Read Online Showdown by Edward Gorman / Ed Gorman - Free Book Online
Authors: Edward Gorman / Ed Gorman
Ads: Link
speaker from Cheyenne today, talking about a Wild West show he's putting together. He's trying to raise capital, of course. He claims that this one is different. It's all Indian. Not a white man in it. Takes Indian history all the way back." He winked. It was meant to be an intimate winkâone shared by members of the masculinity clubâbut it came off as juvenile. "I'll tell him you get a few scantily dressed Indian girls in that show and I'll invest in a minute." He was more than happy to smile at his own wit.
He walked Prine to the door, a friendly hand on Prine's shoulder. Prine wanted to give him a quick elbow shot. Break a rib or two. He hadn't learned a damned thing, and that was just the way Duncan here wanted it.
Prine still wondered what Duncan's wife had been so upset about.
Chapter Seven
Â
I n the daylight, Stone Lake was a placid blue oval of water. The beach area was covered with small stones and two massive boulders. Hence the name. Prine spent twenty minutes walking around, looking for anything that remotely suggested Woodward's presence. He'd undoubtedly come here to meet somebody. But who? And what had that person done to him?
Print stared at the water for some time. The center of the lake. Out where you'd dump a body you never wanted anybody to see. Sometimes these small lakes ran deep.
After the lake, he walked up to the timber. These woods would require a day's work to walk through. If Woodward had been murdered, he could well be in a shallow grave.
Prine assumed now that Woodward was dead.
From what he'd learned of the man, Woodward was too reliable a person to just disappear.
But whom had he met? And why?
It was reasonable to assume that the arson investigation was involved. It was also, therefore, logical to assume that somebody had lured Woodward here with supposed information about the arson.
And then murdered him.
Prine walked around the lake a final time. He didn't find much this time, either. Not that he had any idea what he was looking for. The killer probably hadn't left him a personal letter: Here's where I threw the body in, Prine .
But the lapping waters of the past few days had washed the sand clean of footprints. Plenty of evidence of animal tracks, none of human.
Not a button, not a piece of fabric, not a bullet casing.
Nada, nada, nada.
Â
"I' d like you to tell me about the Pentacle fire."
"The Pentacle fire?" Sheriff Daly said. "What the hell's that got to do with anything?"
"You wanted me to find this Woodward. And that's what I've spent the day doing."
It was that lazy hour in the office right before suppertime. The business of the day was trailing offâofficial meetings, informal meetings, spontaneous meetings, meetings-you-ran-from-but-that-ensnaredyou-anywayâand now was the lull before all the saloon woes of the evenings. If this town was ever voted dryâas some communities had been leaning to latelyâit wouldn't have needed a nighttime deputy. Everybody'd be home snug in their beds and minding their own business.
"So you found him, Tom?" Carlyle said.
"I think I found him."
"Now, that don't make a lot of sense, Tom," Daly said. "You either found him or you didn't."
"Stone Lake. I've just got this strong sense he's at the bottom of it."
"Why would he be at the bottom of Stone Lake?" Daly said.
So Prine went through what he'd learned. The suspected arson. The letter Woodward received. The inquiry he'd made about Stone Lake.
"So maybe Woodward was onto something?" Carlyle said.
"At least the killer thought he was."
"The fire chief," Daly said, "didn't see any trouble with the fire."
"I found Woodward's notes, Sheriff. He was sure it was arson."
"So if he's dead, where does that leave us, Tom?" Carlyle said.
"I suppose we could let the insurance company know what I know."
"But we don't know anything for sure," Daly said.
"All we need to say at this point is that I checked it out and that Woodward seems to be missing and
He walked Prine to the door, a friendly hand on Prine's shoulder. Prine wanted to give him a quick elbow shot. Break a rib or two. He hadn't learned a damned thing, and that was just the way Duncan here wanted it.
Prine still wondered what Duncan's wife had been so upset about.
Chapter Seven
Â
I n the daylight, Stone Lake was a placid blue oval of water. The beach area was covered with small stones and two massive boulders. Hence the name. Prine spent twenty minutes walking around, looking for anything that remotely suggested Woodward's presence. He'd undoubtedly come here to meet somebody. But who? And what had that person done to him?
Print stared at the water for some time. The center of the lake. Out where you'd dump a body you never wanted anybody to see. Sometimes these small lakes ran deep.
After the lake, he walked up to the timber. These woods would require a day's work to walk through. If Woodward had been murdered, he could well be in a shallow grave.
Prine assumed now that Woodward was dead.
From what he'd learned of the man, Woodward was too reliable a person to just disappear.
But whom had he met? And why?
It was reasonable to assume that the arson investigation was involved. It was also, therefore, logical to assume that somebody had lured Woodward here with supposed information about the arson.
And then murdered him.
Prine walked around the lake a final time. He didn't find much this time, either. Not that he had any idea what he was looking for. The killer probably hadn't left him a personal letter: Here's where I threw the body in, Prine .
But the lapping waters of the past few days had washed the sand clean of footprints. Plenty of evidence of animal tracks, none of human.
Not a button, not a piece of fabric, not a bullet casing.
Nada, nada, nada.
Â
"I' d like you to tell me about the Pentacle fire."
"The Pentacle fire?" Sheriff Daly said. "What the hell's that got to do with anything?"
"You wanted me to find this Woodward. And that's what I've spent the day doing."
It was that lazy hour in the office right before suppertime. The business of the day was trailing offâofficial meetings, informal meetings, spontaneous meetings, meetings-you-ran-from-but-that-ensnaredyou-anywayâand now was the lull before all the saloon woes of the evenings. If this town was ever voted dryâas some communities had been leaning to latelyâit wouldn't have needed a nighttime deputy. Everybody'd be home snug in their beds and minding their own business.
"So you found him, Tom?" Carlyle said.
"I think I found him."
"Now, that don't make a lot of sense, Tom," Daly said. "You either found him or you didn't."
"Stone Lake. I've just got this strong sense he's at the bottom of it."
"Why would he be at the bottom of Stone Lake?" Daly said.
So Prine went through what he'd learned. The suspected arson. The letter Woodward received. The inquiry he'd made about Stone Lake.
"So maybe Woodward was onto something?" Carlyle said.
"At least the killer thought he was."
"The fire chief," Daly said, "didn't see any trouble with the fire."
"I found Woodward's notes, Sheriff. He was sure it was arson."
"So if he's dead, where does that leave us, Tom?" Carlyle said.
"I suppose we could let the insurance company know what I know."
"But we don't know anything for sure," Daly said.
"All we need to say at this point is that I checked it out and that Woodward seems to be missing and
Similar Books
