revolvers in their fists, and the muzzles swung rapidly from side to side, covering the whole cluttered area. Eyes raked over boxes and trash baskets. Lovell waved his gun to one side and Bishop moved as directed, using his free hand and his feet to knock and kick over the rubbish. Lovell did the same on the other side of the yard. They found nothing and looked angrily towards the stairway climbing up the rear of the hotel, and the two empty alleys leading off.
“I'll look up top,” Bishop said breathlessly, turning to the foot of the steps.
“Forget it!” Lovell snapped, heading into one of the alleys. “He'd know he'd be trapped up there. Check that, then comb the whole frigging town.”
Bishop glanced up the stairway, then shrugged and went into the alley Lovell had indicated.
Steele remained motionless, stretched out full length in the hot sun on the roof, until the sound of the lawmen's angry footfalls had faded. Then he wriggled backwards, away from the roof's edge. He raised his head, but not his body, and glanced around. The otherwise flat surface of the roof was broken by two smoking, chimneys and a number of trapdoor frames. He stayed as flat to the sun-heated boarding as he could, rotating his body until the nearest trapdoor was only inches from his face.
He could hear voices in the bedroom below.
“Now you won't forget?” a man said timorously. “Anyone starts to poke fun at me, you tell 'em.”
A girl trilled with laughter. “That I will, Mr. Ross,” she said, and Steele's mouthline tightened as he recognized Jennie's voice. “It's all been just rumors about you. Ain't no question but that a girl knows which way to turn with you.”
“That's fine,” the man replied. “Yes, that's fine. Goodbye, Miss Jennie. See you again soon.”
Footfalls sounded. “Hope so, Mr. Ross,” Jennie said. “I'll be ready and willing.”
A door opened and closed. “You smelly little creep,” she finished softly.
Steele waited a few more seconds, to make sure the girl did not have a customer immediately after Ross, then inserted his fingers under the edge of the trapdoor and inched it up. He pushed the rifle barrel through the crack, and sighted down it. The hinges creaked and Jennie stared up in frightened surprise. The bed was, immediately beneath the trapdoor and she was spread across it, on top of the counterpane. She was completely naked now, the dress draped over a chair close to the bed. Her body was spread-eagled, as if in readiness to be entered rather than in relaxation after the act. Perhaps because of her profession, which made modesty hypocritical, or because the sight of the pointing rifle terrified her, she remained frozen in position, every secret place of her naked flesh open to Steele's indifferent gaze.
“Some you lay for, some you lie to,” Steele said softly, opening the trapdoor wider and then keeping her covered as he hauled himself into a sitting position, legs hanging through the square hole.
“What's that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“Drapery store man hasn't been to Washington in weeks,” he replied, gripping the Colt Hartford in one hand as he folded up the trapdoor.
She shrugged, the gesture rippling the flesh of her shoulders and quivering the mounds of her breasts. “I get paid for pleasing men, mister,” she said. “You paid and I told you what you wanted to know. I thought it made you happy.”
“It made me a murderer,” he told her.
She gasped as he suddenly dropped through the opening, drawing the door closed after him. His boots sank into the bed at the side of each naked hip and the rifle muzzle jabbed lightly at the white skin of her throat.
“Now I want something for free,” he warned softly. She smiled and drew up her knees, splaying her thighs wider, her feet hooking around his ankles. “Help yourself,” she invited, cupping her breasts, stacking the flesh so that the nipples pointed up at him.
“No," he told her. “Help from
“I'll look up top,” Bishop said breathlessly, turning to the foot of the steps.
“Forget it!” Lovell snapped, heading into one of the alleys. “He'd know he'd be trapped up there. Check that, then comb the whole frigging town.”
Bishop glanced up the stairway, then shrugged and went into the alley Lovell had indicated.
Steele remained motionless, stretched out full length in the hot sun on the roof, until the sound of the lawmen's angry footfalls had faded. Then he wriggled backwards, away from the roof's edge. He raised his head, but not his body, and glanced around. The otherwise flat surface of the roof was broken by two smoking, chimneys and a number of trapdoor frames. He stayed as flat to the sun-heated boarding as he could, rotating his body until the nearest trapdoor was only inches from his face.
He could hear voices in the bedroom below.
“Now you won't forget?” a man said timorously. “Anyone starts to poke fun at me, you tell 'em.”
A girl trilled with laughter. “That I will, Mr. Ross,” she said, and Steele's mouthline tightened as he recognized Jennie's voice. “It's all been just rumors about you. Ain't no question but that a girl knows which way to turn with you.”
“That's fine,” the man replied. “Yes, that's fine. Goodbye, Miss Jennie. See you again soon.”
Footfalls sounded. “Hope so, Mr. Ross,” Jennie said. “I'll be ready and willing.”
A door opened and closed. “You smelly little creep,” she finished softly.
Steele waited a few more seconds, to make sure the girl did not have a customer immediately after Ross, then inserted his fingers under the edge of the trapdoor and inched it up. He pushed the rifle barrel through the crack, and sighted down it. The hinges creaked and Jennie stared up in frightened surprise. The bed was, immediately beneath the trapdoor and she was spread across it, on top of the counterpane. She was completely naked now, the dress draped over a chair close to the bed. Her body was spread-eagled, as if in readiness to be entered rather than in relaxation after the act. Perhaps because of her profession, which made modesty hypocritical, or because the sight of the pointing rifle terrified her, she remained frozen in position, every secret place of her naked flesh open to Steele's indifferent gaze.
“Some you lay for, some you lie to,” Steele said softly, opening the trapdoor wider and then keeping her covered as he hauled himself into a sitting position, legs hanging through the square hole.
“What's that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“Drapery store man hasn't been to Washington in weeks,” he replied, gripping the Colt Hartford in one hand as he folded up the trapdoor.
She shrugged, the gesture rippling the flesh of her shoulders and quivering the mounds of her breasts. “I get paid for pleasing men, mister,” she said. “You paid and I told you what you wanted to know. I thought it made you happy.”
“It made me a murderer,” he told her.
She gasped as he suddenly dropped through the opening, drawing the door closed after him. His boots sank into the bed at the side of each naked hip and the rifle muzzle jabbed lightly at the white skin of her throat.
“Now I want something for free,” he warned softly. She smiled and drew up her knees, splaying her thighs wider, her feet hooking around his ankles. “Help yourself,” she invited, cupping her breasts, stacking the flesh so that the nipples pointed up at him.
“No," he told her. “Help from
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