said.â
âEven a wolfhound puppy is a large dog and to be feared. The thief might be familiar with the animal, or it with him. A battle involving snapping jaws and flowing blood would have occurred otherwise.â
âFind what you can for me.â
Little Otto nodded once. The far-off look in his eyes might have been the result of figuring out where to begin his hunt for the elusive dog and its kidnapper, or it might have been from something more carnal as his imagination swept him away.
Lucas had to believe the sappy look resulted from the promise of an introduction to Carmela. And what man wouldnât be smitten? Lucas certainly was. It would be amusing to see Carmelaâs reaction to the towering man with the shaved head. For all his book learning, Little Otto was a raw character and nothing like the chanteuse fancied. Somewhat self-consciously Lucas wiped away dirt from the front of his vest, knowing Carmela would immediately notice and wrinkle her nose in distaste.
Or maybe her disregard would be more sophisticated. A
bon mot
, a mocking laugh, and then disdain? Lucas looked forward to seeing the womanâs response and then would come to her rescue. How Otto reacted to that would hardly matter since Lucas intended to have his information by then.
Little Otto blinked and his craggy face once more showed no emotion. Beads of sweat dotting his forehead glistened in the saloonâs dim light. He made no move to remove the moisture.
âWho is the landlady?â
Lucas shook his head. He had no idea.
âIf there wasnât any sign of forced entry and your Miss Baldridge had actually locked her door as she claimed, a key was used.â
Lucas ran his finger over his collar and the two spring steel strips there. Keys were overrated.
âI remember now,â Little Otto said. âShe has a friend you might know. Amos Conklin.â
âThe gambler? Iâve been in a few games with him. Heâs not very good at his trade.â
âYou caught him cheating. Rather than calling him out, you began cheating him.â
âAnyone watching could see how he palmed cards. I pushed two aces on him so he showed a hand with five.â Lucas smiled at the memory. The cowboys in the game with them had not been amused. Conklin would have been strung up if the three from a Wyoming ranch had carried a rope. As it was, they whupped up on him. Lucas had divvied up the pot with the three men, keeping a fair amount for himself. The evening had been both profitable and entertaining.
Cheats irritated him. Clumsy cheats like Amos Conklin infuriated him because they never expended the effort to do it well.
âTonight?â
âWhatâs that?â
âYou will introduce me to Miss Thompson tonight. After her debut?â
âIf Conklin had anything to do with stealing the dog.â
âI must find myself appropriate clothing,â Otto said, already miles distant although he still sat in his chair.
Lucas grumbled and left the Merry Widow. At this time of day, Conklin would be hustling any cowboy he could find in any of a half dozen dives. He set out to check the gambling dens and found Conklin in the third one. Without drawing any attention to himself, he went to the bar and ordered a brandy, swirling it around in the glass when he was served by the taciturn barkeep. Positioning himself carefully, he got a better view of Conklin by looking into the cracked mirror behind the bar.
The man was arguing with two others over a poker hand. The pair got up and left. Lucas had to smile. Conklin ran off his marks rather than stringing them along. All the while he watched the man, he wondered why Conklin would steal Amandaâs dog. More than this, what had he done with it?
Little Otto took too much pride in his information being accurate to send anyone on a wild-goose chase. More than this, he wanted the introduction to Carmela Thompson. If Lucas found he had been given punk
Learning to Kill: Stories