Winding Stair (9781101559239) by Douglas C. Jones

Rachael over to the courthouse with a note to the cap’n here, for him to come see us when he got back from wherever he was. So that’s what happened. And here you are, Mr. Pay. Why ain’t I ever seen you in here before?”
    â€œLet’s get to business,” Schiller said, leaning across the table toward her. “Who is this boyfriend, Lila?”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œDon’t step on my toes, Lila.”
    â€œCap’n, you know what he’d do to me if he ever found out I’d talked with you about this. He’d do something terrible.”
    â€œI might do something terrible myself if you don’t tell us his name,” Schiller said.
    â€œYou got money for these things, haven’t you? I can’t tell his name without some money.”
    Schiller looked at me. “You think we might come up with some money out of Evans’s office?”
    â€œNot for what we’ve heard this far,” I said. “But if we get the man’s name . . .”
    We both watched her closely. Now showing me her legs was forgotten. She toyed with the glass before her, frowning.
    â€œWell,” she said. “Well, I’d want twenty dollars.”
    â€œFive is more like it,” Schiller said.
    â€œFive? Five? Jesus Christ, I’m takin’ my life in my hands right now, and if I tell you that—”
    â€œI could arrest you for withholding evidence. I could get your butt on the witness stand, and if you refused, then Parker’d give you six months in the federal jail for contempt. And if you lied about it, he’d give you six years in Detroit for perjury.”
    â€œOh, Jesus Christ,” Lila said. Concern was plain on her face, and the laugh was no longer there. She leaned across the table toward Schiller and laid a hand on his, and when she spoke she whined like a child about to be spanked.
    â€œJesus Christ, Cap’n. Don’t be mean to me now. I told you all this, and you know I could use the money. I’m just a girl trying to make a living. Jesus Christ, Cap’n.”
    â€œMake it ten,” I said. Schiller glanced at me, pulling his hands away from Lila’s. He shrugged.
    â€œAll right,” he said. “Ten. That’s all. Ten dollars.”
    â€œWell,” Lila said. “Can I have another drink of sloe gin?”
    â€œWhy not? Henryetta’s paying for it.”
    Big Rachael brought her another full glass. This one she took in long swallows. I could hear the switch-engine bells clanging. It had grown dark, and their headlamps were turned on.
    â€œWell?” Schiller said impatiently.
    â€œJohnny Boins,” she blurted out, as though if she said it fast enough and had it over with, no one could be sure she’d said it.
    â€œJohnny Boins? Do I know him?”
    â€œHe’s nice and tall, like Mr. Pay here, and with blond hair and blue eyes with them long lashes.”
    â€œI know that name,” Schiller said as I sat there with the hair standing on the back of my neck. It was the man I’d seen with Milk Eye; I was sure of it. The man on the Frisco depot platform the night I arrived in Fort Smith. He had been on the car with me during part of that journey, and I tried to recall where he had boarded the train. But it was unclear in my mind. I had hardly noticed him until he and the small man with the puffed brown face and the white eye had passed me as I waited for my baggage.
    â€œHe ain’t from around here. But he’s been in trouble a couple times in Parker’s court for whiskey in The Nations. But he never has been convicted. He hangs out over in the Creek Nation.”
    â€œHe live there?”
    â€œNo. He lives in Eureka Springs, up in Carroll County, Arkansas. Up in that wild mountain country.”
    Schiller leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He looked at me and was almost smiling.
    â€œGive her the money, Mr. Pay,” he said. I hesitated, watching