The Dublin Detective Read Online Free PDF Page B

mentioned an Irishman.
    Toward the end of the night, though, he was standing at the bar after having won fifty dollars in the small poker game when a girl standing near him mentioned an Irishman.
    â€œ. . . big, and mean,” she said, talking to another girl. “And he liked hurtin’ me. I was sore for days.”
    â€œExcuse me,” Clint said.
    The girl speaking was a short blonde. When she turned, Clint saw that she was very buxom. The girl she was talking to was tall and dark-haired, with a nose that was a little too big for an otherwise lovely face.
    â€œWant some company, honey?” the dark-haired girl asked.
    â€œNo, thanks,” Clint said, “I couldn’t help overhearing what your friend, here, was saying.”
    â€œI got work to do,” the dark-haired girl said, and left.
    â€œThe Irishman you were talking about,” Clint said to the blonde. “When was he here?”
    â€œI don’t know. A couple, maybe three weeks ago.”
    â€œNot last week?”
    â€œNo,” she said, “definitely not last week.” She laughed. “If it was, I’d still be sore.”
    â€œCan you tell me what he did to you?”
    She looked around, almost shyly, and then said, “Well . . . not here.”
    â€œLook,” he said, “it’s important. Where can we talk?”
    â€œWhere are you staying?”
    â€œAt the hotel right across the street.”
    â€œA-all right,” she said. “I’ll come to your room when I’m finished here. It’ll be later, though.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” Clint said. “I’ll be awake. What’s your name?”
    â€œEve.”
    â€œMy name’s Clint,” he said.
    â€œI’ll see you in a couple of hours, Clint.”
    â€œThanks, Eve.”
    He left the saloon and went to his room to wait.

TWELVE
    Clint was reading when the knock came at the door to his room. As always, he answered it with his gun in his hand. When he opened it, Eve slipped in very quickly and pushed the door shut behind her.
    â€œWorried somebody will see you?”
    â€œWe’re only supposed to . . . entertain in the saloon upstairs,” she said. “I just don’t want to get in trouble.”
    â€œI don’t want to get you in trouble, Eve,” he said, putting the gun in the holster on the bedpost. “I’ll pay you for your time, if that makes a difference.”
    â€œWell . . . you just wanna talk, right?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    She shrugged, and her big breasts jiggled. She was still wearing her work clothes, a low-cut red gown.
    â€œIt wouldn’t be right for me to take money just for talkin’,” she said.
    â€œI don’t have a problem paying,” he said, “you shouldn’t have a problem taking it.”
    â€œAre you . . . on the run?” she asked. “Is that why you answer the door with your gun?”
    â€œNo,” he said, “I’m not on the run, I just have to be careful. But the big Irishman you were talking about, he was on the run, right?”
    â€œHe didn’t say so,” she said, “but I heard him talkin’ to some of his men, and that’s the impression I got.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t talk to an Irishman last week?”
    â€œI didn’t say that,” she said. “I said he wasn’t the one who hurt me. He wasn’t even with me.”
    â€œBut he talked to you?”
    â€œYeah,” she said, “he talked to everybody.”
    â€œOkay,” he said, “let’s talk about the first Irishman first . . . the big one.”
    Â 
    The Dolan Gang consisted of Jamie Dolan, Ed Grey, Billy Ludlow, and a Mexican named Santee. They were camped for the night somewhere near El Paso, with intentions of crossing into Mexico the next day.
    Santee was a cold-blooded killer who liked to use a knife. He was the first one Dolan hooked up with when he