Read Five Points for Free Online

can do for you?”
    â€œYou can keep your hands out of my pockets,” Clint said.
    The boy grinned, revealing one missing tooth on the bottom.
    â€œMy name’s Red, sir,” he said.
    â€œYour hair’s black,” Clint pointed out.
    â€œYes, sir, it’s not a nickname, it’s my real name,” the boy said. “Red. You need anythin’ at all while you’re in New York, you ask for Red.”
    â€œAsk who?”
    â€œAnyone, sir,” the boy said. “Everybody on the street knows Red.”
    â€œRed, why are you working the platform when there are more pockets than you can shake a stick at out in the terminal?”
    â€œAh, but the top cop is in the terminal.”
    â€œTop cop?”
    â€œCaptain Byrnes, sir,” Red said. “Chief of detectives. He don’t like pickpockets, not at all.”
    â€œWhat does Captain Byrnes look like?”
    â€œKinda sad lookin’, with a big mustache,” Red said.
    â€œYou won’t be able to miss him, sir, because of his uniform.”
    â€œAh . . .” Clint said, but before he could say anything else the boy was gone.
    Clint left the platform and entered the terminal. The man in uniform was not hard to find. It was as if he had a fence around him. People were giving him a wide berth.
    â€œHow did you know I’d find you?” Clint asked him.
    Byrnes smiled. “How could you not, Mr. Adams?”
    The two men shook hands.
    â€œAre you wearing a gun?” Byrnes asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI don’t see a holster.”
    â€œMy holster is in my bag,” Clint said. “The gun is tucked into my belt, at the small of my back.”
    â€œYour Peacemaker?”
    â€œI carry a small New Line Colt in my belt,” Clint said. “My regular Colt is in my bag.”
    â€œHow long have you known Roper?”
    â€œMany years.”
    â€œYes,” Byrnes said. “I, too, have known him many years.”
    â€œSo he said.”
    â€œWhat else did he say about me?” Byrnes asked.
    â€œYou only come up when someone calls him the greatest detective in the country.”
    â€œWhat does he say?”
    â€œHe says your name.”
    Byrnes smiled.
    â€œHe says he’s the greatest private detective in the country, doesn’t he?”
    â€œHe says he may be the greatest private detective in the world,” Clint said, “but you are the greatest police detective.”
    Byrnes extended his hand again, and this time they shook more firmly.
    â€œWelcome to New York, Mr. Adams.”

TWELVE
    Byrnes asked Clint what kind of a hotel he wanted to stay in. Clint told him something small and discreet.
    â€œI don’t want to be noticed.”
    Byrnes had his driver take them to a small hotel near Union Square.
    â€œThere’s no bar,” Byrnes said, “but there’s a small tavern next door there.” He pointed. “There’s never any trouble there.”
    â€œWhy is that?”
    â€œBecause I drink there.”
    â€œWhy don’t we go in and have a drink now?” Clint suggested.
    â€œI’ll have my driver check you in, take your bag to your room, and then bring you the key.”
    â€œThat’s fine.”
    Byrnes made those arrangements, then led the way into the tavern, which had no name above the door. It was warm inside, cozy. The bartender nodded to the captain, who did not seem concerned about being in the tavern while in uniform. Likewise, the patrons did not give him a second look.
    â€œThey expect me to come in and out of here,” Byrnes said, leading Clint to a table in the back. “No-body even blinks anymore, unless there’s a stranger here, and then he’s quickly advised to turn his head away.”
    A barmaid came over and graced them with a smile and a pair of impressive breasts, which were threatening to leap from her peasant blouse. Her nipples seemed as big as a puppy dog’s