Longarm felt like the bodyguard had just kicked him in the stomach. Or worse.
Milton and the other guard turned and left the Crystal Room, leaving Longarm alone with a dead man. And with his own thoughts.
Dame Edith Fullerton-Welpole, Edy the high-kicking showgirl, won the final deal of the game. And there was not a single damn thing Custis Long could do about it.
Slowly, wearily, he reloaded the one fired chamber in his Colt and shoved the revolver back into his holster. What had he told Bill Fay? There are no guarantees in life. And what a pity that was, eh?
He turned and walked away, through the lobby and onto the street, ignoring the snotty desk clerk whose questions hammered at him.