.
    "So am I," she countered challengingly.
    "Did you hear anybody come up here in the past fifteen minutes?" Paul questioned insistently.
    "I don't pay no attention to who comes or goes."
    "Maybe on the balcony, you could have heard him. Your room faces on the balcony, doesn't it?"
    "So what?"
    "I'm just asking a question. A man tried to kill me. I want to know why."
    "I don't know anything about anybody, and if I did, why should I tell you?"
    Paul backed away, angered and puzzled by the girl's animosity. He moved on to the last door down the hall, put his ear to the panel and made out heavy breathing.
    Unfolding his stock knife, Paul forced the long blade under the door stop and pried it away from the jamb. Then he pushed the blade in through the crack of the door and slid the bolt of the lock back. Standing to one side, he swung the door open. The window leading out on the balcony was still raised, and enough light entered the room to reveal the outlines of a big man under the cover.
    Paul, easing his gun around, approached the bed. He stood over the prone figure. Slipping his hand under the cover, he felt the man's clothing, still damp with sweat. He felt a bulge in the pocket of the shirt. It was a purse, which he took out and slipped into his own pocket. This was his man. Still the prostrate form made no protest. Paul moved to the commode and, striking a match, lit the candle that stood there. Then he turned to the bed and looked down on Big-head Larson's shaggy head.
    Twining his hand in Larson's hair, Paul lifted the big head and slammed it back on the pillow. Even as he did so, his mind swiftly went back to that night a week ago when Big-head had shot the spots off the six of hearts.
    "What yuh want?" Big-head growled in his barrel chest. "Can't a man get no sleep around here?"
    "Get up, Larson!" Paul said harshly.
    "Go 'way. I ain't got nuthin' for you."
    Paul struck the man's bristly face. "Who sent you out to kill me?" Paul demanded.
    Larson was making sounds like an angry bear. He half rose from the pillow in defense.
    "I don't know what you're talkin' about."
    Paul struck him again, harder. He had to get the answer now, before Larson could report to the man who had hired him.
    "Come on; talk. I'll knock your teeth down your throat."
    "Let me go!" Larson snarled.
    Paul, not wanting to attract the men from downstairs, drew his knife and held the point at Larson's short, thick throat.
    "Come on; tell me who sent you. Was it Finch? Was it Stebbins or Miles? Talk!"
    "Let me go!"
    "I'll fix it so you'll never talk again," Paul threatened, putting pressure on the knife.
    Big-head moved with the agility of a cat. He drew up his leg and stiff-legged his boot into Paul's stomach. The attack was so unexpected it sent Paul gasping and groaning across the floor. He fell, striking his head against the sharp, hard corner of the commode. The candle was snuffed out, but it was a deeper darkness that swallowed Paul…
    When he came to, he lay a moment stunned. Vaguely, he remembered what had happened. He had come in so big, so brave, and he had made a fool of himself. His head buzzing with pain, he rose and approached the bed. It was empty. As his head cleared, he listened to the sounds downstairs and out in the corridor. It was apparent that his scuffle with Big-head