He poked me in the ribs with a thumb, and went on past me, down the stairs.
The girl’s door was closed when I passed it. In my room, I dug out my fountain pen and paper, and had three words of my report written when a knock sounded on my door.
“Come in,” I called, having left the door unlocked for Milk River.
Clio Landes pushed the door open.
“Busy?”
“No. Come in and make yourself comfortable. Milk River will be along in a few minutes.”
I switched over to the bed, giving her my only chair.
“You’re not foxing Milk River, are you?” she asked point-blank.
“No. I got nothing to hang on him. He’s right so far as I’m concerned. Why?”
“Nothing, only I thought there might be a caper or two you were trying to cop him for. You’re not fooling me, you know! These hicks think you’re a bust, but I know different.”
“Thanks for those few kind words. But don’t be press-agenting my wisdom around. I’ve had enough advertising. What are you doing out here in the sticks?”
“Lunger!” She tapped her chest. “A croaker told me I’d last longer out here. Like a boob, I fell for it. Living out here isn’t any different from dying in the big city.”
“How long have you been away from the noise?”