Collection 1983 - The Hills Of Homicide (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour
Authors: Louis L’Amour
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us!”
She shook her head doubtfully. “How can we possibly do that?”
“How?” He grinned and sat back in his chair. “We’ll advertise!”
“Advertise? Are you insane?”
Kip was smiling. “We’ll run ads in the
Times
and the
Examiner
. If he’s in Los Angeles, he’ll see them. Take my word for it, it’ll scare the blazes out of him. We’ll run an ad inviting him to come to a certain hotel to learn something of interest.
“He will be shocked. He’s been thinking he is safe. Still, under that confidence is a little haunting fear. This ad will bring all that fear to the surface. With the fifty thousand he had to start with, he’s probably become an important man. He could be big stuff now.
“All right, suppose he sees that ad? He will know somebody knows Willard is alive. Don’t you see? That was his biggest protection, the fact that everybody believed Henry Willard to be dead. He’ll be frightened; he will also be curious. Who can it be? What do they know? Are the police closing in? Or is this blackmail?”
Helen was excited. “It’s crazy! Absolutely crazy! But I believe it will work!”
“He won’t dare stay away. He will be shocked to the roots of his being. His own anxiety will be our biggest help. He’ll try, discreetly, to find out who ran that advertisement. He’ll try to find out who has that particular room in the hotel. Finally, he will send someone, on some pretext, to find out who or what awaits him. In any event, we’ll have jarred him loose. He’ll be scared, and he’ll be forced by his own worry to do something. Once he begins, we can locate him. He won’t have the iron will it would take to sit tight and sweat it out.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, it may work.” She looked at him doubtfully. “But what if—what do you think he will do?”
Morgan shrugged. He had thought about that a lot. “Who knows? He will try to find out who it is that knows something. He will want to know how many know. If he discovers it is just we two, he will probably try another murder.”
“Are you afraid?”
Kip shrugged. “Not yet, but I will be. Scared as a man can be, but that won’t stop me.”
“And that goes for me, too!” she said.
The ad appeared first in the morning paper. It was brief and to the point, and it appeared in the middle of the real estate ads. (Everybody reads real estate advertisements in Los Angeles.) The type was heavy. It read:
HENRY WILLARD
Who was in Newark in 1943? Come to Room 1340 Hayworthy Hotel and learn something of interest.
Kip Morgan sat in the room and waited. Beside him were several paperback detective novels and a few magazines. His coat was off and lying on the table at his right. Under the coat was his shoulder holster and the butt of his gun, where he could drop a hand on it.
Down the hall, in a room with its door open a crack, waited three newsboys. They were members of a club where Kip Morgan taught boxing. Outside, the newsboy on the corner was keeping his eyes open, and three other boys loitered together, talking.
Noon slipped past, and it was almost three o’clock when the phone rang. It was the switchboard operator.
“Mr. Morgan? This is the operator. You asked us to report if anyone inquired as to who was stopping in that room? We have just had a call, a man’s voice. We replied as suggested that it was John Smith but he was receiving no calls.”
“Fine!” Kip hung up and walked to the window.
It was working. The call might have come from some curious person or some crank, but he didn’t think so.
He rang for a bottle of beer and was tipped back in a chair with a magazine half in front of his face when the door opened. It was a bellman.
Alert, Kip noticed how the bellman stared at him, then around the room. The instant the door closed after him, Kip was on his feet. He went to the door and gave his signal. The bellman had scarcely reached the elevator before a nice-looking youngster of fourteen in a blue serge suit
She shook her head doubtfully. “How can we possibly do that?”
“How?” He grinned and sat back in his chair. “We’ll advertise!”
“Advertise? Are you insane?”
Kip was smiling. “We’ll run ads in the
Times
and the
Examiner
. If he’s in Los Angeles, he’ll see them. Take my word for it, it’ll scare the blazes out of him. We’ll run an ad inviting him to come to a certain hotel to learn something of interest.
“He will be shocked. He’s been thinking he is safe. Still, under that confidence is a little haunting fear. This ad will bring all that fear to the surface. With the fifty thousand he had to start with, he’s probably become an important man. He could be big stuff now.
“All right, suppose he sees that ad? He will know somebody knows Willard is alive. Don’t you see? That was his biggest protection, the fact that everybody believed Henry Willard to be dead. He’ll be frightened; he will also be curious. Who can it be? What do they know? Are the police closing in? Or is this blackmail?”
Helen was excited. “It’s crazy! Absolutely crazy! But I believe it will work!”
“He won’t dare stay away. He will be shocked to the roots of his being. His own anxiety will be our biggest help. He’ll try, discreetly, to find out who ran that advertisement. He’ll try to find out who has that particular room in the hotel. Finally, he will send someone, on some pretext, to find out who or what awaits him. In any event, we’ll have jarred him loose. He’ll be scared, and he’ll be forced by his own worry to do something. Once he begins, we can locate him. He won’t have the iron will it would take to sit tight and sweat it out.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, it may work.” She looked at him doubtfully. “But what if—what do you think he will do?”
Morgan shrugged. He had thought about that a lot. “Who knows? He will try to find out who it is that knows something. He will want to know how many know. If he discovers it is just we two, he will probably try another murder.”
“Are you afraid?”
Kip shrugged. “Not yet, but I will be. Scared as a man can be, but that won’t stop me.”
“And that goes for me, too!” she said.
The ad appeared first in the morning paper. It was brief and to the point, and it appeared in the middle of the real estate ads. (Everybody reads real estate advertisements in Los Angeles.) The type was heavy. It read:
HENRY WILLARD
Who was in Newark in 1943? Come to Room 1340 Hayworthy Hotel and learn something of interest.
Kip Morgan sat in the room and waited. Beside him were several paperback detective novels and a few magazines. His coat was off and lying on the table at his right. Under the coat was his shoulder holster and the butt of his gun, where he could drop a hand on it.
Down the hall, in a room with its door open a crack, waited three newsboys. They were members of a club where Kip Morgan taught boxing. Outside, the newsboy on the corner was keeping his eyes open, and three other boys loitered together, talking.
Noon slipped past, and it was almost three o’clock when the phone rang. It was the switchboard operator.
“Mr. Morgan? This is the operator. You asked us to report if anyone inquired as to who was stopping in that room? We have just had a call, a man’s voice. We replied as suggested that it was John Smith but he was receiving no calls.”
“Fine!” Kip hung up and walked to the window.
It was working. The call might have come from some curious person or some crank, but he didn’t think so.
He rang for a bottle of beer and was tipped back in a chair with a magazine half in front of his face when the door opened. It was a bellman.
Alert, Kip noticed how the bellman stared at him, then around the room. The instant the door closed after him, Kip was on his feet. He went to the door and gave his signal. The bellman had scarcely reached the elevator before a nice-looking youngster of fourteen in a blue serge suit
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