The Traffickers (Badge of Honor 9)

He put down the phone, then retrieved his pretzel. He glanced at Byrth, who was still looking out the window, still tumbling the bean.

The guy looks tough as nails.

I can just see him riding the range, then single-handedly driving off a mob of marauding Injuns.

But how’s he going to do here in the big city?

Then again, he did just come in from Houston.

With Byrth sitting, the cuffs of his pants rode higher, and Payne could see the upper parts of the western boots. They appeared to cover the complete calf. They had some intricate patterns of stitching and there was another representation of the Texas Ranger badge, this one in silver leather, and the red leather initials J.O.B.

Payne then looked at the pointed-toe part. The material that made up the part covering the foot was a high-gloss black, textured with a grid of little bumps every half-inch or so the size of BBs.

“Mind if I ask what kind of leather that is on your boots?” Payne said.

Byrth glanced down at his boots as he lifted the flap of the left patch pocket of his blazer and slipped the dry white bean inside.

“Skin,” Byrth corrected.

“What?”

“We say ‘skin.’ ”

“Oh. Okay, what kind of skin is that? All those bumps. They look like tiny nipples.”

There was a moment’s pause as Byrth considered that.

“Do they really?” he said.

Oh shit!

He’s taking offense to “tiny nipples”? “No offense.”

Byrth laughed. “None taken. I’d just never seen my boot skins in that light. But I believe I will from this point forward. So is that what they call Freudian?”

Payne grinned.

“Quite possibly,” he said. “I’ll ask my sister. She’s a shrink. That was her on the phone just now.”

Byrth nodded.

Payne pursued, “So, what are they? What skin?”

“Ostrich. Ugly damn bird. But pretty skin. Soft, too.”

“Is that common?”

“Not as much as cowhide. But more than some snake skins. And eel or lizard. There’s a pretty long list.”

Payne shook his head.

“I had no idea,” he said.

“Let’s talk about why I’m here,” Byrth said suddenly.

Homicide Detective Matt Payne raised his eyebrows, surprised at the ninety-degree change of subject. He said, “Sure.”

“By the way,” Byrth said, “where’re we headed?”