Doom Weapon Read Online Free Page A

I’m not.”
    He produced, from deep in the pocket of his suit coat a half-pint of bourbon. He took a long and reverentdrink. He made a face when the alcohol hit his belly. But at least he didn’t shudder. I wondered how much he drank while on duty.
    He shoved the bottle over to me. I shoved it back.
    “We got an election comin’ up here. And to be honest I’m not as popular as I used to be. I’m expecting somebody to run against me. And that would be the first time that ever happened.”
    “And if you solve a murder like this one, you’ll look good again.”
    “I know I can be a little arrogant sometimes.” He smiled. “That comes from havin’ too much good whiskey and too much good tail in my life. Man like me, he gets to believing he’s maybe a little better than everybody else. And that can turn people against him.”
    “I guess you didn’t hear me, Terhurne. All I care about is finding Grieves. I have a feeling that means finding out who killed Uncle Bob tonight. And that’s all I care about. I don’t have to worry about getting votes. Those are all yours.”
     
    Barlow showed me a room where I could sleep for the night, a room without any corpses.
    “You ever see the girl before tonight?” I asked him once we were inside.
    “No, can’t say that I have.”
    “How about her uncle?”
    “Nope. Him, neither. But remember I’m the night man. They may have come around during the day.”
    The next question had to be stated diplomatically. “The sheriff seems like a decent enough fella.”
    This was, of course, a statement, hinting that he might not be a decent fella at all.
    He frowned. “I’m taking it that as a federal man, you’re asking me a question in confidence.”
    “I am.”
    “Because if my opinion ever got out—Well, I have to live here. I like my job, the pay’s good and—”
    “I won’t repeat anything you say.”
    I went over and sat in the rocking chair, leaving him standing by the door.
    “And this is just my opinion, of course.”
    “Of course, Mr. Barlow. Just tell me what you want to say.”
    He was still nervous. “Well, there are some who think the sheriff is a little too friendly with the rich people in this town.”
    “Meaning he does them favors that he wouldn’t do for other people.”
    He smiled. “Well, you can’t blame him. I can’t, anyway. I’m the same way. You like it when the important people pay special attention to you. As they do sometimes.”
    “You sneak them in the back way late at night?”
    He laughed. “I could write a book about how many important men sneak out late at night and meet girls in our rooms on the second floor.”
    He was starting to wander. “You think the sheriff has ever covered up a crime for anybody?”
    “Not a serious crime. Not a robbery or arson or—”
    “—murder?”
    He shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
    “You ever give the sheriff a room late at night?”
    He laughed. “The sheriff’s just like a twenty-year-old buck when it comes to women. He can’t get enough of them. And those are the kind of men he hires, too.”
    “You ever run into a man named Grieves?”
    This time the smile was broad. “He’d be hard to miss.”
    “Oh?”
    “I know he’s supposed to be missing—and I assume you’re out here to find him—but I’m sure he’s sleeping off a bad drunk somewhere in one of the nearby towns.”
    “He drinks a lot?”
    “Drinks and parties. He was like a cowhand at the end of a trail drive. He couldn’t get his hands on enough liquor or enough girls. You should’ve seen him. He sure didn’t worry about money or what people thought of him. You’d think a federal man would be a little more worried about his reputation.”
    I had to agree with that last statement. Given the unpopularity of federal men, people enjoy sending angry letters to the agency back in Washington detailing all the many ways that a particular federal man had upset/humiliated/debased the citizens of their town.