row of jitneys in front of the Monte Carlo—the big wooden casino—got into one, and was driven over to the Old Town.
The Old Town had a deserted look. Nearly everybody was over watching the dogs do their stuff. Gorman’s freckled face showed over a drink of mescal when I entered the Golden Horseshoe. I hoped he had a good constitution. He needed one if he was going to do his sleuthing on a distilled cactus diet.
The welcome I got from the Horseshoers was just like a homecoming. Even the bartender with the plastered-down curls gave me a grin.
“Where’s Kewpie?” I asked.
“Brother-in-lawing, Ed?” a big Swede girl leered at me. “I’ll see if I can find her for you.”
Kewpie came through the back door just then.
“Hello, Painless!” She climbed all over me, hugging me, rubbing her face against mine, and the Lord knows what all. “Down for another swell souse?”