Chapter 5

The Absinthe House had a cozy gambling house on its ground floor, one that attracted both locals and the travelers who were coming into town for business or fun. It was going on two o'clock in the afternoon when Jarrod and Nick came in. The place was not packed, but every table was up and running, and the cigar smoke was already hanging in the air. The Barkley men looked around – and they each admitted privately that they were looking for whoever was going to step up and slap Jarrod next, but no one did.

Nick saw a twenty-one table with a couple spots open, and he and Jarrod took them and were playing as soon as a new deck of cards came into the game. The dealer was a nondescript man, dark-haired, who never looked up for more than a second at a time. Jarrod and Nick played for almost an hour, Nick breaking pretty even and Jarrod coming out a few dollars ahead. After that, they switched to a poker game, where the luck was reversed – Nick came out ahead. They drank Sazeracs and spent another hour before Jarrod suggested they head back to the hotel so he could finalize the paperwork he needed to hand off to the secretary in the morning. Nick opted to leave him to himself while he familiarized himself more with the gentlemen's club they had been to the night before.

"Just be careful," Jarrod warned with a slap on his back, as he went into the hotel and Nick went further on to Canal Street.

Neither one of them had yet spotted the man who had been following them since Arturo's. The man kept to the corner of Chartres and Conti streets, watching Nick walk on, then waiting a bit before he followed Jarrod into the hotel. Once inside there, he asked for "Mr. Barkley's room" and was directed further back on the first floor. In a moment, he knocked.

Jarrod had just shed his jacket and tie when the knock came. He was a bit surprised – if it was Nick, he'd have a key and just let himself in. Jarrod opened the door cautiously to the stranger. "Yes?"

The man held up a badge. "Mr. Barkley, my name is Tom DuMont," he said. "I'm a city policeman, and I was wondering if I could have a word with you."

"What about?" Jarrod asked. "I'm pretty busy at the moment."

"About John Darby," the officer said.

Jarrod sighed. Well, at least this man knew he wasn't Darby. "What about him?" Jarrod asked.

"He's in a bit of trouble, and I was hoping to get your help with him."

"He's always in a bit of trouble," Jarrod said.

"This one's not entirely his fault," DuMont said. "If I might have just a few minutes of your time – or I suppose we could talk down at the station."

Jarrod just about flared up, then remembered where he was. Police in this town liked to throw their weight around and would pull you in whether they had cause to arrest you or not. It was infuriating, but Jarrod knew this policeman had him over a barrel. He opened the door wider, saying, "Come in."

XXXXXXX

Nick ended up spending nearly two hours at the gentlemen's club, smoking cigars, nursing a brandy, and enjoying the company of a lovely woman in the "annex." He felt very content when he finally left and made his way back to the hotel. The contentment vanished when he got to their suite and found Jarrod, drinking alone, papers spread out on the desk and looking anything but finished. Jarrod was in shirtsleeves now, not smoking, looking out the window at the courtyard Nick had just come across. Something was wrong.

"Hey," Nick said, closing the door behind him. "What's going on? You haven't finished your work."

Jarrod turned, looking sullen and angry and trapped, all at the same time. "I had a visit from one of the local constabulary," he said.

Now Nick was alarmed. "About what?"

"About our cousin."

Nick almost growled. "What about him?"

"Take a guess."

"He's in trouble."

Jarrod nodded. "Not so much of his own doing this time. The police have gotten him into trouble, and he's dug himself in deeper."

Nick undid his tie and took his jacket off. "What business is it of ours?"

Jarrod took a deep breath and sat down in an armchair. "When you saw Jack today, he was giving a policeman the slip. He did it pretty well, too. Then the cop saw you and saw me approach you and, of course, surprised the heck out of himself. He followed us to Arturo's, was sitting at the next table over, heard us talking and figured out who we were."

"So?"

"Darby was working with the police – or at least, he was supposed to be. They had some charges on him they were willing to drop if he'd help them in getting to a local hit man. Jack made all the preliminary contacts with intermediaries and set up a meeting with this hit man tonight, to hire him to kill a local businessman. Money was supposed to change hands and the police would arrest the guy as soon as Jack paid him, but Jack bailed at the last minute. They can't find him."

Nick scowled, angrily. "Let me guess. They want you to impersonate Jack and make this payoff tonight."

Jarrod nodded.

"I hope you turned them down."

Jarrod shook his head. "Couldn't."

Now Nick was angry with his brother as well as the police. "What do you mean, you couldn't?"

Jarrod finally looked up at his brother. "Remember that paragon of virtue I'm not?"

"Yeah," Nick said suspiciously.

Jarrod looked into his drink again. "Well, in my younger days here I got into a bit a trouble. Nothing terribly serious but I put a police officer in the hospital after a fight and had to serve five days in jail. This cop who came to see me today knew about that, and he threatened me with either finding something on me or making something up if I didn't cooperate."

Nick sighed. "If you served your time, it shouldn't matter."

Jarrod waved his hand in the air. "It matters, and like I said, if there wasn't something to find, they'd make something up. This is a crooked town, Nick."

Nick sat down on the sofa. "I'm getting that picture. What are you supposed to do tonight?"

"There's a fairly large gambling house at the foot of Canal Street. I need to be there by nine, pretending to be Jack Darby. This hit man is supposed to contact me, and I pay him off, and they arrest him. Simple as that."

"You don't believe in simple."

"No, I don't. This hit man breezed into town recently and has gotten a reputation for himself. He's supposed to have killed two men already. Darby has supposed to have gotten to him through two other middle men. He probably knows what Darby looks like but Darby doesn't know him."

"So you just do what? Play some poker and wait for somebody to say hello, I'm your hit man?"

"Twenty-one," Jarrod corrected him.

Nick rolled his eyes, trying to think of an out, but all he could come up with was, "We could just leave town now, you know."

Jarrod shook his head. "I still need to finish that contract, and besides, the next train doesn't leave until tomorrow morning."

"So you're just gonna go along with this? Pretend to be Darby and let yourself be the set-up man this hit man is going to remember?"

Jarrod looked at Nick, this time with a very slight smile. "I won't be the man he remembers. Darby will."

"Still, Jarrod, that's a helluva risk."

"It's either go through with this or let the cops pull me in."

"What are you going to do for payoff money?"

Jarrod pointed to the desk and an envelope lying there. "The police are covering that."

"And you haven't finished your work on that contract."

"It's pretty much done. I just have to get the papers back in order and drop them off at the secretary in the morning, then do the signing tomorrow afternoon. We can leave town in a couple of days if we want."

"If we want?"

Jarrod shrugged. "If this works, there won't be any reason we'd have to leave town. It'll all be over and done with tonight."

Nick chortled. "And you think it's gonna work that smooth?"

"No," Jarrod said, "but a man can hope."

"All right," Nick gave in. "If you're set on doing this, you do it, but I'm going with you."

"At a distance," Jarrod said. "I don't know when I'll pick up whoever it is who will be watching me. You leave here at least ten minutes after I do, and you keep your distance once you get to that gambling house."

"Where is this place, anyway?"

"The foot of Canal Street. It's called Picard's. I'll leave here about eight, you be behind me. Get yourself something to eat there."

Nick nodded. "But I'll be keeping an eye on you from a distance."

"I don't think this is dangerous, Nick. Just annoying."

"If I ever get my hands on Darby again – "

"You'll have to get out of my way, because I'm gonna have him first."

"There's one thing I'll bet you and the police haven't considered – what if Darby actually shows up tonight? What if there's suddenly two of you in the gambling house?"

Jarrod nodded. "I've thought of it. But you know Jack. Do you think he's suddenly going to have a change of heart and put himself in harm's way for the cops?"

Nick sighed. "No."

"Well, then," Jarrod said. "There we are. Our evening is planned for us. At least we'll have something to NOT tell Mother about – unless you had such an afternoon."

Nick scowled. "I did – but it's lost its luster now. Blast you, Jack Darby!"