Cullen poured generous measures into three tumblers, added a little water and, carrying two of the tumblers in one hand, served Georgia Blue first, then Overby.
“Sit down if you want to,” she said, returning to the table and pulling out a chair for herself. Overby and Blue joined her.
“Lemme guess,” Colleen Cullen said, staring at Blue. “You used to be some brand of cop, right?”
Blue answered by tasting the bourbon and water.
“But you, Ace,” Cullen said, turning to Overby. “I think your main job’s staying away from cops, right?”
Overby’s tiny smile revealed nothing at all.
“If I tell you about them, the Goodisons,” Cullen said, “how much do I get?”
“You’ve already made one thousand.”
“All I got so far is say-so.”
“Tell us what you know about them, you get another thousand. Tell us where we can find them, two thousand.”
“Four thousand in all?”
Overby nodded. “Four in all.”
“Who told you about me?”
Overby frowned, as if reluctant to betray his informer.
Then the frown gave way to a sigh and a look of regret as he said, “Dickie Brackeen.”
“The dirty-movie man?”
Overby nodded.
“Tell us about the Goodisons,” Georgia Blue said.
“You’re not much for gossip, are you, sis?”
“The Goodisons,” Blue said.
“Okay. The Goodisons, Hughsie and Paulie. Brother and sister. They fuck each other, but I guess you know that?”
Overby nodded.
“There at the last, they even tried to get me into bed with ’em.”
“Exactly when was ‘there at the last’?” Blue said.
“There at the last was a week ago tomorrow.”
“Let’s go back to the beginning.”
“What about my money?”
Overby leaned forward, placed a possessive hand on the shotgun and said, “When my partner gets the sawed-off, you get some money.”
Cullen blinked rapidly more times than Overby could count. “Not to keep, she don’t.”
“Okay. You keep the sawed-off but she gets the shells.”
Without waiting for more debate, Overby slid the shotgun across the table to Georgia Blue, who broke it open, removed the two shells, put them in her purse, then slid the still-broken-open shotgun back to Cullen.
Cullen put a hand on it, looked at Overby and said, “My money.”
Overby reached into a hip pocket and removed ten pre-counted hundred-dollar bills. He handed them to Cullen, who counted them slowly twice, then looked up and said, “When’ll I get my next thousand?”
“After you tell us about the Goodisons.”
Colleen Cullen drank some of her bourbon and water, tossed black hair out of her eyes and said, “They rolled up unannounced and unexpected right out front two weeks ago tomorrow in a big old black limo.”
Georgia Blue gave Overby a triumphant half-smile. He ignored it and said to Cullen, “Okay. They get out of the limo. Then what?”
“They say the secret password.”
“Which is what?”
“Five thousand a week.”
“For both of them?” Georgia Blue said.
“Each.”
“Christ!” Blue said.
“That’s with full board, sis.”
“What else do they get for ten thousand a week?” Overby asked.
“Guaranteed money-back privacy.”
Overby nodded comfortably, as if he found the price high but not excessive. “How often do the deputies drop by?”
“Every other Tuesday.”
“And go away with what?”
“A thousand each — and that thousand each’s still gotta be paid even if I’m empty.”
“Okay,” Georgia Blue said. “The Goodisons check in. Then what?”
“They stay in their room for three days — even take their meals there. The TV’s going twenty-four hours a day, nothing but MTV shit, although it ain’t loud. It’s sort of like they wanted background noise. But it sure wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds they made humping away on the bed.”
“Why’d they use their real names?” Overby said.
“With those limey accents? Shit. The second they open their mouths, I go, ‘Lemme see some passports.’ ”
“They tell you they were brother and sister?”
“Said they were married. I think, Sure you are, kiddies. You just happen to have the same noses, mouths, eyes and ears. But if kinfolks wanta fuck each other, it’s none of my business, so I call him Mr. Goodison and her Mrs. Goodison — at least ’til they say they want me to call them Hughsie and Paulie.”
“Was there a phone in their room?” Overby asked.
“Only one phone in the whole house and it’s locked up.”
“They ever ask to use it?”
“Once.”
“They get any calls?”
“Be hell to pay if they did.”
“When did they turn off the TV and the MTV noise?” Blue said.
“Who says they did?”
“I’m guessing.”
“They turn it off at the end of the third day and never turn it back on. They come out of their room that night and start getting friendly — too friendly. First him. Then her. Then both of ’em together. Touchy-feely stuff. They like to shuck off their clothes, too. He’s finally down to nothing but Jockey shorts and she forgets to put on anything but a little old bra and panties and for all the good they did, she might as well’ve left them off. I don’t mind a three-way now and then but not with those two sickos. I’d as soon jump into bed with a snake and an alligator. So I posted me some new rules.”
“Which were what?” Georgia Blue asked.
“Rule One: Keep Your Hands off the Landlady. Rule Two: Cocks and Pussies Must Be Covered at All Times.”
“What’d they do?” Overby said.
“They just giggled and I don’t see much of ’em after that except at meals ’til the morning they left.”
“A week ago tomorrow?”
“That’s right,” Cullen said.
“They tell you they were leaving?” Georgia Blue asked.
Cullen shook her head. “They just came downstairs with all their stuff. One big old leather suitcase and two weekend carryalls made out of canvas or that new stuff mountain climbers use. And they’re all dressed up, too — except they look like they’re all dressed up — know what I mean?”
Overby nodded.
“So I come out with something like, ‘Ya’ll leaving so soon?’ And Hughes, he turns all serious and says they’re sorry, but it’s time to move on — or some such shit. Then he says he’s wondering if I might sell him some personal protection and I say I don’t carry condoms.”
Cullen grinned. Overby grinned back. But Georgia Blue said, “Go on.”
“Well, Pauline blows up. She starts yelling that I’m too fucking dumb to know the difference between guns and condoms. I tell Hughes the longer she hollers the higher the price. He hauls off and knocks her down and while she’s down on her butt, still howling at me, Hughes and I dicker over two hardly used Chief Specials that wind up costing him seven-fifty apiece and would’ve been only five hundred apiece if Pauline hadn’t thrown her fit.”
Overby nodded thoughtfully and said, “How much’d two thirty-eights cost us?”
“Six hundred each.”
“We’ll think about it,” he said, then asked, “How did they leave?”
“In that same old black limo with the same driver.”
“Then it was prearranged,” Georgia Blue said.
“Had to be and where’s my money?”
“You don’t know where they went?”
“I didn’t ask, they didn’t say.”
“Okay, Colleen,” Overby said. “Here’s the deal. You already got one thousand. We’ll pay you another thousand for what you told us about the Goodisons. We’ll pay you a third thousand for two pieces — providing they’re in good shape. And we’ll also pay you a thousand for the limo’s license number. That all adds up to four thousand, just like I said.”