“You see, Sergeant,” he said. “Pideau reckoned he had a big score on me. I knew it. I’d known it years. An’ someday I was dead sure he’d try and pay it. But he played this so bright I didn’t guess. He certainly did.”
The Wolf laughed.
“The thing in Pideau was his father feelin’ fer Annette. An’ even that wasn’t the big thing it needed to be. But Annette was his an’ he felt good about it. He just hadn’t use fer me and was sick to death I was crazy fer Annette. Oh, I knew it. But he never said a word. Then he got wise to what Sinclair had done, an’ he was madder than a bull at breedin’ time. Sinclair’s number went right up when Pideau got wise. But Pideau, bein’ what he was, reckoned to have me do the killin’. If I didn’t feel that way then he’d play his hand. I’m wise now. I wasn’t then. Pideau played me, an’ I was surely crazy to kill. But I didn’t know all Sinclair had done then.”
Fyles nodded.
“There wouldn’t have been waiting if you had?”
“Waitin’? Say, I’d have pulled on sight an’ shot him to death in his tracks!”
Again Fyles nodded, and the Wolf went on.
“No. I didn’t know. An’ like a crazy kid I went along to Annette. I went along an’ pulled all I could say. It was a big lot. Maybe it was too much. But I was just mad. There was a tough time, but I reckoned I had my way. Annette swore to cut Sinclair right out. So I quit the notion of killin’ an’ meant to get after the liquor with Pideau.”
“That night Pideau an’ I sat in on the play. An’ I told him I wasn’t killin’ Sinclair. He was rough, but he took it. An’ I told him Annette was cuttin’ Sinclair out. He figgered she couldn’t. But I didn’t guess even then. I handed out the game. You see, I always handed things out to him. And while we were talkin’ we heard somethin’ out in the store.”
“Suspicious?” Fyles’ interest was absorbing.