Yardlinger sneered. He and Randy Cross were standing on the boardwalk on either side of the hotel entrance, holding their shotguns. “You go on to the jail and wait for Shedwell to turn himself in?” “I’ll explain later. Get the Major.” I turned and stepped back inside, leaving them there. The clerk raised his eyebrows at my return. “Step around in front,” I commanded. “Come on, come on. I promise not to shoot you.” Reluctantly he obeyed, cringing slightly as if he’d left his pants behind. Keeping one eye on the staircase landing, now deserted, I stood next to him and measured. I had maybe half an inch on him. Close enough. “Take off your coat.” He stared, opened his mouth to speak, then drew it shut. Awkwardly he peeled off his black swallowtail. His shoulders came off with it. I shrugged out of my own canvas jacket and told him to put it on. He hesitated, then complied, draping his coat over the desk. He looked like a scarecrow in his new attire, but from a distance he could pass.
