Free Wanted! Belle Starr! by J.T. Edson Page A

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