Wanted! Belle Starr! Page 6

  “May I?”

  “I wish you would,” Icke declared, deciding he was achieving his purpose.

  “Then, David, you must call me, ‘Darlene-Mae’, the blonde authorized and glanced pointedly at the clock on the wall. “Great heavens, is that the time?”

  “It is,” Icke confirmed, having had his thoughts jerked from lechery to the more vitally important matter under discussion. On the point of crossing to the door, he was struck by a thought. “Will your half-brother be there when I arrive?”

  “No,” Darlene-Mae replied. “I told him that he should send word to Banker Cockburn that he was suffering from the grippe and must stay away today. I was afraid that he might say or do something which could betray himself, if he was to go there under the strain he was suffering. Was I wrong to give him such advice?”

  “Of course you weren’t wrong, my dear!” Icke confirmed, being aware of how easily a man normally honest could betray himself after having behaved in such an illicit fashion. He was genuinely sincere as he went on, “As a matter of fact, you gave him just the advice I would have, if I had know about it earlier. Well, time’s flying and I’d better be getting along.”

  “You will let me know how you get on, won’t you, David?” the blonde requested, looking so pathetically eager she might have softened the heart of a confirmed misogynist and the man she was addressing was far from that. “If you come straight back to me on your return, unless you think this too forward of me, I will have a bottle of brandy waiting to toast your success and our continued friendship.”

  “I’ll do just that,” Icke promised and, despite his anxiety over realizing that he had allowed more time to slip by than he intended before taking his departure, he felt sure that coming back with the ‘news’ he would deliver was going to prove worthwhile.

  “Goodbye for now, David. May you soon return,” Darlene-Mae purred. “And the very best of luck!”

  Chapter Ten – You Don’t Believe He Is?

  Telling himself the ‘very best of luck’ he could have had under the circumstances was to have met Darlene-Mae Abernathy and learned in time of the trouble which was coming to the National Trust Bank, in which he had deposited a large sum of money for safekeeping, David Icke wasted no time on leaving her room. Having no need to go to his own quarters, further along the passage, he hurried downstairs. Crossing the reception lobby, for once he was relieved by receiving a negative shake of the head from the clerk at the desk. The last thing he required at that moment was to be informed that the message he was expecting had arrived. It was imperative that nothing further delayed him before he set out to retrieve the fifteen thousand dollars, not even the arrival of the criminals for whom it was intended.

  There had been a very good reason for the agitation Icke had displayed on being informed by the blonde of her half-brother’s peculations at the bank!

  Although having acquired a certain fame as an author, a playwright and a politician of radical views, Icke was only moderately successful at any of them. Certainly he did not maintain his far from meager standard of living on his earnings from all three sources. His main income was acquired by having invested money accrued some years earlier by less than legal means and becoming, in complete secrecy, one of the major receivers of stolen property anywhere in the United States of America. He was, in fact, the biggest ‘fence’ on the Atlantic seaboard.

  Having had a proposal reach him to purchase a quantity of very valuable jewelry, looted further west from a hunting party of European aristocrats, Icke had put aside his reluctance to travel beyond the Mississippi River and come to Mulrooney. One of the stipulations of the deal was that he must be prepared to hand over the fifteen thousand dollars, quoted as the price for the illicit merchandise, in cash when it was delivered to him. He had been warned that, should the sum not be immediately forthcoming, the loot would be taken elsewhere. As the stolen property was worth far more and, in fact, could be returned to its owners at a very good profit, without any questions being asked, he had known it would present no problems for the thieves to find another fence ready, willing and eager to negotiate. They would not hesitate before going to somebody else.

  Considering it could prove the most lucrative single deal in which he had ever participated, Icke had done as instructed. Because of wishing to avoid arousing suspicions with regards to possessing finances far beyond anything produced through his literary and political activities, he kept only a small bank account in his own name. However, having had no desire to leave a trail which might be traced back to him, he had been unwilling to make use of one of the accounts he maintained under various aliases. Therefore, he had brought the money with him. It had not come from any of his accounts, but was in bills he had acquired following a robbery in New York, bills which were still too ‘hot’ to be passed through any legitimate outlet. Nevertheless, provided they were unaware of this which he considered likely to be the case he was hoping they would be accepted by the unsuspecting Western outlaws.

  Always wary, Icke was disinclined to keep such a large sum of even ‘clean’ money upon his person, hidden in his room, or leave it in the safe of the manager of the Railroad House Hotel. To avoid relying upon any of these methods, he had secreted the fifteen thousand dollars in a safety deposit box at the National Trust Bank. As yet, there had not been any word from the outlaws and he had seen no need to withdraw it.

  The situation, the receiver realized, had changed with dramatic suddenness due to the information he had received!

  Once the Federal bank examiners found the deficit created by Dennis Hobert’s peculations, Icke was certain he would not be able to retrieve his property from the safety deposit box until the matter had been settled. Nor was this the worst of the situation. Should the investigations of the examiners require it, they were empowered to open and check the contents of the safety deposit boxes. If this happened, it was possible the true source of the money he had left would be discovered. He was all too aware of the consequences for him to regard the contingency with equanimity.

  Yet another matter had caused perturbation to Icke as he heard the news. Past experience had taught him that criminals, who rarely trusted any fence too far, were disinclined to wait for payment to be forthcoming. In fact, he had already been warned by the present gang that such would prove the case. Therefore he had been alarmed by the thought that the peculations of the teller could be endangering the most potentially lucrative negotiations of their kind in which he had ever been engaged.

  On leaving the hotel, the receiver found himself wishing the two bodyguards he had hired were with him!

  Being disinclined to trust the outlaws from whom he was expecting to purchase the jewelry, the receiver had had a contact in Kansas engage Stephen Forey and Lee Potter as bodyguards. However, he had found reason to require their assistance even sooner than anticipated. Discovering he was being followed by a young man with reasons to hate him bitterly, he had decided to take precautions. The trap he had laid did not produce the required results. Despite the failure of the two hard-cases to kill Geoffrey Crayne, which they had attributed to a large and very aggressive Irishwoman having mistaken their proposed victim for somebody with whom she had a close acquaintance, he had not disposed of their services. Being in an unfamiliar region, his previous period west of the Mississippi River having been confined to Oklahoma, he had no personal knowledge of where he might be able to procure replacements. Nor did he wish to be without some form of protection.

  Having guessed why Crayne was following him, wearing a disguise, Icke had believed there would continue to be a threat to his life from that source and, if possible, wanted to have it removed before returning to his usual stamping grounds. While the termination could be arranged in the east, he considered it advisable to happen in Mulrooney without, ostensibly, it having any connection with him. However, although there had been no trace of the young Bostonian since the abortive attempt, he was disinclined to take the chance that the quest for vengeance was calle
d off due to the other being frightened from Mulrooney by the narrow escape he had had. He felt sure Crayne would not give up so easily.

  Notwithstanding the desire for protection against the young Bostonian and, perhaps, the outlaws with whom he would be dealing, the parsimonious nature of the receiver would not cover the cost of having his bodyguard take rooms at the hotel he was using. Instead, they were staying and paying for their own accommodation elsewhere, reporting to him for orders every morning. Having had neither the reason nor the inclination to go out that day, regardless of how he had been dressed on coming from his room, he had told them to continue their search for Crayne when he last saw them. He had no idea where they might now be looking, so he was unable to send a message demanding their attendance.

  Now, due to the unanticipated turn of eve ms which he had been fortunate enough to discover, Icke was wishing he had the pair readily available to act as escort until he had retrieved his money and secured it in the safe at the hotel. However, he took what comfort he could from the thought that the bank was only a short distance away from his temporary accommodation and both were in an area far more adequately protected by the local peace officers than the district with the shipping pens for cattle into which he had lured Crayne two days earlier.

  Hurrying to the bank, the receiver was alert for any sign that the secret of the peculations by Hobert had become public knowledge. With relief, he saw nothing to suggest this might be the case. Certainly there was no crowd of worried depositors outside, either waiting patiently or clamoring to withdraw savings before it was too late to save them from being impounded.

  On entering the building, Icke found it was devoid of clients and on the point of being closed. The only employees present were one of the guards, standing by the main entrance, and a solitary teller, who was no longer young, behind the counter. Nevertheless, although the actual conversation was inaudible, voices could be heard from beyond the door inscribed, ‘CYRUS B. COCKBURN Private’.

  Suspecting the books were being inspected, prior to the forthcoming visit by the Federal bank examiners, the receiver decided there was still an urgent need to regain possession of his money. Being a man of integrity, Cockburn would consider it his duty on discovering the deficit caused by Hobert to wit hold all the assets pending an official investigation. There was no telling how long this state of affairs might continue. Nor did Icke wish to go through the formalities required to bring a similar sum from one of his bank accounts in the East despite having more than sufficient resources to do so. For one thing, this would cause him to pay with honest rather than ‘hot’ money and still leave the problem of disposing of the latter.

  Crossing to the counter, Icke thought he detected a somewhat strained air about the solitary, gray haired and parchment-faced teller and wondered whether he might, in fact, have arrived too late. With some trepidation, he explained the reason for his visit. Anxiety bit at him as the elderly man he was addressing directed a look towards the guard at the front door. However, after having next glanced in a surly and disgruntled fashion at the clock on the wall, the teller picked up a small bunch of keys and came through the gateway giving access to the customer’s section.

  “Are you all on your own today?” Icke inquired, accompanying the still scowling old man to collect his property from the safety deposit box he had rented which was kept with the others in the well protected basement of the building.

  “Yes!” the teller answered shortly, concentrating upon selecting and manipulating the keys necessary to gain admission to the vault.

  “Where’s the young man I saw when I took the box?”

  “He sent word this morning that he’s gone down with the grippe!”

  “And you don’t believe he has?”

  “It isn’t for me to say whether he has, or hasn’t!” the teller stated, having been reproved by Cockburn for making such a suggestion when the message from Hobert had arrived. It had done nothing to decrease his animosity towards his younger and more forceful colleague, nor had having been required to deal with the extra work caused by the absence. “But his grippe came on very suddenly, if you ask me!”

  Satisfied that the peculations had not yet come to light, Icke decided against continuing the conversation. He had no desire for his interest in Hobert to be mentioned to the Federal bank examiners. If this should happen, it might cause them to want to check upon the leather dispatch case he had come to collect. Therefore, he lapsed into silence and his informant showed no signs of wishing to continue speaking, Instead, each used the key he had brought to unlock and open the safety deposit box.

  Taking out the case, although the box no longer held any of his property, the receiver announced he would continue the rental. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary about the instructions and being only interested in finishing work for the day, the teller raised no objections to him pocketing the key. Returning to the ground floor and passing the guard, who was waiting with obvious impatience to close and lock the door, he left the bank satisfied he had been in time to avoid having his money impounded along with the rest of its assets and holdings.

  Hurrying to the hotel, Icke felt his anxieties ebbing away and being replaced by a sensation of elation. He was sure that, on hearing the story he was concocting, the beautiful blonde would be putty in his hands as soon as she heard that the visit supposedly to extract her brother from difficulty had been ‘successful’. Nevertheless, in the event that gratitude and a judicious plying with the brandy she had promised to acquire did not prove sufficient to render her compliant, he was convinced that the presentation of a marijuana cigarette from the case he always carried would induce a condition wherein she would become sexually forthcoming. Such tactics had only failed him once, but he had contrived to avoid suffering the consequences of his narcotic-induced attack upon the sister of Geoffrey Crayne. He promised himself that, being in an area where he could exert less influence, he would ensure nothing of a similar nature occurred on this occasion.

  Chapter Eleven – May We Both Get What We Want

  Entering the Railroad House Hotel, David Icke was not allowed to follow the line of action he had planned. It was his intention to make arrangements with the reception clerk at the desk to have the leather dispatch case put in the safe, before going upstairs to carry out the seduction he believed would soon be his for the asking. However, as he came through the front entrance, he saw Darlene-Mae Abernathy walking down from the second floor.

  “Hello, Dav—‘Mr. Wilson’,” the blonde greeted, hurrying towards the receiver. “I saw you coming from the bank and I just couldn’t wait any longer. So I came down to meet you. Were you successful with—with—?”

  “With my negotiation?” Icke suggested.

  “With your negotiation,” Darlene-Mae accepted.

  “Completely successful,” the receiver replied, truthfully as far as it went. That, however, was the end to his veracity. “Don’t worry, Darl—Miss Abernathy. Everything is settled and, providing your family are willing to make good the money, your half-brother has nothing to fear.”

  “Well thank heavens for that!” the blonde declared, coming forward to take Icke by the left arm. “Or, rather, thank you, David!”

  “It was nothing,” the receiver claimed, once again with truth.

  “But it means so much to dear Dennis!” Darlene-Mae gasped, squeezing at the arm she was holding. “Why I could just give you a great big hug and kiss!”

  “Here?” Icke asked, glancing around the reception lobby.

  “Oh heavens to Betsy, what you must think of me!” the beautiful blonde gasped, looking around her with such innocent alarm it seemed butter would have a hard time melting in her mouth. Nevertheless, retaining her grip on his arm, she continued, “Come, let’s go upstairs first.”

  “First?” the receiver queried.

  “I promised that I would have a bottle of brandy waiting in my room so we could toast your success with Banker Cockburn,” Darlene-Mae explained. “Or had you fo
rgotten about it?”

  “No, of course I hadn’t forgotten,” Icke stated, but dropped his gaze to the case in his right hand. “But I meant—”

  “Don’t you want to come with me?” the blonde demanded, a touch of petulance coming into her voice.

  “I most certainly do want to come—!” the receiver confirmed, but was not allowed to say anything more.

  “Then let’s go and do it straight away!” Darlene-Mae ordered rather than merely requested, her manner that of a person long accustomed to having every whim fulfilled immediately and who was likely to go into a fit of sulks, if nothing worse, should she not get her own way.

  “Whatever you say, my dear,” Icke assented, being unwilling to forfeit the opportunity he was confident he had created, and struggling to control his resentment. Then he told himself that, as the money would not be out of his sight until it could be put into the safe, he need not feel concerned over it. “Come on then. Let’s go up to your room and drink to my success and your half-brother’s salvation.”

  On the way to the second floor, possessing a suspicious and untrusting nature, the receiver started to worry over the insistence of the blonde in going to her room. The feeling was intensified when she asked about the dispatch case. However, on being told it contained documents concerning the business he had carried out with Banker Cockburn as a prelude to rescuing her half-brother, her attitude implied she was not really interested and had merely been making conversation.

  Allowing Icke to precede her into her room, Darlene Mae closed and locked the door. Before he could register any concern over the actions, she turned and smiled with a mixture of demure provocation which drove the suspicion from his head. Removing and draping his cloak over a chair, he forgot his earlier misgivings and contemplated only the benefits he anticipated would soon be coming his way.

  “Have a seat, David,” the blonde offered.