“Sounds like a pervert in addition to all the rest,” Blake replied contemptuously.
“Don’t underestimate either the man’s courage or his intelligence. I’m convinced that Nathan Cox is anything but a weakling,” Longarm said. “He broke his accomplice’s neck, and Miss Frank says that he’s a marksman as well as a vicious fistfighter when cornered. Don’t forget, he grew up on a ranch in Arizona. He’s not citified like you boys.”
Blake didn’t like that comment, but he let it ride. “What else can you tell us?”
“Miss Frank says that he is extremely intelligent and won’t do anything stupid to make my job easier.”
“Our job,” Blake corrected. “Don’t forget, we’re working together on this case.”
Longarm could see that this was not the time or the place to argue the point. But the truth was, he had no intention of working with these men. The only reason he’d not yet given them the slip was that he needed to learn if they had a few bits of information that might help him find Nathan Cox.
The bartender brought a bottle of whiskey and a glass for Longarm, both of which he ignored. “Blake, let’s get right down to the facts.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“What,” Longarm asked, “have you boys learned about Cox since arriving in Cheyenne?”
Blake poured himself another whiskey, and Longarm saw that his hand trembled slightly, probably from sheer exhaustion but perhaps also from the pressure he was under to resolve this mess. “Nathan Cox is smart,” Blake sighed. “Smart enough to buy a cattle ranch with counterfeit cash.”
It was Longarm’s turn to be surprised. “A Wyoming cattle ranch?”
“That’s right. We haven’t been out to visit yet, and maybe we won’t given this foul weather.”
“No need to,” Agent Pollack said.
Blake ignored the man’s comment and leaned closer, his eyes intent on Longarm. “It’s our understanding that Cox bought a large, well-established ranch with his bogus hundred-dollar bills.”
“How much did he pay?”
“Thirty-seven thousand dollars.”
Longarm whistled. That much money would buy a very big cattle ranch in Wyoming. “Didn’t the seller wonder about all that newly printed cash?”
“It wasn’t newly printed,” Pollack said, looking pained. “Cox washed the money, then dirtied it and let it dry. He made those bogus hundred-dollar bills look hard used.”
“He must also have used some aging chemical in the wash,” Blake said miserably as he pulled a hundred-dollar bill from an envelope inside his coat pocket. “Here. This is one of the bills we recovered. I defy YOU to say that it looks freshly printed, much less counterfeit.”
Longarm took the bill and held it up to the lamplight. It looked plenty old and well used. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered with amazement.
“And it just gets worse,” Blake said glumly. “Apparently, Cox spent a couple of nights at the gambling tables playing big-time faro and buying hundred-dollar chips. From what we can learn, he lost more than he won, but not much.”
“I see,” Longarm said, understanding at once. “The winning or losing wasn’t the important part to Nathan Cox. What he was doing was simply exchanging the bogus bills for the chips and then he cashed everything in and laundered the twenty-seven thousand.”
“That’s right,” Blake said, tossing down more whiskey. “The bastard has a real talent for grand larceny as well as being a counterfeiter.”
Longarm frowned. “But why would Nathan Cox buy a cattle ranch?”
“That was our first question. But when we dug a little deeper, we discovered that Cox resold the ranch just three days later. He lost six thousand dollars but took some horses and a bundle of new cash out of the bank.”
“Don’t tell me the rest of the story,” Longarm said, deciding he also needed a drink. “By the time the dust had settled, Nathan Cox blew out of Cheyenne with some prize horses and a trunkful of laundered cash.”
“You guessed it,” Blake said, fists balling on the tabletop.
“And you haven’t a clue as to what direction he went,” Longarm said, knowing the answer to the question.
“We are pretty damn sure that he didn’t go back to Denver,” Matthews said when his boss failed to answer.
“Maybe he did go back to Denver,” Longarm said, “figuring that’s the last direction we’d expect him to take. In fact, that’s exactly what someone as bold and clever as Nathan Cox would do.”
Blake’s hair was thin and graying, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “You might have something there. One thing’s for sure, he isn’t in Cheyenne. We’ve spent all afternoon putting out feelers. Nothing. And with the telegraph lines down, we’re sitting here blind. Frankly, we don’t know which direction to turn.”
“Turn south,” Longarm said. “Get on the governor’s train and go back down to the Denver federal building. That’s where you should start.”
“Are you trying to get rid of us?” Blake asked.
“No,” Longarm said. “I just think Nathan Cox is smart enough to outsmart himself.”
Pollack leaned close. “He might just have something, Mr. Blake. That sounds like the kind of thing Nathan Cox just might do.”
“I’ll think about it,” Blake said, unwilling to make a commitment. “I just … just need a little time.”
“We don’t have any time,” Longarm said. “The governor’s train is refueling and taking on water. It will be pulling out within the hour.”
Blake sighed. “You are trying to shake us.”
“No,” Longarm said. “I’m trying to cover a very real possibility that Blake took his laundered cash, made a disguise, and then backtracked into Colorado. From there he could go most anywhere, and my guess would be Santa Fe or Albuquerque. Though he’d have a wide-open field to play in if he headed off to New Orleans or chose to ramble around Texas.”
“Or maybe he even went to Mexico,” Matthews said.
“A distinct possibility,” Longarm agreed.
“All right, all right!” Blake clasped his hands together. “We’ll take the special train back to Denver and see if we can pick up any evidence that Cox doubled back to Colorado.”
“Now you’re talking,” Longarm said. “And when you get to the federal building tomorrow, tell Billy Vail to wire up some expense money. Until then, I’ll need to borrow some cash.”
“How much?”
“Might take a couple of hundred.”
“Jaysus!” Blake exclaimed.
Longarm shrugged innocently. “Supervisor Blake, I have contacts here that I’ll need to pay for information.”
“Damn,” Blake muttered as he reached into his pocket for the cash.
“You going to give me the counterfeit money, or-“
“Don’t even ask,” Blake growled.
Longarm took the man’s money. “Cheer up,” he said. “I’ve been working in and through Cheyenne for years, and I know who to talk to and who to believe. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll be out on the streets, seeing if I can get some leads.”
“What about the woman?” Pollack asked, trying hard to sound matter-of-fact. “Does she need a ride back down to Denver with us in that fancy coach?”
“Don’t you wish she did,” Longarm said. “Sorry, but she’s staying with me. After all, she’s the one who can spot Cox, even in a crowd or when disguised. She’s my eyes and my ears. Where I go, she goes.”
“How nice for you,” Pollack said sarcastically. “Sounds like you just have the world by the balls with us paying your first-class freight.”
“Life never is fair,” Longarm deadpanned as he came to his feet.
“So, that’s it?” Blake asked, looking a little dazed with the way this meeting had gone.
“Yep,” Longarm said, yawning. “I’m dog tired. You know, I was supposed to be vacationing in Boston.”