whatever questions he may have.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Also, Dawn, I promised him the use of one of my girls. Do anything else he asks you to also. At no charge to him, of course.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Dawn.” She turned to Longarm. “If you need me for anything, Marshal, I will be in my office. It is the last door at the end of the corridor.”
“Thanks.”
Amanda Forsyth bobbed her head in farewell and continued at what Longarm thought a rather regal gait off in the direction of the office. He watched the lady go, then turned back to the girl who called herself Dawn.
While his attention was elsewhere she had shed the kimono, and was now standing naked before him.
Chapter 18
“Pretty,” he said, allowing his gaze to run up and down the length of the naked girl.
“Thanks, but would you mind shutting the damn door.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He winked at her and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Now, mister …”
Longarm took out a cheroot, nipped the twist off it with his teeth, and took his time about getting it lighted.
“Do you just wanta look, mister, or do you wanta screw?”
“Neither one of those,” he told her, giving the coal and budding ash a critical inspection. “I think this one side of my smokes got a little damp somehow,” he mused aloud.
“Well, mister, I’m just real awful sorry about that. You know?”
“Thanks for the sympathy, I’m sure.”
“You don’t wanta look and you don’t wanta screw. So just what the hell do you want me to do anyhow?”
“Just like the lady said, Dawn. I want to talk to you.”
“That’s all? Just talk?”
“Just talk,” he affirmed.
“If you say so. You want me to cover up?”
He grinned at her. “Not particularly. The view is just fine from here.”
Dawn laughed, shrugged, and plopped herself down on the side of the bed, still quite fetchingly naked. He noticed now that she had a small, strawberry birthmark—or was it a tattoo; surely not—just at the top edge of her pubic hair, which was thick and dark and curly. Nice-looking tits. Flat belly. Small waist. When seen like this, there was not much chance that she would be mistaken for a schoolmarm. On the other hand … “Do you know what you look like?” he asked.
“Hell, yes, honey. And d’you know what? I used to be one. I taught the primary grades at … well, never mind where it was. But it’s true. I taught the little bastards … little darlings, that is”—she made a face, then laughed at herself—“for almost three years before I discovered there were easier ways to make a living.”
“Easier?”
“That’s the idea anyhow.”
“And is it easier?”
Dawn shrugged again. “When a girl is dumb enough to get herself knocked up by the president of the school board, she all of a sudden finds out that teaching can get real difficult. But shit, that isn’t what you wanted to talk about, I’m sure.”
“No, young lady, what I want is to learn about your friend Nancy.”
“She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Longarm nodded.
“Everybody in the bar is talking about it. They said some little boys found her all frozen and stiff. They said she was beat up so bad she died from it. They said she was all black and blue and ugly. Is that true, mister?”
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry.”
Dawn’s eyes filled, but she bit down hard on her lower lip and kept the tears from flowing. “She was a good kid.”
“Tell me about her. Please.”
“How come, mister? She wasn’t nothing but a whore. Nobody gives a damn when a whore gets beat to death.”
“Me,” Longarm said. “I give a damn. I intend to find whoever it was that killed her.”
“Something else I heard tell, mister, is that you’re a federal man and can’t do or say nothing about how the law is handled here.”
Longarm smiled. “I hope others believe that same thing, Dawn. I hope the truth comes as a real nasty surprise for somebody.”
“You really want to find who it was that killed her?”
