'Never mind.'
The feral ferocity came back into his look.
'You fucking with me again?' he said.
'Only a little,' I said.
'You take some bad chances, Boston.'
'Keeps me young,' I said.
The Preacher cackled. It was a startling sound.
'Well you go ahead and find out who killed old Stevie Buckman,' The Preacher said. 'And good luck with it… long as you stay out of our way.'
'Do what I can,' I said.
Chapter 8
BACK AT THE Jack Rabbit Inn I went to the bar. I liked air-conditioned bars on hot afternoons, when there weren't many people there and it was quiet and sort of dim. They had Coors on draught. I ordered some and it arrived in a chilled glass. Perfect. When I had drunk half of it, I turned and rested my elbows on the bar and looked around the room. The walls were paneled in bleached oak. There were some Georgia O'Keeffe prints. Behind the bar was a mirror, with the booze stacked in front of it, backlit so it looked enticing. Above the mirror was a large painting of a nude woman with a red silk scarf over her pelvis. I finished the beer and ordered another one. The doors to the bar were bat-winged. Posted on the wall to either side were an assortment of fake wanted posters.
The whole look made me want to wear my gun low in a tooled holster. Except the gun was real.
'No one should drink alone,' someone said, and Bebe Taylor slid her good-looking butt onto a barstool next to me.
'So I'm volunteering,' she said.
'Tough dirty work,' I said.
'But someone has to do it,' Bebe said. 'I drink gimlets.'
I gestured the bartender down and ordered for her.
'Why aren't you out selling a house?' I said.
'I came down here to see you,' she said.
The gimlet arrived, and she picked it up and held it toward the light.
'I think one reason I like these is that they look so nice,' she said.
'Any reason's a good one,' I said, just to be saying something. 'Why did you want to see me?'
'Your nose has been broken,' she said.
'Thank you for noticing,' I said.
'I like a man whose nose has been broken,' she said.
'That's why I had it done.'
'And,' she said, 'I like men who are silly.'
'Well, little lady, you've got the right hombre.'
She smiled. Each of us drank.
'You know, you're something of a hunk,' Bebe said.
A middle-aged couple in shorts and tank tops came in and sat at the end of the bar and ordered vodka and tonics, and something called Alamo burgers.
'What the hell is an Alamo burger?' I said to Bebe.
'A cheeseburger with a chili pepper on it.'
'Let the good times roll,' I said.
'You're a big one, aren't you,' Bebe said.
'Just the right size for my clothes,' I said.
Bebe leaned back a little and looked me over as if she might buy me.
'You're not fat at all,' she said. 'How'd you get so big?'
'Practice,' I said.
She reached over and squeezed my bicep.
'Oooo,' she said.
'Oo?'
'You must be very strong.'
We drank again, which took care of Bebe's gimlet. I nodded to the bartender and he brought her another
