Death In Helltown by John Legg Page B

it. “Who’s there?”
    “George Smalley.”
    Keeping the six-shooter aimed at the door, he said, “Come on then.”
    Smalley entered without hesitation, followed by Hope, who moved toward one corner. Bloodworth eased down the hammer and set the pistol on the bed next to him.
    With an angry look on her face, Sally rose, naked, and pulled on a robe, glaring at Hope the whole time. The young woman said nothing, but she had a hard glint in her eye.
    Smalley leaned back against the door. “You heard?”
    Bloodworth nodded. “Sally told me. Was it here?”
    “No. One near the Dead Buffalo, one outside the Red River. Same way as the others.”
    “I reckon you control both places?”
    “Just the Dead Buffalo. A fella named Billy Cobb owns the River.”
    “Customers?” he asked sourly, his stomach making a small lurch.
    “Sally?” Smalley asked.
    “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. I mean, they might be, but it sure ain’t happenin’ when … well, you know.”
    “I reckon they’re customers,” Smalley said. “Take a look at things, then slip back in at night and do their deviltry. What I can’t figure is why. Or exactly how.”
    “There’s a mighty lot of loco men out there, George. Such fellas don’t need a reason. They’re just plumb evil is all.”
    “I expect you’re right.” Smalley sighed.
    “Of course, there could be another reason. You have any rivals? You and Cobb, I mean.”
    “Fellah named Axel Lundqvist owns several other places. Why?”
    “Would he to his benefit if you and Cobb were to be run out of Helltown?”
    Smalley thought about it for just a second. “I suppose so,” he allowed.
    “He might be behind it. I don’t say it’s so, but it could be.”
    “I’m not so sure that killin’ girls in other places’d do him much good. It’s bad for business.”
    “You don’t give a damn about the girls, do you?” Bloodworth demanded.
    “Of course I do,” Smalley said hurriedly. “But if this keeps happenin’, we’re gonna go out of business. And then what about the girls?” He tried to sound reasonable.
    Bloodworth shook his head. “So what do you want from me?”
    “Offer we made before still stands. We want you to protect the girls.”
    “For protection?” Bloodworth asked. “Or for killin’?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “Nope,” Bloodworth answered. “I just want to be clear on what I’m bein’ hired for.”
    “We want the killer caught. That’d be the best way to protect the girls,” Smalley said. “Whether you kill him or arrest him with enough proof that he gets hung don’t matter.”
    “I’ll give it consideration.”
    “We’re offerin’ five hundred dollars, plus extra benefits,” Smalley said, nodding in Sally’s direction. “There’s more where she come from, too. Even Hope here.”
    “I thought she wasn’t part of this.”
    “She ain’t. But she’s willin’ to offer herself if that’ll help rid Helltown of the son of a bitch.”
    Bloodworth glanced at Hope. “That true?” He ignored the hiss of anger from Sally, who stood in a back corner, arms crossed across her chest.
    “Yes,” Hope whispered, her head down. But something about her didn’t seem quite right to Bloodworth, though he wasn’t sure what. He had the impression that she was seething under the demure manner.
    “You are one slimy bastard,” Bloodworth said, looking at Smalley.
    The pimp shrugged. “We want the bastard caught, and me and the others involved in this are willin’ to do what’s needed to see it done.”
    “Then I suggest you leave Hope out of it. She ain’t part of your business.”
    Smalley nodded once, curtly.
    Bloodworth considered for a moment, then said, “I ain’t no Pinkerton. Findin’ the killer ain’t gonna be easy. It’s not something I do. I’m a man hunter. I find out who he is, I can take care of him and it won’t give me a moment’s pause. But findin’ this devilish bastard…” He shook his head. “For one thing, it means