“Information.”
“About what?”
“The Goodisons, Pauline and Hughes,” said Georgia Blue, who rose, then bent over to brush real or imaginary dust from her knees.
“I say you could get up, Slim?”
Georgia Blue straightened and said, “When money was mentioned you forgot about the sawed-off.”
“You wish,” Cullen said, again aiming the shotgun at her.
Overby then rose and also bent over to brush dust from the knees of his blue London suit. While still dusting, he said, “You know the Goodisons, Colleen? Say yes and you get a thousand dollars.”
“We met,” Cullen said.
“That’s one thousand,” said Overby, straightening up all the way.
“How much if I got ‘em locked in the cellar?”
Overby, taking his time, examined her for signs of trick and guile.
Finding none, he said, “Too bad you don’t.”
Colleen Cullen lowered the shotgun, turned and went to a large round oak table that held a brass lamp with a bowl shade of green glass. Also on the table were a bottle of Virginia Gentleman, four tumblers and a pitcher of water.
“I was about to have a toddy,” she said, placing the shotgun on the table. “You guys drink bourbon?”
“Now and then,” Overby said.
Cullen poured generous measures into three tumblers, added a little water and, carrying two of the tumblers in one hand, served Georgia Blue first, then Overby.
“Sit down if you want to,” she said, returning to the table and pulling out a chair for herself. Overby and Blue joined her.
“Lemme guess,” Colleen Cullen said, staring at Blue. “You used to be some brand of cop, right?”
Blue answered by tasting the bourbon and water.
“But you, Ace,” Cullen said, turning to Overby. “I think your main job’s staying away from cops, right?”
Overby’s tiny smile revealed nothing at all.
“If I tell you about them, the Goodisons,” Cullen said, “how much do I get?”
“You’ve already made one thousand.”
“All I got so far is say-so.”
“Tell us what you know about them, you get another thousand. Tell us where we can find them, two thousand.”
“Four thousand in all?”
Overby nodded. “Four in all.”
“Who told you about me?”
Overby frowned, as if reluctant to betray his informer.
Then the frown gave way to a sigh and a look of regret as he said,
“Dickie Brackeen.”
“The dirty-movie man?”
Overby nodded.
“Tell us about the Goodisons,” Georgia Blue said.
“You’re not much for gossip, are you, sis?”
“The Goodisons,” Blue said.
“Okay. The Goodisons, Hughsie and Paulie. Brother and sister. They fuck each other, but I guess you know that?”
Overby nodded.
“There at the last, they even tried to get me into bed with ’em.”
“Exactly when was ‘there at the last’?” Blue said.
“There at the last was a week ago tomorrow.”
“Let’s go back to the beginning.”
“What about my money?”
Overby leaned forward, placed a possessive hand on the shotgun and said, “When my partner gets the sawed-off, you get some money.”
