Frank Tilghman has just met Dalton for the first time, after what one assume is years of hearing tell of his exploits from other barfolk. He explains he runs a little nightclub called the Double Deuce just outside of St. Louis. It used to be a sweet deal, he says. Now it’s the kind of place where they sweep up the eyeballs after closing, he laments. His face falls, ashen. He looks out over the bustling crowd at the Bandstand, the club where Dalton currently works, but it’s as if he doesn’t see it at all. Then he turns back toward Dalton and, with the most normal facial expression imaginable, he says “Anyway, I’ve come into a little bit of money.”
Oh, is that a fact?
In the past, when fleshing out the romantic backstory between Tilghman and Pat McGurn, I’ve theorized that one of Tilghman’s ex-wives’ doting mother left him a small fortune, having turned out to be much fonder of her daughter’s former husband than the daughter ever was. Perfectly harmless. I’ve also speculated that he was involved in one of those “seduce an old lady, get written into her will, and dump her overboard during a cruise” schemes, like Not Great Bob’s boyfriend did (allegedly) inĀ Mad Men. You have to admit it’s possible.
But look at that grin again. Look at that rictus of arrogance and cruelty. This is the face he’s choosing to display to a man he’s going to spend top dollar on, a man who will turn the struggling Double Deuce into the hottest nightspot in a hundred miles, a man who will run the bad element out of the bar, a man who will almost singlehandedly destroy the organized crime ring run by the richest man in Jasper. Until he dies, that is, slain in the course of the battle with Dalton.
Slain by Tilghman.
The new richest man in Jasper.
You know the 7-Eleven, the Fotomat, the mall, christ, the JC Penney? Brad Wesley brought them to town, he says, and no one contradicts him. But if I were Dalton, I’d spend some of my mid-six-figure yearly salary on a forensic accountant. Shell corporations within shell corporations within shell corporations are involved, I’d imagine. And what address is listed for those corporations, in the end? Whose name is on the dotted line?
Cui bono?
Tags: bandstand, dalton, road house, tilghman