He jutted his chin toward Thatcher. “Who’s he?”
“Meet Thatcher Hutton. He’s new to town.”
“Hutton. You’re the one what shot the snake.”
“He’s a horse trainer,” Bill said amiably.
“Horse trainer.” He said it like he’d been told that Thatcher performed a high-wire act in the circus. “Well, welcome to Lefty’s.”
Thatcher didn’t say anything, just gave a bob of his head.
Bill placed their order for two hamburgers and cold Coca-Colas.
“Comin’ up.”
Thatcher watched Lefty’s progress back across the room. Midway, he was intercepted by his wife. They had a brief exchange, then Lefty continued on toward the grill behind the bar while Gert made her way toward their table. Through the soles of his boots, Thatcher could feel the vibration of her heavy tread.
Unlike her husband, who looked like he could be snapped in two as easily as a toothpick, Thatcher didn’t think Gert could be knocked over with a tank like those he’d seen on the battlefront.
When she reached them, she sized him up. “Thatcher, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Never knew nobody with that name. Who’re your people?”
“You wouldn’t know them.”
“Try me.”
He gave her a one-sided smile that didn’t show teeth. “I wouldn’t know them.”
Still appraising him, she took a drag of her cigarette, then leaned over and ground it out in the ashtray in the center of their table. She blew
a plume of smoke out of the corner of her mouth.
Turning her attention to Bill, she said, “What are you doing here?”
Bill, who’d checked his watch again, pocketed it. “Hello to you, too, Gert. I’m here for a hamburger. Also to ask after the girl.”
“Which?”
“You know which, Gert.”
She huffed a gust of stinky breath. “That Wally Johnson. Jug-eared little bastard ruint her face, her arm’s healing all crooked, and she cain’t see out one eye.”
“Is she still here?”
She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. Thatcher and Bill looked in the direction she’d indicated. A young woman with her arm in a sling was flipping meat patties on the grill while Lefty was uncapping Coke bottles.
Gert was saying, “Her name’s Corrine. Out of the goodness of my heart I’m keeping her on even though she ain’t much use to me upstairs no more. But some men if they’re that hard up ain’t all that particular about looks.” She gave Thatcher a sly glance. “You interested? You can have half an hour at a cut rate.”
Bill said, “Gert, if you openly solicit, I’ll slam down your operation upstairs.” He spoke in a low voice that thrummed with warning.
Her eyes, set in folds of ruddy fat, narrowed to slits. “Lessen you forgot, you and me have a deal, sheriff.”
“Only as long as we both keep up the pretense that this isn’t a low-rent whorehouse.”
“Beg your pardon. It ain’t low-rent.”