Blind Tiger by Sandra Brown

“Back to Foley?”

Surprised by that response, Thatcher glanced at his seat partner, did a double take, then his right hand automatically went for his pistol.

“You’re not wearing your gun belt. I checked as you boarded. I didn’t want you to shoot me before I could explain myself.”

The smile he flashed was not that of a pimp. In place of the gold tooth was a normal white molar. “You thought you’d seen the last of Chester Landry, didn’t you? Well, you have. And, God, what a jerk he was. I’m glad to be shed of him.”

He had medium brown hair that was wavy and loose, not slicked back with pounds of pomade. He was dressed in a conservative dark suit, with a pinstripe vest and unremarkable necktie.

Thatcher looked around to see if they were being observed, possibly to reassure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. No one was paying him any attention except the man seated next to him. Thatcher said, “Who the hell are you?”

“Lewis Mahoney, detective, Dallas PD. I’ll show you my badge if you insist, but that can be awkward, because I’m presently on loan to another agency, working undercover.”

“What agency?”

“I can’t tell.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Actually it’s a nuisance. Because I would like for you to believe me, Mr. Hutton. I’m sure you have questions. I’ll answer those I can.”

“What happened to Randy?”

“He was drawing too much attention to himself. I was afraid that Croft was going to have him killed, so I had to get him out of there. I lured him to Dallas by promising him a position in my fictitious bootlegging operation. I took him to a speakeasy to celebrate his new employment. It was raided, as planned. Dallas police arrested him, as planned. I escaped arrest, as planned.”

“Like at Lefty’s.”

He made a wry face. “No, that wasn’t planned. I just got lucky that night. Anyway. Randy. Arresting officers promised him clemency in exchange for names. That of Chester Landry topped his list, of course. Not the most loyal of acquaintances, a young man of meager character, and negligible morals, but not deserving of having his throat cut by Jimmy Hennessy.” He looked at Thatcher shrewdly. “By the way, congratulations on that outstanding display of marksmanship. You’re already a legend. I’ll bet Wyatt Earp is pea green.”

Thatcher ignored that. “You know, some suspected me of being a secret agent.”

“Croft was convinced. You bedeviled him, Mr. Hutton.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But I’m talking about friends who figured me for a spy. I’d hate doing what you do, Mr. Mahoney.”

“Yes, you would. The integrity thing.”

“Doesn’t it ever bother you to rat out people who’ve befriended you?”

“It would if I didn’t stay focused on the big picture.”

“Which is what?”

“First and foremost, I’m an officer of the law. I despise this Prohibition act, because it is already making lawbreakers out of law-abiding people, and turning petty criminals into villainous racketeers. Croft, for example.”

“My understanding is that he was always corrupt.”

“Yes, but he hadn’t gone so far as to murder anyone. Greed rid him of restraint. Even in the short time I knew him, I saw it happening, and it was frightening. Mark my words, Hutton, the next war this country fights is going to be against violent crime syndicates that give no quarter.”

“Like Davy O’Connor’s assassination. Firing the Johnsons’ house.”

“Exactly like that. Jesus,” he said, shaking his head. “For months I’d been coordinating a countywide raid. Several agencies, working together, we were going to nail Hiram Johnson and Bernie Croft.” He made a helpless gesture.

“Croft moved first. Hard and fast and without my knowledge. Incidentally, we’ve identified the men who ambushed the O’Connors. All were on Croft’s payroll. They’ve got prices on their heads. Somebody will turn. We’ll get them.”

“You went to Laurel Plummer that night and told her you wanted to make her an offer.”

“I was going to reveal myself for who I am and ask her to become an informant for me. In exchange, I would see to it that she and her associates would be granted clemency for moonshining.” He chuckled. “Looking back on it, it was a bad idea.”

“For putting her in danger like that, I would have killed you.”

“As I said, a bad idea.” Again, he laughed softly. “I don’t advise getting on her fighting side. She has a wicked right hook.” He worked his jaw laterally.

When Thatcher didn’t react, he said, “I can see that you’re not amused.” He paused as though seeking a better way to express himself. “Let me assure you that I’m often bothered about the betrayal aspect of my job. But I don’t go after the small-timers like your Mrs. Plummer. I’m after the bad guys, the ones who would have ultimately gotten rid of her for no other reason than that she was becoming a pest.”

“Croft.”

“Or someone like a Chester Landry, but the real article.”

“I was afraid that was exactly what was going to happen.”

“I figured. Your protectiveness was apparent.”