There was a sound of footsteps, and then a rectangle of light appeared ahead as a door was opened and a burly form passed through it.
Longarm’s Stetson kept scraping the ceiling, and he was tired of stooping. He took the hat off and was able to stand upright without bumping his head. His eyes began to adapt to the poor light.
“What are we doing here?” he whispered. Somehow whispers seemed very much in order at the moment.
“Shh. You’ll see.”
‘Thanks,” he said dryly.
“You’re welcome.”
He made a face, which Aggie couldn’t see.
The wait only required a few moments more. The door was opened again, and this time the male figure stood there without stepping through. “She’ll see you, Miz Able.”
‘Thank you, Parson.”
Longarm had a pretty good notion that Parson, when spoken in this connection, would be a nickname and not a description. Most parsons would keel over in a dead faint if they were ever to get a look inside a place like this one.
“Yes’m,” the voice said.
Longarm followed Aggie to the door and past Parson into the next room. His eyesight had returned well enough by now that he could see the guard. Parson had a face that was bum-scarred and twisted. The effect gave him an evil look, although that accidental appearance didn’t necessarily have a thing to do with the way he really was. He might really be a pussycat. Still, such an intimidating look must have been quite an advantage to him in his present line of work.
Beyond the doorway the ceiling was higher. In fact, the room where they now stood was relatively normal, bordering on being quite nice. There were Oriental rugs on the floor, lamps in sconces on the walls, and furniture that was a trifle shabby now but which had once been quite grand.
Mostly, though, the room was dominated by a bloated old woman who seemed to be all fat and face powder. She was dressed in a fluffy pink lace wrap that enveloped her from her ears to the floor and beyond. She looked like she was floating in a pink cloud, with only her heavily powdered face exposed. Even her hands were lost somewhere inside the gown. Her hair was wispy and white. Longarm couldn’t decide what her age might be. Old enough to call Methuselah sonny, perhaps.
“So nice to see you, dearie,” she said to Aggie. Then she transferred her attention to the tall deputy who stood beside the lawyer. She nodded. “Nice to see you again, Longarm.”
Ill
“Have we met?”
“Not formally.”
“You have the advantage of me, madam.” He smiled and brought his heels smartly together, bowing slightly from the waist as he did so.
“Always the gentleman, aren’t you. I would refresh your memory, love, but I don’t recall what name I might have been carrying at the time. It was in Tucson, I think. Or was it El Paso? No matter. We were not at cross-purposes. And I do remember that I liked you.”
Longarm was damned well positive he had never laid eyes on the old harridan before this moment. He damn sure would’ve remembered her if he had.
On the other hand, it wasn’t at all impossible that she might have seen him. He could’ve been pointed out to her. People who spent their lives on the shady side of things, as he assumed this woman surely did, tended to pay close attention to the lawmen who might someday come after them.
“What can I do for you two children?” the old broad asked.
Longarm left it for Aggie to answer, as this visit was her idea and she was the one who knew the woman. Longarm still hadn’t heard a name attached to her.
“We’re looking for Boo Bevvy,” Aggie said.
“You might have a long wait then,” the woman said. “He heard Longarm was here and is hiding?”
“There are people who might want to give that impression, but the truth isn’t so dramatic,” the old bat told them. “Boo is off investigating the robbery, dear.”
Longarm found it more than passing strange that neither woman seemed to find it necessary to specify which robbery they referred to. The robbery for some reason seemed to cover it.
“I should have thought of that,” Aggie said.
“You can’t think of everything, dearie.”
“What about the mayor?”
“He’s with Boo.”
“And the judge?”
“At home by now, I should think. Or hiding out somewhere else if he believes our friend Longarm will be coming after him.”
“Why would I do that?” Longarm asked.
“Because he ordered your prisoner released from the jail not ten minutes after you walked out,” the old bawd said, and cackled. She seemed to find that amusing as hell. Longarm did not. “Now he and John and your jailer friend are all laying low. They’re afraid of what you might do to them. But they’ve even more afraid of what might happen to everyone in these mountains if the Indians are turned loose, you see.”
“I don’t understand that,” Longarm complained.
The old woman shrugged. “Rumors. There were rumors long before that newspaper article came out this morning. That fool Ellis Farmer’s story only fanned a fire that was already burning.”
“Do you know how the rumors started? Or who started them?”
“My dear man, I don’t know quite everything that happens here. Even if I do pretend that I do.”
“But the police chief isn’t actually in hiding from me?” “He will avoid you if he can. I doubt that Boo would risk a federal indictment and the loss of his reputation over it. Boo has his weaknesses, God knows ... for which I am suitably grateful... but total stupidity is not one of them. Boo won’t carry his game with you any further than he believes he can justify in a court of law if it should come to that.”
Longarm nodded. “That’s good to know. Thanks.”
“I didn’t go into all this for you, Longarm. I owe you nothing. I did it for my Agnes, bless her sweet heart. And mind you treat her nicely, Longarm, or I shall become cross with you. You wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“No, I don’t believe I would,” he said for the sake of avoiding an argument. The truth was that he didn’t give a shit what this old woman did or did not like.
He was, though, grateful to her for whatever information she might pass along.
“Thank you, Sally.” Aggie went forward and leaned down to give the old bag a buss on the cheek.
“My pleasure, dearie. Anything I can do, you know that.”
“If you hear anything ... like where my clients are being kept now . .. ?”
“Do you want me to find out for you?”
“Yes, please.”
“Consider it done, dearie. My children will locate them wherever they are and get word to you as soon as I know.” “Thank you, Sally.”
Aggie curtsied and left. Longarm nodded and followed her, out past Parson and on into the brightness of the alleys. He waited until they were well clear of that place— whatever the hell it was—before he spoke again.
“Her children?”
“That’s what she calls the, um, people who work for her,” Aggie explained.
“Whores?”
“Some of them, yes. And a few pickpockets, I think. Cheats and sharpies of various kinds. Plug-uglies and bullyboys. Even some genuine children, I understand, although I haven’t any idea what nasty use she puts them to. She controls them all by way of opium.”