Hootowl Jacobs loved his life, all right, and he certainly was a bigamist from time to time, but therein lay the rub: Hootowl tended to fall in love only with ladies of property, and since he was aware that he wouldn't be awarded that property in a typical divorce proceeding, he "divorced" his wives in his own unique way: with a serrated hunting knife across their windpipes.
No one knew how many wives he had taken, though there were doubtless records of it somewhere. No one knew how many he had dispatched either, but he came to the attention of Dimitrios of the Three Burners when the total reached double digits.
Dimitrios was nothing if not thorough—it was the best way to keep alive in his line of work—so he began checking up on Jacobs. The man had killed women on Sirius V and Spica VI in the Democracy, on Silverblue out on the Rim, and on Binder X, Roosevelt III, Greenveldt, and at least four other worlds of the Inner Frontier.
His method was always the same. He'd show up on a world, a well-to-do widower (as indeed he was), and because of his economic and social station he tended to meet more than his share of well- to-do widows. He wasn't all that much to look at, and his manners weren't the type that would sweep a woman off her feet . . . but he would stress what they had in common, which was money and loneliness, and it wasn't long before wedding bells would be ringing and Hootowl Jacobs (who, after the deaths of his first three wives, never used his own name again) was a husband again.
He never rushed into his "divorces". The fastest was five months, the slowest almost three years. But sooner or later it was inevitable. A distraught, hysterical Jacobs would seek out the authorities, claiming some passing stranger had killed his wife. She was always missing some jewelry, so the motive was apparent. The legalities were usually concluded in two or three weeks—a new John Doe warrant, and a quick property settlement in favor of the grieving widower.
Hootowl Jacobs was not just the kind of man that Dimitrios longed to catch, he was the kind that the bounty hunter wanted to kill slowly and painfully with his bare hands. He knew that he was unlikely to get the opportunity, but he could hope.
It took two days for Dimitrios and Matilda to get to Innisfree II. She had wanted to question him further about potential Santiagos, but he had his own priorities and preferred to go into Deepsleep, which would eventually extend his life by two days provided he beat the odds and lived to an old age. And as he explained, "If I didn't plan to live my full span of years, I wouldn't be in this business to begin with."
To which she thought, the hell you wouldn't—but had enough tact to keep her mouth shut, and after reading the opening chapters of an exceptionally unthrilling thriller she climbed into her own Deepsleep pod, awakening when the ship went into orbit around Innisfree II.
"Get up," said Dimitrios, who was already awake and alert.
"I'm starving!" said Matilda.
"Of course you are. You haven't eaten in two days. We'll eat when we land."
She climbed out of the pod, amazed at how stiff her joints could become in just two days.
"Any messages for me?" she asked.
"Yeah. The ballet doesn't need a prima ballerina, stripping is outlawed on Innisfree, but if you can dance the Flamenco, whatever that is, there's a joint that can give you four days' work." He paused. "Four days is plenty. If Jacobs is here, I'll find him in less time than that."
"Okay, I'll take it."
"Don't tell me," said Dimitrios. "Send a message to them."
"I will," she said. "Give me a minute to wake up."
"All right," he said. "I've booked two rooms for us at a hotel in the center of what seems to pass for the planet's only city."
"Fine. I hope they have a restaurant."
"I hope Hootowl Jacobs is staying there."
"You act like it's a personal vendetta," said Matilda. "Have you ever met him?"
"No. He deserves to die; that's all I need to know."
"How many women has he killed?"
"Too many."
"You know," she said, "I could represent myself as a wealthy widow, or an heiress . . ."
"Forget it. There's a price on his head. We don't need to set him up."
"I thought it might draw him out."
"If he can find a wealthy widow on Innesfree before I find him, then it's time for me to retire."
"Do you even know what he looks like?" asked Matilda.
"Computer, show me Hootowl Jacobs," ordered Dimitrios.
Instantly a life-sized holographic image appeared. It was a man with bulging blue eyes, a widow's peak of brown hair, an aquiline nose, medium height, medium weight, dressed expensively.
"That's him," said Dimitrios.
"He's certainly distinctive," she said.
"If you mean easy to spot, yes, he is."
"I gather he's inherited a number of fortunes," said Matilda. "What the hell is a man with that kind of money doing on a little backwater world like Innesfree II?"
He shrugged. "Who cares? It's enough that he's here—if he is."
"If I were you, I'd care. He might have hired a small army."
"What for? He's never killed anyone but middle-aged women."
"Aren't you even curious?"
He shook his head. "Not a bit."
Santiago would be curious, she thought. And cautious. He'd want to know what business Hootowl Jacobs had on this world. You're so intent on killing him that you're not even interested in what makes him tick, and yet that knowledge could be the advantage you need. I know, I know, all he kills are his wives, but you still should look for any edge you can get. This is life and death, after all.
She began to appreciate the problem of finding Santiago. He was one tiny needle in the haystack of the Inner Frontier, and he probably had no idea of who and what he was to become. Just finding him could take a few lifetimes; convincing him to fulfill his destiny could take almost as long.
She was still considering her problems when the ship touched down. Shortly thereafter they passed through Customs—they had to purchase one-month visas for fifty credits apiece—and Dimitrios rented an aircar, which skimmed a foot above the ground and got them from the spaceport to the city in a matter of a few minutes.
"Here we are," said Dimitrios, deactivating the aircar. "The Shaka Zulu Hotel."
"Who or what was Shaka Zulu?" asked Matilda.
"Who knows? Probably some politician or poet." He paused. "Let's check it out before we unload our luggage."
The doors faded into nothingness as they approached the entrance, and a moment later a small, rotund purple alien was escorting them to their rooms. He stopped when he reached the end of the corridor. For a moment Matilda thought he had forgotten where to take them, but then Dimitrios flipped him a coin, which he caught in his mouth, and he toddled away.
"I'd have asked him if Jacobs was here, but I don't think he speaks Terran," said the bounty hunter.
"Why not ask at the front desk?"
"Clerks don't keep their jobs long if they reveal their guest lists to bounty hunters." He smiled. "Some of them don't live long, either."