He could feel her breath on his skin. Very sensitive down there at the moment. Worn-out but sensitive nonetheless, oh yes it was.
He could feel her breath and then he could feel her lips and next her tongue. Damn, but the woman’s mouth was warm. It felt almost hot around him. And nicely wet. it was … soothing. Pleasant. He was too tired to say it excited him exactly. But it felt mighty nice regardless.
She played with his balls while she sucked and gobbled at him for a spell, then with a wink turned herself around and kind of slithered underneath his crotch, forcing her head between his legs so that she could reach his asshole with her tongue. Janie Sproul was no shrinking violet, uh-uh. She gave him a rimming and a bit of a reaming and came up grinning at herself because by the time she was done doing that, he had a hard-on that a cat couldn’t have scratched. Damn thing was like polished marble. Hell, the head was engorged so full of blood that the skin was shiny. Longarm was impressed. Also amazed.
“Are you gonna put that pretty thing in me, honey? Or what?”
“Reckon I can handle that if you insist, ma’am,” he said in an exaggerated drawl.
Janie laughed. And grabbed him by the pecker to lead him the few steps across the room to the bed. The woman, he thought, was not exactly shy, was she?
Chapter 32
He was drowsing, half-asleep, when a light tapping on the room door wakened him. He sat upright with the thought that he’d already done this, He remembered it for certain sure. Except it wasn’t an exact repeat of a previous experience, couldn’t be, because this time Janie Sproul was occupying the right-hand two thirds of the rumpled and sweaty bed and was snoring just a little. A delicate and ladylike creature. Uh-huh.
Longarm shook his head, bit a yawn back behind chattering teeth and stood upright. Groggy and disoriented though he was, he plucked the Colt from its holster draped over the bedpost, and carried the revolver with him as he stumbled his way to the door.
“Who is it and do you have an awful good reason t’ be there?”
“It’s me. Amos.”
“Oh, Lester. Right.”
“Let me in.”
“That wouldn’t be, uh, convenient right now.”
“Then meet me downstairs in the lobby. Ten minutes?”
“That sounds all right, Lester.” He glanced back toward the bed where Janie was awake and listening. He hoped she hadn’t heard “Lester Colton” announce himself as someone named Amos. Particularly not after Longarm had mistaken her knock for the arrival of someone named Amos just a few hours earlier. “Ten minutes.” He waited until he heard footsteps receding down the corridor, then started gathering up the clothes that were scattered hither and yon throughout the room, tossing the female items toward the bed and dragging on his own things as he came to them.
“Something important?” Janie asked.
“A friend wants t’ buy me a drink.”
“You’d leave my bed for that?”
“T’ begin with, it ain’t your bed, it’s mine. Secondly, in my line o’ work you never know when or where you might find out something worth knowing. If somebody wants t’ have a talk, then I reckon I’d best set down and keep my ears open. You know?”
“No, but I’ll take your word for it.”
“Thank you.”
Janie began getting herself dressed. He was glad to see that. He’d been quite frankly worried that she might want to stay the night. He really was not up to that tonight. What he wanted now, badly, was about eighteen uninterrupted hours of sleep. That and a breakfast they’d have to serve in a bushel basket. If he could just manage those two things, then maybe he could face the world again.
He finished dressing first—what is it about women that makes it impossible for them to pull a pair of bloomers over their asses in less than seven minutes by an actual, timed clock?—and lighted a cheroot. Janie took it from him, and he lighted another for himself.
“Tell me, sweetie,” she said.
“Hmm?” He wasn’t entirely sure he was awake. It felt more like he was pretending to be while in reality he was sort of viewing things from somewhere high and to the right of his real self.
“Have you gotten any information about where to find Buddy?”
“Who?”
“My first husband. The one who’s been murdering all these people. Remember?”
“Oh. Right.” He yawned. He didn’t know if he should tell her that she was wrong about Buddy Matthews or just let her enjoy her own delusions for the time being.
“I heard he was seen over in Avondale,” Janie said.
“Do tell.”
“That doesn’t mean a thing to you, does it?”
“Never heard of the place,” he admitted.
“It’s a community of mostly Hungarians southwest of here about five miles. They raise chickens, most of them. They sell eggs as far away as New Orleans. And buy more water glass to store their eggs in than all the rest of Texas put together. How’s that for a fascinating point of interest?”
“Fascinates me, all right.”
“Are you going to arrest him?”
“Not without proof that he’s committed a crime,” Longarm said.
“I told you, sweetie, he’s the one killing all these men. Every one of them was a member of that shivaree party that kept Buddy out of my pants on our wedding night. He hasn’t forgotten. Believe me, Longarm, I know him.”
“Janie, you thought you knew him when you married him. You was proved wrong that time. What makes you think you know him now when you haven’t seen him in something like a hunnerd damn years?”
“I know what I’m telling you is true, Longarm. I swear to you it is.”
“Look, Janie, I know you mean well. I know you believe what you’ve told me. But all the evidence points t’ this string o’ killings being political. Starting with a bunch o’ silly sons o’ bitches who think they can secede from the Union all by themselves when the whole of the Confederacy couldn’t manage to accomplish that just a little while back. Now I hate t’ tell you this, but I think you’ve made a mistake about your former husband an’ his capacity for vengeance.”
“You can’t be serious! Surely, honey, you aren’t as blind as all these other idiots around here.”
“I’m sorry, Janie. Really I am. But what I just told you is the truth as I see it.”
“I thought you were different, Longarm. I thought you would listen to me.”
“I have listened, Janie. And I’ve given your ideas considerable thought. Now what I got t’ do is find out who really shot an’ killed Postmaster Colton, never mind opinion or prejudice or whatever.”
“Then go down to Avondale and look for him there, Longarm. You’ll find your murderer in Avondale. Unless he’s come back here to kill again.”
Longarm didn’t feel up to arguing with her any more. He said, “Stay here long enough t’ finish your smoke, Janie. Then it should be safe enough for you t’ come downstairs.”
She gave him a sad smile and shook her head. “Don’t you realize that everyone in this place already knows what room I’m visiting? You just don’t understand us here, do you?”
“Maybe not, Janie. Maybe I don’t at that.” He tugged his Stetson on, bent to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and got the hell out of there. Amos—Lester Colton these days—was waiting in the lobby downstairs.
Chapter 33
“Having fun, Longarm?”
“Not really. It’s beginning to feel like work.”
“If you’re looking for sympathy…”
Longarm grinned and offered his friend a cheroot, which Amos declined.
“Anybody I know?” Amos asked.
“That’s always possible, ain’t it?”
“You’re just a regular little old fount of information this evening. Feeling kinda smug after this afternoon, huh?”
“This afternoon?”
“You know. The chief of police? Last I heard, him and the magistrate were talking about could they make an assault charge stick.”