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Me?” She knew the argot. She was off balance but coming back fast.
    “He was sure of it.” But I wondered. Winger took shortcuts. Big, slow, lovable, goofy, crafty, bigoted, and lazy Winger. She was confident that anybody she couldn’t sweeten with reason she could bring around with a good old-fashioned ass-kicking. She was just a big old simple country girl with simple country ways — if you accepted her the way she wanted to be taken.
    I was going to have words with Winger about Maggie Jenn. If I could find her. I didn’t think that would be tough. The big goof was bound to turn up on her own, soon. Probably before I was ready.
    I said, “Then somebody followed me here.”
    “What? Who? Why?”
    “Got me. I only mention it to show you that somebody out there is interested.”
    Maggie shook her head. It was a fine head. I was starting to lose my focus again. I concentrated on describing the villain who’d followed me.
    Maggie smiled wickedly. “Garrett! Don’t you ever think about anything else?”
    “Lots of times.” I thought about starting a little contest in which we would see who could run the fastest.
    “Garrett!”
    “You started it.”
    Unlike many women, she did not deny her complicity. “Yeah, but...”
    “Put yourself in my place. You’re a red-blooded young man who’s suddenly alone here with you.”
    “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She chuckled. Ouch! This was getting painful. “You do dish up a ration of shit, don’t you?”
    I chuckled right back and put myself into my own place, assuming she meant to put herself into her own place and things would proceed to proceed. But after a painful pilgrimage to her side of the table all proceedings proceeded to grind to a halt. Reluctantly — it seemed — she slipped away from me. I muttered, “We can’t keep on like this if you want to sell me on looking for your daughter.”
    “You’re right. This is a business arrangement. We can’t let nature get in the way.”
    I was willing to let nature play havoc, but I said, “Durn tootin’. I don’t sell that way, anyway. I sell on logic and facts. That’s me. Just-the-facts-ma’am Garrett. How about you start giving me some of those instead of using all your energy on those come-hither eyes?”
    “Don’t be cruel, Garrett. This is as difficult for me as it is for you.”
     
     

10
    So, eventually, we reached the suite belonging to Maggie’s daughter Emerald. “Emerald?” I asked. “What happened to Justina?” Emerald. Wouldn’t you know? Where are all the lovely Patricias and Bettys?
    “I named her Justina. Emerald is what she uses. She picked it, so don’t give me that look.”
    “What look?”
    “The one that says you’re shitting me. She picked it. She was fourteen. Everyone else went along, so I use Emerald sometimes myself.”
    “Right. Emerald. She insisted.” Of course. That’s what became of Patricia and Betty. They started calling themselves Amber and Brandi and Fawn. “But she might be going by Justina. When life gets serious, they fall back on their roots. Anything I need to know about the suite before I start digging?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Am I going to find something you think needs excusing ahead of time?”
    Wonder of wonders, she understood. “You might. Only I never go in there, so I don’t know what it might be. Yet.” She gave me a strange look. “Are you looking for a fight?”
    “No.” Though maybe, unconsciously, I didn’t want her hanging over my shoulder. “Back to that name. Might as well go after this by the numbers, find out everything you can tell me before I start looking for things you don’t know.”
    She gave me that look again. I was a bit testy. Had I developed that strong a dislike for work? Or was it because I knew she would lie and distort and whatever else it took to shape reality to her own vision? They all do, even when there’s no hope they won’t get found out. People. They do make you