Doom Weapon by Ed Gorman Page A

leaving.”
    I took two more steps and took hold of her hand. She was ready for me. She yanked me right down on top of her. Well, maybe I didn’t put as much resistance in trying to stay upright as I could have. But then suddenly those kinds of thoughts went away.
    I was lying next to her, hard against her, and she was pulling my head down to hers and we were kissing and—
    I wanted to get even closer but—
    “I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Ford.”
    “How about calling me ‘Noah.’”
    “All right, Noah it is. What you’re thinking is that I’m married—”
    “—and drunk.”
    “Not drunk. Well, not big drunk. Just a little drunk.”
    “And maybe you’ll wake up in the morning—”
    “You don’t think he cheats on me?” She laughed angrily. “He cheats on me every chance he gets. As long as he’s sober enough to do it, he’ll do it with anybody. And I mean anybody.” The words were still slightly slurred but I saw what she meant about being only a “little” drunk. “You want to do it and I want to do it, Noah, so let’s just do it.”
    She leaned back and studied my face.
    “You look funny.”
    “It’s just—”
    It was one of the subjects that still hurt to talk about. In my drinking days I’d talked about it a lot. I’d emptied saloons talking about it.
    “Just what, Noah?”
    I sighed. “Adultery.”
    “Adultery? God, don’t use that word. I hate the word. We’re just having some fun. Adultery—all I can think of is burning in hell.”
    “My wife—she used to cheat on me all the time. I was gone a lot. I came home one day and found her. And I realized then that when you’re married you shouldn’t cheat. Walk away from the marriage if you have to—but don’t cheat.”
    She laughed. “Just my luck. I’m in bed with a minister.” Then, putting her hand behind my head and pulling it toward her: “He spit in your face, Noah. And don’t think he did it just because he was drunk. He’d do the same thing sober.” Then, her free hand slipping down to my crotch: “Now that’s a nice big one, Noah. Let’s not waste it.”
    But I wasn’t listening anymore. All sensation was now in my crotch. I was one singular piece of need. She was more skilled than passionate but who was I to complain? The only company I’d kept for most of the last month was my horse. So I was grateful even though I knew I was just part of some stupid game she and her husband had apparently been playing for some years now.
    And then it did the deed, the juice she’d given me. None of that stuff that just throws you to the floor. More subtle, as was to be expected from a well-bred woman. I’d have to get the name of the drug she’d used on me. Might come in handy some day.
     
    I wasn’t sure of the time when I finally woke up. All I knew was that somebody seemed to be tossing trees against my door. That thunderous. There was just enough dawning light to see that Nan had ripped through all my clothing, bureau drawers, saddlebags. And even the clothes I’d been wearing, all the pockets turned out.
    I wondered who the hell she really was.
    But the pounding on my door continued and then I was up and struggling into my trousers and there was Knut. Gasping a bit. He must have been running.
    “You better get over to the jail fast, Noah.”
    “What is it?”
    “Somebody murdered Molly Kincaid.”
    “Wasn’t she in her cell?”
    “Yeah, that’s the strange thing. They killed her right in her cell.”

Chapter 15
    E ven though the usual wake-up time for the town was still about an hour away, the frosty morning was already filled with people, at least in the business area where the hotels were.
    There was a crowd outside the sheriff’s office. A lot of people were drinking steaming coffee out of tin cups. A deputy I didn’t recognize was ordering them to stand farther back from the door because the funeral wagon would be arriving soon.
    I didn’t blame them. Regular death is pretty exciting. Death